done, went out again
with considerable confidence, looking as gaudy in his mixture of bright
colours as a macaw.

"No one will dare to jeer at me now," he persuaded himself.

But he was mistaken.

Hardly had he taken a half dozen steps when his brilliant costume
attracted great notice.

"What a splendid Turk!" cried some.

"Who is that magnificent bashaw?" asked others, as he strutted past.

No one knew, and upon a nearer examination it was seen that the
"splendid Turk" and "magnificent bashaw" was no Turk at all.

Indignation seized upon those who had a moment before been filled with
admiration.

"Impostor, unbelieving dog!" shouted the enraged populace. "He is an
accursed Giaour, in the dress of a follower of the Prophet."

At this, a fierce yell rose upon the air.

"Down with the wretch!"

"Tear him to pieces!"

"Let him be impaled!" cried the multitude.

With these dire threats, the angry crowd rushed towards Mr. Figgins,
headed by a short, fat Turk, who was particularly indignant.

The luckless orphan, anxious to avoid the terrible doom that was
threatening him, rushed away in an opposite direction.

The Turks are not, as a rule, remarkable for swift running.

Mr. Figgins, whose pace was quickened by the dreadful prospect of a
stake through his body, would have easily distanced them.

But unfortunately, his green and yellow striped turban, dislodged from
its position, fell--as his hat had previously done--over his eyes, and
almost smothered him.

He tugged away at it as he ran, in order to get rid of it.

But all he succeeded in doing was to loosen one of the ends.

Gradually the turban began to unwind itself, the end trailing on the
ground.

The Turk in pursuit caught up this end, and grasping it firmly, brought
all his weight to bear upon the fugitive.

Suddenly the hapless Figgins began to feel strong symptoms of
strangulation.

The next moment, a sharp jerk from the burly Turk pulled him to the
ground.

But this saved him.

No sooner was he prostrate on his back than the turban slipped from his
head, and he was free.

Springing to his feet, he darted off at a speed which no human grocer
could ever have dreamt of.

He was soon far beyond pursuit.

All he had lost was his green and yellow striped turban.

But the loss of that, though it somewhat fretted him, had saved his
life.

He found himself in a retired spot, and no one being near, he sat down
to reflect and recover