p man, with liver complaint, with a nose like an
eagle, and eyes like shoe buttons. He looked as though death would be
a relief, and yet he seemed afraid of it, and there was no sound of
welcome, such as there would be if Roosevelt was riding down Michigan
avenue at Chicago, on the way to the stockyards to pray to Armour,
instead of to Allah.

You could have heard a pin drop. I said: "Dad, this is too solemn, even
for a sultan. Let's give him the university yell, and show that mummy
that he has got two friends in Constantinople, anyway." "Here she goes,"
says dad, and we leaned over the railing, just as the sultan's carriage
was right in front of us and not ten feet away, and in that oppressive
silence dad and I opened up, "U-Rah-Rah-Wis-Con-Sin, zip-boom-Ah!"
and then we started to sing, "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town
To-Night."

[Illustration: There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-Night 279]

Well, if any man in the crowd had touched off a bomb, there could have
been no greater consternation. The sultan turned pale, as pale as so
yellow a man could, and became faint, and fell over into the arms of a
general who sat beside him, the Bazi Bazouks on horseback began to ride
up and down the street, the crowd scattered, the sultan's carriage was
turned around and rushed back to the palace, with the ruler of Turkey
having a fit, and about a hundred soldiers came up on the veranda, where
dad and I had broke up the procession, and they lit on dad like buzzards
on a dead horse, and took possession of the hotel, and began to search
our baggage.

[Illustration: Another took me by the ear 285]

One Turk choked dad until his tongue hung out of his mouth, and another
took me by the ear and stretched it out so it was long as a mule's ear,
and they took us to a bastile and dad says it is all up with us now,
because they will drown us like a mess of kittens in a bag, and all
because we woke them up with a football yell in the wrong place.

Well, we might as well wind up our career here as anywhere. Good-by, old
man. You will see our obituary in the papers.

Your repentant,

Hennery.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Bad Boy and His Dad Meet the Cream of the Harem--"Little
Egypt" Does a Dancing Stunt--The Sultan Wants to Send Fifty
Wives to the President.

Constantinople, Turkey.--My Dear Grocer-pasha: When I wrote you last
I thought you would be in mourning for dad and I before this, as there
seemed