[The Ivory Trail by Talbot Mundy]@TWC D-Link book
The Ivory Trail

CHAPTER One
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There is enough Arab blood in all of them to make them bold; Bantu enough for syncopated, rag-time music to take them by the toes and stir them.

The crowd in the street grew, and gathered until a policeman in red fez and khaki knickerbockers came and started trouble.

He had a three-cornered fight on his hands, and no sympathy from any one, within two minutes.

Then the man with the stomach and swagger--he whom Fred called Haroun-al-Raschid--took a hand in masterly style.

He seized the police-man from behind, flung him out of the crowd, and nobody was troubled any more by that official.
"That him Tippoo Tib's nephew!" said a voice, and we all jumped.


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