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TARTAR
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backward and ran away as fast as his elderly legs would let him.

Barker Harrison smiled. He turned to an imaginary chief.

"Catch me this black man!" he commanded curtly. "To-morrow morning we shall crucify him to a wooden cross!"

Then he thought again of Jemchug, the red-faced one. Where was he? Had he really turned traitor? He passed his hand across his face. Why … he knew … the red-faced one was down there … in his shop, on the corner of Main Street.

Shop? Main Street? What was a shop? What was Main Street? What, in the name of the many gods, was a street? There was only the Volga, the plains, the tents and the skies!

Still … he must find him … his brother-in-arms, … so that together they could find his brother Ktiblai Khan, the mighty drinker. … Professor Barker Harrison ran up Main Street and straight into the shop of Wu Kee, laundryman. When the latter saw the strange, wild-eyed figure bounce in, cane in hand, his instinct advised him to beat a hasty retreat