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(wow) Words Of Wonders Level 1027 Answers
There is no name more beloved by young readers the world over than Bert L. Standard.
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For many years, his stories about Frank Merrivale have been an inspiration to thousands of boys who want to succeed in athletics.
Without preaching, Mr. Standish gives proof after proof that the only way to live is to have the right to live. Hence the popularity of the Merivale stories.
To avoid confusion, we would like to point out that the books listed below will be published in and around New York during the respective months. They cannot reach distant readers immediately because of the delay in transportation.
Ted Strong and his band of Bronco-Busters have one of the most exciting adventures in this series of great books and provide the reader with an almost unlimited number of adventures.
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Frank Merrivale spoke. He was standing on the deck of a steamer off the coast of Morocco. At his side was Ephraim Gallup, his old relative and former classmate from Vermont.
“A fun place, I must say. It's not a bit like the States. But it's better than the places we stayed in South Africa, inspired.”
“Big catfish, Frank, me too. Well, what happened to us in Africa was terrible. No, I don't want any more gum in there.”
As longtime readers of the Frank Merrivale stories know, Frank was now on a major world tour. After his tutor's death, he had acquired a lot of money, and his tutor wanted him to travel before settling down. Frank was going to take the teacher and a classmate with him. Present was not Professor Horace Scotch with the boys, but Ephraim, and both had come from the lower coast of Africa, where they had passed through many adventures, as told in “Frank Merrivale's Hunting Tour.”
The East Carolinian, February 18, 1982
“Here, Ephraim.” Frank continued. “Inder is Tangier, like a snow-white pearl on the shores of the blue Mediterranean Sea. It is a sight that stops the blood.”
“It looks clear from here,” admitted the Vermonter; “But in keeping with your own statement about it being ‘consistent', it's not going to sit well when we get down to it.”
“That is quite true. But it is to us a gateway to a strange country, a land of strange people, strange customs, wonders, and wonders innumerable. Besides, I am sick of the sea, and I want to go to the shore once more. But I want to go
“Rubber! I don't blame you for that. But I'd like to go where the people are civilized. I've seen enough UV blacks and idolaters.”
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“Of course we're sick of them. But I don't want to go home without going to Morocco.
Soon the steamer began to lose speed and eventually stalled, anchor chains shaking as mooring lines fell.
“Hang everything!” Ephraim yelled, grabbing Frank's arm. “Are you kidding me there looking at me?” Is this a band of madmen coming to attack the steamer, and what do they want?
Some boats were being pulled from the shore, and behind them a group of half-naked Arabs was seen swimming in the water, waving wildly and making strange cries towards the boat.
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“Obviously, it's one of the weirdest things we have to see in this country,” Frank said quietly.
The boats pulled up to the steamer, and the sailors boarded them. Frank and Ephraim managed to board a boat, and shortly after the steamer left they were called to pay their passage.
The boats drifted toward a crowd of men in woven terracotta robes, some of them floating in thigh-high water.
As soon as this rough-looking crowd arrived, they boarded the boats. The travelers were seized by the gang as if they were to be executed without delay.
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He struck the old Arab from behind with his palm, knocking the man down in an instant.
But the old Arab could not be confused like that. Splashing water, he stood up and faced the excited youth.
Seeing that disaster was imminent, Frank lost no time in getting down from the ship on the shoulders of a thick bronze sledge, where he sat down in a comfortable position, shook his hat, and shouted:
“Wait, black pirouette!” cried Efrain, slightly blinded by the jet of water. “Get your dirty hands off me or I'll enjoy this!”
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The boat drew near, dropping the helmsman and the Yankee boy into the water, where there was a general crash, to the delight of the other passengers.
“Hold on!” He was startled, stood up and shook his fist at the bewildered Arab. “Wait until we're on the ground, Beast. I'll fix you up.”
“I am surprised, Ephraim,” said Frank soberly, “that you should make such a fuss about such a matter.” The knight in brown only wanted to take you to shore as the water is too shallow to allow boats to pass. You'll see all the passengers get off like that.”
The Vermont boy looked around to see if Frank was telling the truth. The women were protected in chairs, and the male passengers were strangled by Arabs and blacks.
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“Wal, why didn't they vibrate and tell a big one what they were?” Ephraim growled in shame and disgust. “They were joking if they wanted to kill us.”
When he reached shore, Frank paid for both his and Ephraim's transportation, as the older man, upset with the Vermonter, demanded payment.
An investigation revealed that there was a European hotel in town and Frank got a guide to pilot them there.
Ephraim muttered as they crossed the road. He threw water and presented a strange picture, but the people in the streets did not smile at him. They received him, indifferently, as if he were an insect of little importance. The men separated from the boys, the women fled from them, and the children fled in fear.
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“Really nice people,” Frank smiled. “Seeing their behavior, one would think we must be bloodthirsty barbarians.”
Almost everybody was wrapped in the streets in a kind of long white woolen cloak, a great mantle, which was usually worn directly over the head, giving the whole town the appearance of an order of Dominican monks.
Some of these masked men passed heavy, slow, and silent, with a dreamy look in their eyes, as if their thoughts were far away; Some people sat or crouched along the walls or in the corners of the houses, their eyes fixed and motionless, like the spell of the “Arabian nights.”
On the way to the hotel they passed through many narrow and winding streets, lined with white houses, without windows and with small doors that were not easy to enter.
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In most of the streets there was nothing to be seen but the whiteness of the walls and the blue of the sky above.
Almost every street was littered with rotting vegetables, feathers, bits of rags, bones, and occasionally dead cats and dogs.
At longer intervals, groups of Arab children could be seen playing or reciting verses from the Koran with nasal drones.
Here and there the smell of garlic, burning aloe, benzoin, fish, and nameless things reached the boys' nostrils.
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On one side was a fountain, surrounded by a crowd of Arabs and negroes, who were busy drawing water from various vessels.
Women sitting on the ground across the square offered bread.
The little square was full of almost naked vagabonds, rich Moors, Jews, servants of the veterans whose houses were near. Interpreters and beggars abound.
At this, a veiled girl suddenly broke away from the two men who seemed to be her attendants, gave a low cry of joy, came up to the boys, and threw her arms around Maryvale's neck, sobbing;
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Screams of shock and anger were heard from the people accompanying the girl. They drew short, curved swords from under their cloaks and charged at the boys.
“Leave your hand, you Christian dogs!” A roar, his sword flourishes.
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