Achmed Abdullah

“ His Royal Highness rasped something about "Vergnügt!" while Tom, chuckling to himself for the first time since he had entered the salon, took his left hand from the lapel of his coat, exposing an enormous gold medal, set with diamonds, and barbarously ornamented with various designs—the figure of a cowboy riding a refractory mare and waving his stetson, that of an Indian, of a buffalo charging head down, and the whole surmounted by an enameled American flag. ”

“ Servus!" from a South German.
Finally the Colonel introduced him to a short, broad-shouldered gentleman sitting on a green plush sofa at the other end of the room, very pompous and very erect—"like some darned idol in a Chink joss house," thought Tom—who wore the uniform of a general and whose breast outshone all the others in its splendor of stars and medals.
Colonel Wedekind clicked his heels and bowed very deeply.
"Königliche Hoheit—Royal Highness!" he said, in an awestruck whisper, "permit me graciously to introduce Mr. Graves, the American gentleman of whom I spoke to you!" ”

“ We want you to like us, Graves, and we'll take corking good care of you. We'll see that you get into no more such Homeric scrapes as you did with that fellow Neumann aboard the Augsburg."
"Say!" This time Tom was amazed. He had nearly forgotten about the little contretemps with the bank clerk, and here it was being quoted at him on his first day in Berlin. He was familiar with the quickness and shrewdness of American reporters, but it seemed that their German colleagues—for it could not be anything else—had them beaten by many miles. ”