Etext of Jack Hildreth on the Nile
Adapted from the Original of Karl May
By Marion Ames Taggart
Published by Benzinger Brothers
Copyright, 1899, by Benzinger Brothers


CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A Righteous Theft,
CHAPTER II. Evil Spirits, though no Ghosts,
CHAPTER III. A Boatload of Scamps,
CHAPTER IV. The Reis Effendina Administers Justice
CHAPTER V. In the Palace of the Pasha
CHAPTER VI. The Serious Consequences of an Eclipse
CHAPTER VII. In the Tomb of the Pharaohs
CHAPTER VIII. Out of the Tomb and Away from Siout
CHAPTER IX. On the Track of the Slave Caravan
CHAPTER X. Once More The Fakir
CHAPTER XI. To the Rescue
CHAPTER XII. "Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot?"
CHAPTER XIII The Reis Effendina in Danger
CHAPTER XIV. In Ibn Asl's Clutches
CHAPTER XV. Slipped through His Fingers
CHAPTER XVI. The Crocodiles Rejoice
CHAPTER XVII. An Old Friend in a New Guise
CHAPTER XVIII. A Woman's Gratitude
CHAPTER XIX. Jack Pays His Debt, and Makes a Conversion
CHAPTER XX. Selim Once More
CHAPTER XXI. The Muza'bir and the Mokkadem Get to the End
of the Rope
CHAPTER XXII. Friends Fall Out
CHAPTER XXIII. Ibn Asl's Last Crime
CHAPTER XXIV. The Task Fulfilled

JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE.

CHAPTER I. A RIGHTEOUS THEFT

LIFE is an interesting thing under all circumstances, and men are
worth studying whether they be savage or civilized.  There was
something born in me, however, which prevented me from being a
mere spectator of life; like the small boy in "Helen's Babies," I
liked to "see the wheels go round," it is true, but it was not possible
to keep from giving them a shove at the same time.

When I came back from the West I had no definite plan of life, and
after six months of inaction I began to get restless.  I had no desire
to return to the West, for with Winnetou, my adopted Apache
brother, dead, there was little attraction to me in the scenes we had
roamed together.

Having once followed the star of empire in a westerly direction, I
began to think of the East; I wanted, as Rudyard Kipling says, to
hear "the desert talk."

I broached the subject to my uncle, whose heir I was to be, and
whose name I bore, he being John Hildreth and I Jack Hildreth,
and found he had no objection to my having a few more of what
the Germans call "wander years."  

Uncle John had a friend who, opportunely, had some business
interests in Cairo, which he wanted looked after by a person in
whom he could confide, so, armed with this reason for setting
forth, I started for Egypt, with the understanding that, after I had
done the errand on which I had been sent, I was to be free to go
whither I willed.  

"The Triumphant,""EL Kahireh," the "Gate of the East" -- these are
titles the Egyptian gives the principal city of his land.  Though the
first of these is no longer appropriate, the last two, in perfect
justice, belong to Cairo; it certainly is the gate of the East.  It has
been overrun with Europeans, however, and the French especially
have set their mark upon it.  Shepherd's Hotel, the New Hotel, the
Hotel d'Orient, the Hotel du Nil, the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, and
countless other inns, cafes, and restaurants provide the traveler
with everything he is used to at home, but at a cost which would
require an English milord to meet a personage one is likely to be
mistaken for if he comes decently clad, and with an English
accent.  

On my arrival there was no delay in attending to the business
entrusted to me, which took all my time for three days.  After that I
was free to do whatever attracted me, and my first step was to sally
forth to see what I could discover in respectable lodgings at a
reasonable price.

The streets were full of a queer crowd.  On the corner was a group
of donkey boys, splitting the air with their cries.  The Egyptian
donkey is the unwearying, faithful servant of his master, who
rewards him with scanty food and many blows and kicks.  Laden
with the heaviest rider, the little beast travels many hours, and
even capers on his thankless way.  Behind him runs his driver,
beating him, occasionally adding a kick to the blows, or stoning
him, and hastening his speed with deafening shouts.  These drivers
are keen judges of men; they know at a glance whether they are
looking at a Frenchman, Englishman, Italian, or German.  They
know a word or a sentence of the language of each one, and seem
to have a scrap of knowledge of the history or geography of every
land.  "Here is a beautiful Bismarck," cries one, on recognizing a
German; the Bismarck, of course, being his donkey.  "Here is a
fine General Grant," cries another to an American, while the
Englishman is saluted with the invitation to try a "good Beefsteak,"
or ride a "renowned Palmerston"; and the Frenchman is assured
that here is "le grand Napoleon, le meilleur animal de toute
France."

A little way from the donkey boys two Arab jugglers sat in the
middle of the street exhibiting their skill.  A few feet further a
"muhad'dit" or story teller, had drawn around him a circle of
curiosity seekers, who were listening for the thousandth time to the
same old tales.  Close by, a little Negro danced to the sound of a
kind of flute, while closely veiled women, mounted on donkeys,
rode slowly past.  Then came a band of tall, swinging camels, each
with a straw rope on his tail, fastening him to the next one.  Behind
them panted the drivers and porters with heavy burdens on their
heads, singing with dull voices some reiterated words to keep
themselves in step.  Then followed a water seller, bearing a large
earthen vessel, from which he was prepared to quench one's thirst
for a slight recompense.  The other side of the street illustrated the
lack of privacy with which the most intimate concerns were
conducted.  The fronts of the houses were open, and the public eye
could gaze upon each interior.  In one I saw a worthy citizen
squatting on his mat, holding a struggling child between his knees,
whose tangled hair he was overhauling for those incumbrances
with which the Egyptians since the time of Pharaohs have been
rich.  From another house something was thrown into the street,
which proved to be a poor cat, just dead -- very likely of starvation
-- and whose body was tossed into the street regardless of sanitary
considerations.  A little further on, a gray-haired man sat with his
back against a post, his eyes closed, as the beads of his prayer
chain slipped through his fingers, his lips moving in prayer.  He
saw and heard nothing around him; he had quitted earth and
wandered in spirit in the fields of paradise, promised by Mohamed
to true believers.

Suddenly a cry arose: "May your morning be white." It was a
milkman, thus advertising his wares.  "Delicious flavor, dripping
with juice," cried another, who sold melons.  "They sprang from
the tears of the Prophet, O fragrance of all fragrance," echoed the
voice of the rose merchant, while the "scharbetti," or peddler of
rose-water, cried "Length of life, death to death; it purifies the
blood."

Opposite a cafe stood a little Negro girl, perhaps eight years old,
with a basket hung around her neck, who cried at intervals, in a
discouraged tone: "Figs, figs, sweeter than my eyes!"  Whoever had
taught the child to say this was a good business man, for her dark
eyes had a far-off, dreamy look which really was sweet.  She was a
pretty child, in spite of her black skin.  The frightened, pleading
tone, the outstretched, imploring hand, were certain to induce
passers-by to spend a few para for figs.

I could scarcely turn my eyes from the little creature; her voice
sounded terror-stricken, and her cry of "Figs, figs," fell on my ear
like an appeal for help, and I determined to give her a good
backsheesh.  I noticed that I was not the only one who felt drawn
to the child; the little black waiter boy in the cafe had thrice
slipped out while I stood there to buy a fig.  Was it because he
loved sweets.  or from childish sympathy? When he approached
the little girl her face lighted up with a loving look, as it did if he
looked out the door and their eyes met.  Turning to see if he were
still in sight, I saw him crouching down in a corner, half turned
away from the street, and yes, he was crying; I saw him repeatedly
rub the back of his hand across his eyes to dry the tears.  The little
girl discovered him in his corner, and, seeing that he was crying,
both of her hands instantly flew up to her eyes.  Evidently there
was some connection between these two pretty ebony children. 
What made me do so I could not say, but I went over to the boy in
the corner.  As he saw me standing by him he jumped up, and,
with a little bow, started to go away.  I held him fast, however, and
asked him, in a tone I tried to make encouraging: 

"Why are you crying? Can't you tell me?"

He looked me in the face, winked away his tears, and replied:
"Because no one buys from Djangeh."

"Do you mean the little fig merchant over there?"

"Yes."

"You buy from her; I saw you do so several times."

He seemed to think I accused him of gluttony, for he said, hastily:
"I didn't eat the figs; I'll give them back to her when the master has
gone by.  I only bought them so she could have some money, for if
she doesn't bring in five piasters at night she will be beaten, and
have nothing to eat, and be tied in a circle by her hands and feet to
a post.  I must bring in eight piasters; the cafe keeper gives me
three each day; I have had four to-day as backsheesh, and I only
need one more.  Some one is sure to give me that, so I gave twenty
para to Djangeh for figs."

"To whom do you have to bring these piasters?" I asked.  

"To our master."

"He is Djangeh's master also?"

"Yes; she is my sister."

"And what is your master's name?"

"He is a wicked man, called Abd el Barak."

"Has he hired you from your father?"

"No; our father and mother live far away.  He bought us of the men
who attacked our village, burned our houses, and took us
prisoners, with many others, to sell us."

"So you are slaves, you poor little creatures!" I cried.  "What was
your native country called?"

"I don't know; it had no name; there was a river called Bahr el
Abiad.  Our people were called Dongiol," answered the boy.

"Well, don't cry any more to-day; nothing shall happen you.  Here
are ten piasters, which you may share with Djangeh; she shall have
her supper, and not be abused."

As I laid the money in his hand tears of joy sprang in his eyes, his
lips moved as if to thank me, but he could not speak, and I turned
away, followed by his grateful eyes.

I went into the cafe and sat down to think over this sad little story. 
The Viceroy had forbidden slave-trading, and yet here was proof
that, as I had been told, it was still secretly carried on.  Poor,
faithful, loving little chap!  He had not forgotten his country and
people, and how beautiful and touching was his love for his sister! 
And this Abd el Barak, which means "dispenser of blessings"; how
ill his name accorded with his actions!

As I was reflecting on these things and considering how I could
rescue the children, a man appeared from the side street who could
never pass unnoticed.  He was in the prime of life, of a
commanding figure, tall and strongly built, evidently possessing
great muscular power.  He had heavy jaws, compressed lips, and
his color indicated African blood in his veins.  In spite of the
indications that he had sprung from the Sudan, he wore green
slippers and turban to show he was a successor of the Prophet.  In
each hand he held a prayer chain, and around his neck hung a case
with the "Hama‰l" -- that is, a Koran written in the sacred city of
Mecca, and bought during a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Prophet. 
Holding himself very erect, he made his way along the street, his
whole manner saying, plainly: "Here am I; who is like to me?  Fall
down in the dust before me."  From the first glance, this man was
antagonistic to me, though I did not guess how just my dislike was,
nor what grounds he was to give me for detesting him.  The
bystanders saluted the newcomer with profound salaams, laying
their hands on their hearts, lips and brow, all of which he
acknowledged with the slightest bend of the head, and passed
through a door near-by, signaling the little slave boy and girl to
follow.  I saw an expression of terror on the boy's face as his
trembling sister joined him, and the eyes of both were full of tears.

Could this man be Abd el Barak?  Of course it was, and I hastened
after the children with a presentiment that they would need me. 
As I reached the door a frightened wail rang in my ear; I sprang
over the sill.  Behind the door lay a small court, in which the man
was standing.  He held Djangeh up by the hair with both hands,
and she dared not utter a sound beyond a moan, which she could
not repress.  Before them knelt the boy, pleading: "Let her go; oh,
let her go, and I will pay for her."

The wretch shook Djangeh from side to side as she hung by her
hair, and said to the boy, with a ferocious grin: "So you have more
money than you give?  I thought so.  Give it over, and if you --" 
He stopped, for he saw me.  Letting the poor child sink downward,
he demanded: "Who are you?  What do you want?"

"Let that child free, instantly!" I answered.

He gnashed his teeth like a wild beast, but I paid no attention to
this; rather, to make sure I was obeyed, dealt him a blow on the
chest which made his fingers open, and Djangeh fell to the ground,
where she lay, not daring to move.  Abd el Barak stepped back a
few paces, bent over, doubled his fists, and would have thrown
himself upon me, but I cried: "Stop!  Will a successor of the
Prophet get into a scrimmage?"

He paused and straightened himself, but what a face I saw!  It
defied description.  The blood had left it, and its brown tint had
changed to a dirty gray.  His lips were open, disclosing two rows of
long, yellow teeth; his eyes flashed fire, and his breath came in
gasps.  

"Dog!" he snarled.  "Thou hast attacked a Sheik, a successor of the
Prophet.  Dost thou know me?"

"No," I answered, quietly, keeping my eyes on his.

"I am the Sheik Hadschi Abd el Barak, Mokkadem of the sacred
Kadis."

This was an interesting piece of news.  He was the chief of the
members of the pious brotherhood which administered so-called
justice in Egypt!  However, without seeming much affected by
these tidings, I replied: "Very likely you are, but why do you not
act like a son of the Prophet and the head of such a pious
confraternity?"

"What knowest thou of my actions?  Has thou not seen just now
how all heads bowed before me?  Humble thyself also, thou dog! 
Thou hast struck me, and I will tell thee how to make amends for
such an injury."

"I kneel to no man; I am not a Moslem, but a Christian."

He positively swelled before me.  "A Christian, a giaour, a thieving
dog!" he roared.  "And thou hast dared annoy the Sheik Abd el
Barak!  It were better for thee thy mother had strangled thee at
birth, for I will seize thy throat --"

"Oh, don't chatter," I interrupted him.  "Every one of your threats is
laughable.  You are no greater than I, and have not the slightest
power over me.  I am answerable to my consul, and he doesn't care
about your titles.  Repeat  your insults and I'll knock you down,
and appeal to the law to find out whether the acts of a man who
buys slave children, beats and starves them, and ties them to posts
if they fail to bring him the money he wants are pleasing to God."

He fell back at these words, crying: "Who, who told thee this?  It
was this boy, this jackal! Woe be to him when he comes home
to-night."

"You'll do him no harm; I'll take care of that," I said.

"Thou wilt take care of it?  Wouldst thou give me commands, thou
a dog of a Christian, whom Allah will burn forever in --"

He got no further, for I had been guilty of wrong to myself and all
Christians with whom he would deal later if I allowed his words to
pass unpunished.  I drew off and gave him such a blow that he fell
flat, and lay on the pavement senseless.

"Quick, quick," cried the Negro boy, trembling between joy and
fright.  "He's dead!  Don't go out into the street again, but through
the little gate at the back of the court, where you will find a
deserted house, and over its wall you can get to another street.  But
hasten, hasten."

"He is not dead, only unconscious, and I have no fear," I said.  "But
I will take the road you say.  Come with me; Abd el Barak shall
never beat you again."

I took the boy's hand in my left one, the girl's in my right, and went
out through the little gate.  We climbed over the wall, and came
out on the back street, the children following me silently, too
dazed with the thought that they had been rescued from their
oppressor to be sure whether they walked on air or earth.  But their
black eyes looked at me adoringly, and I saw they would follow
me unhesitatingly to the ends of the earth.  

Now, the question was: What shall I do with them?

Two stolen Negro slave children were puzzling luggage for a
young American traveler.  I had made but one acquaintance in
Cairo, beyond the business connection of my uncle's friend.  This
man was called Murad Nassyr, and to him I resolved to go for
advice and help.

CHAPTER II. EVIL SPIRITS, THOUGH NO GHOSTS

CLOSELY followed by my two poor little companions, I went
straight to the house of Murad Nassyr, where I had been before. 
The door was opened to me by his long, thin steward Selim, who
appeared surprised at the sight of my companions.  His master was
not at home, so I dispatched him to the coffee house Murad Nassyr
most frequented, and went to the inner court to await his coming.

In less than half an hour Murad Nassyr pushed aside the curtain
across the entrance, but stopped short when he saw the children.

"What does this mean?" he cried.  "Have these Negroes come here
with you?  Why do you wish to see me?"

"It is a long story, Murad Nassyr," I replied.  "If you will allow me
I will tell you it."

The master of the house made up his mind to accept its invasion in
so far as listening to my explanation, for, coming over, he seated
himself beside me.  I related to him as briefly as I could the story
of my purloining the little slaves, to whom their master had no
more right than I.  He heard me with many groans of alarm and
horror, and no signs of sympathy for the little victims.  When I
finished he broke forth into Turkish exclamations, and, becoming
articulate, demanded if I did not fear so great a man as Abd el
Barak.  "You saw how respectfully he was treated," he said.  "He
has influence which may be very dangerous to us."

"I don't care how others treat him," I said.  "The main thing, to my
mind, is the way I treated him, and no one could call that
respectful.  You have no reason to fear him, for you have done
nothing to him."

"But you are my guest at this moment, and I am responsible for
your acts," replied poor Murad Nassyr.

I rose up, as if to go, saying:  "I can easily remove that difficulty by
leaving.  I am looking for a lodging, and only came for your
advice."

"No, no; you will stay here.  I should never consent to your leaving
my house under the circumstances," he said.

"That is a generous speech, Murad Nassyr," I said, taking his hand. 
"To be frank with you, I hoped you would offer to shelter me and
these children.  You said to me the other day that you would like
me to come to stay with you -- that I could do you a great service. 
Now, I need a refuge for these unfortunate little creatures until I
can place them in safety; give me this, and I will try to do you the
service you desire.  Is it a bargain?"

"Yes," replied Murad Nassyr, after a moment's thought, and calling
Selim, who struck me as being suspiciously prompt to reply to his
summons, he committed the children to his charge, instructing him
to give them food and sweetmeats.  

When they had withdrawn, Murad Nassyr turned to me.  "You are
a Christian," he began; "and I know so little of your religion that I
am ignorant of its teachings.  Do you believe in heaven and hell?"

"Certainly."

"Do you think departed souls can return to earth as ghosts? 
Answer on your conscience.

"As spirits, I believe they can, but not as ghosts in my sense of the
word ghost," I replied, surprised.

"You are mistaken; there are ghosts," he replied, positively.

"If you think so I will not argue the point, though I am not of your
opinion."

"You will be of my opinion.  By morning you will believe there are
ghosts, for this house is haunted."  He looked at me steadily as be
spoke, expecting to see me shrink, but I remained unmoved, only
saying, laughingly: "There may be what is considered a ghost in
the house; I don't doubt your sincerity, but you have mistaken
something, perhaps a shadow, for an apparition.  'Tell me about it."

"Shadows are dark; this ghost is white," he said, shaking his head. 
"It goes through closed doors, rattles chains, howls and shrieks like
the wind, barks like a dog, brays like a donkey or camel."

"Have you seen it yourself?"

"Certainly, and so have my sister and her servants, the steward,
and my two Negroes.  It appears at a certain time, around
midnight, remains an hour every time, and comes each day."

"Have you any idea whose ghost it is?"

"Yes; the ghost of the former owner of the house."

"Really!  Haven't you a clear title deed?"

"I pray you, don't jest, Effendi," cried Murad Nassyr, earnestly.  "I
can't stay here if the house continues haunted.  It is the cheapest
rent in Cairo, for every one knows the house is haunted, and they
can't get a tenant."

"On the whole, I should say the ghostly past owner was playing a
low-down trick, thus spoiling the property for his successor; who
owns it now?"

"His widow; she has the use of it till she dies; then the brotherhood
of the Kadis can take it, or if she refuses to keep it, as she must if
things go on in this way."

"The Kadis!" I exclaimed.  "My friend Abd el Barak has other
scamps among his associates!  Don't you see that some one is sent
by them to play the ghost here that the house may be abandoned,
and fall into their hands? Let me have the room where the ghost is
usually seen, and I'll venture to say you'll have no more trouble
with him after to-night."

"You seem to have no fear!" cried Murad Nassyr, admiringly. 
"The favor I longed to ask of you was that you would watch with
us one night, though I feared you would not see him, for, being a
Christian, he might account you unclean."

"I'll make him so unclean that he shall be a laughingstock to all
Islam.  Do you sleep in the dark?"

"No; we all burn lights for fear of the ghost."

"Yet nevertheless he comes?"

"Nevertheless he comes," assented Murad Nassyr, with a shudder. 
"He comes through bolted doors, and wanders before our eyes up
and down the lighted rooms; oh, it is horrible!"

"And where does Selim sleep, the brave steward, who declares he
is the hero of his tribe and the world?"

"Behind the outside door, where his bed is made, and he has seen
the ghost often."

"Well, it grows dark even now.  If you will permit me, I will visit
my small charges, and then prepare for the vigil," I said.

I found the children comfortably bestowed, and happy in their first
good supper and freedom from abuse in the two years since they
had been enslaved.  I was grateful to the ghost I purposed
capturing, for I knew well that Murad Nassyr would never have
risked sheltering them from Abd el Barak had he not desired my
help even more than he acknowledged.  I, too, supped abundantly
with my host, who then conducted me to the scene of my next
adventure, pressed my hand as he said good night, and left me.  I
heard the door of his apartment clang behind him, and the bolt
drawn; I was alone to await my next visitor, who was supposed to
come from another world.

I had provided myself with strong ropes, from one of which I made
a lasso such as Sam Hawkins had so well taught me to use on the
plains.  With these, and my knife and pistol close at hand, I lay
down on the couch placed for me, and drew up the blanket so that
only my face showed.

I had not long to wait.  I heard a rustle by the door leading to
Murad Nassyr's apartment, which opened, and the ghost entered. 
By the light I saw a thin, pointed instrument in his hand, which he
inserted in the hole to push back the bolt.  I held my lids down,
feigning sleep, but watched everything through my lashes.  I felt
ashamed for Murad Nassyr; this apparition had nothing ghostly
about it.  The fellow was wrapped in a white burnoose that fell to
the ground, the hood drawn over his head, and a white cloth
covered his face, in which two holes had been cut for the eyes. 
This was not a spirit, a ghost, but a man, and remarkably like the
figure of Abd el Barak.  He came over to my side and stood
watching me for a few moments to assure himself I was really
sleeping, though how I could be supposed to be I did not
understand, for some companion ghosts were in the next room
imitating the howling of dogs, and making a hubbub fit to waken
the Seven Sleepers.  Very softly my ghost bent over me, his right
hand crept out of the burnoose, and I saw the flash of a knife
blade.  I did not spring up, for such a movement would have
brought me directly in contact with the knife, but I threw myself at
his feet, and tripped him up.  The knife flew from his hand, and he
fell flat across the couch.  The next moment I was over him,
choking him with the left hand, while with the right I dealt him a
blow back of the ear.  He made a feeble effort at resistance and
then became unconscious, whereupon I bound his arms and legs
fast, and placed a nice, comfortable little gag between his jaws,
that in case he regained consciousness he should not call for help. 
After that I pulled off the cloth covering his face, and saw, as I
expected, the cruel countenance of Abd el Barak.

Without stopping to meditate on the fate that had delivered the
children's oppressor into my hands while engaged in actions for
which he would be punishable by law, I went in pursuit of his
comrades.  Taking my revolver, I crawled on my hands and knees,
close to the dark wall, into the next room.  There were two
charming fellows here, who, to make themselves like the beasts
they were imitating, were going about on all fours.  Keeping
myself as near the floor as I could, I crept up to them, my garments
being too dark for me to be easily distinguished from the rugs. 
When I was within six or seven paces of the one nearest me, I
sprang up and knocked him down with one good blow.  He uttered
a tremendous shriek, but lay still.  The other, warned by this cry,
arose.  He saw me and started to run away, I after him, toward the
basin of a fountain.  A stone of the coping of this basin had gotten
loose; I did not see it and tripped over it, thus delaying my flight
just enough to let the fellow get sufficient start so that when I got
into the garden I saw him escaping over the wall.  I caught him by
the foot and pulled him back.  He came with such force that I fell
under him; he drew his knife, but I was too quick for him, and
made a swift turn, which brought the thrust between my arm and
side.  Then I gave him a blow on the nose, and tried to hold him by
his knife hand.  The pain of his cracked nose redoubled his
strength; he wrenched himself free, made a dash for the wall,
mounted it, dropped on the other side, and I heard him running
away for dear life.

Well, it was a pity he had got off, but I was lucky to have escaped
his knife.  Consoling myself with this thought, I returned to the
house.  I found Ghost Number Two lying where my blow had
stretched him.  I disarmed him, and went to the main entrance of
the house, where the brave Selim lay.  As he heard me coming he
began the Moslem pilgrim's prayer: "O Allah, protect me from the
thrice stoned devil, deliver me from all evil spirits, and cover the
depths of hell from mine eyes."

"Stop whimpering," I said, "and get up.  It is I."

"You?  And who are you?" came a voice from beneath the blanket
in which he had muffled himself.  "I know who you are.  Go from
me, for I am beloved of the Prophet, and you have no power over
me."

"Nonsense!  Don't you know my voice ? I am the stranger Effendi,
who is your guest."

"No, you are not.  You have assumed his voice to deceive.  But the
hands of the holy caliphs are outspread to protect me, and in
paradise a million lips move in prayer for my delivery.  O Allah,
Allah, Allah, let my sins be so small before Thee that Thou canst
not see them, and help me to overcome the evil spirit whose claws
tear at my back."

The man who had boasted himself the greatest hero in the universe
was fairly quivering with terror, till I pulled him out of his blanket,
and he saw it was indeed I, in my own flesh, when he changed his
tone.  "Effendi!" he cried, "what a risk you ran!  Fortunately, I
recognized your voice instantly.  Had I mistaken you for the ghost,
your soul would have gone out of your body like smoke, for I am
terrible in my wrath."

"It's a lucky thing you feel thus," I answered, "for you can help me
with the ghost I have captured in my room."

"Effendi, you are jesting.  Who could capture a ghost?"

"I am not jesting; he lies yonder; we'll bring him in here."

"Deliver us, O Lord, and bless us with Thy blessing!" he cried,
stretching out his hands as if to ward off danger.  "No order from
the khedive, no law and no command could make me go into that
place where the evil spirit lies."

"It isn't a ghost; it's a man."

"Then tell me his name, the name of his father, and his father's
father, and where his tribe abides, or I cannot believe him a man."

"This is sheer nonsense; I knocked him down, and bound him, and
in the next room lies a second man in the same condition," I said
impatiently.

"Then you are lost; they have let themselves appear conquered,
only to destroy you, body and soul, and throw the pieces to the
wind."

"Go back to your bed and hide under the blanket.  But never say
again you are the most famous hero of your tribe." 

So saying I left him in disgust to return to my prisoners, while he,
as I learned later, went to call his master and tell him how he,
Selim, single-handed and alone, had fought and conquered the two
men who were playing ghosts.

I went over to Ghost Number Two and felt his head; it was
swollen, but not broken; his heart beat evenly.  I laid my hand on
him none too gently, saying: "He who plays the dead should be
dead.  Take care I do not put an end to you.  You have escaped this
time, but ghosts receive very little mercy at my hands."

Selim opportunely thrust his head around the door at this moment,
and I beckoned him to me.  "You must stay with my other prisoner
while I speak with Murad Nassyr," I said.  "I hope I can trust him
to you?"

"With full confidence, Effendi," he replied, vauntingly.

"You may rest assured that he is safe.  A glance from my eagle eye
will be enough to fill him with terror.  But let me get my
weapons."

"That is not necessary, for he is bound."

"I know that well, Effendi, but weapons double a man's value, and
give his orders the force they require."

Plainly he was afraid to be left alone with these helpless men, so I
consented to his dragging in his entire arsenal, and went to find
Murad Nassyr.  We agreed in our opinion of the best course to
take, and returned together to Abd el Barak, sending Selim away,
that he might not know what was done with the prisoner.  I went
over to Abd el Barak and unfastened his bonds.  Then showing him
my revolver, I said: "I'll make you a ghost in truth if you move
without my permission.  Listen to me."

He gave me a glance full of the bitterest hatred, folded his arms
and said: "I hear you."

"First of all, you shall renounce all right to the Negro children I
rescued."

"I renounce it," he said, with a movement of the hand as if it were
of no interest to him.

"You will do so in writing, that there shall be no question about it."

"Very well, I will."

"You shall also give me a letter of credit recommending me to the
protection of all the brethren of your society, the Kadis."

"I will write it." He answered as promptly as before; so promptly
that I mistrusted him.

"And, finally, you shall confess in writing the part you have played
here, and acknowledge how you were captured.  We will draw this
up, and you shall sign it."

"By the life of the Prophet, I never will," he cried.

"Swear not by Mohamed; you cannot keep your oath."

"I will keep it.  What would you do with this paper?"

"If you do nothing to injure us, we will show it to no one, but if
you should prove treacherous, we will know how to use it.  It shall
be published abroad, and your piety shall be known in its true
aspect."

I had played my highest trump and waited its effect on Abd el
Barak.  He asked permission to rise, and paced the floor for several
minutes.  At last he paused before me, and asked: "If I do this thing
shall we leave here unharmed?"

"Yes."

"And the writing never be shown till you know I have done you an
injury?"

"Never."

"By my soul, and the souls of my fathers, you are a man to be
feared!  The day of your birth was an evil day for me.  Write, and I
will sign."

Seating myself at a table, I drew up the confession, and then
beckoned Abd el Barak to come and sign it.  He signed, and
handed it back to me with a heavy sigh.  "So then we are through. 
Unbind this man and let us go"

We freed Ghost Number Two, and conducted them to the door,
where Selim stood ready to draw the bolt.  As Abd el Barak set his
foot over the threshold he turned back to us, and, addressing me,
said in a derisive tone: "God protect you, God deliver you; I hope
to see you again in a short time."

Then with his companion ghost he disappeared.

CHAPTER III. A BOATLOAD OF SCAMPS.

THE children were now definitely in my hands, and the first steps I
had to take was to arrange for their well-being.  The only course
possible to me, since I meant to push on into Egypt, was to leave
the boy and girl in the hands of the kind Sisters of Charity, who,
happily, are to be found everywhere.  It was not without many
tears that the unfortunate little creatures parted from me, whom
they regarded as a sort of visible providence, their only friend.  But
I left them in hands better able than I was to care for them and
make them happy, and turned to the preparations for my departure
from Cairo, perfectly satisfied that their welfare was assured.  

Murad Nassyr engaged passage for me on a "dahabijeh" going up
the Nile, called the "Semek," or fish, because of its speed.

"Selim," I said to the long steward, as I made my preparations for
sailing; "Selim, while you were left alone with Abd el Barak last
night, did you tell him that I should sail on the 'Semek' to-day?"

"No, I did not say a word," he replied.

"Be honest; more depends on it than you think."

He laid both hands on his heart and said, with the greatest
appearance of frankness: "Effendi; do not insult my pious soul by
thinking I would lie to you.  Why should I have chattered? I was
born the son of silence, and only such words as are pleasing to
Allah and the holy caliphs proceed from my lips.  I swear I have
not said a word of your going."

"Good," I said, though I felt doubtful still.  "When does the
'dahabijeh' start?"

"At three; you know that is the hour of departure for all faithful
Moslems."

"And where does she lie?  Is there a coffee house near by from
which she can be seen?"

"Yes, there is a coffee house near her landing, from which the deck
can be easily overlooked.  I will show it to you."

"No, that was not what I was thinking of.  I hope you have told me
the truth, and remember, it is hard for a liar to get confidence a
second time."

"Right, most right," he said, bowing so low that the brim of his
turban swept the floor as he left the room.

Murad Nassyr conducted me to the "dahabijeh" with much
ceremony.  He thought there would be no more trouble with Abdel
Barak, because I held his written confession; but remembering the
derision in his voice as he left us, I felt sure there would be some
attempt on his part at revenge.  We parted with mutual expressions
of goodwill, while Selim actually kissed my hand, which,
considering that I was an unbeliever and he an Arab Moslem,
showed I must have made a profound impression on him.

As I stepped on deck a voice at my elbow said: "Effendi, allow me
to bring on board your things lying there where the porter dropped
them."

I turned and saw a man standing with a deferential air close at my
elbow.  His little eyes gleamed sharp under his bushy brows, his
thin lips were drawn in at the corners as if to control contemptuous
laughter, and his nose -- ah, that nose!  It was green, yellow, red,
and blue, and swollen dreadfully.  What could he have done to get
such a nose?  Involuntarily, I thought of Ghost Number Three, with 
 whose nose my fist had come in such violent contact in the
garden.  At the same time I heard the sailors singing "Ah ia sidi
Abd el Kader," the favorite air of the Moslems belonging to the
Kadis, and I wondered if the captain were a member of this
brotherhood.  Suppose Selim had told Abd el Barak I was to sail
that day, and he had sent Ghost Number Three on board?

"What is your name?" I asked the man, suddenly.

He hesitated, then replied, as if using the first words that occurred
to him: "I am called Ben Schorak."

"What is your tribe?  How long have you been on this ship?"

"I am an Arab, of the tribe of Maazeh, and have been on board
over a year."

"Good! Fetch my things, and if I am pleased with you, you shall
have generous backsheesh."

Then I walked over to the captain and asked him if he had a man
whom he could spare for my personal service.  The captain pointed
to where my swollen-nosed friend was busy with my luggage, and
replied unsuspiciously: "I have already appointed a man to your
use.  He is working for you now."

"What is his name?"

"Barik."

"A Bedouin?"

"No, he comes from Minieh."

"Is he trustworthy?  How long have you had him?"

"Four months."

This was enough; I was sure it was Ghost Number Three, and he
had not had the foresight to have concocted his answers with the
captain, so their stories would agree.  I wondered whether he had
been sent on board to murder me, or steal Abd el Barak's
acknowledgment of guilt.  Most probably the latter, since as I was
known to have sailed on the "Semek," my murder might be
attended by unpleasant consequences; I would keep a sharp
lookout and  try hard to defend myself against whatever was to
follow.

We got under way immediately, and made good speed up the river
in the strong north wind, until the sunset, and the "moghieb," or
evening prayer, was said.  Then the captain lowered part of the
sails, and we crawled onward but slowly, and I saw that the
"dahabijeh" was headed toward the left bank.  I went to the captain
to ask an explanation of this movement, and was told we were to
anchor for the night at Gizeh.

"What is that for, when we have just begun our voyage?"

"You ought to know that no ship continues up the river after dark,"
the captain replied.

"After dark, yes; but it is not nearly dark yet, and it is going to be
such bright moonlight that we could easily go on."

"I am captain of this 'dahabijeh,' and will give such orders as I see
fit," said the captain curtly, abandoning all the deference of
manner he had shown previously, and turning abruptly away.

There evidently was some special reason for this determination on
the part of the captain, and I felt sure it would prove part of a
design against me.  

We anchored at Gizeh, and the sailors were given permission to go
ashore, and went gladly, leaving only three persons on board with
me: the captain, the pilot, and my devoted servant with the
many-tinted nose.  This fine specimen came to me in my cabin to
ask me if I wished for anything.  I asked for water and a lamp, and
when he brought them drew out my wallet, opened it, and ran over
the papers in it to let the man see that it was full.  This I did to
hasten matters, and secure the thieves' attack on a point at which I
was prepared, if, as I suspected, they meant to try to get Abd el
Barak's confession away from me.

That I had guessed aright I felt convinced, for the man said, in a
most cordial tone: "You are very wise, Effendi, to stay in the cabin. 
The night air on the river is dangerous to strangers.  Do you think
you will need me again?"

"No; I will eat a few dates, smoke a pipe, and then go to sleep."

"I will leave you then, and not disturb you.  May your night be
peaceful."  He made an obeisance only less low than Selim's
neck-breaking genuflection, and withdrew, dropping the matting
which served as portiere to shut off the cabin from the deck.

As soon as I thought it prudent I blew out my lamp and followed
him.  The deck was not lighted, except by the stars, and concealing
myself behind the bales of tobacco piled on it, I crawled on my
hands and knees close to where the three men were sitting, and
where I could hear every word spoken.

"What is he doing now, the giaour? May he be tortured for all
eternity."  It was the captain speaking, with rather less than the
politeness one might desire.

"He is smoking in his cabin," answered Ghost Number Three.  "He
won't come out again; I told him the night air gave strangers
fever."

"That was wise of you.  May his tobacco choke him.  May the hand
that struck the Mokkadem and stole his slaves be withered and
powerless forever.  Why are you forbidden to kill the dog?"

"Because it would bring you into danger.  Later, the work will be
finished.  Now, you need never know that the 'muza'bir' came on
board."

A "muza'bir" is a juggler, and I listened sharply to hear what his
errand to the "Semek" at night might be. 

"It was not necessary to send him," said the captain.  "If we had not
been obliged to wait for the 'muza'bir' we could have gone farther,
and you could have stolen the paper as well as he."

"Allah wallah, what do you think I am?  The giaour is a powerful
wretch.  He conquered the Mokkadem, who is as strong as a lion,
knocked down his servant, and you see that I shall bear the mark of
his hand for many a week.  I know not fear, my heart is as full of
courage as a panther's, but I will not try to take a paper by night
from the pocket of a man with such a death-dealing hand as his. 
The 'muza'bir' is the most famous pickpocket in Egypt.  He will
take the paper and disappear.  When the giaour misses it he may
do what he pleases; it won't be found on the 'dahabijeh.'"

"And you feel sure that Mokkadem will have him killed ?"

"Surely; the deed he has done can only be punished by death,"
answered the ghost, positively.  "He will be spared now for your
sake, but later, perhaps when he gets to Siout, whither he is bound,
he will be dealt with; I have orders to follow him all the way.  See,
the 'muza'bir' comes." As he spoke a man appeared over the side of
the "dahabijeh," carrying a lantern.  Scanning the three by its light,
the newcomer said: "Massik Vilchair, good evening."

"Ahla wah sahla wah marhaba," responded the captain, wishing
him in these words family and prosperity.

I wanted to see "the most famous pickpocket in Egypt" who had
come to rob me, and cautiously stuck my head out around the
tobacco bale.  He had set the lantern where its light fell on his
face.  He was about the same age as the Mokkadem, the same
color, and had the same Negro type of features; not so tall, but
broader shouldered than his chief, and equally strong.  He was clad
in a long, dark shirt, belted, with a knife thrust in the belt; his feet
were shod with straw sandals.  This was the garb of a poor man,
but thick heavy gold rings hung in his ears, and at least ten rings
encircled with precious stones flashed on his fingers.  His voice
rang with self-esteem as he said: "You expected me?"

"Yes, lord, we were waiting thee," answered the captain.

"Where is the dog?  Describe to me his cabin.  I have no time to
lose."

Ghost Number Three undertook this duty, and I left him
performing it while I crawled back to my quarters; as I looked
back before dropping the matting curtain I saw the thief extinguish
his lantern.  The first thing I did, however, was to light my lamp
again, for I had no desire to go through the coming adventure in
darkness.  Then I took Abd el Barak's confession out of my wallet
and hid it in my breast; the wallet, still bulging with papers, I put
back in my breast-pocket.  I lay down on my right side so that the
light fell in my face, which was unpleasant, but I hoped it would at
once convince the robber that I was asleep.  I opened my coat, and
let the left hand pocket containing the wallet show plainly and be
easily taken, for the more I lessened the difficulty of the theft the
more I lessened my own danger, for I knew I should be killed if
there were any apparent likelihood of discovery.  I thrust my two
revolvers under my head, and kept my right hand on them under
the pillow.  Then I was all ready, and hoped I should not have to
wait long.

This wish was fulfilled; as I lay watching the matting through my
eyelids I saw it move, and one corner was slowly, very slowly,
lifted, two, three, five, six inches.  The fellow peeped in, then
softly and cautiously put his head under the opening.  I breathed
evenly as one in quiet slumber.  He coughed, not loudly enough to
awaken one who really slept, but enough to arouse a man who was
dozing.  Still I did not move, and convinced that I was not feigning
slumber the juggler crawled into the cabin a shoulder and a limb at
a time.  He had laid aside his garment and had oiled his body so
that it would have been impossible to hold him in case of capture. 
Creeping up to my bedside he held the point of his knife at my
breast, and began to draw the wallet from my pocket, but so slowly
that I feared I should lose control of my nerves, and make a
movement that would betray me.  It took a quarter of an hour to
accomplish the theft, but at last my wallet was in his hand, he
withdrew the knife from my breast, and felt his prize with both
hands.  Satisfied that it was full of papers, he glided out of the
cabin much more rapidly than he had entered, and without the
slightest rustle, lifting the matting after he had passed under it to
assure himself I had not moved.

I waited at most but a minute, then blew out my light, seized the
revolver in my left hand and rushed on deck.  The three
scoundrels, the captain, my beloved ghost, and the thief were
huddled around the lantern in the shadow of a tobacco bale
examining my wallet.  The pilot sat over by the helm and as I
pushed back the matting he saw me and cried: "The Effendi, the
Effendi!" The thief straightened up and saw me, and, with the cry,
"Game's up this time," he threw my wallet away, and the papers
scattered in every direction, while he himself disappeared over the
side in the darkness.  The ex-ghost and the captain gathered up my
papers, put them back in the wallet, and the latter was safely
tucked away under the captain's garment.  I seized a torch, lighted
it, and saw the form of the thief scrambling ashore.

The captain grasped my arm, crying: "Effendi, what has come over
you?  Allah protect us!  Are you possessed of a spirit?"

"There seem to be spirits about, it is true.  Here, for instance, is
this man you detailed to serve me; he is a ghost," I said.

"I?" exclaimed the man.

"Yes, you -- Ghost Number Three."

"Ghost Number Three!  Effendi, you are wandering in your mind;
you have the fever."

"You are forgetful; I'll help you remember.  Ghost Number One I
bound fast in my room; Ghost Number Two I knocked down, and
bound also; Number Three I followed into the garden when he
escaped after trying to stab me.  If you don't understand yet I'll
remind you that you told these men that you would bear the mark
of my hand for many weeks."

He did not answer, but glanced at the others in silence.  The
captain, however, said reproachfully: "Effendi, I cannot imagine
why you speak thus to this true, good man.  I will --"

"You have already, if you mean you will steal my papers and my
wallet," I interrupted.  "Give them to me."

He drew himself up to his full height and said: "Effendi, I am a
Moslem and you are a Christian.  Do you realize what that means
in this land?  Further, I am the captain, and you are my passenger;
do you know what that means on board?"

"And finally I am an honest man and you are a rascal," I said. 
"And do you know the consequences of that?  We are not in the
Sudan, but here in Gizeh, where a few words from our consul have
a power you have reason to fear.  The 'muza'bir' has escaped --"

Before I could say more the pilot broke out into lamentation.  "O,
Allah, ia faza, ia hijaraher, he knows everything.  He knows all we
have said.  I go, I fly, I'll not stay here."

"Yes," I said, "I do know all; I was not so stupid as you thought
me.  Now, who has the best of it, you followers of the Kadis, or I,
the Christian?  I laugh at you.  I knew the 'muza'bir' was coming,
and I hid the paper you wanted.  Here it is."  I held the paper
before their eyes, and continued: "You, captain, have stolen my
wallet; give it back."

"I haven't it."

"You say that with the nose of Ghost Number Three before your
eyes?  Do you want to feel the weight of my hand?  Hand it over,
or I'll take it from you."

I moved toward him, and he threw the wallet out, and made an
attempt to throw it overboard.  I was too quick for him; with a
quick wrench I had it in my hand.  He hesitated a moment, then
doubled his fist, and would have struck me, but I raised my foot,
and with a well-aimed kick sent him rolling, to the accompaniment
of the pilot's cries of "O Allah, O captain, O woe, O misfortune."

I went over to the prostrate commander, who had rolled to the side
of the boat, and was about to order him to sit up, when I saw three
persons standing on the shore, who hailed us at that moment, and
called: "Is not that the 'dahabijeh' called the 'Semek'?'"

"Yes," I replied.

"And are you a passenger?"

"Yes."

"We wish to come on board."

CHAPTER IV. THE REIS EFFENDINA ADMINISTERS
JUSTICE.

WHO or what the strangers were who wished to board the
"dahabijeh" I did not know, but they could hardly make matters
worse for me, and might better them.  So when they expressed a
desire to join us I threw out the gangplank, and bade them come. 
This brought the captain to his feet quicker than a glass of brandy
could have done; he rushed over to me and said in a low, fierce
tone: "What are you doing? Who has the right of permitting people
to board this ship, you or I?"

"Both," I replied.

"No, I alone.  And these men, whose voices I recognize "

He stopped short, for the three came on deck that moment.  When
the pilot caught sight of them he slunk out of sight in the shadow,
and disappeared, followed by the famous ghost.  The captain
would perhaps have been happier at a longer range; in any case the
arrival made him very uncomfortable, but as there was no way of
escaping he remained where he was, laying his hands crossed on
his breast and then touching his forehead, lips and breast with the
right one, and bowing to the very ground, showing by the
ceremony of his greeting that these were no ordinary people.

The man who had hailed me was in the prime of life, strongly
built, and, as far as I could see, richly clad.  He wore full white
trousers, with dark low shoes' a gold edged blue jacket with a red
silk shawl as sash, in which he carried a saber and two gold and
ivory inlaid pistols.  A white silk mantle swung from his shoulders,
and his turban was of the same material.  His face was adorned
with a beautiful, silky black beard, and his dark eyes rested on me
with a sharp but kindly look.  Without glancing at the captain, he
said to me: "May Allah send you a peaceful night."

"Hail to you," I replied briefly but courteously.

Turning sharply to the captain the newcomer said: "Do you know
me?"

"The happiness of the sight of thy countenance has not fallen to my
lot," was the truly Oriental reply.

"It will not prove a happiness.  Were there not two men here ?"

"My pilot and this passenger's servant, Sijadetak; my sailors are all
ashore."

"Why did those two disappear?  Where are they, gone down below
to join the rats?  Bid them come up, if they don't want to get the
bastinado."  As he said this he pointed to one of his men at whose
girdle hung a powerful whip; he knew how to enforce obedience! 
The captain had called him Sijadetak, a word equivalent to "your
lordship," and used only to men in high station.  The captain,
evidently much alarmed, went to the hatchway and called his men,
who reappeared trembling and pale beneath their dark skins
burned by the Egyptian sun.

In the meantime the newcomer had beckoned me aside, and sitting
down with me on a bench by the helm asked me to tell him what I
knew of the "dahabijeh's" crew, and how I had been treated during
my short trip.  "You need not hesitate to speak frankly," he said. 
"This man here is my pilot, and the one there with the whip is my
favorite, my right hand, who does everything I require.  Many a
slave dealer and slave-owner has learned by that whip on his back
that this hand of mine is quick, willing and strong.  My motto is:
'Woe to him who does evil.'"

"Then you prosecute slave-dealers?" I cried, delighted.  "Are you
an officer?"

"H'm," he laughed.  "I am and I am not.  My name is Achmed Abd
el Iusaf; I am a captain, called the Reis Effendina."

Now that title meant "the captain of our lord," and understanding it
I exclaimed in wonder: "Reis Effendina! the captain of the
Viceroy!  Then you must have a special commission!"

"I have, and it is my duty to discover and pursue every malefactor
against the law prohibiting slave-dealing.  I have good reason for
believing that this 'dahabijeh' is engaged in this traffic in human
beings, and was on the look out for it to search it."

"I have no reason to suspect that, bad as matters have been for me
on board," I said.

"I do not believe she is carrying slaves now," answered the Reis,
"but I am sure she is arranged below deck for the transport of
slaves, and is on her way to the Sudan for her cargo."

"Then that will explain her captain's connection with Abd el
Barak," I said, and beginning with my first glimpse of the little fig
merchant, I told the Reis Effendina all my adventures to the time
of his coming on board.  He heard me without a word or
movement till I reached the point where I had spied upon and
listened to the four men as they discussed my robbery and murder
later.

"Pardon me a moment," he then said, and turning to his "right
hand" he ordered him: "Hasten to the 'Falcon' and bring off ten
men to take possession of this 'dahabijeh.' I'll make this gang
meditate on the bliss of the seven heavens.  And now, proceed,
Effendi."

I continued my tale, and just as it was ended the "favorite," the
"right hand," returned at the head of ten armed men, whom he
stationed at different points on the boat, and then came to his
master, saying: "Emir, as we came we saw a man hiding behind a
tree, and watching the 'dahabijeh.'

I tried to seize him, but he fled.  If Allah has given me as good
eyes as I think I have I could swear that it was the same man we
saw before you came on board."

"Ah, the pickpocket juggler!  What a pity he escaped you.  He
knows now in whose hands the 'dahabijeh' has fallen.  But I shall
be in Cairo to-morrow and will have him captured."

"If you find him," I suggested.

"Oh, I'll find him!  I will arouse the entire police force, and they
know his customary haunts.  And now, Effendi' I know all you
have to tell me, and I know further that you are a man whom I
should have on 'Esch Schadin,' my ship, which bears the name of
the 'Falcon,' because she flies like a hawk, and no vessel can
approach her.  Will you be my lieutenant?"

"I am very grateful, but it is impossible; I am only a young
American, trying his wings, and cannot take up any definite
position abroad."

"Then you shall at least be the 'Falcon's' honored guest up the Nile. 
And now come with me, while I deal with these scoundrels."

We went over by the mainmast, where the emir, as his "right hand"
had called him, seated himself in what state circumstances
permitted, beckoned his ten men to him, and they formed a circle
around him, in the center of which the captain of the "dahabijeh,"
the tinted nosed ghost, and the pilot were led trembling.

"What is your name?" asked the emir of the ghost.

"Barak."

"Ah, the same as your worthy Mokkadem!  Yet you told this
Effendi it was Ben Schorak!  I warn you I will not be as patient as
he.  Did you play the ghost at Murad Nassyr's ?"

"No."

"Good!  We will help your memory."

At a signal from the emir four men laid the liar down and held
him, while the "right hand" used his right hand, bringing the great
whip down on the soles of his feet till the wretch cried, "Stop.  I
did play ghost."

"I thought you would remember," said the emir, with satisfaction. 
"Tell us who were your companions in the masquerade."

"The Mokkadem and his servant."

"That will do; stand over yonder."

The men let go, and helped him up with a kick that sent him
flying.  Then the emir turned to the captain and said angrily: "As to
you, you are no slave or servant, but a believing Moslem, and a
commander of a 'dahabijeh'; there can be no excuse for you."

The favorite evidently knew what he was to do.  Without waiting
for a signal he asserted his dignity as whip bearer, and laid the
bastinado over the rascal's shoulder twice with such emphasis that
he cringed under the pain.

"Well done," said the emir, very content with the zeal of his
assistant.  "Slave, servant, commander, Moslem or heathen are all
alike before Allah and my whip.  And now, most worthy captain,
speak the truth.  How long has this Barak been on the ship ?"

"Since this morning," he answered sullenly.

"Who brought him, and what was he here for?"

"The Mokkadem.  He was to serve the foreign Effendi."

"And kill him later?"

"Of that I know nothing."

"So you, too, are forgetful, and must have the same medicine for
your memory."

The captain was laid on the deck and whipped, but only twice,
when he signified his readiness to answer.

"See how quickly the whip cures poor memory!" said the emir
admiringly.  "The crocodile's skin opens the pores of the body and
softens the hardest heart!  Now, did you know the wallet was to be
stolen, and the Effendi murdered later?"

"Yes," was the reply, after hesitation that called forth one more
stroke.

"I will not question you further, you disgust me," said the emir. 
"You are a cowardly dog, with courage to sin but not to meet the
consequences.  Stand over by the mast.  And now the pilot."

The poor wretch had been shaking like an aspen at the sight of the
others' punishment, and as he heard himself called fell on his
knees clamoring: "O Allah, O heaven, O your highness!  Don't beat
me; I will confess everything, everything."

"Emir," I said to the Reis Effendina, "have compassion on him! He
does not seem to be so bad.  He had to obey his captain, and I
heard nothing from him to condemn when I listened to their talk. 
He has been in a bad crowd; that is all."

"He is right, the Effendi is right! Allah will bless him for these
words," stammered the frightened creature.

"Very well, I will do as he suggests, and only ask you one question:
Is the Effendi's story of these events true?"

"Yes, it is all true, every word."

"That will do.  Get up and go into the cabin, nor move nor speak to
these other men."

The man gladly went away.  The emir arose, and taking three of
his men, including his "right hand," each carrying a lamp, went
down into the hold, while the captain bit his lips, not only from the
pain of his stripes, but because of the discovery about to be made.

In the meantime I sought the pilot.  "Did you know this was a
slave-ship?"  I whispered to him.

"A slave-ship!" he stammered.  "Who knows it?"

"The emir and his men."

"O me, O wretchedness, O ruin! Allah, Allah!  My bones are
melted and my soul trembles.  I am overwhelmed in a sea of
troubles.  Who will take pity on me, and what hand will deliver
me!"

"Hush.  Don't make such a noise.  You are sixty years old.  Have
you a family?"

"A son, and my wife in Gubatar."

"Then flee to them, and stay there till this matter has blown over. 
Here is money.  There is a little boat in tow at the stern; take it and
escape, and hasten.  I will engage the attention of the emir's men
till you are safe."

"Yes, yes, Effendi! Oh, what thanks can I --"

"Don't talk, but act.  Allah protect your flight and deliver you from
such companions again."

"Never again will I do wrong.  Effendi, no Moslem would have
pitied me, but you, a Christian --"

I heard no more, for I had already quitted him and begun talking to
the sailors of the "Falcon," in which they evidently took such pride
that they were engrossed in their subject, and I felt sure the pilot
would get off unseen.

When the emir came back on deck his eyes blazed with anger;
although he had expected to find the hold prepared for the
reception of slaves, the actual sight of it made him furious.  Going
straight up to the captain he said: "You shall have the bastinado
now in good earnest, and taste some of the suffering you have
caused others.  He who robs men and deals in slaves can expect
only death and eternal punishment."

"I do not understand you, emir.  It is not just to threaten me with
suffering, for I walk in ways of justice, and my paths are the paths
of the virtuous, whom Allah loves," replied the captain.

"Silence, dog," thundered the emir.  "If you do not understand, I
will take care that you at least feel my whip.  Your wickedness is
great, but your impudence exceeds it.  Do you think I am blind? 
The Reis Effendina can guess accurately the destination of this
ship, and the purpose it was to serve.  You will restore five
hundred piasters to this Effendi for the passage-money he gave
you, and in slight compensation for the crime you attempted
against him.  Bring the money at once."

The captain dared not disobey, and I reluctantly received two
hundred piasters more than I had given him for my journey to
Siout.  But the Reis Effendina insisted on this act of reparation,
and I saw it was not a severe requirement, considering the man's
intentions toward me.  After this was done, however, he received a
bastinading that made me pity him, though he was such a wretch,
and then he was confined in irons to be taken back to Cairo. 
Certain of the "Falcon's" crew were detailed to take the
"dahabijeh" back, and the Reis Effendina was obliged to go with
them to see that his prisoners were brought to justice.  He begged
me to go as his guest on the "Falcon" to Siout, assuring me that it
would wound him if I refused to do so, and I gladly accepted the
kind offer, for I was anxious to press on to the Sudan, and was a
good deal put out by the failure of my first attempt at getting there. 
My luggage was taken on board the "Falcon," and my new friend
gave me over to the care of his lieutenant with many charges
regarding my comfort.  Then he left me, with such expressions of
good-will and liking as I was sure were not inspired by Oriental
exuberance of politeness and which I echoed sincerely.

The morning was nearly dawning when I was installed on the
"Falcon," but I immediately turned in, for I was overcome with
sleep after two nights without any.  My pillow was fit for a pasha,
and the soft-scented cover lids delicious.  In ten minutes after I had
gone to my cabin I was sleeping the sleep of security and
weariness after my exciting adventures, and was only wakened at
sunset of the next day by the voices of the sailors at evening
prayer, as the "Falcon" glided up the Nile.

CHAPTER V. IN THE PALACE OF PASHA.

A SAIL up the Nile!  How full of interest are the very words! El
Kahireh, Cairo, the "Gate of the East," lies behind the traveler, and
before him stretches the Sudan -- Beled es Sudan, the "Land of the
Blacks," interesting even in those days before gallant Gordon had
linked his name with it, and put an end to the infamous
slave-trade.  The Sudan was then the land of mystery; going there
one made a journey into the unknown.  To-day one can go by rail
from Cairo, the locomotive leaving its black trail of smoke over
the sacred river, like a profanation.

I prefer the deck of a ship to the stuffy railway car.  Here one sits
on his mat, or pillow, a pipe in his hand, and his fragrant coffee
before him.  The great Nile, more than two thousand feet wide,
spreads out like a sea before him, apparently shoreless.  The north
wind fills the sails, the sailors squat about staring vacantly into
space, or amusing themselves with childish games.  The eyes of
the traveler grow weary, they droop, and he dozes and dreams until
be is aroused by the cry: "Come to prayer, ye faithful." Then all the
sailors kneel, bending toward Mecca and crying: "I confess there is
no God but God; I confess that Mohamed is his Prophet."

Then they resume their play or sleep, and the night closes in.  

So the days passed peacefully for me, and at last we reached Siout,
my destination.  Two sailors carried my luggage ashore, the
lieutenant accompanying to establish me in comfortable lodgings. 
When I asked him where I was to lodge he replied: "Where else
than with the pasha? Such a man as you must be his guest only,
and I was instructed by the emir to introduce you into the palace in
his name."

"And you mean to say I shall be welcome?"

"Certainly; he will receive you as a friend."  I had to be content
with this answer, but I would rather have gone to an inn, where I
could have paid my reckoning and been independent.  We entered
an inner court from which several doors opened.  In one of them
stood a thickset, shapeless Negro, looking toward us forbiddingly. 
As soon as he recognized the emir's lieutenant his expression
changed; he bent his broad back, crossed his arms on his breast
and said: "Forgive me for standing here.  Had I suspected your
noble presence I would have come out to receive you."

Rude treatment frequently seems to call forth respect, which fact
the lieutenant appreciated, for he answered sharply: "See that you
do not fail in your duty now that you know it is I.  Conduct me to
your lord, the pasha."

"Forgive me that I cannot do so; the exalted lawgiver has gone
away for a week with many attendants."

I took the shapeless Negro for a servant, perhaps an attendant of
the women, since he was clad in silk, but I discovered my mistake
by the lieutenant saying: "Then I will explain to you my desire,
which you, as his steward, will carry out.  This gentleman is a
learned and famous  Effendi from the New World, from America,
who will spend a few days in Siout.  I meant to ask the pasha to
receive him as his guest, but since he is away I will request you to
take care of him as if he were one of your lord's kindred."

So the Negro occupied the important post of steward!

He surveyed me with an unfriendly look, but replied: "It shall be as
you desire, sir.  I will conduct the stranger to an apartment worthy
of his rank."

"Good!" said the lieutenant.  Then turning to me with his hand
outstretched he added: "And now farewell.  Here is an address in
Khartum through which you can communicate with the Reis
Effendina.  May Allah bless you, and grant us a happy meeting in
the future."

He departed, and the steward conducted me to a great room, its
blue walls adorned with texts from the Koran in golden letters,
which he signified was to be mine, and left me without a word.

For fully an hour I sat on a cushion and smoked before any one
came near me.  Then the steward returned; he stood looking down
on me with positive dislike.  "How long have you known the Reis
Effendina?" he asked at last.  

"Only a little while," I replied.

"Yet he sends you here to the palace of the pasha? Are you a
Moslem?"

"No; I am a Christian."

"Allah, Allah!  A Christian, and I have given you a room with its
walls covered with golden texts from the Koran!  What a sin I have
committed!  You must leave this apartment, and follow me to
another where your presence will not outrage the sanctity of our
faith."

"I will leave this room, but not to go into another.  It is you who
disgrace Islam, which teaches hospitality to guests.  I will send a
servant after my luggage, and here is backsheesh for the trouble I
have given you."  I rose, gave him an abundant "tip" and quitted
the room without any attempt on his part to detain me.  As I came
into the court I heard wailing; a door on the left opened, and two
servants came forth, bearing a young man bleeding from a wound
in his forehead.  Some other persons followed, and behind them a
disheveled woman imploring for a surgeon.  As the group
approached me I asked what had happened.  A well-dressed man
of about sixty years replied: "His horse threw him against the wall,
and now his life is fleeing through his brow.  Run, run, and fetch a
'haggahm'; perhaps help is still possible."

He started to carry out his own desire, but I laid a detaining hand
on his arm and said: "It may not be necessary to fetch a surgeon; I
will examine him."

He seized both my hands, crying: "You are a surgeon? Come,
come; hasten.  If you save my son I will give you ten times what
you ask."  He pulled me along toward the door through which the
bearers had disappeared, and I saw the youth lying on a divan,
beside which the woman knelt wailing.

"Here is a surgeon," said the father, going over to her and taking
both her hands.  "Perhaps Allah will restore him."

I, too, knelt by the young man and examined his wound; it was not
dangerous, though he was still unconscious I had a little flask of
sal volatile in my pocket, which I opened, and held to his nose.  Its
effect was instantaneous; the patient moved, sneezed and opened
his eyes.  Immediately the mother had him in her arms, weeping
aloud for joy.  But his father folded his hands saying: "Allah be
thanked!  Death has flown and life returns."

"Life returns, Allah il Allah," echoed all the others.

"How shall we repay you, Effendi?" cried the father.  "Without you
the soul of my son had never found its way back info his body."

"You are mistaken; your son would have wakened five minutes
later, that is all."

"No, no; I know better.  I have never seen you; are you a stranger?"

"I arrived here to-day and shall only stay a few days."

"Then stay with us, Effendi; be our guest."

"I cannot accept your offer.  You do not know who or what I am.  I
am a Christian."

"That does not matter; you are my son's deliverer.  The flask of life
in your hands saved my son.  I beg you stay with us.  I will speak to
the steward, who will give you the best room in the palace, and be
grateful if you will help him, for he, too, is ill, suffering horribly in
the stomach."

"I think you are mistaken, for he has just dismissed me from the
house," I said.

"You!  Impossible!" 

"It is not only possible, but actually so.  I was sent here to be the
pasha's guest by the Reis Effendina, Achmed Abd el Iusaf."

"By him?  Oh, the steward hates him, because he treats him rudely. 
Had any one else sent you the steward would have behaved quite
differently.  Forgive me if I am too insistent, but I beg you to honor
my dwelling by your presence."

He said this in such a tone that I felt it would insult him to insist
on going to an inn, and when his son wailed: "Effendi, stay here! 
My head is in agony, and you will help me if it gets worse," and
the wife raised her clasped hands imploringly, I yielded.

"Very well, I will stay," I said, "if you are sure it will not
incommode you to have a guest."

"Ah, no," replied the man.  "I am not poor; I am the Emir Achor,
the pasha's Master of Horse.  Let me show you to your apartment,
and you," he added to his servants, "hasten to the steward and fetch
the Effendi's luggage."

When I was most comfortably established in my new quarters the
Master of Horse said to me: "Effendi, we must tell the steward
what a great physician you are.  When he hears that you have an
elixir of life in your pocket he will repent his rudeness to you, and
beg you to help him.  Our own physician had told him he was in
danger of his life, and it may be that Allah has sent you as the only
one who can save him."

"Very well, bid him come here." I had not long to wait after giving
this permission before the shapeless figure of the steward rolled in,
and I really pitied him when I saw his downcast face.

"Effendi, forgive me," he said.  "Had I guessed that such a --"

"Say no more," I interrupted him.  "I have nothing to forgive.  The
Reis Effendina's manner to you in the past and his lieutenant's
yesterday was the cause of the mistake."

"You are very good.  May I sit down?"

"I beg you do so."

He took his place opposite me, and as I looked at him closely he
said: "You mistake, Effendi, if you think I am well.  Flesh is not
health."

"No, indeed," I said.  "The physicians of the west know the fatter a
man is often the nearer death he is.  Tell me your symptoms."

"I have dreadful suffering here," he said, laying his hand on his
stomach.  "I feel as though I had no body, and chiefly before
meal-time, so that I have to eat at once."

"Oh, that is very bad, very bad indeed," I said gravely.

"Is it a fatal trouble ?" he asked, turning pale, I am sure, only he
was too black to show it.

"Surely fatal, unless help is found," I replied.

"And what is the name of the disease?" whimpered the frightened
fellow.

"In English we call it hunger, or gigantic appetite; it does not
matter about the Turkish word."

"And can you save me?  I am the pasha's steward, and have gold in
abundance.  Cure me, and I will give you a fortune."

"What did your own physician order?"

"Fasting.  He said my stomach was weak."

"The deuce!  I say just the contrary.  We doctors call your disease a
rhinoceros stomach, or an alligator stomach.  Eat, I say, eat much,
only before each meal you must bow nine times toward Mecca, so
profoundly that your head touches the floor."

"I can't."

"You must; try it."

He rose obediently, and made the attempt; a wonderful sight to
see.  Failing he went on all fours, lost his balance and rolled over,
but rising quickly he went at it again, and finally succeeded in
bringing his forehead to the rug.  It was a question whether his dull
contortions or profound gravity was funnier.  "I can, I can," he
panted, pulling himself up, "but I must do it alone, or else the
servants will lose regard for my dignity.  What else, Effendi?"

"You are rich; make an act of thanksgiving every day by giving
two piasters to fifty of the wretched blind children who set by the
wayside begging in this town."

"I will do it, for I am sure you are a great physician.  And you say I
may eat, eat!  O Mohamed, O great caliphs!  This is a physician to
whom all my heart goes out.  May I go now and eat, Effendi?"

"Certainly, but do not forget the genuflections nor the almsgiving."

"You are a Christian, but I hope the gates of paradise may open for
you," said the big black starvling, departing.

The Master of Horse had listened and watched this scene soberly,
but as the sufferer disappeared he laughed softly, and said:
"Effendi, you are not only a skilful physician,

 IN THE PALACE OF PASHA.  //51//

but a good man, for you have provided for the poor and blind."

We said good night, and I had made two friends in the palace of
the pasha.

The next morning I went out alone for a walk, and as I wandered
along the crooked streets I came to the plastered grave of a sheik,
from which a bridge ran over the canal.  As I started to cross it I
stopped short in amazement.  I saw a very long and very slender
white-clad figure, surmounted by an immense turban, coming
toward me with a swinging, swaggering gait.  Could I be seeing
straight?  It certainly looked like Murad Nassyr's spindlelegged
steward in Cairo.  He saw me, and stopped also.

"Selim, is it really you?" I cried.

"Right, very right," he answered in his old way, in the same thin,
querulous voice, making me one of his neck-breaking salaams. 
"And, Effendi, is it you? Allah be thanked, for I seek you."

"Seek me! I thought you were with Murad Nassyr in Cairo," I said. 
"What has happened that he has come to Siout?"

"He is not here; I have come only to seek you, for my master did
not wish you to be here alone.''

"Does Murad Nassyr think I am afraid?"

"No, not that, but in any case it is better for me to be with you.  I
was the most renowned warrior of my tribe, and, as you know,
considered the greatest hero in the universe --"

"Except in the case of ghosts," I suggested.

"Jest not, Effendi; no man can fight with knives and pistols against
a spirit; prayer is the only weapon then."

"Even when you know it is a man and no ghost you prefer it," I
remarked.  "However, I fear you will weary in Siout, where you
will have nothing to do."

"Nothing to do!  Why, I shall protect you; I dare not leave you a
moment, for Murad Nassyr has ordered me to guard you."

"Ah, that is true; I hadn't thought how busy you would be
protecting me," I said.  "Well, come with me, and I will see
whether they will receive you also in the palace of the pasha where
I am lodged."

"Of course they will, for unfortunately you are an unbeliever,
while I am a faithful Moslem, and you do not know that Islam
commands hospitality toward each other among its followers. 
They will be glad to have me with them, furthermore, when they
learn my renown and courage."

"Which you will tell them.  Possibly, but let us make sure.  Let us
go at once to the palace and inform the Master of Horse that you
have arrived."

"Right, very right!  I follow in the print of your feet.  Let us go."

And richer by a servant, or a guardian, I was not sure which, I
returned to the palace, followed by Selim, like Don Quixote with
Sancho Panza, only my squire was far from round or jolly.

CHAPTER VI. 

THE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES OF AN ECLIPSE.

SELIM was received with the kindness he confidently expected,
whether as the greatest warrior in the world or on general
principles of hospitality we would not have agreed, nor did it
matter.  I was not overjoyed at the prospect of having this long
personage always at my side, but there was no way of getting rid of
him without offending Murad Nassyr, who had befriended me, so I
resolved to put up with him, and get what amusement I could from
his foibles.

We had just finished supping that night when a great hubbub arose
outside in the court, and we rushed out, thinking some accident
had befallen one of the household.  There stood the grooms and
other servants staring up at the sky and crying:  "An eclipse, an
eclipse!"

It was true; the moon was growing dark; the shadow of the earth
was creeping higher and higher over the face of our satellite, then
at its full.  It was, as it always is, a most interesting spectacle, but
the Turks were overcome with terror.  The big steward cowered
before it, and behind him crouched my long Selim.

"Effendi," cried the former, as he caught sight of me, "do you see
that the moon is disappearing?  Tell me what that betokens."

"It betokens that the earth is passing between the sun and the
moon, and we see its shadow on her face, which thus is darkened,"
I said.

"Between the sun and the moon? The earth's shadow? Have you
seen it before?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Effendi, you are the fountain of wisdom, and the ocean of
knowledge, but you know nothing of the sun, the moon and the
stars, absolutely nothing.  Do you know that it is the devil who
darkens the moon?"

"Indeed!  What does he do that for?"

"To announce to us misfortune.  This is a sign of calamity for the
entire world, and for me in particular."

"For you!  And what have you to do with an eclipse of the moon?"

"Very, very much.  Do you see this amulet on my neck?  I wear
that to protect me against eclipses."

"An eclipse is a perfectly natural event, but if it were not an amulet
could not protect you."

"You say that because you are a Christian, and not a Moslem. 
What can a Christian know of the moon?  Isn't the sign of
Christianity a cross?"

"Certainly."

"But the sign of Islam is the crescent, the new moon, so we must
understand the moon better than you.  You see that clearly, do you
not?"

"No," I said, feeling, as I answered this absurd argument with an
equally foolish one, as if I were taking part in one of the
discussions in "Alice in Wonderland"; "no, I see nothing of the
kind, for your symbol is the crescent moon, and does not help you
to understand the moon when at its full.  Besides, even the new
moon was not the origin of the symbol of Islam, but Mohamed's
curved scimitar.  When your Prophet led the first great battle in the
month of Ramadan, in the second year of the hegira, he stuck his
scimitar into a staff and had it carried as a standard.  It led them to
victory, and was adopted as the battle standard

 THE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES OF AN ECLIPSE.  //55//

henceforth.  From that time the curved scimitar changed into the
crescent, has been the universal symbol of Islam."

The steward stared at me open-mouthed, and as I ceased speaking
cried: "Effendi, Effendi, you know all the secrets of history, and
the mysteries of all religions.  But still I know that the eclipse
betokens misfortune to me." Saying which he waddled away, for
the shadow was passing from the face of the moon, and he had
regained the use of his feet.  So quite unmoved in his own opinion,
like most of us, however much impressed by the learning of others,
the big fellow went to rest in the melancholy certainty of coming
ills, announced to him personally by a veil hung over the earth's
satellite.

The next morning it was arranged that the Master of Horse was to
show me the place where the famous crocodile mummies of
Maabdah were buried, for the ancient Egyptians preserved not only
human bodies, but those of such animals as they held sacred.  Of
these the crocodile is one, the inhabitant of the Nile, the sacred
river, and I was anxious to see the place of its burial.  The party
was to consist of the Master of Horse, the big steward and Selim,
who insisted on going to take care of me, although I assured him it
was not necessary.

"Effendi," he said solemnly, "I am the greatest warrior and rider of
my tribe, while you are a European, or as bad, whom I have never
seen on a horse.  If you break your neck, I am responsible,
therefore I must keep by your side, and not take my eye off you."

Consequently, he went with us, and as my neck is not broken, I
suppose it is owing to his presence.  We rode in a southerly
direction, for the Master of Horse wished first to show me "Tell es
Sirr," which means the "Mount of Mystery," and which he believed
to be the mouth of hell.

"How is it supposed to have been discovered that this place is the
gate of hell?" I asked, when we drew up before the elevation which
looked like a small hillock of sand, yet bore this awful name.

"I do not know," replied the Master of Horse.  "It has been handed
down from one to another.  You are the Son of Wisdom, who has
delivered my son by your flask of life, and who desires to study
everything interesting, so I have called your attention to this place
in the desert."

"I thank you, and will ride to the brow of the hill," I replied.

"No, Effendi, don't do that," he cried.  "If Sheitan [Satan] is here he
will thrust his claws out of the ground and pull you down.  Many
have disappeared on this place and never been seen again."

"Very likely, but Satan didn't pull them down.  Doubtless there are
holes about, which the sand covers.  The wind blows from the west
in the desert, and the sand is perpetually in motion toward the
east."

"That is my own opinion, but we are followers of the Prophet, and
guard ourselves from danger of the devil.  If you will go up, please
excuse us from accompanying you; we will wait below."

I agreed readily to this request, and went up alone.  The hill was at
most but fifty ells high, and there was absolutely nothing
interesting about it.  All around and under me was sand, nothing
but sand to be seen in all directions.  What could have given rise to
the absurd legend that this was the mouth of hell? There were
many burial-places around Siout; perhaps some here had been
opened and had swallowed up investigators, and hence the legend.

I looked down at my comrades, near the foot of the hill.  Selim and
the steward had mounted and were trying feats of horsemanship,
apparently proving which was the better rider.  I was interested to
see how the big man would come

 THE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES OF AN ECLIPSE.  //57//

out.  He let his horse run a few feet, and turned him, trying to
make him rear.  The animal was too heavily burdened to feel
disposed to unnecessary exertion, and stamped angrily.  I saw his
forefeet sink.  He pulled them up with a mighty leap of fright, the
big Negro was thrown, and disappeared! I could see all this
plainly, and now I heard the other two howling in terror.  

I ran down, and when I came near enough the Master of Horse
cried: "You see? I was right, Eflendi!  This is the gate of hell, and
the steward has gone down.  It was yesterday's eclipse."

"Right, very right," agreed Selim.  "Now he is in hell, and will
suffer for eternity."

"Nonsense!" I cried.  "He has fallen into a hole, which the horse
broke open by stamping.  If it isn't too deep we will pull him out."

"It is a hole that opens straight into the fires of hell.  The steward
is lost; we shall never see him again in body or spirit," said the
Master of Horse, apparently very sure of his claim on paradise.

"I am not going to look for his ghost.  Come over to the hole and
see how deep it is."

"Allah protect me! I am a faithful son of the Prophet, and will keep
away from the gate of hell."

"Right, very right," assented Selim in his snarling voice.  "Allah
protect me from the evil society of Sheitan."

"Silence!" I said, angrily.  "You, the hero of your tribe, afraid of a
hole in the ground! If there were fire under here you would see
smoke; you are making yourself ridiculous."

My inspiration for the restoration of their courage was nearly
successful, but Selim had a bright thought of his own, and said:
"Back, back, Effendi; in a moment you, too, will be seized.  This
may be that part of hell in which souls of unbelievers freeze in
eternal ice, which would account for there being no smoke.  No,
we will go home, and praise Allah that we are not gone down."

He went over to his horse, but I turned on him with revolver
drawn, saying: "By your Prophet and all your caliphs I will shoot
the man who dares mount.  You shall try to save this man.  Take
the bridles and reins off the horses, fasten them together.  I will
ask you to do nothing but hold the line, which shall be fastened to
my belt, while I go down the hole."

My two companions agreed to this slight effort in behalf of the
unfortunate steward, and when all was ready, they held one end of
the long leather strap formed by joining our bridles, while, with
the other made fast to my waist, I crept to the edge of the hole. 
The sand filled it part way, and out of it rose the head and breast of
the steward, his hands folded and eyes closed, but not dead, for I
heard him groan.  Leaning over I called to him; a groan was the
only reply.  I called again, and this time he answered in a
trembling voice: "Here I am, Azrael." He took me for the angel of
death!

"Open your eyes and look at me," I laughed.

"I can't; I am dead."

"Well, the dead can see.  Look up high."

He did so and saw me.  "Is it you, Effendi? Then I am not only
dead, but in hell," he groaned.

"How do you know?"

"Because no Christian could be in heaven.  Since you are here we
must be lost."

This was not flattering, but none the less Sunny.  Still, with his
mind abandoned to despair, how could I get him to help himself? I
resolved to have recourse to his predominant passion, and said:
"You may think you're in hell, but I call it only a hole, and if you
would try and 

 THE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES OF AN ECLIPSE.  //59//

climb out we would ride home and have dinner; I am hungry."

"I, too," he shouted, as if electrified, his whole face illumined. 
"I'm hungry if I'm not dead."

"Don't worry," I said, "you are alive.  Can you climb?"

"No; do you think I am a cat?"

I did not, nor would it have been polite to have told him what
animal he did resemble, sitting there with his fat face thrown back
on his shoulders.  It makes all the difference to which animal a
man is likened!

"Then I'll come down," I said, and did so.  I fastened the strap
around the steward's body, and then he rose, spread his feet far
apart, and I slid sitting into the spot where he had sat.  The men
above pulled, I "boosted," slowly and carefully lest the sand give
way again, bracing hands and arms against the walls of the old
grave into which he had fallen.  I had to bear most of the weight of
the heavy man, and it was no easy task, but at last it was done, the
big fellow was on solid ground, the strap thrown down to me, and I
was pulled and climbed up after him.  I found him examining his
body, to see if it were all there apparently, then he turned toward
Mecca and repeated certain texts of the Koran in thanksgiving for
delivery, and finally overwhelmed me with gratitude.

"Effendi," remarked Selim, "did you notice how I held the strap
when others would have dropped it? You have to thank me that
you saw the light of day again.  I hope you are convinced that I am
a strong protector, and full of courage."

"I certainly am convinced," I said, laughing.

We rode on again, too weary from our adventure to feel like
investigating the burial-places for which we had set out, yet
reluctant to abandon the object of our setting forth.  We passed
through the village and came to the foot of a steep hill from which
the desert stretched toward the Red Sea.  There, on the steps of the
vaulted grave of a fakir knelt a man.  As he heard us approach he
turned his head toward us, and we saw that he had a fine,
venerable face surmounted by a snow-white beard.  We had taken
a guide in the village to show us through the tomb, who, when he
caught sight of this patriarch, bowed low, his hands crossed on his
breast and said: "Allah bless thee, and send thee grace and life, O
Mukaddas!"  A term which nearly equivalent to our word saint.

The old man arose, glanced at us sharply and replied:  "I thank
thee, my son!  May thy path lead to the eternal dwelling of the
Prophet.  Thou art going into the tomb?"

"Yes, I will show it to this stranger."

"Do so, and learn how worthless are all early things.  Though man
builds a dwelling that shall stand a thousand years for his body, yet
it is destroyed, and earth comes to earth, dust to dust."  Then,
looking at me, he added.  "What face is this?  What thoughts dwell
behind that forehead?  I could foretell thy future, for the gift of
prophecy is mine.  Do you believe that Allah gives knowledge of
the future to them who are near death?"

"God alone knows the future," I replied.

"He knows it, but sometimes He reveals it to His faithful.  I will
prove it.  That you may believe I know the future I will speak of
the past.  You wear the garments and use the language of the
Moslem, but you are a Christian."  He paused, and I nodded assent. 
"There are many Christian lands, but I see one which spreads from
ocean to ocean, where there is no king, for every man is king, and
all are free.  You rejoice in being a son of this land."  Again he
paused, and again I nodded.  He continued: "I see a ship with many
sails, her captain is a sword of justice, and you are his friend.  He
will make many men happy and

 THE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES OF AN ECLIPSE.  //61//

win honor and glory; do you know such a man?"  Thinking of the
Reis Effendina I nodded.  "I have told you the truth, and could also
tell you the future.  But you have doubted, so I will be silent, and
only warn you to beware of a great misfortune, perhaps death.  My
soul's eye sees a son of revenge pursuing you to take your life. 
Once he almost succeeded, but Allah protected you.  If you would
escape him journey no further now.  It is full moon; stay where you
are until the next quarter.  This is what I would tell you.  Believe
me, or believe me not, I care not, but according as you decide will
you be fortunate or unfortunate.  Allah inspire you."  He turned
and went back to prayer at the steps, while I followed the others
into the tomb.

Instead of being impressed by this old man's words, I felt a very
strong suspicion that his knowledge was not derived from any
power of prophecy, but from earthly, not to say unworthy, sources. 
It seemed outrageous to doubt such a venerable-looking old
patriarch, but I remembered the words of the dear old Jesuit
president of my college, who used to say you could not tell a saint
from a sinner coming down the street.

For the two hours which I spent in the great tomb of the Egyptians,
wandering through the dust of those who had, perhaps, seen
Moses, my mind was more filled with the thought of my little life
than the great dead.  I felt convinced that the warning he had given
me was rather a veiled threat, and suspected him of dealings with
Abd el Barak, and possibly the "muza'bir," whom the Reis
Effendina might have failed to capture.

When we came out of the tomb the old man was still at the
entrance.  Coming up to me he said:  "I have read in your face your
nobility of soul; I know that I can trust you, and I see the danger
threatening you; for these reasons you interest me.  There is a
secret known to me which I have never shared with any man.  I
will tell it to you, only making the condition that you will not
reveal it before my death."

"And then is it to be revealed?"

"Yes, then, but not before.  I know a tomb of the most ancient
kings of Egypt, which no eye but mine has looked upon.  I will
take you there, and lead you into it, and you shall see the mummies
of the twelfth dynasty sitting waiting for the Last Day, if you will
go."

"Certainly I will; it would be a great favor," I replied.  "When will
you do this strangely kind act for me, a stranger?"

"To-morrow; if you will meet me at the northern gate of the town
four hours after sunrise I will reveal to you the secret of the
Pharaohs."

"I will be there, and thank you for your great kindness," I said.

"Heaven guard you, and avert the dangers threatening you,"
responded the patriarch.

I was fully resolved to seek this new adventure, though  I
suspected it concealed danger.  But I hoped that it might lead to
the capture of the "most renowned pickpocket in Egypt," whom I
felt sure was in some way mixed up with this venerable fakir.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOHS

As soon as I had breakfasted I went over to the steward's
apartment, where Selim was lodged, to fetch my long, "protector,"
for he only I determined should go with me to the tomb which the
fakir had promised to show me.  I found the portly Negro none the
worse for his experience of the day before, but very anxious as to
my proposed expedition, in regard to which Selim had hinted
vague dangers, adding he was under a solemn oath not to reveal its
destination or purpose.

"Have no fear,' I said.  "Nothing will befall us."

"You think so, because you have no faith in the portent of the
eclipse.  Give it up, I beg you, Effendi," said the unwieldy creature
with affectionate anxiety.

"Don't urge me, for I can't.  I have given my word that I will go,
and I must keep it."

"Then at least leave Selim here."

"What? I stay here!" cried that hero, before I could speak.  "I, the
protector and guardian of the Effendi, let him go alone?  No, I
cannot fail in my duty; I will accompany him through all the
dangers on earth or sea.  I will fight for him with dragons, serpents
and scorpions.  I. am ready to annihilate lions and panthers "

"But just now you have only to hold your tongue," I interrupted. 
"There is no question of serpents, or lions, or panthers.  Therefore,
you must leave your gun here, and take only your knife."

"But we do not know yet where we are going!  Maybe we shall go
into the desert, near the den of a lion, and ---"

"Nonsense!  No lion will hurt you; he would not get a chance, for
as soon as you saw him you would run away so fast he could not
catch you," I laughed.

"Effendi, what an opinion you have of the truest of all your
friends!" he said, reproachfully.  "I am Selim, your protector, and
would stand and fight for you if all the men and all the wild beasts
in the world attacked you.  You misunderstand me, therefore I pray
that Allah will send us danger, great danger, in which I can prove
what heroic things I would do for you."  He stuck his knife in his
belt as he spoke, took three torches and a strong rope and we
started.

The fakir had sent a boy to fetch me, instead of letting me come
alone to meet him, and this boy was waiting outside.  He led us at
a rapid pace over the ground, and when he came to a slight
elevation beyond the village he paused, and pointing to a distant
rock, said:  "Yonder by that ancient grave the fakir waits thee in
prayer."

I started to take out the backsheesh I meant to give him, but he spit
at me, and, crying:  "Keep your piaster.  How could I soil my hands
with the gold of an unbeliever"  and ran away.

Considering the clamor for backsheesh from Christian travelers all
over Egypt this was unexpected, but the boy was gone, and without
stopping to consider his behavior, we hastened on to the tomb. 
The fakir heard us coming and turned toward us.  Extending his
hand he said: "Welcome, Effendi!  Allah illumine thy steps to the
goal of joy and blessedness.  Thou hast kept thy word, and I will
keep mine.  Thou shalt see the ancient kings; sleeping with their
wives, daughters and kindred about them.  Follow me." 

64

 IN THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOS.  //65//

We proceeded directly out toward the desert, the fakir taking such
long strides that I had to make an effort to keep up with him.  We
thus very quickly reached the hill where we had been yesterday,
and the hole from which the steward had escaped.  Falling behind
a moment to Selim, whose long legs had failed to keep up the
pace, I warned him not to speak of having been there before, and
had only succeeded in doing so when the fakir turned to me,
saying:  "Here is the entrance to the tomb."

"Here!"  I exclaimed.  "Surely there are no rocky tombs here."

"Who has mentioned rocky tombs?  This is the entrance to a
subterranean passage to the tomb.  The opening is concealed. 
Follow me."

We started up the hill, but I stopped him.  There was a smooth
track ahead of us, as if a cloth had been dragged up to hide
footprints.

"Some one has been here before us," I said, "a garment has been
dragged along to wipe out the footprints.  That looks suspicious."

"Does it?" laughed the fakir.  "Not to me; for I came here to see if
it was all right this morning early."

"But it looks to me as if several feet has passed this way."

"O Mohamed!  Who could tell the difference between one man's
steps, or many, in this sand?"

"I could, for I have lived with the red men, whose life depends on
their ability to read in such things the number of their foes."

"There is no question here of foes.  I went up and down twice, that
is why you see the prints of two men's feet.  Do you think I would
betray my secret to any one?"

Feeling half ashamed of my unfounded suspicions I started up the
hill.  When we reached the top the patriarch paused, scanned the
horizon carefully, then said: "There is no one in sight; we shall not
be discovered," and stooping down began to dig away the sand,
which was very light.  I had thrown my suspicions to the winds,
and was all eagerness for the adventure, and even Selim showed
no signs of cowardice.

We helped the old man clear away the sand, and saw at the bottom
of a hole perhaps three feet deep a flat stone, which we pried up. 
We then saw before us a passage, its sides bricked, and just wide
enough to allow a man to crawl through.

"This is the entrance," said the fakir, once more scanning the
horizon for a possible observer.  "Who will crawl in first?"

"You, of course, since you know the way," I replied, and he
immediately complied.  After we had proceeded perhaps eighteen
feet I felt the passage widen, and the fakir ordered us to light a
torch.  I complied, and found ourselves in a small chamber, in the
corner of which was an opening which seemed to dive straight into
the earth, high enough for a man to stand upright.  "We must
descend this shaft," said the fakir.

"Down there!" growled Selim.  "Are there stairs?"

"No."

"Where were these mummies' wits?  Couldn't they have provided
us with stairs to visit them, or at least a ladder?"  said this queer
person.  "Must I risk breaking all my arms and legs?"

"Not at all; one would think you were a centipede, Selim," I
replied.  "There is doubtless a way of getting down."

"There are square footholds in the sides of the shaft, where the feet
are set," said the fakir.  "They are not two feet apart and make a
perfectly safe stairway."

"What sort of air is there down below?" I asked.

 IN THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOHS  //67//

"Quite as good as here; there must be air holes which I have not
discovered.  Perhaps your keen eyes will find them."  The fakir
said this in his usual tone, yet with a slight emphasis, which I
remembered later, and realized his irony.

"Who will go first?" he asked again.

If he had any idea of betraying us it could only be prevented by
keeping between him and the opening, so again I replied he should
precede, being our leader.  So the fakir led the way, Selim
followed, and I came last.  The rope was fastened around the
saintly patriarch, then halfway up its length was tied around Selim,
and the other end I knotted around my hips.  It was hard to hold a
lighted torch, and use hands and feet in getting down, and as the
fakir needed none, and Selim was afraid to risk carrying one, I was
the only man who had a light.  The fakir plunged down and was
quickly out of sight.  Selim felt his way timidly, and I heard him
murmur the Moslem's prayer on all occasions: "There is no God
save God.  and Mohamed is His Prophet."  Then I followed, using
only the left hand and carrying the torch in my right.  Not a word
was spoken.  I counted the steps; twenty holes down there was a
gallery, which I tried to investigate, but my torch was too feeble to
lighten the profound gloom.

I passed the gallery, and had gone down four or five steps more
when I heard a laugh, which echoed horribly in the narrow
passage, sounding like a troop of demons.  Then I heard the words: 
"So the Christian dog goes down to eternal silence.  Languish in
the bowels of the earth, and awaken in everlasting fire!"  I looked
up and saw two faces, so illumined by the torch that I recognized
them: It was the old fakir and the "muza'bir!"  We had been
entrapped; we were to starve to death!

"Selim, come up, quick," I cried, beginning myself the ascent, but
Selim did not obey me, and the rope held me back.

"Do you know me?" cried the juggler.  "You wanted me
imprisoned, and now you are captured, and no one will deliver
you."

"No one," agreed the pious fakir.  "You began to mistrust me, and
yet were stupid enough to follow me.  I belong to the holy Kadis,
and to avenge the Mokkadem I have waited for you in Maabdah. 
Now die like a dog, giaour."  

I did not answer, for deeds, not words would save us.  I took out
my knife and cut the rope that bound me to Selim.  Then I drew
my revolver, but, unfortunately, our foes could see my movements
by the light of my torch, and suddenly both faces disappeared,
while the voice of the "muza'bir" called: "Shoot, you dog, and see
if you can hit us."

In the darkness I could hear the sound as if heavy stones rubbed
against each other.  Taking my revolver in my teeth I hastened
upward, and found the gallery completely closed by a great rock,
against which I heard another shoved to brace it.  We were
prisoners!

Selim, who could not see what had been going on, had  heard the
voices, and now called up: "Effendi, to whom were you speaking
there?  Why did you shoot?  Has anything happened?"

"Yes, unfortunately, something has happened.  We are taken
prisoners."

"Taken prisoners! By whom?

"By that holy old fakir."

"How can that be?  He is below me."

"No, he has untied the rope and come up by some other way; he
has closed up the passage with a stone, and we can't get out; I can't
move the stone."

"Allah il Allah!" he cried, in a horror-stricken tone.  "Let me come
and help you."

 IN THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOHS  //69//

"No, only one person can stand here; I'll try again, only come
nearer, so if I succeed it will not fall on you with such force."

I mounted another step, and tried to dislodge the stone with my
shoulders, but in vain; and I had to give up the attempt because the
bricks under my feet began to weaken.

"O Allah, O mercy, O compassion, we are lost!" groaned Selim. 
"We shall perish in this hole, and no man will know where our
flesh lies, or our bones have fallen."

"Now, don't wail.  We are not helpless," I said.  "There may be a
way out below; we must go down and look for it."

"And get deeper into misery?  No, let us go up."

"Give me the end of the rope I cut; I will tie myself to you again,
and we will go down, down I say, at once.  Go yourself slowly, and
I will follow."

Selim descended carefully, and counting his steps; as he reached
the thirtieth he cried: "Effendi, I feel solid ground beneath my
feet."

"Wait; I will come."

He was right; we stood on a square of earth, and in the middle was
a flat stone.  "See," I cried, "there is a stone precisely like the one
above."

"What does it matter?" wailed the hero.  "We are lost, and shall
never look on the light of day again.  Life is so beautiful; who
could have believed that it would have ended so quickly, so
dreadfully?"  And sitting down, he wept loud and bitterly.  I
thought it best to let him have it out with himself, so to speak, and
did not attempt to console him.  Instead, I knelt, and dug away the
sand around the stone; it was light and dry.  I lifted the stone, and
saw again brick walls around a narrow passage precisely like the
one at the entrance.

Selim's loud sobbing died away, and I heard a sigh, weak, yet
unmistakable.

"Did you sigh, Selim?" I asked.

"No; you only thought you heard me."

"Not at all; it was perfectly distinct -- there!"  Again I heard the
heavy sigh.  "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, Effendi, I heard it plainly."

"It comes from this sand," I cried.

"Sand has no voice."

"Indeed it has, but not like this.  I have heard the desert singing and
sighing in the night as the winds swept over it, but this is not like
that tone.  It comes from this passage!"  I added, in amazement, as
the sound was again repeated.

"Right, very right," assented Selim, rushing into a corner.

"What on earth are you hiding from?  There are human beings
here," I cried.

"Human beings!  No; they are spirits of the lost."

"Hush, you coward!  Stay here and whimper, if you choose; I am
going to save myself.  Besides, there may be some one else
imprisoned here, and nearly dead.  If we delay it may be too late.  I
am going down; stay here if you like."

"No, no, no;  I won't stay in this awful place alone; I will go with
you," he cried, and we began the descent of the second passage.

After going down ten steps we came to solid ground, and, on
lighting the torch, saw a walled chamber, and against its side
leaned a form, which raised its arms and cried: "Have mercy! Let
me out, and I will not betray you.  I have already promised you
this."

"Don't be afraid," I said.  "We are not come to torture you."

"Not to torture me?  Are you not Abd el Barak's men, who has
sentenced me to die?"

 IN THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOHS  //71//

"No; Abd el Barak is my deadly enemy, and has caused us to be
captured here. You are starving; how long have you been here?"

"Four days; I have licked the drops from the wet wall, so I am not
thirsty, but I long for food."

The steward had provided us with dried meat, bread, and dates,
which we shared with the young man, Selim as gladly as I; for,
though a coward, he was kindly. The food revived the poor fellow,
and he asked our name.

"First tell us who you are, and why you are here," I said.

"I am called Ben Nil, the son of the Nile, for my father is a pilot,
and I was born on the river. I was imprisoned here in punishment
for refusing to kill a man whom the Kadis wished put away."

"Who was he?" I asked.

"A stranger, a Christian from America," answered the youth. "He
had done my grandfather a great service, and I would not kill him."

"I am he," I said, to his unspeakable surprise. "You are suffering
for my

sake, and I will do my best to save you."

"Effendi, you need help now as much as I, but my grandfather was
the pilot of the slave-ship whom you helped get free that night
when the Reis Effendina captured her. I have only paid a little of
our debt in refusing to take your life," he said.

"Keep up heart, Ben Nil," I replied. "I feel sure we all shall see the
sun

again."

CHAPTER VIII.

OUT OF THE TOMB AND AWAY FROM SIOUT.

WE were certainly in a bad strait, yet I was sincere in telling my
companions that I felt hopeful of delivery.  Every moment made
matters worse, for the air down below was frightful, and there was
no doubt that we must climb up again, where I hoped to find a
hidden passage out.

"O Effendi, if you only were right," wailed Selim. "All my hope is
dead; we shall starve in misery.  Oh, why has Allah ordained this
kismet for me?"

Even the weak and exhausted Ben Nil could not stand this.  "Why
do you whimper?" he said.  "You tell me you are called the
greatest warrior of your tribe; if you are, it must consist of old
women.  How shall I get up, Effendi?  I am too weak to climb."

"We will drag and carry you," I said. I tied the rope around his
body, and Selim fastened the other end around himself, and went
up first. I followed, with Ben Nil resting on my shoulders, so that I
could shove him while Selim pulled, as we had done in getting the
steward out of the hole, and thus we slowly ascended. How lucky it
was that we had brought torches, and had given none to the fakir;
two were used up, but we had four left.

Arrived in the first chamber, where I had brushed away the sand
from the stone, I went over to it and began examining the wall.  It
was but a few moments before I found a

72

 OUT OF THE TOMB AND AWAY FROM SIOUT.  //73//

brick that looked loose; I removed it, and found the others around
it easily displaced, Selim by this time helping me, while Ben Nil
held the light.

"Allah is great," cried Selim; "it is a passage!  Effendi, how did
you know it was here?"

"I guessed it, because this air is so fresh and sweet, and for that
reason I believe it leads out of doors, not into another passage.  Do
you remember the hole the steward fell into?"

"Allah, wallah, tallah!  Do you mean that ---"

"I mean that we are coming out into that same hole, if my
calculations are right.  Keep on digging away the sand and bricks." 
We went at it with renewed vigor, and at last the passage lay open
before us. I crawled in with my torch to follow it up, and at last I
reached the end, which I found filled up with sand.

As I turned to go back to summon Selim and Ben Nil I heard a
well-known voice behind me, saying: "Allah be thanked, I have
found you again. I could not stay longer in that darkness "

"You were afraid?" I asked.

"No, I was not afraid, but little Ben Nil was," replied Selim.

"And because he was afraid you left him alone!  You have a queer
way of showing your courage.  Here, hold the torch; I am going to
dig."

The sand was very light; I scattered it on every side, and soon felt
the fresh wind on my face.  A moment more, and daylight
streamed in, the sand collapsed, and revealed a hole, into which I
crawled.  The sun was directly over my head, and I found myself,
as I expected, in the hole into which the steward had fallen. Selim
came after me and cried in jubilant tones: "Allah il Allah!  Heaven
be praised, and all the caliphs be ---"

"Oh, shut up with your caliphs, you donkey," I cried out of all
patience.  "Do you want to betray us?"

"Betray us?  To whom?" he asked, with the most stupid face I ever
saw.

"To those who entrapped us." 

"But they will know we got out."

"Yes, but not till the time comes.  If they are in there still we will
catch them."

"You are right, Effendi. We will catch them, and I will crush and
destroy them, I the most renowned "

"Oh, for goodness sake, do stop your nonsense!  I am going back
after Ben Nil.  You stay here, and don't do anything ridiculous. 
Keep perfectly still."

I crawled back and found Ben Nil sitting quietly just where I left
him.  "What news, Effendi?" he asked.

"The best; we are free."

He rose, uttered a prayer of thanksgiving aloud, and then stretched
out his hands to me and said:  "Effendi, I will never forget this
hour. If ever I can thank you and fail in gratitude, may Allah forget
me when I stand at the gates of paradise. You need not help me
now; I can crawl after you; lead the way."

He spoke truly.  His strength seemed to return to him, and we
reached the open. Selim was not in sight.  But we heard him,
shouting: "You dogs, you sons of dogs, and descendants of dogs! 
Run, run, and if you turn back I will crush you in the fingers of my
right hand. I am the mightiest of warriors, and the greatest of
heroes."

"Selim," I shouted, "come here!  What are you yelling at?"

"Shall I not tell these curs what I think of them?" he asked,
returning to the edge of the hole.

"What curs?"

"The fakir and the juggler."

 OUT OF THE TOMB AND AWAY FROM SIOUT.  //75//

That I did not throttle the idiot on the spot I think ought to stand
high on the credit side of my accounts.

"Where were they?" I asked.

"I climbed out of the hole, and they stood on the throw of the hill. 
My wrath mastered me.  I yelled at them in fury, and they ran with
the swiftness of the gazelle; you can still see them running."

"Catch the rope; pull me up," I said.

Yes; he spoke the truth; there they were, too far off to be captured,
and still running. I nearly choked as I saw them, and I turned on
Selim angrily: "You old, incurable donkey!  If you had held your
tongue they would both have fallen into our hands!"

"They will yet," said Selim, as complacent as ever.  "We will catch
them in Siout."

"They won't go back there. However, we must return. We will
carry Ben Nil between us, and our progress must be slow."

We made the long distance back to the palace at a weary pace, but
we reached it at last.  I was so enraged at the escape of that pious
old hypocrite, the fakir, and the "muza'bir" that I could hardly
appreciate my own happy delivery.  I made up my mind to capture
them if they were above ground, and for this reason to leave Siout
by the second day.

Ben Nil sought me in the morning.  "May your day be blessed, and
all your ways be peaceful, O my lord and deliverer," he said,
dropping off his shoes in the doorway and bowing low.  "Is it true
that you are going to Khartum?"

"Yes."

"Effendi, do you need a servant?" he cried.  "Take me with you!  I
am poor, but I will not ask for wages.  If you will give me food it
will be enough."

"Yes, I will take you; I like you, and, as you are a sailor, I may be
able to get you a good position."

"I shall be glad of one, and you shall not find me unworthy."

The young man made an extraordinarily good impression on me;
he spoke frankly and respectfully, and his expression was honest;
knowing, as he did, every foot of the river, he could easily be of
great service to me.  But scarcely had I arranged to take him with
me when Selim came to the door, and looked at me appealingly. 
"Effendi," he said, "will you send me back to Murad Nassyr, as the
steward says you mean to do?"

"Yes, for I am going into the Sudan." 

"I cannot return; it goes to my heart to part with you.  You are a
wise man, and know the hidden secrets of all things, but you need
a servant; let me be he, for I will not return to Cairo."

"But your fierce courage will get me into trouble; besides, I
already have a servant."

"Ben Nil?  What use is that young man?  He has fought no battles,
and won no victories.  Effendi, my heart cleaves to you; take me
with you!"

There were actually tears in the eyes of this extraordinary being,
and though I had been tried almost past endurance by his stupidity
and boasting, I had not the heart to refuse him.  So I promised to
let him go with me, and sent him on his way rejoicing with a joy I
could hardly share; yet he was an honest, kind-hearted, and, as this
proved, an affectionate old gas-bag!

All my little preparations were made by night, and I was to start,
early in the morning.  Just after evening prayer, as the Master of
Horse, the big steward and I were smoking our farewell pipe, a
small train of camels came swinging down the narrow street, and
as they drew near

 OUT OF THE TOMB AND AWAY FROM SIOUT.  //77//

to the palace we saw that the rider of the foremost animal was the
lieutenant of the Reis Effendina.

I was glad again to see this young officer, who had done all he
could to make my trip to Siout on the "Falcon" pleasant. He
greeted me most cordially, and immediately asked for a room in
which he could see me alone.  Having been shown to one, and
made sure no one could overhear us, he said:  "Effendi, the Reis
Effendina has certain information that a caravan of slave-women is
now on its way across the desert.  The tribe of Fessarah Arabs were
keeping a festival not many weeks ago. All the men had gone to
Oschebel Modjaf, and the women were left at home. When the
men returned the old women and children lay dead among the
ruins of their homes, and the young women and girls had been
carried away to slavery."

"Horrible!" I exclaimed.  "I have heard that the Fessarah women
are famous for their beauty.  Has no trace of them been found?"

"No; yet the Reis Effendina is convinced that the caravan which he
knows is now crossing the desert is theirs.  He had commissioned
me to capture it, and send the women back to their homes.  But he
bade me seek you out and beg you to help me in this task, feeling
sure it will thus succeed.  If you consent, you are to hold superior
rank to mine, and I will obey you in all things.  On my own part, I
beg you not to refuse, Effendi, for I would gladly avail myself of
the pleasure of your companionship, and the benefit of your
wisdom, courage, and strength."

This was a wonderful invitation from the officer of the Viceroy to
a young Christian traveler, and far too tempting to my love of
adventure to be refused.  After brief consideration, I held out my
hand and said as I rose: "I accept with pleasure, and due
appreciation of the compliment.

We will rescue these women, and I am ready to ride with you at
any moment."

"Good! The Reis Effendina has sent you the finest camel in his
possession," said the lieutenant, rising also.  "We will start with the
sun in the morning."

And thus ended the first of my adventures in Egypt, the land of
mystery, and saying farewell to the town for a time, I turned my
face toward the outstretched desert.

CHAPTER IX.

ON THE TRACK OF THE SLAVE CARAVAN.

IF it is true that "some are born great, some achieve greatness, and
some have greatness thrust upon them," I must belong to the latter
class, for it was luck, and not merit, that had led me, a young
American traveler in search of adventure in the East, to be selected
by the Reis Effendina, the captain of the Viceroy of Egypt, for the
command of an expedition to capture a caravan of slave dealers
who had destroyed a village of Fessarah Arabs and taken captive
their women.

The lieutenant, who according to the written instructions of the
Reis, was to be my second in command, left the town a little in
advance of me, and waited at an appointed place for me to join
him.  He was surprised when he saw me coming, accompanied by
two servants, and hailed me as soon as I was within speaking
distance, saying: "I began to think you had not been able to find the
place, I have waited so long.  Is this youth Ben Nil, of whom you
have spoken?"

"Yes."'

"And the other is Selim, the hero of heroes?"

"Yes, I am he," Selim replied before I could speak, "and when you
have learned to know me you will wonder at me."

"I wonder at you already, that you should speak when I addressed
your master. I trust these fellows will prove worthy of bestriding
such noble camels. You are first; I am the second; it is for you to
do what pleases you, and I only hope this will prove no mistake.
Let us fill our water skins and start."

These words were addressed to me; we took the skins which hung
at each saddle-bow, dismounted and filled them at the spring
where we had met, remounted, and rode away.

We turned toward the caravan route, which ran first southwesterly
and then directly south, following the dry bed of a brook, which
contained water only during the rains.  The landscape was bare and
bleak; on every side rose stern crags, and the camels' feet fell on
stony, unfruitful soil.  On the second day of our journey we
reached the sand desert which is called "bahr bela mah," the sea
without water, a term used often in the Sahara and by the Red Sea
to designate the desert.

At last we came to the spot where the lieutenant had left his
soldiers awaiting his return, and we camped by the baggage which
lay on the ground, the soldiers at a respectful distance from their
superior officers.  Many of them had seen me on the Reis' ship,
and welcomed me as a man whose presence might be useful to
them.  Ben Nil at once went over and joined them, but Selim
would have liked to play the gentleman and remain with me and
the lieutenant, but the latter gave him such an unmistakable sign of
dismissal that the long-legged hero was forced to go.  He hailed
the soldiers as he approached, saying:  "So you are the 'Asaker'"
(the plural of the word "Askeri," meaning soldiers) "of the Reis
Effendina, who are to be allowed to fight under us?  I hope that
you will be satisfactory to me.  Do you know me?"

"No," answered one of the men, regarding him with wondering
curiosity, uncertain whether he was an equal or his superior.

"Then you surely are a stranger in this land, where every child
prattles of my heroism.  My glorious name is so long 

 ON THE TRACK OF THE SLAVE CARAVAN.  //81//

that it would reach from here to Kahireh, so I bid you call me
simply Selim.  I am the greatest warrior of an the tribes and
peoples of the East, and my adventures are related everywhere, and
are written in thousands of books.  My mighty hand is a rock in
whose shadow you may rest secure all your length of days."

Thus having spoken Selim drew himself up, folding his arms over
his breast in an indescribably funny attitude of dignity.  The
soldiers did not know what to make of this address; they looked
over at me and saw me laughing, while Ben Nil shrugged his
shoulders and murmured:  "Tim el kebir," which is equivalent to
"gas-bag," or boaster.  So enlightened by these two clues, a young
man, whom I discovered later was the wag of the band, rose, made
a deep genuflection, and said in a tone of mock reverence: "We are
blessed, O Selim of all Selims, in the light of thy countenance.  We
believe, for thou hast said it, that thou art the essence of all
wisdom, and we put our trust in thee, with full confidence that
thou wilt not withdraw this light from us."

"I will not," replied Selim, with no suspicion that he was the
victim of a jest.  "I am ready to protect you with all my talents at
any moment."

We had watched this comedy with no slight amusement, but now
we turned our attention to the object we had come out to attain,
and which would surely prove a tragedy -- the liberation of the
Fessarah women and the capture of their captors.  We all -- that is
to say, the lieutenant and I, and the "Onbaschi," or corporal of the
"Asaker," whom we had admitted to our council -- thought that the
route of the guilty caravan would lie towards some hidden brooks,
of which there are a few in the desert, concealed with the utmost
care by those to whom the secret is known, for, since not even a
camp can go a week without water, it followed that these people
must know of some such hidden streams toward which they would
direct their course.  We decided to ride in the direction in which
the "Onbaschi," an old dweller in the desert, thought it most
probable that these springs would lie, and trust to the keen scent of
our camels to discover them.  The lieutenant and I, with Ben Nil
and Selim, because we feared to take our eye off the latter lest his
stupidity should bring our plans to grief, were to ride in search of
these brooks, and reconnoiter generally, while the "Onbaschi" was
to lead the "Asaker" to a certain stream called Bir Murat and wait
for us to join them.

Having given the "Onbaschi" full instructions, so that there could
be no possible misunderstanding, we four rode away.  The country
was still hilly, but devoid of tree or shrub; no living thing was to
be seen except the slow-wheeling vultures scanning the desert in
search of some poor pack camel, which might have sunk
exhausted beneath its load and been left by the heartless Arabs to
die in the slow tortures of thirst and starvation, while the vultures
sat around waiting for its last feeble breath to be drawn. Many
such a pitiful scene have I witnessed, and given the patient,
suffering creature the merciful shot that its cruel master had been
too indifferent to give when his faithful four-footed servant had
found its burden too heavy, and its strength had failed.  But we
passed no such dumb tragedy on this ride, nor did we see the
bleaching bones that showed such a one had been enacted, which
proved that we were off the general caravan route.

There was no danger of mistaking our way; a glance at the watch
and at the sun indicated it without consulting the compass, and by
night the stars, especially the glorious Southern Cross, guided us.

 ON THE TRACK OF THE SLAVE CARAVAN. . //83//

On we went and still onward, the camels swinging along on their
sturdy legs with no sign of weariness, but their riders had not equal
endurance.  Selim complained until I lost all patience with him,
especially as the women whom we were trying to rescue were of
the tribe to which he belonged, and for whom, consequently, he
should have been more ready than we to suffer something, for
none of us was finding the ride an easy one.  At last, toward night,
a hill rose before us and my camel paused for a moment, snuffing
the air. Then he turned to the right and ran at full speed, while I let
the bridle hang loosely, not interfering with the beast's liberty to
follow his instinct, for I knew that he scented water.  The other
three camels came after with equal speed; the sand flew beneath
their flying feet. We passed between the hills and entered a little
valley.  Here my camel halted, pawing at the sand with his
forefeet. I sprang down without attempting to make him kneel, and
pulled him away.  He resisted, screaming, struggling, and biting at
me with all his might, but I forced him back and fastened his legs
so tightly that he could not mo