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

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

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 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

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 rea-

sons 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.

Contents

Introduction