CHAPTER III

It was so hot in the hotel garden that Nurse and Ellen, not always the best of friends, had agreed for once, and declared another game of "Horse" to be quite out of the question.

"You'll be getting a sunstroke the next thing," grumbled Nurse, "and then what'll your father say when he comes? No, Miss Phyllis, you needn't say another word. You're not going to stay out in this broiling sun any longer, or Master Reggie either. You're both coming in the house, to keep quiet till Mr. and. Mrs. Starr come home."

"But Daddy and Mother won't be back before dinner-time, and it isn't more than four o'clock now," persisted Reggie. "There isn't a thing to do in that stupid old hotel. Please let us stay out on the terrace, even if we can't play 'Horse' any longer--please do, Ellen."

Ellen, who was much more good-natured than Nurse, hesitated.

"We might let them play quietly on the hotel terrace," she suggested rather timidly, for at the bottom of her heart Ellen stood very much in awe of Nurse. "The band's going to play while the people have tea, and it'll be nice to listen to the music."

Nurse really had no objection to sitting on the hotel veranda, while the orchestra played, and the guests took their afternoon tea, except that she always objected on principle to every plan that she had not herself suggested. So she gave a grudging consent, and they all adjourned to the cool terrace, where the tea-tables were being set out, and the musicians were tuning up their instruments. It was nearly a week since they had landed in Egypt, and two days before Mr. Starr had moved his party to a hotel a little out of Cairo, and close to the great Pyramids. It was rather hot in Cairo, and the children had found the change to a purer air very agreeable. Besides, this hotel had a garden, in which they spent a good part of the day, playing "Horse," a game of which Reggie in particular, was extremely fond. To-day Mr. and Mrs. Starr had gone with a party of American friends, to visit some more distant pyramids, and the children and nurses were left alone at the hotel.

"I do like to look at the ladies' pretty dresses," Ellen remarked, with a little sigh of content, as a party of prettily dressed English girls took their places at one of the tables.

"I don't care much about people's dresses," returned Nurse, crossly. "Things I can't have myself never interest me. The thing I should care for more than anything else at this minute would be a good cup of tea."

"They serve tea in the maids' dining-room every afternoon at half-past four," said Ellen. "It must be just about that time now. I've a great mind to run and get a cup myself. Would you mind staying here with the children till I come back?"

"I could go any time I chose," retorted Nurse, airily. "Miss Phyllis would never think of stirring from here if I told her not to. You couldn't say as much for the boy, I suppose."

Now Ellen was really very fond of Reggie, and she resented the implied doubt in Nurse's tone.

"He's a very obedient little fellow," she maintained, stoutly, "and a sweeter-dispositioned child you wouldn't find in a hurry, I can tell you."

"Well, then, what's to prevent our leaving them here, while we both just step down for a cup of tea? We won't be gone ten minutes."

The band had by this time struck up a lively march, which quite drowned the voices of the two women, and the children had no idea what they were talking about and were much surprised to see both their guardians rise at once, and to hear Nurse's voice, raised so as to be heard above the music, informing them that she and Ellen were going to the maids' dining-room for a cup of tea, and that they were on no account to stir from the terrace until they came back. Nurse did not wait for any reply, but hurried away, followed by the more reluctant Ellen.

"Don't you think Nurse is the most disagreeable person you have ever seen?" inquired Reggie, as the figures of the two women disappeared from view.

"She's pretty disagreeable," Phyllis admitted, with a sigh; "Ellen is much nicer."

"Ellen's all right sometimes, but Nurse puts ideas into her head, and that makes her disagreeable too. It was mean of them to make us stop playing 'Horse,' just when we were having such fun, and those sticks with horse-hair on the end, that the people use to shoo away the flies, did make such splendid tails. It wasn't a bit hotter than it often is at home in summer, and Daddy says it does people good to be out in the sun."

"It wasn't fair, either," said Phyllis, in a deeply aggrieved tone.

"They made us stop just when it was your turn to be Horse. I'd been Horse all the afternoon, and it's ever so much more fun to be Driver."

"They're not fair about a great many things," said Reggie, his indignation rising at the memory of more injustice. "They haven't taken us for a walk since we came here, and of course we don't want to stay in the old garden all day. I asked Ellen very nicely this morning, if she wouldn't please take us to see the Pyramids and the Sphinx again, and she was just going to say 'Yes' when Nurse said she'd like to see herself walking about among all those black heathens, and then Ellen said she was afraid, and we'd have to stay in the garden till Daddy and Mother came home. It isn't fair. We've only seen the Sphinx once, and Daddy says it's one of the most interesting things in Egypt."

"The Sphinx is rather ugly, don't you think so?" said Phyllis, doubtfully. "I dreamed about it last night, and it wasn't a nice dream. I like the Pyramids better."

"I don't think the Sphinx is ugly," returned Reggie. "I think it's just queer. Daddy says I must keep my eyes open all the time, and remember everything I see, so I can tell people about them when I go home. He says travelling educates people as much as going to school, but I don't see how I'm going to get educated if Ellen won't take me to see things."

"It isn't far to the Pyramids," observed Phyllis, with a glance in the direction of the great stone marvels, which can be seen for miles around. "It would only take a few minutes to walk there."

"I wish we could go by ourselves," said Reggie. "We could just as well as not, if they would only let us. It isn't any further than Bobby Campbell's house is from ours in New York, and I always go there by myself."

"Who's Bobby Campbell?" Phyllis inquired, with interest.

"He's my best friend. He's nine, and I'm going to his school next year. We always go to each other's houses by ourselves. At first mother was afraid I might get run over crossing the street, but Daddy said it was nonsense, and that boys must learn to take care of themselves, so now she always lets me go."

"Ellen and Nurse would never let us go out by ourselves here," said Phyllis, with conviction.

"Of course they wouldn't, they're such sillies, but we might do it some time when they weren't around. We'd only go as far as the Sphinx and I don't believe Daddy would mind."

"It would be fun," Phyllis admitted, "if we were sure the black people wouldn't hurt us."

"Pooh!" said Reggie, in a tone of infinite scorn. "You certainly are a great baby, Phyllis, even if you are nine. Those Arabs are very good people, even if they are black. I know a boy at home whose family have a colored coachman, and he's just as nice as he can be. He's taught Joe to drive, and lets him come into the stable whenever he likes. Then there's Abdul, our dragoman. I heard mother tell Daddy she thought Abdul had a beautiful smile, and you know how kind he was yesterday when we rode the donkeys. Nobody would be afraid of an Arab except sillies like Nurse and Ellen."

"I'm not really afraid," declared Phyllis, who was feeling a good deal ashamed of her momentary doubts. "I'd just as lief as not walk as far as the Sphinx by ourselves."

"Well, let's do it," said Reggie, with a sudden inspiration. "It wouldn't take but a few minutes, and it would be such fun."

Phyllis gave a little gasp of excitement. "Do you mean to do it now, this minute?" she demanded, incredulously.

"Yes, why not? We may never get another chance. They've gone off for tea, and you know how long that always takes them. Just as likely as not they'll be back before we are, and then won't they be surprised when they hear where we've been?"

"But Nurse told us not to stir till she came back," faltered Phyllis, feeling a little frightened, though her eyes were sparkling with mischievous anticipation.

"But we didn't promise. Of course if we'd promised we couldn't do it, but they didn't even wait for us to answer. I'm going, any way, but you can stay here if you want to."

"If you go I'm going, too," declared Phyllis, stoutly. "Nurse will scold dreadfully, and perhaps she'll put me to bed, but it's pretty near bedtime, anyway, and I'm tired, so I don't care. Are you sure your father and mother won't be angry?"

"Daddy won't, he likes to have me do grown-up things. Mother might be a little bit worried if she knew about it, but we shall be back ages before she comes home. Besides, Daddy can generally talk her round. Come along, we've got to hurry if we want to get back before Ellen and Nurse."

All this time the orchestra had been playing very loud, and in consequence none of the other people on the terrace had overheard the children's conversation. A few of the ladies glanced carelessly at the two little figures, as they rose from their seats, and walked resolutely down the steps, and away in the direction of the gate, but no one imagined for a moment that they contemplated anything more daring than a stroll about the hotel grounds.

"What an attractive child that little girl is!" one lady remarked carelessly, and her companion answered:

"Yes, and the boy is a manly little fellow, too. I wonder who they are. They haven't been here more than a day or two."

"It's a lucky thing they didn't make us take off our hats when they brought us in," remarked Reggie, as they walked briskly down the path. "The sun is pretty hot, isn't it?"

"I don't mind it a bit," returned Phyllis, determined that her companion should not have an opportunity of pronouncing her a baby again. "I can walk a long way. I walked six miles with Aunt Helen once. We went to have tea with some people, and lost our way coming home. Aunt Helen was a little frightened when it began to get dark, but I wasn't frightened a bit. We got home all right, and Aunt Helen let me stay and warm myself by the drawing-room fire, and it was so nice and comfy."

"You're all right, for a girl," remarked Reggie, and considered that he had paid his little friend a very high compliment.

It was really only a short distance to the first of the great pyramids which have been one of the wonders of the world for ages. In less than ten minutes from the time they left the hotel, the children were in the midst of a busy, chattering crowd, composed of tourists, donkey and camel boys, sellers of mummy beads and other curiosities, and beggars of every description. Such a scene would have frightened many children, but a week in Cairo had accustomed Reggie and Phyllis to the strange sights and sounds of the country, and on a visit paid to the pyramids on the previous day, Mr. Starr had assured them there was nothing to be afraid of. So Reggie pushed on manfully, holding firmly to Phyllis's hand, until they stood in the shadow of the great Pyramid.

"My, but it's high!" exclaimed Reggie, gazing up at the mighty structure. "Don't you wonder how they got all those great stones here, and who put them up?"

"Perhaps the fairies did it by magic," suggested Phyllis, who had not outgrown her belief in fairy tales, but Reggie looked scornfully incredulous.

"Of course they didn't," he said with an air of superior wisdom. "Men did it, but it was so long ago that nobody knows how they managed, or what sort of machinery they had. I wish Daddy would let me climb to the top."

"You might fall down and get killed," suggested the more prudent Phyllis. "I wouldn't do it for anything."

"Of course you wouldn't. Girls are never brave. I could climb that pyramid just as easy--as easy as anything, if Daddy would only let me."

"Well, he won't let you; he said so yesterday, so what's the use talking about it? Besides, girls do brave things just as well as boys. Nurse read me a story about a little girl who stopped a train, and saved a great many people's lives."

At that moment they were accosted by a very objectionable looking beggar who, in a whining voice, demanded "Backsheesh," which is the Egyptian way of asking for pennies. Neither of them had any money, so Reggie shook his head violently, while Phyllis retreated behind her companion, not liking the beggar's appearance. The beggar scowled fiercely, and muttering a few angry words, turned away in search of more promising prey.

"He swore at us, Reggie, I'm sure he did," whispered Phyllis, who had turned rather pale.

"How do you know it was swearing?" demanded Reggie, his eyes beginning to flash.

"Because a beggar in Naples spoke just like that to Aunt Helen, when she wouldn't give him any pennies, and she said it was swearing. I don't like being sworn at. Let's hurry home."

"Hurry home!" repeated Reggie, incredulously. "Why, we haven't been anywhere yet. We've got to go as far as the Sphinx."

"Oh, I don't believe we'd better, I really don't, Reggie. Suppose Nurse and Ellen come back and don't find us, think how frightened they'll be. I don't like to frighten people."

"I don't mind, at least not when they're such sillies as Ellen and Nurse. Besides, they won't have long to be frightened. We'll go right home just as soon as we've seen the Sphinx. Come along, and don't be a goose."

Phyllis yielded. Reggie was the first little boy she had ever known intimately in her life, and she was very anxious to stand well in his good opinion. Besides, she had almost as much faith in Reggie's judgment as in that of his father. A boy who was allowed, nay, even encouraged by his parents, to ask questions, and who was allowed to talk at the table, and to go out in the street alone, must, she was convinced, be a very important young person indeed. If she refused to go any further, the probabilities were that Reggie, in his turn, would refuse to play with her for hours, if not days, and that would mean the end of all things. So she stifled a sigh, and resolutely prepared to follow her more venturesome companion.

The road from the hotel to the Pyramids was hard and comparatively easy walking, but when they had turned their steps in the direction of the mammoth stone figure, known to all the world as the Sphinx, they were obliged to leave the path behind them, and plod through the deep sand of the desert. It was difficult walking for the unaccustomed little feet, and Phyllis was soon very tired, though not for worlds would she have admitted the fact to Reggie.

"It seems much longer than it did when we were on the donkeys, doesn't it?" she panted, plodding bravely on through the soft, yielding sand. "Do you suppose it's much further?"

"It's right here," encouraged Reggie, cheerfully. "My, how you do pant!"

"I'm sorry I do, but I can't help it," said Phyllis, apologetically. "I never walked in this kind of sand before. The sand at the seaside is much harder."

Reggie made no answer. The fact was, he was finding the walk a more difficult one than he liked, but he did not care to admit the fact to his little companion.

A few minutes more, and they had reached their destination, and were standing before the great figure, which has interested so many thousands of people for centuries. It was very grand and awe inspiring, with the rays of the setting sun falling full upon it, and even two little children like Reggie and Phyllis could not but be impressed with the wonder of it all. They had left the greater part of the crowd behind, and only a few natives were loitering about. One man wanted to sell them some mummy beads, and another offered to tell their fortunes, but when Reggie shook his head, and said "Imshie," a word he had heard their dragoman use, and which he believed meant "go away," they both moved on, and the children were left in peace.

"It seems as if the Sphinx must be thinking about something, doesn't it?" said Phyllis, in an awed whisper, and she drew a little nearer to her companion as she spoke.

"Do you suppose it was alive once, and some wicked fairy turned it into stone?"

"I don't know," said Reggie. "It must have been a giant if it ever was alive. Daddy says nobody knows who made it. It was buried in the sand for hundreds of years, and at last some people found it and dug it out. It kept getting covered again for a long time, and they had to keep digging it out, but now they don't let it happen any more."

"I think it must be getting rather late," said Phyllis, with an anxious glance at the setting sun. "Oh, Reggie, look at that sunset! Did you ever see such a beautiful one?"

"It is pretty, isn't it?" said Reggie, who was not as much interested in sunsets as he was in some other things. "I wonder what makes the sky look like that."

"I don't know," said Phyllis, reflectively. "Perhaps God has a golden lamp in his dining-room, and the angels light it every evening at supper time, only cloudy nights we can't see it. I don't believe they ever have cloudy nights in Egypt; the sky always looks so blue."

"I guess perhaps we'd better not stay here any longer," said Reggie, with a sudden recollection. "It gets dark pretty soon after the sun sets."

Phyllis looked a little frightened.

"I shouldn't like to be out after dark," she said. "Were you ever out by yourself after dark?"

"No, I never happened to be," Reggie admitted, reluctantly. "I wouldn't be a bit afraid, though. Come along; I guess we'd better hurry a little."

But it was no easy matter to hurry in that soft sand, and though they both plodded along bravely, they seemed to make but little progress.

"I didn't notice the sand was so deep when we came, did you?" panted Reggie, when they had been walking for fully ten minutes in silence, and the sand appeared to be growing softer and more yielding at every step. "No, I didn't," said Phyllis, suddenly stopping short. "Are you sure we're going the right way, Reggie?"

"Of course we are," said Reggie. "There isn't but one way to go, and it's so flat you can see for ever so far." But he looked a little startled at the suggestion, nevertheless.

They plodded on for another five minutes, and then suddenly, to Reggie's utter horror and consternation, Phyllis sat flat down in the sand and began to cry.

"I can't walk any more," she sobbed; "my feet are so tired, and my shoes are all full of sand. Besides, I'm quite sure this isn't the way back to the hotel."

Reggie was filled with dismay.

"Well of all the sillies!" he began. "Look here, Phyllis, you've got to come on. We can't stay here. It's getting later all the time, and it's going to be dark in a few minutes."

"I don't want to stay here," wailed poor little Phyllis. "I want to go back to the hotel, but we're lost, I know we are, and it's so hard to walk in this dreadful sand."

"No, we're not lost either," Reggie maintained, stoutly. "I know the way all right, and if you'll only stop being a silly, and come along, we'll be home in a few minutes."

Thus urged, Phyllis rose and dried her eyes. Then she looked about hopelessly.

"Which way did we come?" she inquired. "It all looks just the same, and those big sand hills hide everything, so we can't tell whether we've been here before or not."

Reggie was secretly a good deal troubled, but he assumed a cheerful confidence, and they trudged on for another five minutes. Then it was Reggie himself who paused.

"I guess we'd better ask somebody the way," he said. "I shouldn't like to take you too far."

"But there isn't anybody to ask," said Phyllis, looking across the wide stretch of sand, on which, at the moment, there was not a human being to be seen. "Besides, those horrid Arabs don't understand any English. Oh, Reggie, what shall we do?" And Phyllis began to cry again.

"We may meet some English people if we keep on a little further," said Reggie, bravely determined to look on the bright side of things. "There were plenty of them around by the Pyramids. Besides, some of the Arabs do speak English. That man who wanted to tell our fortunes talked all right."

"But suppose we don't meet any people at all, what shall we do then? We can't stay out here all night, and everybody will be so frightened if we don't come home soon."

"I know they will," said Reggie, looking grave. "I wish we hadn't come, but it seemed so easy; I never thought of getting lost. I'm glad Daddy and Mother won't get home till late. I shouldn't like Mother to be frightened."

"What are you going to do about it?" inquired Phyllis, instinctively turning to the stronger nature for guidance.

Reggie reflected for a moment, and glanced anxiously at the rapidly deepening twilight.

"I guess we'd better keep on," he said. "We may meet somebody in a few minutes, and perhaps we're going the right way all the time. I wish it didn't get dark quite so soon after the sun goes down. It never does that way at home."

For another ten minutes they struggled on. Then, suddenly from over the top of a low sand hill, they caught sight of a cluster of native mud huts. Reggie gave vent to a sort of relief.

"Now we shall find some people," he announced joyfully. "I knew it would be all right if we just kept on a little longer."

But Phyllis was not so easily pleased.

"I don't like to go down there," she protested, drawing back; "it looks so very dirty."

"Never mind," said Reggie, encouragingly. "They won't hurt us, and we'll only have to stay long enough to ask some one to tell us the way back to the hotel. Come on!" And to Phyllis's horror, her companion began running down the sand hill, into the very midst of the native village. She was afraid to be left alone, so she followed, with a wildly beating heart, and almost before either of them realized what was happening to them, they were the centre of a group of excited native children, who in their astonishment at finding a little white boy and girl suddenly in their midst, swarmed about them like so many flies.

"Backsheesh, backsheesh, backsheesh!" screamed the little Arabs, stretching out their grimy hands.

"Imshie, imshie!" shouted Reggie, indignantly, waving them away, and trying to protect Phyllis's dainty white dress from too close contact with the objectionable little natives. "We haven't got any backsheesh, and you mustn't crowd so much, it isn't polite. Isn't there anybody here who can speak English?"

The children stared, and began chattering very fast, but neither Reggie nor Phyllis could understand a word of what they said. At last one of the larger boys seized Reggie by the arm, and began dragging him along with him. Phyllis screamed with terror, but Reggie stood his ground manfully.

"I think he's only going to take us to somebody who talks English," he said, reassuringly. "I guess we'd better go with him."

Phyllis did not feel at all sure that her companion was right, but she was far too much frightened to be left alone in that dreadful place, so she, too, followed. The boy led them to one of the mud huts, the entrance to which was so low that it was necessary to creep in on all fours. He said something to somebody inside; there was an answer, and then the boy stood aside, and made a sign to the children to enter.

Phyllis screamed again, and grasped Reggie's arm firmly.

"You shan't go in that dreadful place!" she cried in terror. "Perhaps they're cannibals, and will eat us up. Oh, please come away, please do!"

At that moment, there emerged from the hut a boy of about twelve, dressed in the native costume, and leaning on a stick. He was evidently lame, for he moved very slowly, and with great difficulty, but he was smiling pleasantly, and he bowed low to the two little strangers.

"I can English story tell," he said in a sweet, clear voice. "I in English school go."

"Oh, do you?" cried Reggie, in a tone of heartfelt relief. "I'm so glad to find somebody who talks English. Will you please tell us the way back to the Pyramids and the hotel? I'm afraid we're lost, and it's getting so late."

The lame boy listened courteously, and continued to smile. When Reggie had finished speaking he went on quietly.

"The sun shines in the sky by day. The moon shines in the sky by night. The sun is warm. The sun makes the flowers to grow. The moon is cold. The moon does not make grow the beautiful flowers."

The boy paused, still smiling, and waited patiently for praise or backsheesh, whichever might be forthcoming. Reggie was very much puzzled.

"I asked you the way back to the hotel," he said rather indignantly. "We know all about the sun and the moon; you needn't tell us that."

The boy bowed courteously, and murmured something in his own language.

"I don't believe he knows any more English," exclaimed Reggie, with a sudden inspiration. "He's learned that in school, the same as we learn French fables."

"He must know more than that," declared Phyllis, desperately. "Perhaps he'll understand if we talk broken English to him--the kind Abdul talks. We lost, boy; we want go back hotel."

A light of comprehension dawned in the boy's face, but he shook his head sadly. Evidently his small stock of English had already been exhausted.

"O dear! what shall we do now?" cried Phyllis, beginning to cry again in her despair. "None of them speak English."

Reggie looked helpless, but made one more effort.

"Show us hotel," he said, still clinging desperately to Phyllis's broken English. "My father give big backsheesh."

At the words, "my father," the boy smiled brightly.

"My father can English story tell," he announced, proudly.

Reggie was somewhat relieved, but Phyllis said mournfully--

"If it's all about the sun and the moon I don't see any use."

"Where is your father?" inquired Reggie, anxiously.

The boy seemed to understand this question, for he smiled again and pointed out over the desert.

"I suppose he means his father is somewhere out there," said Reggie. "I wish we knew how soon he'll be back."

"I don't see what good it would do if he came home," said Phyllis, with a sob. "Perhaps he only knows fables, too. Let's come away from here; it's a horrid place."

But Reggie was of a different opinion.

"I guess we'd better wait a little while," he said, "in case his father does come home. He may be able to understand what we want, and we can't go back to the hotel by ourselves; we don't know the way, and it's getting very dark."

Phyllis burst into an uncontrollable fit of crying.

"I don't want to stay here," she wailed. "It's so dirty, and--and awful, and I'm afraid--oh, Reggie, I'm so afraid!"

To tell the truth, Reggie was more than a little afraid himself, but he made a mighty effort to appear quite at his ease.

"Pooh!" he remarked scornfully. "I'm not afraid. I'd much rather stay here where people are, than out on the desert by ourselves. Besides, there isn't anything to be afraid of. I won't let anybody hurt you."

Phyllis gazed at her companion through her tears, and a look of profound admiration replaced the expression of hopeless misery on her face.

"You are a very brave boy," she said in a tone of conviction, not unmixed with awe. "Aren't you really the least little bit afraid?"

Reggie was conscious of a sensation of embarrassment. He was a truthful boy, and he did not like the idea of deceiving his little friend. Still, he reflected that if he let Phyllis suspect that he was frightened, she would naturally be more unhappy than she already was. So he took refuge in a slight prevarication.

"Boys are never afraid of things like girls," he announced, confidently. "Mother's always getting worried about all kinds of things, but Daddy never bothers. Let's sit down. I'm pretty tired, aren't you?"

Phyllis looked about her, as if in search of something.

"There isn't anything to sit on," she said.

"There's the ground," said Reggie, promptly seating himself as he spoke. "All the people here sit on the ground."

"But the ground is so dirty, and Nurse will make such a fuss if I soil my dress," protested Phyllis.

"Bother Nurse! Nobody cares whether she fusses or not. Besides, your dress isn't very clean any more. I guess it'll have to go in the wash when we get home."

Phyllis glanced at the pretty white muslin, which had been so clean and fresh only a few hours before, and heaved a sigh, as she reluctantly seated herself on the ground by Reggie's side. The lame boy, evidently understanding their intention to await his father's return, bowed and smiled once more, and sat down on the ground opposite his visitors. The other native children, who had been watching proceedings with interest, finding there was nothing exciting going on, began to drop off one after another, and were soon intent on their own affairs once more.

Then followed a long time of waiting. If they hadn't been so tired and anxious, the children might have found the scene before them very curious and interesting. It certainly was different from anything they had ever imagined in their lives before. The news that two little Europeans had taken shelter in the native village soon spread, and the inhabitants flocked from their mud huts to look at them. They were principally women and children, but there were a few men as well, and they all stared as if the sight of a little white girl in a muslin dress, and a little white boy in a sailor suit, sitting in front of a mud hut, was a very extraordinary sight indeed. The lame boy had constituted himself their guardian. He never moved from his seat, but whenever a native attempted to approach the children too closely, he waved his stick, and shouted such violent language that the intruders speedily withdrew to a safe distance.

"I think he's swearing at them," whispered Phyllis, looking very much shocked, but to her astonishment, Reggie, whom she had always regarded as a very good little boy, replied promptly--

"I don't know, but I hope he is, if that's what keeps them away."

"But it's wicked to swear, Reggie; Nurse says people who do it won't go to Heaven."

"Well, he's a nice boy, anyway," maintained Reggie, "and we don't know that he's swearing. Perhaps he's only telling them to keep away. Oh, look at that little girl with a baby in her arms. She isn't much bigger than you."

A little girl of perhaps nine or ten, had just emerged from the mud hut before which they were sitting. She carried a fat baby in her arms, and although very scantily clad, and decidedly dirty, she struck the children as the most prepossessing native they had yet seen.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" whispered Phyllis. "I suppose the baby is her little brother or sister, and she's taking care of it while her mother gets supper."

[Illustration: "SHE'S PRETTY, ISN'T SHE?" WHISPERED PHYLLIS.]

She smiled pleasantly at the native child, who in her turn, stared with round eyes of amazement at the two little strangers, and exchanged rapid remarks with the lame boy, of which the children were evidently the subject. Suddenly she deposited the baby unceremoniously upon the ground, and disappeared once more within the mud hut. Phyllis and Reggie, accustomed to the ways of English and American babies, fully expected the little native to set up a howl of wrath, at being so suddenly left to its own resources, but to their surprise, it did not seem in the least disturbed, but promptly began rolling over and over in the sand, kicking its little bare, black legs in the air, and uttering shrieks of delight.

"Oh, isn't it cunning!" cried Phyllis, everything else forgotten for the moment in this new interest. "I wonder if it would let me hold it."

"Don't you touch it," warned Reggie. "It's awfully dirty, and there's something queer the matter with its eyes."

"It isn't so very dirty, and it can't help its poor little eyes. Oh, Reggie, look, it can creep; it's coming over here."

It was true. The baby evidently attracted by something in the appearance of the two little white strangers, was making its way on all fours rapidly in their direction. In another moment, Phyllis, regardless of Reggie's disapproval, had dragged it into her lap. The lame boy appeared well pleased, for he smiled and nodded, and murmured, half to himself and half to the children--

"The moon shines in the sky by day. The sun shines in the sky by night."

"He's got it wrong this time," said Reggie. "He says the moon shines in the sky by day. Oh, I do wish he knew some more English!"

But Phyllis was too much absorbed with the dirty little Arab to pay any heed.

"I don't believe it makes any difference what language you talk to babies in," she said. "They don't understand one any better than another. Oh, see, Reggie, it's putting its finger in its mouth, just the way babies do at home."

At this moment, the little sister, or whatever she was, once more came out of the hut. She carried in her hands a large cake of the hard Egyptian bread, which forms almost the only food of the poorer classes on The Nile, and at sight of Phyllis with the baby in her lap, she, too, smiled and nodded in the same pleased way as the lame boy had done.

"I think they must like us," said Phyllis. "I wish we could talk to the little girl. I want to ask her the baby's name."

Conversation being out of the question, Phyllis was forced to content herself with nods and smiles, which were, perhaps, just as satisfactory under the circumstances. The girl proceeded to break the enormous cake into several pieces, one of which she handed to the boy, who immediately began eating it, with evident relish. Then she approached Phyllis, and smilingly held out a piece to her.

"Must we take it, do you think?" whispered Phyllis, instinctively drawing back. "It doesn't look at all nice."

"I guess we'd better," returned Reggie, also in a whisper. "They might be offended if we didn't." And he accepted the proffered offering with as good grace as he could assume.

"I really don't think I can possibly eat it," said Phyllis, regarding the unpalatable looking food distastefully. "Do you suppose this is all the supper they're going to have? Oh, the baby wants it; I'm afraid it'll choke itself."

But the baby's guardian evidently did not share Phyllis's apprehensions, for she immediately began breaking the bread into small pieces, and cramming them into the baby's mouth.

"Oh, I know it's going to choke," cried Phyllis, in dismay. "Why don't you give it a bottle?" she added, in her excitement quite forgetting the fact that the Arab child spoke no English.

"Don't be a silly," remarked Reggie, contemptuously. "I don't suppose Egyptian babies ever have bottles."

"But they haven't got any more teeth than our babies have," persisted Phyllis, still feeling very much worried. "I'm sure this one is going to choke in a minute."

But, strange to say, the baby did not choke. On the contrary, it appeared to be enjoying its peculiar meal very much, and in the fascination of watching it, Phyllis and Reggie for the moment forgot everything else. Then suddenly, a dreadful noise fell upon their ears. It was a succession of piercing shrieks, and turning in the direction from whence they came, the children saw, to their horror, first a ragged boy running as if for life, and then a tall man, hotly pursuing him, and brandishing a thick stick. The boy ran fast, but the man ran still faster, and before the children had realized what it all meant, he had reached his victim, seized him in a firm grasp, and was beating him with such violence that his shrieks increased in volume, and soon changed to howls of pain.

The villagers looked on calmly enough, some of them even laughing at the poor boy's discomfiture, but not so Reggie and Phyllis. With a scream, almost as loud as the boy's own, Phyllis was on her feet, letting the baby roll over face downward in the sand, and next moment she was running out of the village with flying feet, closely followed by Reggie.