“D—— the papyrus. The whole thing is too preposterous for words.”
He said very simply, “Why?”
“Because.… Because.… Damn it, Hugh,” I said very crossly… and… I went to have a look at the papyrus.
It was still very fragmentary, of course, as in places quite large pieces were missing, but certain passages were peculiarly clear; for instance, the part which described the way the wandering hordes of Egypt took when in search of a home.
“You see, they wandered down the Nile,” explained Hugh, eagerly, showing me the drawing of the river and of the multitude following its course; “and then it was that from the lonely spot where the Greek scribe lay buried they went forth towards the west.”
“That is a mere surmise,” I objected.
“The scribe says, ‘Let me be buried there where I found the papyrus!’ and later, ‘I stood upon the spot, and I, too, shot my arrow into the heart of Osiris,’ etc. Osiris is the sun, and a figure shooting an arrow is one of the simplest hieroglyphics known, meaning a perfectly straight course.”
“Yes! and here,” I exclaimed suddenly, “is the figure shooting an arrow at the setting sun.”
In spite of myself a very little of Hugh’s enthusiasm was beginning to filtrate into my mind. The whole thing was preposterous, of course, but the old fascination which ancient Egypt, with its gorgeousness, its mysteries, its glorious art had ever excited, even in my raw schoolboy mind, began to hold me enthralled.
“Remember, Mark, too, that due west, line for line with Wady-Halfa, a couple of thousand miles away, lies the high peak of Uj-en-ari, and that almost at its very base Rholfs found traces of an ancient way which he took to have once led to, and therefore from, Egypt.”