Seated on a donkey, Max entered the city founded by Alexander three hundred and thirty-three years before the birth of Christ.
Before a strange-looking, square, flat-topped house the donkeys halted, and Mr. Gordon bade Max dismount.
“This is home.”
“Do you live here, dad?”
“Yes, Max. We will rest here to-night, and go on our journey to-morrow.”
Max was delighted, and late in the day wandered alone to that wonderful monolith of granite called “Pompey’s Pillar.”
He sat down to think.
He had always been fond of books on Egypt, and now he was actually looking on one of the wonders of that old country.
Suddenly he heard a cry.
It was like a girl’s voice.