Max could not endure the silence any longer.
“Dad!” he called out.
A blow on the head reminded him that speech was forbidden.
What puzzled him was how these Arabs or Nubians—whatever nationality they might be—could see in the dark.
He could not distinguish anything in the blackness of the night.
The minutes dragged along wearily, every sixty seconds seeming like an hour, every hour as long as a day.
With an almost supernatural quickness a score of pitch torches were lighted, and Max saw that he was in a great cave.
Rocks, or rather pieces of granite, were lying in every direction.
One thing which flashed across his mind was, that the blocks of granite had been fashioned by man, and brought to that cave at some period of Egypt’s greatness.
He looked round for his father, and screamed with horror when he saw the bronzed face of the only relative he had all covered with blood.