“Nay, nephew, it is not fit that thou——”
“Go along, uncle; when I am your age I shall do as you do. Go along, I care not for all the girls of Egypt.”
Sherif el Habib had not heard all the boy’s speech, for he had hurried away with Effendi.
The eunuch led him across the sands to the place where Madcap Max had fallen, and over him the girl, Girzilla.
Sherif el Habib looked at the youthful couple, and seemed strangely disturbed.
He stooped and placed his hand over their hearts, and found that both were alive.
“It is well,” he said, in a half-audible voice. Then, turning to Effendi, he motioned him to follow.
Going to his camel, Sherif el Habib took from the pack a small bottle.
On the side of the vial were some hieroglyphics which, if translated into good United States language, would signify that the contents were known to be that strange result of modern research, chloroform.
Giving the bottle to Effendi, Sherif el Habib said: