“I can see how your father feels, too,” he said. “I don’t quite share your optimism. Things look pretty black to me. After all, you must remember, that fellow Amrath told your father there was another way beside this to pass through the mountains to Athensi. Bob’s captors may have learned about the exiles having repaired it, and may take it.”
“I wonder,” said Jack, thoughtfully, “what measures Father has taken to keep watch for the approach of Bob and his captors. Think I’ll ask him,” he added, rising.
“Go ahead,” said Frank, draining the last of his coffee. “I’ll be getting to work on the radio in the meantime.”
Presently Jack returned with word that one of the Arabs had been out to the mouth of the pass where, posted with glasses, he could maintain a sharp lookout over the desert, while another had been sent scouting up the Great Road toward Korakum.
“I had a look at that road, Frank,” added Jack. “Believe me, it is a wonder. It is composed of great slabs of quarried rock two or three yards square. The road is all eighty feet wide, Dad estimates. And the ruts! Man alive, you ought to see them, not deep, but innumerable, from the passing of chariots in the ancient days Dad believes. He says that at one time, undoubtedly, the road led out into the desert, perhaps clear to Egypt. But of course the shifting sand has covered it deep by now.”
“Hand me that coil of No. 14 wire, will you?” asked Frank, absorbed in the business of connecting up his motor with the double-pole switch. “There,” as he leaned back, to contemplate his work with satisfaction, before resuming.
“Have you thought, Jack,” he asked, “of how fascinating it is to camp beside this Great Road? Think of the history it has made. History so ancient there is no record of it left.”
“Oh, yes, there is a record,” corrected Jack. “Wait till we start deciphering the papyrus rolls in the library of Athensi.”
“I’m afraid we’ll wait a long time for that,” commented Frank, completing the connection between one pole of the switch with a post of the primary coil of the alternating power transformer. “A long time.”
“Pessimist,” said Jack, stooping down and connecting the other post of the primary coil with one of the posts of the key, then connecting the other pole of the key with the second pole of the switch. “Pessimist,” he repeated, “you’ve got a bad day, that’s all.”