CHAPTER XII
CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS
In all of north Africa there was no place that I wanted to visit more than Cairo. I had heard, too, that I might find work there easily. At any rate, I felt that I must get there soon, before my money was entirely gone.
I went to the railway station in Alexandria, and found that the fare to Cairo was just three piasters more than I had. Should I go by train as far as my money would take me, and finish the journey on foot and penniless? Or should I save the few coins I had for food on the way, and tramp the entire distance?
While I was thinking it over I dropped on a bench in a park, and fell to whittling a stick. A countryman in fez cap and gown, strolling by, stopped and stared at me. Then he sat down on the far end of my bench, and watched my movements closely. Inch by inch he slid along the bench.
“Very good knife,” he murmured.
“Aywa” (“Yes”), I answered, tossing away the stick and closing the knife.
The Arab gave a gasp of delight.
“But it shuts up like a door,” he cried.
I opened and closed it several times for him to see, then slid down in my seat, my thoughts elsewhere.
“You sell it?” grinned the peasant.