“Don’t worry,” cried Adolph.
We pushed through the throng of donkey-boys beyond the bridge. There was a street-car line running along an avenue lined with trees, out to the Pyramids in the desert; but we covered the eight miles on foot.
Darkness fell soon after we reached the place, and with it arose the moon, large and red. The Pyramids were monstrous. They looked like mountains. Adolph led the way in and out among them, and pointed out the most charming views, like a guide. We climbed to the top of the Pyramid of Cheops. Cheops was once a king of Egypt, you know. The Pyramid that was built for his tomb still covers thirteen acres. It seems to run to a peak when viewed from a distance, but we found the “peak” three yards square when we reached the top. Some of the huge blocks of stone that we had to pull ourselves over, in making the climb, weigh over fifty tons.
On top of the largest pyramid. From the ground it looks as sharply pointed as the others.
The desert night soon turned cold. We climbed down again. The tourist parties strolled away to the great hotel below the hill, and Hans fell to shivering.
“Where’s this fine lodging you were telling about?” he chattered.
“Just come here,” said Adolph.
I take a camel ride while visiting the pyramids.