“You’ll get a black stick if you don’t get out of here in jig time,” roared Herc, who was aching to avenge his wrongs on somebody.
But the insolent fellows only pressed closer. They thrust filthy hands up under the blue-jackets’ very noses. One even began plucking at Ned’s pockets. This was too much.
“Charge them, boys!” cried Ned.
He flung himself upon his donkey. The others, even including Herc, who had acquired a stray animal, followed suit. With a shout that re-echoed through the streets the Jackies charged pell-mell down on the mendicants, who scattered in every direction. The Nubian police made no effort to interfere but appeared rather to enjoy the spectacle.
“Come on, boys; supper and then a show of some kind, and then we’ll pipe down hammocks,” said Ned, when the mob had been dispersed. “We’ve got to be up early to-morrow to go aboard the great Pyramids.”
“Hurray for the Pyramids!” shouted a sailor, and the cheers were given with a vim. The lads were in a mood to cheer any and everything. Jack ashore is surely the quintessence of exuberant spirits. That night, at one of the best hotels in the city, the boys enjoyed the, to them, novel experience of sleeping in a bed. But their slumbers were not peaceful. They missed the roll and heave of the ship and they longed for their hammocks. None of them was sorry when it was time to get up and breakfast and then hurry to the station, from which a wheezy train was to convey them out into the desert toward the tombs of the Pharaohs.
They found the station full of bright-eyed young salts all eager for whatever the day might bring forth. The train was ready, and after a number of false starts and more excitement among the native officials than attends the sailing of a giant liner, it began to puff its way out over the glaring sands. At the Gizeh station, some ten miles out of Cairo, they were told that the train went no farther.
“Well, I want to see him about that,” expostulated Herc.
“See who, Red Head?”
“Why, the old Geezer. Isn’t this his town?”