After breakfast Uncle Naboth, the Professor, and I rowed ashore and landed on the primitive wooden quay, whence we proceeded to the town—a group of mud dwellings, palm thatched, standing on a small eminence near the bay. At the left of the town were several large storehouses belonging to the government, where tithes of grain were kept.
A silent but observant group of natives met us on shore and accompanied us up the path to one of the principal houses, where Van Dorn, who understood Arabic, informed us the sheik and cadi awaited our coming.
After a brief delay we were ushered into a low but spacious room where the light was so dim that at first I could see nothing. Presently, however, my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and I made out a big, whiskered Arab sitting cross-legged on a mat and surrounded by a group of friends and advisors.
To my relief they spoke English; brokenly, yet sufficiently well to be understood; and the sheik in most polite phrases begged to know why we had honored his poor village by a visit.
The Professor explained that our vessel was bound for India, but that some of our party had an errand at Luxor and we wished to secure a guide, an armed escort, and some good camels, to form a caravan to cross the desert and return. The ship would wait in the harbor until we had accomplished our journey.
They listened to this story respectfully. We were Americans, they judged. Only Americans in Egypt were credited with doing unusual things. An Englishman or other foreigner would have taken the railway to Luxor by way of Cairo.
But they had no desire to grumble at our strange whim. To keep the ship in their harbor a week longer would mean more or less patronage of the village bazar as well as harbor fees for the sheik. The caravan across the desert would mean good earnings for many worthy citizens, no doubt.
But just here they seemed to scent difficulties. The Arabs talked together earnestly in their own language, and the Professor explained to us in an anxious voice that guides were scarce in Koser just then. The best, a famous Arab Bedouin, had gone west to the mines on a three weeks’ journey. Another had just departed to take a party to Kift. The third and last one available was lying ill with a fever. There was no trouble about camels; the sheik had himself several superior animals to offer, and a neighbor chief of the Bega Bedouins owned a splendid drove and could furnish any number required. But the guide was lacking, and a guide was absolutely necessary; for the desert was trackless and infested by haramyeh, or robbers.
That seemed to settle the matter, to the great grief of the sheik; but the little Professor protested most vigorously that he had to go, and that a way must be found to secure for us a competent guide. Extra money would be available in the emergency, he added, and the hint set the dirty bearded Arabs conferring again. They talked in Arabic, and I heard the name of Gege-Merak[1] mentioned several times. The Professor, listening intently, told me this was the Bega chief who owned the camels. Gege-Merak had once been the most famous guide on the desert, but he was now old, and had retired from active life years ago. Still, if there was plenty of money to tempt him, he might be induced personally to lead us to Luxor and back.
The discussion resulted in a messenger being dispatched to Gege-Merak, who lived a day’s journey in the desert, to propose our offer and bring back the chief’s reply. There would be nine of our own party, and we desired an escort of six armed natives, besides the guide.