“It is a curious story,” replied Phalos, smiling at the boy. “One of the romances of archæology.
“Many years ago, when I was still strong and vigorous, I was riding in a remote part of the Valley of the Kings. Above me towered a great overhanging cliff that cast a grateful shadow over the road and prompted me to get off my horse and rest there while I had my midday meal.
“The place was off from the beaten road of travel, and there was nothing to distract my attention. I lay there after my meal for a while, stretched out on my back, looking up idly at the great face of the cliff. At a height of perhaps three hundred feet, I could make out what seemed to be carvings or symbols of some sort.
“While I was looking, a piece of stone fell off the surface and dropped almost at my feet. I picked it up and saw curious hieroglyphics on it. I was an ardent student of the ancient writings, and had no trouble in making out the name of Ras-Ameses.”
Professor Bruce gave vent to an exclamation.
“That made the blood thrill in my veins,” resumed Phalos. “I knew, of course, the mystery that had always veiled the last resting place of that monarch, and it seemed as though chance had placed the key to the puzzle in my hands.
“Right then and there, I resolved to follow the matter up. I made my way up the almost perpendicular side of the cliff, with only my hands and feet to aid me, until I reached a narrow ledge, where the old stone masons must have stood when they first made the inscription. It was risky work, for a slip would have meant certain death.
“I could copy part of the inscription from there, but a time soon came when I had to have a ladder to climb further. I had to drag the ladder up with a rope and place it in position almost upright on the ledge perpendicularly against the face of the rock. The least little movement on my part would have overbalanced and plunged me outward and down to the foot of the cliff.”
“Risky work!” exclaimed the captain, looking at the old Egyptian with the look in his eyes that one brave man has for another.
“I was young, and perhaps foolhardy, then,” replied Phalos. “I remember one day when I escaped death almost by a miracle. I was on the ladder which I had thrown, equipped with hooks, over a rocky ledge above me. Suddenly the lower part of the ladder broke and I was left clutching the upper part and swinging over the precipice. I had to pull myself up hand over hand on the upper rungs until I reached to the top and safety.”