The corpse of the king was taken out long ago and history does not record what became of it. All we know of him comes from Herodotus, who says he was a vicious, bad man, and that during the fifty years he ruled the Egyptians he oppressed the people terribly. He built the Pyramid by forced labour, keeping a gang of more than one hundred thousand workmen at it for over twenty years. The stones forming the outside, which have now been taken away, were even larger than those still standing, but many of those that are left are as high as a table and many feet in length. The sides of this Pyramid are in the form of immense stairs, which narrow as they go upward. There are two hundred and fifty of these high steps. If one will go to his dining room and climb upon the table two hundred and fifty-two times he will experience something of the work I had in climbing up the Pyramid. His exertion will be harder, however, for he will not have the help of three half-naked Arabs who were given to me by the Sheik of the Pyramids, and who almost worried the life out of me in their demands for _backsheesh_ all the way up. My wife happened to call me by my given name and during the remainder of that trip I was “Mr. Frank” to these heathen. While they jerked my arms nearly off in pulling me from one ledge to another, they howled out in a barbaric sing-song a gibberish of English, interspersing it with Cherokee whoops, something like this: “All right! Very good!! Hard work. Good boys!! Mr. Frank satisfied!! On top pay money.” This was a continual reminder of my indebtedness to them, and they enforced their song with more numerous jerks the higher we rose. They were surprised when I refused to give them any _backsheesh_ until we got to the bottom, and lifted me down about as jerkily as they had pulled me up.