Immediately each donkey driver gave a twist to the tail of his animal, and the faithful little beasts turned aside to permit a handsome landau to pass. The landau contained a very dignified and very pompous Pasha, who did not even deign to waste a glance on the common infidels. They were glared at by a number of officers, wearing handsome uniforms and displaying silver-mounted weapons. They were scowled at by an Arab soldier with a musket, mounted on the back of a dromedary. But their travels in the East had made them accustomed to strange sights, and no expressions of wonderment escaped them. Instead, they laughed and joked among themselves. At last they came to the hill of the citadel, where they dismounted. The donkeys and their dusky boy drivers waited at the foot of the hill, while our friends climbed toward the huge fortress which towered above the city. This fortress was most imposing in appearance. The professor was not there to explain how the citadel came to be built, but Dick had posted himself about it and was able to answer all of Nadia’s questions. He told her how it was constructed in the seventh century by the victorious followers of the Prophet, headed by Saladin, the chivalrous foe of Richard the Lion Hearted. Saladin’s architect did not hesitate to bring thither blocks of stone from the palaces and temples of old Memphis, and to raze several smaller pyramids, besides removing the polished outer stones from the larger pyramids. “Only for that,” said Dick, “it is not likely we would be able to climb the pyramids now. It robbed them of their greatest beauty.” “That was a shame!” exclaimed Nadia. “What good did the old citadel do after all?” “It was a fine place for one of the successors to Saladin, the crafty old viceroy, Mehemet Ali, to butcher the Mamelukes.” “Oh, I’ve heard something about that. How did it happen?”