He dare not speak, and could not act. Before he was aware of it the scene changed. He could not understand in what way at first. The sand was there, the moon was shining, although not so brightly, but he could not see the pyramids. The shadows thrown across the desert convinced him that they had entered a broad, inclined road, and were descending below the level of the sandy desert. Of this he was speedily assured, for now the moon’s rays were no longer seen, and in the darkness the sure-footed donkeys walked forward. Instead of a level plain of drifting sand, the road was over and between great rocks. Massive pieces of granite, several tons in weight, had to be passed, and it was evident that the donkeys had frequently traversed the uncertain road. “Where are we going?” whispered Mr. Gordon. His voice sounded like a shout, although he had spoken under his breath. The stillness of the place was awful. Max felt his heart beat fast and then faster. He began to think that the road he traveled led to death. But when his thoughts were the most gloomy, the atmosphere seemed to change. He could breathe freely. There was still the same oppressive silence, but it did not seem so much like that of the grave. “Halt!” The command was given in English, and all understood it. Without a word of apology, and with an entire absence of ceremony, Max and his father were dragged from their donkeys and thrown with unnecessary violence on the ground. Then again all was still. Were they alone? Max could not endure the silence any longer. “Dad!” he called out. A blow on the head reminded him that speech was forbidden. What puzzled him was how these Arabs or Nubians--whatever nationality they might be--could see in the dark. He could not distinguish anything in the blackness of the night. The minutes dragged along wearily, every sixty seconds seeming like an hour, every hour as long as a day. With an almost supernatural quickness a score of pitch torches were lighted, and Max saw that he was in a great cave. Rocks, or rather pieces of granite, were lying in every direction. One thing which flashed across his mind was, that the blocks of granite had been fashioned by man, and brought to that cave at some period of Egypt’s greatness. He looked round for his father, and screamed with horror when he saw the bronzed face of the only relative he had all covered with blood. When Mr. Gordon had been thrown from the donkey, his head struck a sharp piece of granite, and was severely wounded. The chief saw that Mr. Gordon was dying, and ordered him to be lifted tenderly into the center of the cave. Max tried to rise, but unknown to himself his feet had been again tied together. “My father! Oh, dad, speak to me!” The dying man turned his eyes round and a smile was on his lips. “Max--I--am--going--av----” Was he going to say “Avenge me?”