Scattered--apparently too large for human hands to move, and yet they bore evidence of having been transported thither. They were of red granite, while the native rocks were of a different stone. Max, tired and weary, sat down on one of the granite blocks, but he quickly left his seat. He leaped away as though he had been stung by a viper. Girzilla laughed at him, which of course added to his annoyance. The stone was as hot as an oven bottom, and poor Max felt he would be baked or fried if he stayed there a minute. Girzilla moved round one of the great bowlders and began scratching away the sand. “Come and help,” she called out to Max, who was sulking since she had laughed at him. “The way we must go is under this stone.” “Under that stone!” repeated Max. “Yes; there is only a small hole, but we must go through it.” The girl was right. The hole was so small that she could only just squeeze herself through, while the madcap declared he would not descend. “Very well, then, you must save yourself.” The prospect was not pleasing, and Max managed to follow the girl, though in doing so he tore his clothes and scratched his face. But once down, he was amply repaid. The cave, or hole, led to a large room, the atmosphere of which was charmingly cool. Girzilla had lighted her torch, and seated herself on an open sarcophagus. She was a happy-go-lucky kind of creature, fearing nothing, and having no superstitious dread of sitting on the stone coffin, wherein was dust, which had once been molded in human form. “I have food here.” “Food?” “Yes.” “Here?” “Yes; art thou not hungry?” “I am. But the place is a tomb.” “Hush! Better men than thou lived here.” “Have been buried here, you mean?” “Years and years ago a brave man fled from those who would kill him, and sought refuge here.” “Tell me of him.” “He fought--oh, my, didn’t he fight? He cut right and left with his scimiter, and when he got tired he spurred his horse and made a run for liberty.” “Did you know him?” “Stupid! do I look so old, then?” and Girzilla looked coquettishly at Madcap. “I don’t know how long it is ago; how should I?” “Don’t get naughty again. The man was a soldier, a Mameluke----” “What! Was it Emin Bey?” “That was how he was called.” “Tell me all about him. Where did he go? Had he any sons? Tell me, I am all impatience.” “I see you are; but you must eat.” This houri of the caves--a strange child of the desert--pushed aside the lid of another sarcophagus and took therefrom a piece of confection known as Turkish delight. She offered it to Max, but he turned away. Girzilla bit off a large piece and sat chewing it with all the ardor with which a Kentucky girl chews gum. “Good!” she said, as she helped herself to another bite. Approaching close to Max she held the confection close to his mouth, and he was tempted to take a small piece. It was so appetizing that he asked for more.