“How brave!” ejaculated Max, in a low voice. “Others bent their turbaned heads in prayer. But some, with angry brows, drew their swords and charged upon the gunners. “It was of no avail. They were shot down, and the withering fire did its deadly work.” “Did all perish?” asked Max, excitedly. “Only one escaped.” “How did he manage it?” “Emin Bey--for that was his name--spurred his Arabian charger over a pile of his dead and dying comrades. He sprang upon the battlements; the next moment he was in the air; another and he released himself from his crushed and bleeding horse amid a shower of bullets.” “What became of him?” “He fled, took refuge in a sanctuary of a mosque, and finally escaped into the desert.” “Is he dead?” “What a question, Max! Emin was a middle-aged man at that time, and that is over seventy years ago.” “Had he any sons?” “I believe so. Why do you ask?” “Because I would like to see any of his descendants. I would like to speak to them. It would be a proud honor to say, ‘I shook hands, or ate salt, with the grandson of Emin Bey.’” “Why, Madcap, I never saw you so serious before!” “Did you not, dad? Oh, I often get fits of that kind.” Max laughed as he spoke, and seemed once again the merry, happy, careless boy. “Depend upon it, Max, they are nothing better than slave hunters or pirates now.” “I hope you are wrong, dad.” CHAPTER III. IN A DESERT TOMB. The conversation about the last of the Mamelukes filled Max with a restless ambition. He wanted to leave civilization behind him and go “far from the madding crowd,” into the midst of the wild residents of the Dark Continent. Like those who believe the American Indians to be a grand race, persecuted without reason by the dominant power, so Max looked upon the residents of the Dark Continent as being a superior people. He said nothing to his father, knowing well that his boyish ideas would be laughed at, but he spent all his waking moments dreaming dreams of the savages of the jungles. The wonders of Cairo fascinated him, but there was something too civilized about the houses. The lattices--which covered the windows instead of glass--pleased him, and many a time would he catch a glimpse of some white brow of a lady fair through the interstices of the lattice, and would feel like “The lover, all as frantic Who saw Helen’s beauty on a brow of Egypt.” It was to be his father’s last day in Cairo. All the wonders of the city--save the nearby pyramids and Heliopolis--had been seen, and these had to be left to a future visit, for business called the merchant back to Alexandria. Max pleaded for one more day--or at least that their journey should be deferred until the morrow. He wanted to see that wonderful City of the Sun, where existed the university at which Moses was educated, and the daughter of one of whose professors Joseph married. And so Mr. Gordon yielded.