Mr. Douglass, looking up a little absent-mindedly, saw a sign which he read thus, “Dancing-girl of Damascus now dancing—600 years old.” Startled by this marvel, even in that land of enchantment, he turned his head and found that the 600 years referred to the city rather than to the dancer. “Where would you like to stop now, sir?” asked the guide. “Suppose we go to Cairo Street, Philip?” said Mr. Douglass. “We can see camels and donkeys and queer buildings without number; and it is said to be a very interesting, genuine exhibit.” They entered the long narrow passage, leaving their chairs outside. Philip’s camera was again declared contraband of war, and held in bondage while he “interviewed” the official photographer of the street. He soon returned with the “open sesame” (price $1.00)—another ticket to tie to the camera handle; and they all went forward to view the glories of Cairo. [Illustration: THE “DONKEY-BOYS.”] It was the liveliest, jolliest place they had yet entered. Donkeys ridden by little boys or little girls came bumping along amid the laughter of the scattering crowd; sneering camels lurched in zigzag courses, carrying giggling girls or grinning men. The camel-riders had the effect of bowing graciously to the crowd, and hung on desperately to the loops of the saddles, as if they were upon bucking broncos. But the most amusing part of camel-riding was the dismounting. The camels went down bows-on at first, and then lowered the hind legs. This process was always sure to bring out little shrieks of dismay from the women, and a burst of laughter from the onlookers. Philip’s camera was agog with eagerness. He captured a view or two of the picturesque “donkey-boys”—who were stalwart grown men; but when he saw the great nodding camels docilely following their tiny boy-leaders, he made up his mind that the camel was his favorite subject. [Illustration] He particularly desired to secure a view of the dismounting. Seeing a flight of steps that would enable him to overlook this scene, he put his camera under his arm and wormed his way through the crowd until he had secured an excellent place on an upper step. From here, by raising the camera high in air, he took a picture over the heads of the spectators, and then rejoined Mr. Douglass and Harry, who were waiting for him across the street near some of the bazaars for the sale of curiosities. Harry, while waiting, had produced his sketch-book, and made a hasty outline of a street-sweeper who, in turban and baggy trousers, was plying a most prosaic broom and dust-pan.