Past thirteen pyramids the caravan trod, following the ancient road beside the Nile, sometimes on the summit, looking over the broad cultivated region where the Nile had overflowed and left its deposit of fertilizing mud; at other times over the edges of the cotton fields themselves, always at that one unswerving rate of two and a half miles an hour. Perry sat frontwards, then sideways, then put his whole weight on the cross-piece, then wriggled around to some other pose. But it made very little difference. No matter what position he assumed, that corkscrew-like racking walk from side to side nipped the base of his spine. Toward the end of the day, he got off and walked. His uncle did the same, but the Englishman, who had spent months at a time in a camel-saddle, seemed quite content. The road was firm at this place, lying in the valley of the Nile at the base of the sandstone terraces, peppered with graves, where for six thousand years Egypt has buried her dead, high above possible flooding from the waters of the Nile. The sandstone was laid down when the southern part of Africa was an island and all the Sahara desert was the bed of a great sea. After five caravan hours of travel, the long line of camels halted near Sakkara, not far from the ancient step-pyramid. Though the day was still young, Perry was stiff and sore from riding, and tired from missing his sleep the night before. None the less, under Antoine’s suggestion, he walked two miles to the ruins of the ancient city of Memphis, the capital of Egypt in the dawn of history. Wonderful and impressive as were the old temple of Ptah and the colossi, it was with readiness that Perry turned his steps homewards to the caravan, and when he reached his tent he fell asleep without even realizing the fact that this was his first night on a caravan halt. It was almost a different lad, however, who jumped up briskly when the call to wake the camp was made at sunrise. He was out and busy with his camera half an hour before breakfast was ready, and when he sat down, his appetite whetted by the open air, he tucked away a meal that made a serious inroad on the provisions. “You’ll have to go easier on the grub than that when we get out on the desert,” his uncle warned him jokingly, “or we’ll have to build a railroad as we go to keep you in supplies.” Perry grinned appreciatively. “I wish I could eat enough at one sitting to make me so fat that I wouldn’t feel the camel,” he said, “but as I can’t, I suppose I’d better quit now.” He winced as he got up from his cross-legged position on the floor. “I just feel like one big bruise.” “Cheer up,” said Antoine, “you’ll feel worse to-night.”