“I had a look at that road, Frank,” added Jack. “Believe me, it is a wonder. It is composed of great slabs of quarried rock two or three yards square. The road is all eighty feet wide, Dad estimates. And the ruts! Man alive, you ought to see them, not deep, but innumerable, from the passing of chariots in the ancient days Dad believes. He says that at one time, undoubtedly, the road led out into the desert, perhaps clear to Egypt. But of course the shifting sand has covered it deep by now.” “Hand me that coil of No. 14 wire, will you?” asked Frank, absorbed in the business of connecting up his motor with the double-pole switch. “There,” as he leaned back, to contemplate his work with satisfaction, before resuming. “Have you thought, Jack,” he asked, “of how fascinating it is to camp beside this Great Road? Think of the history it has made. History so ancient there is no record of it left.” “Oh, yes, there is a record,” corrected Jack. “Wait till we start deciphering the papyrus rolls in the library of Athensi.” “I’m afraid we’ll wait a long time for that,” commented Frank, completing the connection between one pole of the switch with a post of the primary coil of the alternating power transformer. “A long time.” “Pessimist,” said Jack, stooping down and connecting the other post of the primary coil with one of the posts of the key, then connecting the other pole of the key with the second pole of the switch. “Pessimist,” he repeated, “you’ve got a bad day, that’s all.” “I have,” said Frank, with conviction. “Wish I could feel as optimistic as you. But it strikes me poor Bob is in one fix, and we stand a poor chance of rescuing him.” CHAPTER XV. MEETING THE REVOLUTIONISTS. While the boys continued their operations, they talked continually in lowered tones over the possibilities of the situation. No matter what turn the adventure should take, they were firmly determined not to leave the desert alive without Bob. Each felt in his heart that he would never dare face life if he deserted their comrade in his hour of peril. Despite his more buoyant spirits, Jack realized the difficulties of effecting a rescue should Bob ever get inside Athensi as well as did Frank. Presently they became silent, to some extent by reason of absorption in their work, but also because their thoughts had strayed elsewhere. Frank in spirit was back at their peaceful home on the far end of Long Island. He could see the great house of the Temples, homey and comfortable, among the spreading elms and maples. He could see the tennis court where so often he had performed, and flying over it was a familiar figure in short white skirt, hair bound back with a bandeau, vigorously wielding the racquet against an unseen opponent. Della.