I decided presently that whatever the duty imposed, it was worth it. With that big uniformed fellow at our side we were immune to all that hungry horde of Arab vultures. We walked through unscathed. Our protector procured the entrance tickets for us; he selected two strong men to push and pull us up the long, dark, glassy-slick passage that leads to the sepulchre of Khufu in the very heart of the Pyramid; he went with us himself into that still mysterious place, explaining in perfect English how five or six thousand years ago the sarcophagus of the great king was pushed up that incline; he showed us the mortises in the stone where uprights were set to hold the great granite coffin when the laborers stopped to rest. It was a weird experience in the cool, quiet darkness of that mightiest of tombs with the flaring candles and eager sure-footed Arabs; it seemed to belong in Rider Haggard's story of _She_. Then, after we had seen the old black sarcophagus, which is empty now, and had remained a little in that removed place, trying to imagine that we were really in the very centre of the big Pyramid, we made our way out again to light and the burning desert heat. I settled with our Arabs with little or no difficulty, which is worth something in itself, and when we had found a quiet place I thanked our guardian and tendered him what I thought a liberal honorarium--fairly liberal, even for America. He drew back a little. "Oh no," he said, "I beg your pardon." I had not made it large enough then. I glanced about for some of the party who would have funds. "I am sorry," I began, "it is not more. I will--" "I beg your pardon," he repeated, "but I could not accept anything for what is but my duty. I am only very glad to do what I may for you. I will do something more, if you wish." Then, of course, I knew it _must_ be a dream, and that I would wake up presently in Shepheard's Hotel to find that we hadn't started for the Pyramids yet. Still, I would keep up the blessed trance a moment longer. "You mean that you will not allow me to acknowledge your great favor to us?" I said in that polite manner for which our ship is justly famous. "Not in money," he said. "The Government pays me a salary for my work and this is only part of my work. It has also given me pleasure." I surreptitiously pinched myself in certain tender places to see if I couldn't wake up. It was no use. He persisted in his refusal, and presently produced an ancient corroded coin, Greek or Roman, such as is sometimes found among the débris. "I should like to offer you this," he said. "I found it myself, so I am sure it is genuine." Ah, this was the delicate opportunity. "You will let me buy it, of course." But no, he declined that, too. He wished us only to remember him, he insisted. He added: "I have two scarabs at home; I should like to bring them to your hotel."