“Herc Taylor, I’ve a notion that you meant to do that.”
“I did not. What an idea!”
“Wasn’t that the store owned by the man you said had cheated you on some post cards?”
“I reckon so,” rejoined Herc indifferently, trying to get the sticky confection with which he had been deluged out of his hair and off his uniform.
“Well, it’s up to you to do something. Look what disaster you have caused! Why, an eight-inch[259] shell couldn’t have provoked worse damage.”
“Oh, what do I care! I’d like to see a few shells coming into this bazaar and cleaning out some of the thieves that infest it.”
“That is no way to talk. See, here comes the owner of the place now. He looks mad. Maybe he’ll have you arrested.”
This possibility appeared to sober Herc down considerably.
“What do you want me to do?” he inquired, rubbing his bruises. “I’ve a good mind to sue him for having his shop in the way of my donkey.”
The woe-begone store-keeper began muttering and wailing in Egyptian. Ned turned to the other sailors.
“Fellows, shall we pass the hat?”
A shout of assent went up. The blue-jackets’ pockets were bulging with pay and many of them had good-sized deposits in the ships’ savings banks on board.
[260]
“I’ll put in a dollar,” said one young fellow.
“Good for you, Meadows.”
Ned snatched off his cap and received Meadows’ contribution. Then he shoved the cap under Herc’s nose. The red-headed youth looked at it as he might have looked at some strange animal.
“I won’t give him a cent,” he growled, the thought of his mad dash into the brass ware shop rankling in him. A dangerous gleam shone in Ned’s eyes, which Herc duly observed.
“Herc Taylor, you put in your contribution, or——”
Herc hastened to relieve himself of a one dollar bill from a roll that was of generous girth. Quickly the other sailors gave their mites, and before long a good sum was turned over to the bazaarman, who was profuse in his expressions of thanks. But the sight of so much money had made the eyes of the bazaar beggars glitter greedily. They crowded hungrily about the sailors.
[261]
“Backsheesh!” they implored.
“You’ll get a black stick if you don’t get out of here in jig time,” roared Herc, who was aching to avenge his wrongs on somebody.
But the insolent fellows only pressed closer. They thrust filthy hands up under the blue-jackets’ very noses. One even began plucking at Ned’s pockets. This was too much.
“Charge them, boys!” cried Ned.
He flung himself upon his donkey. The others, even including Herc, who had acquired a stray animal, followed suit. With a shout that re-echoed through the streets the Jackies charged pell-mell down on the mendicants, who scattered in every direction. The Nubian police made no effort to interfere but appeared rather to enjoy the spectacle.
“Come on, boys; supper and then a show of some kind, and then we’ll pipe down hammocks,” said Ned, when the mob had been dispersed. “We’ve got to be up early to-morrow to go aboard the great Pyramids.”
[262]
“Hurray for the Pyramids!” shouted a sailor, and the cheers were given with a vim. The lads were in a mood to cheer any and everything. Jack ashore is surely the quintessence of exuberant spirits. That night, at one of the best hotels in the city, the boys enjoyed the, to them, novel experience of sleeping in a bed. But their slumbers were not peaceful. They missed the roll and heave of the ship and they longed for their hammocks. None of them was sorry when it was time to get up and breakfast and then hurry to the station, from which a wheezy train was to convey them out into the desert toward the tombs of the Pharaohs.
They found the station full of bright-eyed young salts all eager for whatever the day might bring forth. The train was ready, and after a number of false starts and more excitement among the native officials than attends the sailing of a giant liner, it began to puff its way out over the glaring sands. At the Gizeh station, some[263] ten miles out of Cairo, they were told that the train went no farther.
“Well, I want to see him about that,” expostulated Herc.
“See who, Red Head?”
“Why, the old Geezer. Isn’t this his town?”
“Herc, if you do anything like that again, you’ll be left behind,” spoke Ned, and the blue-jackets roared their endorsement of this dictum.
“What do we do now? Walk or take donkeys?” asked a number of voices.
“Neither. We are going to board cruisers.”
“Cruisers?”
“Yes, desert cruisers,” laughed Ned; “in other words, camels.”
“Hurray for the camels!” cried a voice.
“Come ahead, then,” cried Ned, and led by the Dreadnought Boys the happy party set out from the station. A short distance outside they saw the “desert cruisers.” They lay with their legs folded under them and their upper lips sneeringly[264] curled. About them flitted the burnoosed owners of the beasts, fierce-looking Bedouins, although the only robbery they commit in these days is the fleecing of tourists.
“Wow! Look at the switch-backs!” cried Herc. “They’ve got double turrets.”
The camels scrambled to their feet. There was a chorus of dismay from the sailors.
“How are we going to board those craft?”
“Where are the accommodation ladders?”
“Watch,” advised Ned. “All ready, Mr. Boss Camel Man.”
A tall Bedouin, who appeared to be in charge, came forward grinning.
“How many camel you want?”
“All you have.”
“Only got twenty. Party take the others. Some of you can go on by special train, if you like.”
A great number of the blue-jackets preferred to go by train and only fifteen wished for camels. Among these latter were Ned and Herc.
[265]
“All ready,” said Ned, and then in obedience to sharp-barked commands from their owners, the ships of the desert folded their legs and sank majestically down on the sands.
“All aboard,” cried Ned; “one at a time. Take it easy. That’s it. Herc, you——”
But Herc had already mounted. He grabbed from the camel driver his short goad and jabbed it into his camel. The creature shot up as if it had been on springs and raced off across the desert at its top speed.
“Look at Red-Head, he’s off on a cruise!” shouted the sailors.
“Look at Red-head, he’s off on a cruise!” shouted the sailors.—Page 265.
“Wow! Help! Ned! I’m sliding off!” Herc’s voice was carried back to them.
The red-headed boy was seen to careen over in his seat and make a frantic effort to grasp the camel’s rear hump.
“Grab the stern turret!” roared somebody.
But Herc, after a futile effort to retain his seat, slid gracefully to the desert, alighting in a[266] cloud of dust. The camel trotted back to the herd, leaving Herc to plod back over the hot sands amid a running fire of raillery from his ship-mates. But he took it all in good part, and soon they were off in earnest on their way to the Pyramids.