and tried to distinguish its minarets and towers and ancient gates,
they had viewed with proper quizzicalness the imprint in the stone
parapet of the hoof of that blindfolded horse which the last of the
Mamelukes, cornered and betrayed, had spurred from the heights.

So now, no duty upon them, Ryder led them past the Citadel, up the
Mokattam hills behind it, to that hilltop on which stood the little
ancient mosque of the Sheykh-el-Gauchy, where the sunset spaces
flowed round them like a sea of light and the world dropped into
miniature at their feet.

Below them, in a golden haze, Cairo's domes and minarets were
shining like a city of dreams. To the north, toy fields, vivid
green, of rice and cotton lands, and the silver thread of the
winding Nile, and all beyond, west and southwest, the vast,
illimitable stretch of desert, shimmering in the opalescent air,
sweeping on to the farthest edge of blue horizon.

"A nice resting place," said Jack Ryder appreciatively of the tomb
of the Sheykh-el-Gauchy.

"I presume the date is given," Mr. Pendleton was murmuring, as he
began to ferret with his Baedecker.

Mrs. Pendleton sighed sentimentally. "He must have been very fond of
nature."

"He was very distrustful of his wives," said Ryder, grinning. "He
had three of them, all young and beautiful."