d in reply:

"Ah, sahib, it ees so hard to find eet in the dark!"

In a burst of sarcastic anger, I shouted at him:

"Well, get off and light a match, and maybe you'll hit it by accident!"
Assuming with an innocent look that I had spoken seriously, he took me
at my word, jumped off his perch, lit a match and peered all round him.
Then I got "real" angry, and told him De Cosson Bey kept a professional
torture chamber, and that I would have him ground to sausage meat if he
trifled with me another moment. Well knowing the impotence of my "hot
air" blast, he simply smiled and took up his burthen of "finding" the
bridge. This he soon accomplished, as it was about as easy to find as
a saloon in the "Great White Way." The instructions accompanying the
map stated that the Maison Antonion was on the left of the Pyramid Road
after three crossroads had been passed. I began to look out for and
count the roads, so when we had crossed two and were approaching a
third I halted the Jehu and said:

"This is the third road; turn down here."

"No, sahib, eet is de private entrance to Hunter Pasha's palace, an' he
keep de mos' wicket dogs you ever see in awl yo' life."

So on we went till I began to realize that the kidnapper was trying to
take me out to the Pyramids for a late dinner with the Sphinx. It was
clear moonlight and I saw an English lady walking along the road. I
tried to have the driver stop, but he pretended that he did not
understand me, so I jumped out and, profusely apologizing to the lady,
explained my emergency. She said:

"Why, you are a mile past De Cosson Bey's place: there it is with the
flagstaff on the tower."

Then she had a heart-to-heart talk in Arabic with my friend and we
returned briskly to the "third road." I halted the procession for a
settlement about fifty yards from the house, well knowing that trouble
was coming in pyramids, and feeling that I did not wish to assault the
ears of my hosts with the clash which was now inevitable and which
would undoubtedly contain a large percentage of language that could
hardly be called diplomatic. He demanded about ten times the regular
fare. I protested, but he explained that after sunset all fares were
double and charged by the hour, at that; and that when the Nile had
been crossed the driver had the privilege of fixing the fare according
to the circumstances. This vested right, he claimed, had not been
disputed since his ancestors had driven Napo