Jack Hildreth on the Nile

Jack Hildreth on the Nile
by Karl May

Adapted from the original of Karl May by Marion Ames Taggart
Published by Benzinger Brothers
Copyright, 1899, by Benzinger Brothers

JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE.
CHAPTER I.
A RIGHTEOUS THEFT
LIFE is an interesting thing under all circumstances, and men are worth
studying whether they be savage or civilized. There was something
born in me, however, which prevented me from being a mere spectator
of life; like the small boy in "Helen's Babies," I liked to "see the wheels
go round," it is true, but it was not possible to keep from giving them a
shove at the same time.
When I came back from the West I had no definite plan of life, and
after six months of inaction I began to get restless. I had no desire to
return to the West, for with Winnetou, my adopted Apache brother,
dead, there was little attraction to me in the scenes we had roamed
together.
Having once followed the star of empire in a westerly direction, I began
to think of the East; I wanted, as Rudyard Kipling says, to hear "the
desert talk."

I broached the subject to my uncle, whose heir I was to be, and whose
name I bore, he being John Hildreth and I Jack Hildreth, and found he
had no objection to my having a few more of what the Germans call
"wander years."
Uncle John had a friend who, opportunely, had some business interests
in Cairo, which he wanted looked after by a person in whom he could
confide, so, armed with this reason for setting forth, I started for Egypt,
with the understanding that, after I had done the errand on which I had
been sent, I was to be free to go whither I willed.
"The Triumphant,""EL Kahireh," the "Gate of the East" -- these are
titles the Egyptian gives the principal city of his land. Though the first
of these is no longer appropriate, the last two, in perfect justice, belong
to Cairo; it certainly is the gate of the East. It has been overrun with
Europeans, however, and the French especially have set their mark
upon it. Shepherd's Hotel, the New Hotel, the Hotel d'Orient, the Hotel
du Nil, the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, and countless other inns, cafes,
and restaurants provide the traveler with everything he is used to at
home, but at a cost which would require an English milord to meet a
personage one is likely to be mistaken for if he comes decently clad,
and with an English accent.
On my arrival there was no delay in attending to the business entrusted
to me, which took all my time for three days. After that I was free to do
whatever attracted me, and my first step was to sally forth to see what I
could discover in respectable lodgings at a reasonable price.
The streets were full of a queer crowd. On the corner was a group of
donkey boys, splitting the air with their cries. The Egyptian donkey is
the unwearying, faithful servant of his master, who rewards him with
scanty food and many blows and kicks. Laden with the heaviest rider,
the little beast travels many hours, and even capers on his thankless
way. Behind him runs his driver, beating him, occasionally adding a
kick to the blows, or stoning him, and hastening his speed with
deafening shouts. These drivers are keen judges of men; they know at a
glance whether they are looking at a Frenchman, Englishman, Italian,
or German. They know a word or a sentence of the language of each

one, and seem to have a scrap of knowledge of the history or geography
of every land. "Here is a beautiful Bismarck," cries one, on recognizing
a German; the Bismarck, of course, being his donkey. "Here is a fine
General Grant," cries another to an American, while the Englishman is
saluted with the invitation to try a "good Beefsteak," or ride a
"renowned Palmerston"; and the Frenchman is assured that here is "le
grand Napoleon, le meilleur animal de toute France."
A little way from the donkey boys two Arab jugglers sat in the middle
of the street exhibiting their skill. A few feet further a "muhad'dit" or
story teller, had drawn around him a circle of curiosity seekers, who
were listening for the thousandth time to the same old tales. Close by, a
little Negro danced to the sound of a kind of flute, while closely veiled
women, mounted on donkeys, rode slowly past. Then came a band of
tall, swinging camels, each with a straw rope on his tail, fastening him
to the next one. Behind them panted the drivers and porters with heavy
burdens on their heads, singing with dull voices