LITMIR.BIZ

      Arabs and Scarabs

      CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

      ARABS AND SCARABS

      FEN sighed a little as he lay back among the pillows in the deck-chair and closed his eyes. His back hurt a good deal to-day. Beyond the awning the sun beat so mercilessly on the deck of the yacht that it made his eyes ache to look at it, and there was not very much else to be seen. Unless you could sit up, you could not see the stretches of blue Nile flecked with dahabiyeh sails, nor the pale, chalky bluffs crested with solemn date-palms. It is pretty dull, lying on your back all day while every one else goes ​ashore to poke among exciting ruins and buy queer things in the bazaar; especially if you are only seven and would like very much to be doing it yourself. So Fen did give a little sigh—though it was a very patient one.

      The big steam-yacht lay motionless at anchor, with only the faint ripple of the sluggish current about her bows to break the silence of the hot mid-afternoon. Fen was lost in wondering what it would be like to go down into the dark, mysterious tomb of an ancient Egyptian king, when a slight, sharp sound at the yacht's side brought him back with a start from the place of his imagination to the heat and the blazing sunlight. In a moment more he became aware of a Head, which was calmly contemplating him over the rail. It was quite a nice Head—dark haired, bronzed by sun and salt air, clean-shaven, with a whimsical mouth, and gray eyes ​that were laughing, though the lips were not. The eyes were looking straight at Fen, glancing quickly from the serious little face, with its sensitive mouth and shining frame of red-gold hair, to the frail form lost among the many pillows. There was a rather puzzled expression in the level gaze of Fen's sober hazel eyes as he finally said:

      "How do you do?"

      "How do you do?" said the Head, in a nice, deep voice; "may I come on over?"

      "Yes. Please do!" Fen rather wanted to see if there were any more to the Head, or whether it just floated about like a cherub. There was—a great deal more to it. When its owner had climbed to the deck, he proved to be an exceedingly tall, white-clad young man.

      "Please, who are you?" asked Fen, after his eyes had traveled upward till they reached the Head again

      ​"First tell me about yourself," smiled the young man. "Are you all alone?"

      "Yes," said Fen, "except for Mammy—but she's below—an' the crew, of course, but I don't ever see them. Mother an' everybody have gone ashore to see all kinds of wonderful things."

      "Do they often do that?" inquired the young man, frowning a little; "go off and leave you? Wouldn't you like to see some of the wonderful things, too?"

      Fen smiled rather wistfully.

      "But I can't," he explained, "because of my back, you see. That's why we're here, I think, because the doctor said something about 'change of air' making me get stronger."

      The young man's face grew very sympathetic.

      "Yes, that's all very well," he argued gently; "but it seems too bad, you know, that they see everything, while you have ​to stay on board. I suppose they bring you lots of things and tell you all about it though, don't they?"

      "I ask Sally to tell me what they see," said Fen, "but she can't very well. She just said they went down where it was awfully dark, an' a man shouted all the time, an' Father gave him some money when they came out. But isn't there more than that? She can't tell me afterward."

      "Is Sally your sister?" asked the young man, ignoring Fen's question.

      "No, she's my cousin—Larry is, too. Aunt Margaret has been very, very sick, and Mother took the children with us, so they wouldn't be in the way. Sally's almost nine, an' Larry's just my age, but he's very tall an' strong. Now I've told you all about us, so, please, who are you?"

      "I," said the young man, suddenly and ​rapidly, "am a Blue Djinn, by name Siddereticus, and I—"

      "What is a Djinn, please?" asked Fen.

      "Don't tell me that you don't know what a Djinn is!" cried the young man. "You know what genii are, don't you, that come out of bottles with a cloud of evil-smelling black smoke?"

      "Yes," said Fen; "they do it in 'Twilight Land.' Have you ever read that book?"

      "They do, yes—there and elsewhere," said Siddereticus. "Well, a Djinn is very much the same sort of thing."

      A troubled look came into Fen's eyes as he surveyed the young man's length.

      "But did you come out of a bottle?" he asked.

      "We-e-l-l," said the Djinn, "you know the way they always get rid of genii is to entice them back into their bottles, or through keyholes, or something of the ​sort. I'm a bit stiff and out of practice, but if you have a bottle anywhere about, I might try."

      "But I don't want to get rid of you," said Fen, "an' 'sides, I haven't a bottle. Please sit down here where I can see you better. You're so very high, you know."

      Laughing, the young man telescoped himself into a chair. Fen's eyes grew very perplexed again.

      "But I always thought genii were all 'black an' horrible to look upon'; but you look just like anybody—that is," he added hastily, flushing a little, "not just like anybody, but like a person, you know."

      "Ah!" cried Siddereticus, "I have to disguise myself, you see. Even in Egypt people would stare if they saw a Blue Djinn, with a rather greenish face and a long white beard, walking about. I have to make myself

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