ses, and they are lazy and crippled, and
beg for a living, and if you don't give them something they steal all
you got. You are in luck if you get away without having leprosy, or the
plague, or cholera, or fleas.

So we went back to Cairo, and there was the worst commotion you ever
saw, about my fireworks in the tomb. The papers said that an American
dynamiter had attempted to blow up the great pyramid, and take
possession of the country and place it under the American flag, and that
the conspirators were spotted and would be arrested and put in irons as
soon as they got back from a trip on the Nile.

Well, sir, dad found his career would close right here, and that he
would probably spend the balance of his life in an Egyptian prison if
wc didn't get out, so we made a sneak and got into our hotel, bought
disguises and are going to get out of here tonight, and try to get to
Gibraltar, or somewhere in sight of home. Dad is disguised as a shiek,
with whiskers and a white robe, like a bath robe, and I am going to
travel with him as an Egyptian girl till we get through the Suez canal.

[Illustration: Dad is disguised as a shiek 323]

Gee, but I wouldn't be a nigger girl only to save dad.

Your innocent,

Hennery.

CHAPTER XXVI.

The Bad Boy Writes About Gibraltar--The Irish-English Army--
How He Would Take the Fortress--Dad Wants to Buy the "Rock."

Gibraltar, in Spain and England. My Dear Foster Uncle: It seems good
to get somewhere that you can hear the English language spoken by the
Irish, and the English soldiers are nearly all Irish. When you think of
the way the British government treats the Irish, and then you look on
while an orderly sergeant calls the roll of a company, and find that
nine out of ten answer to Irish names, and only one out of ten has the
cockney accent, you feel that the Irish ought to rule England, and an
O'Rourke or a O'Shaunnessy should take the place of King Edward. It
makes a boy who was brought up in an Irish ward in America feel like he
was at home to mix with British soldiers who come from the old sod.
Dad says that there is never an army anywhere in the world, except the
armies of Russia and Japan, that the bravest men are not answering to
Irish names, and always on the advance in a fight, or in the rear when
there is a retreat. Dad says that in our own army, when the North and
South were fighting, the Irish boys were the fellows who saved the
day. They wanted to f