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That is the desert that is the mysterious theatre of so many adventures throughout the ages, the receptacle of so much hidden wealth, the great burying-ground of the unknown dead. There, on the horizon, where the yellow sand and the blue sky meet, stand the pyramids of Gheezeh, and farther on, in the purple distance, the pyramids of Sakkara.
For the Mameluke beys have assembled on the plain of Gheezeh and formed new plans, recruited their ranks with Arabians and Nubians, and prepared to take the field against the rulers in Cairo, and above all against their most hated enemy, the pacha Mohammed Ali. Such was the dignity conferred upon Mohammed by Courschid Pacha, upon his entrance into Cairo, in the name of the grand sultan.
The beautiful city of Cairo now lies spread out before them. Over there glitters the Nile, like a silver ribbon, and beyond tower aloft the wondrous forms of the great Pyramids of Gheezeh. A cry of delight escapes the lips of the boys. "Oh, how beautiful, how glorious, father!" "Yes, beautiful is Cairo; beautiful is Egypt, my sons. All that you see spread out before you is mine.
The conflict extended to all the streets of the city, and the work of slaughter was carried on all over Cairo. Taker Pacha is dead, murdered! The magnificence of the new caimacan is at an end after a rule of scarcely twenty days. The intelligence reaches Gheezeh, where the Mamelukes are encamped, and where the sarechsme Mohammed Ali is sojourning. He smiles as he hears it. "I told you to wait.
Come, ye Mamelukes, let us march to Gheezeh to meet our ally." On the third day of their march the Mamelukes reach their destination, and encamp on the banks of the Nile, near Gheezeh. Early on the following morning an officer in a glittering uniform rides into the Mameluke camp, accompanied by a small body-guard.
At Gheezeh, on the verge of the desert, the Mamelukes lay encamped on the following day, and there the beys were assembled around their hero, Bardissi, in a sad consultation. True, they are safe, yet they feel that their rule in Cairo is at an end, to be restored no more. "At an end is the rule of the Mamelukes!" cries the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, triumphantly.
Seek Osman Bey Bardissi, and say to him: 'The time has come; await, beside the great Pyramid at Gheezeh, him with whom you conversed there two weeks since; await him there with all his forces. Have you understood me? Repeat my words." The Nubian repeated what he had said, word for word. "And now hasten away, time is precious, and my message is important."
You will find me at your tent by morning. If I am not there, Osman Bey Bardissi, you will know that the Bedouin sheik, Arnhyn, is no longer among the living, and that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has been too shrewd for him." On the green fields of Gheezeh, near the verge of the yellow desert, lies Mohammed Ali encamped with his forces.
Friends and enemies had made these wounds; friends and enemies had torn the once fair form of the beautiful land of the Pharaohs, and converted it into a hideous corpse. The battle-fields of Aboukir, the Pyramids of Gheezeh, the blood- soaked fields of Syria, the overthrown walls of St.
But suddenly a well-aimed ball strikes him, he reels in his saddle, and falls with a low moan to the earth, while Bardissi and his men press on. He succeeds in fighting his way out of the city. Onward the whole train flies toward Gheezeh. Bardissi is wounded; his right hand bleeds, and blood is streaming down his cheeks. Bardissi is wounded, yet he lives, and is saved.
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