Abdu had recovered and sat up, with a huge lump on his forehead where Helmar had struck him.
"Why do you not kill him?" he shouted. "You stand there skulking, while he murders me. Seize him, and let him see what it means to strike one of the faithful."
Belbeis raised his hand.
"Peace," said he, "you brought it on yourself. You would have murdered the old man while we made him prisoner. You may be glad that the Christian stayed your hand, or our lives would have paid the forfeit."
"I care not!" cried Abdu, foaming with rage. "You shall obey me! I am your officer! Kill him, I say!"
"You may not care, but we do," answered Belbeis, calmly. "You may say and do as you like, but we will not let your doings bring the Pasha's wrath on our heads."
The little man still raged, but had to be content, and a compromise was brought about between Belbeis and the others, to the effect that Helmar's hands should be bound and the old man taken on to Damanhour a prisoner. As soon as this was settled, the party once more saddled up and continued their journey.
Hakesh was made to mount behind Helmar's saddle, and in this uncomfortable position the poor old man clung to him for support.
"I can never thank you sufficiently for saving my life," said he, as they rode slowly along. "True, I am so old that it does not much matter, but my work is not yet done, and I would live to see it finished."
"There is no need of thanks," replied George. "I am glad to have helped you. However, our troubles are not yet ended. Abdu won't soon forget that cuff I gave him—we have yet much to fear from his spite."