The old man's attention was now entirely taken up with clinging on to his position, and he relapsed into silence. Helmar was occupied with thoughts of escape, so nothing more was said until the town of Damanhour was reached.
CHAPTER XVIII
BEHIND PRISON BARS
On his arrival at Damanhour George was conducted by his guards straight to the prison where he was to be confined. The gaol was one of the many ramshackle buildings which the village was comprised of. As the little party slowly made their way through the unpaved streets, they were intently watched by crowds of men, women, and children; the men were principally rebel soldiers, mixed with a smattering of insurgent townspeople, the women and children—creatures of all sorts—from the village folk to the common ruck which follows a native army. Many were picturesque, but others looked like the drainings of the slums of larger cities. There was no doubt as to the sentiments they entertained for the white people, for, as they caught sight of Helmar's face, under escort of rebel soldiers, unmistakable signs of rejoicing were shown, and more than once the threatening attitude of the mob made Helmar wonder if he would reach his destination alive.
As they neared the centre of the town, Hakesh drew his companion's attention to a building surrounded by high walls.
"That, I expect, is where they will imprison us. It is the town gaol, and since Arabi has been here they have used it for military purposes. It is a filthy den."
"I expect so," replied George. "From what little I know of these people, I should hardly expect cleanliness to be amongst their virtues. What do you think they will do to us?"