The officer expressed his willingness to listen, and George recounted to him all that had occurred from the time the three companions left Germany. The latter part of the story was new to Osterberg, and he exclaimed in horror and indignation at the villainous way Arden had persecuted his friend. When our hero came to the flogging, the officer's face became hard and stern.
"And you still bear the marks of that inhuman treatment?" he asked, when George had finished.
"That I do, sir," he replied, with a look of chagrin on his face. "My back is scored and lined like a ploughed field. I shall carry the marks to my grave, but, even so, I regret not one moment of the agony I have gone through so long as Cairo and the many hundreds of true men and women in it are saved. Had I not gone through this, had I not been a prisoner, I do not know who Naoum could have sent with the news. It is an ill wind that blows no one any good. Let us hope I am in time."
George's calm words, his lack of resentment at the treatment he had received from Mark Arden, touched a deep chord in the officer's nature, but he wondered at George's apparent unconcern.
"I should think considerably more of vengeance than you appear to do," he said, with an ominous glitter in his eyes; "prisoners, when left to the authorities, do not always get what they deserve."
"That may be, sir," replied George, "but time will show. Arden has lost his chance, the chance he wanted, of getting out of the country with his ill-gotten gains, therefore his rascality has brought him but little fortune. To my mind that is sufficient punishment, and, after all, revenge is but a small thing—he will be punished in some way."
"'m!" said the officer doubtfully. "I should want something more definite."
By sundown the British camp was in view, and, to Helmar at least, never was any sight more welcome. The heat of the sun, the excitement of the encounter with the rebels, the strain of the sixty miles' ride, all combined to weary him both mentally and bodily. The thought that after months of degrading captivity he was at last free was scarcely sufficient to raise his flagging spirits. As he saw the miles of white lines of tents stretching before him, a feeling of contentment gradually crept over his tired body, but there was none of the exhilaration he had anticipated; all he longed for was to fling himself from his horse and rest his weary bones. The watchful eye of young Osterberg had noted all this, and he anxiously looked over towards the camp as if expecting to see his friend give in before he reached it.
George, however, had no such intention; the sufferings he had gone through had hardened him to trials such as this, and though enthusiasm had gone from him to a great extent, he was nevertheless determined to see his duty through to the bitter end.
At last the outposts were reached, the countersign given, and they passed down the endless lines towards the Commander's quarters. After what seemed an interminable time, their destination was reached and the little party dismounted. Several aides-de-camp were about, and to one of these the officer explained his business; George, too weary to stand, seated himself on the ground and waited while the aide delivered the officer's message. In a few moments the man returned and said a few words to the officer and then returned to the hut. The officer approached Helmar.