"What are we going to do when we reach Cairo?" he asked. "The way is long and we are but few."
"Going to take the city, I expect," replied George.
"But we are not a thousand fighting men," exclaimed the cautious Arab, "and there are at least twenty thousand rebels in the city. Poof, the English are mad, we shall die."
George burst into a laugh, and Belbeis looked disgusted.
"You do not understand our people, there is some trick on hand, they know their business; besides, if it came to a fight with such a number, I would not wager on the rebels."
"Allah is great," replied Belbeis solemnly, "His ways are mysterious, but I cannot understand."
"No," said George, smiling, "neither will Arabi, he does not know the sons of the West. They will dare anything."
"Allah is powerful," replied Belbeis, "and we are but His children."
Again a silence fell upon the little party, a silence only broken by the sound of the resting horses' movements and the buzzing of insects now abroad in the cooling air. On all sides, as far as the eye could reach in the darkening night, soldiers lay about in various attitudes of rest. Here and there, though infrequently, small groups sat smoking and talking, but mostly the weary men slept. One or two sentries, doing short reliefs of watch, hovered about, leaning for support on their carbines.
The scene was an impressive one, and, to Belbeis, who understood not the daring of a British soldier, it seemed a pity that so many men should be doomed on such a futile effort as Helmar had said. George sat scanning the scene with very different feelings. He knew the subtle strategy of the soldiers, and was convinced that the task in hand must be more than possible, or this small force would never have been sent on such an errand.