"How far is it now?" he asked, as they swung along through the slummy quarters.
"Quarter of a mile," was the laconic reply.
"Wish it was more," said George, "it's a treat to be walking again."
"I dare say it is, but we may find it's all too long before we reach the quay. Come along down here," he went on, turning into what looked like a blind court, "we must take all the most deserted streets and listen well, and look well ahead for sounds of trouble. The last two weeks have been terrible times."
"And what does Arabi hope to gain by all this?" asked George.
"The country and his own glorification. He hopes to destroy the Khedive's power and rule, and has adopted 'Egypt for the Egyptians' as his war-cry."
"He must be foolish. The European powers will never allow it. It can only end in one way, and he will be the one to pay for it."
"Yes, I know he will be punished, but there it is, and in the meantime the country is in a fearful state of alarm."
They were nearing the river, and Helmar relapsed into silence as they wound their way through the narrow streets. On every side the tumble-down appearance of the buildings made their walk more solitary and dismal. The smell, as they approached the river, became more pronounced, and made him wonder how any one could live there at all.
His guide seemed heedless of everything but his anxiety to reach their destination. At every corner and turning he paused to listen for any danger signal. Helmar, on the contrary, seemed quite to ignore his danger, and walked along indifferently, observing everything and comparing all with his recollections of the night when he had traversed a similar part in Cairo before he was wounded.