The younger man fully appreciated the risks this stranger had run for his sake, and a feeling possessed him that though duty demanded the parting, still, in a measure, it seemed like desertion.
Naoum on the other hand admired the spirit which prompted George's decision, and though he regretted bitterly the loss of so brave and good a companion, would not have had it otherwise.
The landing-stage reached, Helmar sprang ashore, and, with a hearty grip of the hand and a quiet "good-bye and good luck," they parted. Each felt he knew the other's thoughts, and, if good wishes could help them, there was no doubt their lives would be prosperous and happy.
"Allah is good. I shall see the boy again," thought Naoum.
Left to himself, George primed his revolver, put it in his belt ready to hand, and then made his way from the water's edge to explore the city.
It was some moments before he decided which way to go. In every street the houses were barricaded, and along the water front they were quite deserted. At last he decided to venture up a little dark alley to the left. He selected this particular one on account of its obscurity.
From the vessel he had seen a stray party of Arabi's soldiery, and he had no fancy for running the risk of encountering them by taking one of the larger thoroughfares.
How dark and quiet it seemed, not a sign of life was to be seen anywhere. In the distance he could still hear the discordant cries from other parts of the town and sometimes the discharge of fire-arms, but here—here in the lowest quarter of the city, where crime and low life usually prevailed, everything was silent as the grave.
George stepped cautiously along, his ears strained to catch the least suspicious sound, his eyes peering on every side to catch a glimpse of light through some stray chink in the closed and shuttered windows—but none presented itself.
After he had traversed the street without discovering anything to alarm him, he breathed more freely and turned into another, stretching his legs in a brisk walk instead of keeping to his furtive, silent glide.