They rode on and on and in and out through what at times was a teeming hive of misery and degradation, where filth and disorder seemed to be rampant. At times there were houses of larger build, and here and there attempts had been made to enclose a garden, in which there was the refreshing sight of a few trees; but the monotony of the place was terrible, and the absence of all trace of a busy, thriving, industrious population was depressing in the extreme.
“We must ride out from the city another time, Ben Eddin,” said the Sheikh gravely, after they had gone on through the crowded ways for fully a couple of hours, their guard following patiently in the rear, and their presence ensuring a way being made through some of the well-armed, truculent-looking groups.
“Yes,” said the professor, who overheard his words; “and I am afraid that we shall do no good hunting among these narrow streets. Can’t you take us amongst the houses of the better-class folk, Ibrahim?”
“That is what I am trying to do, Excellency,” said the old man; “but you see—wherever there is a big house it is shut in with walls, and there are so few—so few. It is like one of our worst villages near Cairo made big—so big, and so much more dirty and bad.”
“The place is a horror, Frank,” said the professor. “I wonder the people do not die off like flies.”
“Doubtless they do, Excellency,” said the old Sheikh gravely.
“They must, Frank,” continued the professor. “The dry sand saves the place from being one vast pest-house. Look at the foul dogs, and yonder at the filthy vultures seated on the top of that mud house.”
“There’s lot’s more coming, sir,” said Sam, putting in a word, as he looked upward in a disgusted way. “I do hate those great, bald-headed crows.”
“Hideous brutes!” said the professor, watching the easy flight of about half a dozen that were sailing round as if waiting to swoop down upon some prey.
“There is a dead body near,” said the Sheikh calmly.