Hiring a donkey, for he still felt
weak, Edgar rode out to the citadel. He found
the town gate open, as Napoleon, to show his contempt
for the population and his perfect confidence that
they would not venture to rise again, had ordered
everything to go on as usual. Paying the donkey-boy
when within a short distance of the citadel, he sat
down on a block of stone a little way off the road,
and waited for the hour when the court-martial was
to open. From what he had heard in the square
he was afraid that the Arab prisoners would all be
among those sentenced to death, as the general opinion
was that a stern lesson was needed in their case,
as they had, with the exception of those dwelling near
Alexandria, proved themselves bitterly hostile to the
French.
“I am afraid that I shall have
to lie,” he said to himself. “I hate
that, and I would not do it for myself, but the lie
will hurt no one and may save Sidi. Anyhow I
won’t tell more than I can help.”
During the two hours that he sat there
he made up his mind as to the story that he should
tell. As the hour approached, several French
officers of rank rode into the citadel. He saw
a few people go in on foot, but all were questioned
by the sentry at the gate. A few minutes before
ten he went up.
“You cannot pass without an
order,” the sentry said in French.
“I wish to speak to the officer,”
Edgar replied in a mixture of French and Italian.
“I am a witness. I have to give evidence
at the trial of one of the scelerats.”
The sentry called a non-commissioned
officer, who, after speaking a few words to him; entered
the guard-house near the gate, and an officer came
out.
“What do you want to come in for?” he
asked.
“I have evidence to give, monsieur,
for one who is, I believe, among the prisoners.
He is, like myself, but a lad; but he saved my life
from one of those villains of rioters, and slew him
with his own hand, when my employer, Signor Pancherasi,
and two other of his assistants were killed by them.
I would urge this in his favour.”
“Well, it is but fair that you
should be heard;” and calling a soldier from
the guard-house, he told him to accompany Edgar to
the spot where the court-martial was to be held, and
to inform the officer in charge of the prisoners that
the lad desired to give evidence in regard to one of
them.
Thanking the officer, Edgar went up
with the soldier into the great quadrangle. In
one corner were a large number of prisoners, guarded
by a line of soldiers with fixed bayonets. Three
or four officers were standing on the steps in front
of a large open door. One of them, as Edgar passed
near, called out to his companion:
“Whom have you got there, my man?”
The soldier led Edgar up to the group, saluted, and
stood at attention.
“He has come to give evidence for one of the
prisoners, general.”
“It must needs be pretty strong
evidence then,” the officer said, “considering
that they were all taken when fighting against us.
Well, my lad, who are you?”
“I do not speak French well,
monsieur: Italian is my language. My name
is Giovanni Baptista. I was in the employ of Signor
Pancherasi, who sold goods of our country in the broad
street leading up from the square of El-Esbekieh,
where your soldiers beat the Arabs yesterday.”
“I recognize the young fellow,”
one of the officers said. “He rushed out,
half out of his mind with joy, as I rode past at the
head of the column. Well, go on, lad. Tell
us what you have got to say.”
“Well, monsieur, an Arab boy
saved my life when the others were killed. One
had fired at me, and the bullet went through my arm,
when the Arab, who had some of his people with him,
sprang forward, and just as the man was going to rush
at me with his scimitar he sprang upon him and stabbed
him between the shoulders. I do not remember much
more, for I was frightened; but there was a quarrel
between him and his Arabs and the others. I think
I fainted. When I came to I was alone with the
bodies of my master and comrades, and there I remained
in hiding until your troops came along.”
“But why should this Arab have
interfered in your behalf?”
“A few days before, sir, I was
going with a parcel of my master’s goods through
one of the narrow lanes, when I saw two rough men ill-treating
an Arab boy. He seemed to be the son of a sheik,
and they were trying to rob him and he resisted, and
seeing that he was a boy like myself, I shouted at
the top of my voice for aid, and ran in with my knife.
Then we fought for a minute, but doubtless it would
have gone hard with us, had not two of your soldiers,
who heard me shouting, come running up, and the men
then took to their heels. The young Arab said
that his father would show his gratitude to me for
having aided him, but I had not heard of him again
until, hearing our cries, he ran in with some other
Arabs, and, as I have said, saved me from death.”
“Let me look at your wound?”
the general said. Edgar took off his coat and
showed the blood-stained bandage.
“Well, you can look among the
prisoners and see if your friend is here. If
he is, when you see him brought in you must come in
and repeat your story. By the way, how did you
understand what this Arab said about his father?”
“I have been out here some years,
monsieur, and can speak a little Arabic.”
“Well, as you have lost your
master, and are out of employment, if you go down
to the intendence and say that General Rombaud sent
you, and that you can speak enough French and Arabic
to get on with, they will find you some employment
where you can be of use.”
“Thank you very much, monsieur,”
and, bowing, Edgar went off with the soldier to the
group of prisoners.
There were in all about a score of
Arabs, and these kept in a body together. To
his great joy, he recognized Sidi among them.
His head was bound up, and he looked weak and exhausted,
but, like his companions, and indeed the great proportion
of the prisoners, he maintained an air of indifference
to his position. Thinking it as well that he should
not be recognized, and feeling sure that the guard
would permit no communication to take place with any
of the prisoners, Edgar turned away and went and sat
down on some steps between the prisoners and those
on which the officers were standing. In a few
minutes they went in by the door behind them.
Five minutes later a sergeant came
out, and calling four men from a company drawn up
near the door, went across to the group of prisoners
and presently returned with six of them. In a
few minutes they came out again. Three of the
men, in charge of a single soldier, were marched away
in the direction of the gate; the other three were
taken to a door a short distance away, thrust in,
the door was locked after them, and two soldiers placed
there as sentries. The barred windows told their
tale, and Edgar had no doubt that the three men who
had entered were sentenced to death. In the meantime,
another party had taken six more prisoners in.
So the matter proceeded for upwards of an hour, five
minutes at the outside sufficing for each batch.
At the end of this time the group of Arabs was reached.
Hitherto about half of the men taken had been suffered
to depart, but this time the six Arabs were all taken
to the fatal door.
Edgar did not recognize any of them,
and indeed, he knew that the greater part of the sheik’s
followers had fallen in the attack on the French column
in the street. Sidi was in the next group, and
Edgar rose to his feet, saying to the soldier who
still stood by his side, and who had heard the conversation
with the general, “That is the lad.”
The man went with him to the door, told the sentries
there that the general’s orders were that the
witness was to be allowed to enter, and Edgar followed
the party into a large room. Six French officers
were seated at a table. The president, who was
the general who had spoken to him, looked up:
“Is that the lad?” he asked, pointing
to Sidi.
“That is he, monsieur.”
“As we have heard your testimony,
it is not necessary to take it again.”
Sidi had given a sudden start on hearing Edgar’s
voice. “This young fellow has testified
to us,” General Rombaud said to two of the members
of the court-martial, who had not been present on the
steps when the conversation took place, “that
this young Arab saved him from murder at the hands
of some of the rabble, by killing the man who was about
to slay him, and that he did this in return for a
service this young Italian had rendered him in succouring
him when attacked, some time before, by two robbers.
As he is but a lad, and of course acted under his
father’s orders, I think we may make him an exception
to the rule. You can go free, young sir, but
let the narrow escape that you have had be a lesson
to you not to venture to mix yourself up in treasonable
risings again. You can take him away with you,”
he added to Edgar.
Sidi moved away from his companions
with an unsteady step. He had made up his mind
that his fate was sealed, and had been prepared to
meet it, and the sudden revulsion of feeling was almost
too much for him. He gave his hand silently to
Edgar, and as the latter bowed and murmured his thanks
to the general, they went out together, one of the
soldiers accompanying them. In spite of his Arab
stoicism, the tears were running down Sidi’s
cheeks as they issued into the open air.
“I am not crying for joy that
I am freed, brother,” he said, “but with
pleasure at seeing you alive. When we got to the
end of that street and saw, for the first time, that
you were not with us, and, looking back, could see
that your horse had fallen, we gave you up for dead,
and bitterly did my father reproach himself for having
permitted you to share in our attack. He is among
the dead, brother; I saw him fall. I had been
separated from him by the rush of the French horsemen,
but I saw him fighting desperately, until at last
struck down. Then, almost mad, I struck wildly.
I felt a heavy blow on my head, and should have fallen
had not a French soldier seized my arm and dragged
me across his saddle in front of him. I was dimly
conscious of being handed over to the infantry, and
placed with some other prisoners. I sank down,
and should have bled to death had not an Arab among
them bandaged my head. The fight was nearly over
then, and I was brought up here.”
“I can give you good news, Sidi.
I went last night with the two men whom we had left
behind, and searched for some hours among the dead
for you and your father, and found him at last.
He was insensible, but not dead. We carried him
off, and the other two are with him in a grove six
miles away, and I have every hope that he will recover.
He has five or six wounds, but I do not think that
any of them are mortal.”
Sidi fairly broke down on hearing
the news, and nothing further was said until they
had issued from the gate. The officer was still
there who had spoken to Edgar on entering.
“So you have saved your friend?”
he said pleasantly, as Edgar passed. “He
is lucky, for I fancy he will be the only one of the
Arabs who will issue out of here to-day.”
“I thank you much, monsieur,
for having let me pass,” Edgar said gratefully.
“I feared so much that I should not be allowed
to enter to speak for him.”
The officer nodded, and the two lads
went out. They had gone but a hundred yards when
Sidi said:
“I must sit down for a while,
Edgar. I have eaten nothing since yesterday morning,
and I have lost much blood, and all this happiness
is too much for me. Don’t think me very
childish.”
“I don’t think you so
at all, Sidi. It has been a fearful time, and
I don’t wonder that you are upset. Look,
there is a quiet spot between those two huts.
Do you sit down there; you can’t go on as you
are. In the first place, your dress is covered
with blood; and in the next, you are too weak to walk.
I will go into the town. There are plenty of shops
close to the gate, and I will buy a burnoose that will
cover you, and a change of clothes for you to make
afterwards. I will get you some food and a little
cordial.”
Sidi shook his head.
“Nonsense, man!” Edgar
went on. “This is medicine, not wine, and
you must take something of the sort or you won’t
be fit to travel. I shall get some fellah’s
clothes for myself, a basket of food and other things
to take out to your father, and I will hire a couple
of donkeys. You are no more fit to walk six miles
than you are to fly, and I feel rather shaky myself.
I sha’n’t be away more than half an hour.”
After seeing Sidi seated in the place
he had indicated, where he would not be seen by those
passing on the road, Edgar at once went in through
the gate. The provisions, and two or three bottles
of good wine, were quickly purchased, but it took
him some little time getting the clothes, for had
he not bargained in the usual way, it would have seemed
strange. As it was, the man of whom he purchased
them congratulated himself on having made the best
bargain that he had done for many a day. He bought
two Arab suits, and two such as were worn by peasants,
and a brown burnoose for Sidi to put on at once.
Then, going out with the provision-basket and the
clothes in a bundle, he went to the gate again, chose
a couple of donkeys from those standing there for hire,
and went along the road for a short distance.
Telling the donkey-boy to wait with the animals until
his return, he took the basket and the burnoose, which
had been made up into a separate parcel, and went to
the spot where he had left Sidi, who rose to his feet
as he reached him.
“I am better now, and can go on.”
“You are not going on until
you have made a meal anyhow,” Edgar replied;
“and I feel hungry myself, for I have been up
a good many hours.”
Sidi sat down again. The basket
was opened, and Edgar produced some bread and some
cold kabobs (kabobs being small pieces of meat stuck
on a skewer). Sidi eat some bread and fresh fruit,
but he shook his head at the meat.
“I shall do better without it,”
he said. “Meat is for the strong. My
wound will heal all the faster without it.”
He did, however, drink from a tumbler
Edgar had brought with him a small quantity of wine
mixed with the water.
“I regard you as my hakim, and
take this as medicine because you order it.”
“I feel sure that the Prophet
himself would not have forbidden it when so used.
You look better already, and there is a little colour
in your cheek. Now, let us be off. If your
father has recovered consciousness, he must be in
great anxiety about you.”
“But I want to ask you about yourself?”
“I will tell you when we are mounted. The
sooner we are off the better.”
He was glad to see that, as they walked
towards the donkeys, Sidi stepped out much more firmly
than before. He had put on his burnoose as soon
as Edgar joined him, and this concealed him almost
to his feet when he had mounted.
“We are not pressed for time,”
Edgar said to the donkey-boy. “Go along
gently and quietly.”
The donkey started at the easy trot
that distinguishes his species in Egypt.
“Now, Edgar,” Sidi said,
as soon as they were in motion, “here have you
been telling me about my father, and I have been telling
you about myself, but not one word as yet have you
told as to how you escaped, and so saved the lives
of both of us. Allah has, assuredly, sent you
to be our good genius, to aid us when we are in trouble,
and to risk your life for ours.”
“Well, never mind about that
now, Sidi. I will tell you all about it; but
it is a good long story.”
So saying, he narrated his adventures
in detail, from the time when his horse fell with
him to the moment when he entered the room where the
court-martial was being held. He made the story
a long one, in order to prevent his friend from talking,
for he saw when he had spoken how great was his emotion.
He made his narrative last until they came within a
quarter of a mile of the village near which the sheik
was hidden.
“Now we will get off,”
he said, “and send the donkeys back.”
He paid the amount for which he had
bargained for the animals, and bestowed a tip upon
the boy that made him open his eyes with delight.
They turned off from the road at once, made a detour,
and came down upon the clump of trees from the other
side. The Arabs had seen them approaching, and
welcomed Sidi with exuberant delight. To his first
question, “How is my father?” they said,
“He is better. He is very weak. He
has spoken but once. He looked round, evidently
wondering where he was, and we told him how the young
Englishman, his friend, had come to us, and how we
had searched for hours among the dead, and, at last
finding him, had carried him off. Then he said,
‘Did you find my son?’ We told him no,
and that we had searched so carefully that we felt
sure that he was not among the dead, but that you
had gone back to the town to try and learn something
about him. He shook his head a little, and then
closed his eyes. He has not spoken again.”
“Doubtless he feels sure, as
we could not find you, that you are dead, Sidi.
I have no doubt the sight of you will do him a great
deal of good. I will go forward and let him know
that you are here. Do not show yourself until
I call you.”
The sheik was lying with his eyes
shut. As Edgar approached he opened them, and
the lad saw he was recognized.
“Glad am I to see you conscious
again, sheik,” he said, bending over him.
The sheik feebly returned the pressure of his hand.
“May Allah pour his blessings
upon you!” he whispered. “I am glad
that I shall lie under the sands of the desert, and
not be buried like a dog in a pit with others.”
“I hope that you are not going
to die, sheik. You are sorely weak from loss
of blood, and you are wounded in five places, but I
think not at all that any of them are mortal.”
“I care not to live,”
the sheik murmured. “Half my followers are
dead. I mourn not for them; they, like myself,
died in doing their duty and in fighting the Franks-but
it is my boy, of whom I was so proud. I ought
not to have taken him with me. Think you that
I could wish to live, and go back to tell his mother
that I took him to his death.”
“He was not killed, sheik; we
assured ourselves of that before we carried you away,
and I found that, with twenty other Arabs and two or
three hundred of the townsmen, he was taken prisoner
to the citadel.”
A look of pain passed across the sheik’s face.
“Your news is not good; it is
bad,” he said, with more energy than he had
hitherto shown. “It were better had he died
in battle than be shot in cold blood. Think you
that they will spare any whom they caught in arms
against them?”
“My news is good, sheik,”
Edgar said calmly; “had it been otherwise I
would have left you to think that he had died on the
field of battle. I have reason to believe that
Sidi has been released, and that you will soon see
him.”
For a moment the sheik’s eyes
expressed incredulity; then the assured tone and the
calm manner of Edgar convinced him that he at least
believed that it was true.
“Are you sure, are you quite
sure?” he asked, in tones so low that Edgar
could scarce hear him.
“I am quite sure-I
would not buoy you up with false hopes. Sidi is
free. He is not far off now, and will speedily
be here, directly he knows that you are strong enough
to see him.”
For a minute the sheik’s eyes
closed, his lips moved, but no sound came from them,
but Edgar knew that he was murmuring thanks to Allah
for his son’s preservation. Then he looked
up again.
“I am strong enough,”
he said; “your news has made a man of me again.
Send him here.”
Edgar walked away and joined Sidi.
“Be very calm and quiet,”
he said; “your father is very, very weak.
Do not break down. He knows that you are close
by, and is prepared to see you. Do not, I beg
of you, agitate him; do not let him talk, or talk
much yourself; be calm and restful with him.”
He turned away and walked to the end
of the trees, where he engaged in a short conversation
with the two Arabs. Then he turned again, and
went near enough to catch a sight of the sheik.
Sidi was kneeling by his side, holding his hand to
his heart, and a smile of happiness illuminated the
drawn face of the wounded man. Satisfied that
all was going on well, he joined the men.
“In the basket you will find
a small cooking-pot,” he said. “Pick
up some of the driest sticks that you can find, so
as not to make any smoke. Put some kabobs into
the pot with as much water as will just cover them;
then place it over the fire, and let it stew until
the meat is in threads. Strain the broth off.
I will give it to him, a sip at a time.”
“We need not be afraid of the
smoke,” one of the men said. “We went
down to the village to get bread and dates. A
man saw that we were Arabs, and asked us for news
of what was going on in Cairo. Some fugitives
passed along yesterday evening, and said that the
French were killing all the Moslems. We told
him that it was not as bad as that, but that many had
assuredly been slain. He called down malédictions
upon the French, and seeing that he was a true man
we said that we had a wounded comrade with us, and
that he was lying in the grove. He told us that
he was the owner of it, and that we were welcome to
use it, but prayed us not to come to him again; for
if the Franks came along in search of fugitives, and
happened to search the grove, and found that he had
been supplying a wounded man with provisions, it might
cost him his life. We told him that he need not
fear, for that we would not betray him, but that, at
any rate, we would not come to his shop again.”
“Then make the fire immediately,
Hassan; the sooner the sheik has a little nourishment,
the better. If he seems strong enough to bear
it, I want to carry him off to the mountains at once.
It is quite possible that the French may be searching
the villages round for wounded fugitives, and I would
fain get him up among the hills. Sidi, too, has
an ugly wound in the head, and needs a few days’
rest. I think I have everything that they can
want for the next two or three days, and you have
a good supply of fruit. We must find some place
among the rocks sheltered from the sun. When
it is dark you must go down to the fountain and fill
up your water-skins there.”
An hour later Edgar carried the cup
of broth to the sheik.
“Sidi, do you lift your father
up a little-a very little. I want him
to take some of this broth. It is all a question
of keeping up your strength now, sheik, and I hope
that you will try and drink a little.”
“I, too, want to get strong,”
the sheik said, “I have something to live for
now.”
He drank a few mouthfuls, and then
motioned to his son to lower his head down again.
“’Tis strange,”
he said, “that we three should be together again
when it seemed that none of us would meet on earth.”
“It is very pleasant to be together
again,” Edgar said heartily, “and it will
be more pleasant still when we are able to get about
again together.”
There had been but few words exchanged
between father and son. To be restored to each
other was sufficient, and the sheik had not even wondered
as to how his son had so unexpectedly arrived.
After drinking the broth he closed his eyes, and in
a few minutes it was evident, by his quiet breathing,
that he was asleep.
Edgar moved quietly away, beckoning
to Sidi to follow him, and when he joined him at the
edge of the grove, told him of the plan that he proposed.
“Do you think that he is strong enough?”
Sidi asked.
“I do not think that it will
do him harm, Sidi; indeed I think that if, before
he goes to sleep, we lay him on that blanket that we
brought him here in, we might carry him without waking
him. Of course I should tell him this evening
what we thought of doing. It may be that the French
will make no search for the wounded. I saw proclamations
signed by some of the principal sheiks and ulémas,
calling upon the people to be tranquil, and announcing
that Bonaparte had consented to forgive the past;
but you know that did not prevent their trying those
prisoners this morning, and, I doubt not, executing
a large number of them. Therefore, although they
may leave the lower class alone, they may seize any
of their leaders they may find, and if they came upon
your father, his wounds would show that he had been
engaged in the fighting; and if they took him to the
town many of those who saw him there might denounce
him as the sheik who led his horsemen against one of
their columns. Of course they may not search,
but it is as well to be on the safe side, and it is
better to run the slight risk that the journey might
do him than to chance his being captured here.”
Sidi heartily agreed.
“Now, Sidi, you may as well
get rid of those clothes and put on the peasant’s
suit I bought you. I shall do the same; then should
we be caught sight of, at a distance, we should simply
be taken for two fellahs who have gone up into the
mountains, either to shoot game or for some other
purpose, while the white clothes would excite suspicion.
I am sorry now that I did not get them for Hassan
and Ali, but it is likely enough that I may be able
to buy such things in the village. By the way,
your father said, when we were riding from the Pyramids
to the town, that there were a good many old tombs
up in the hills. Of course, for to-night, it
would be enough if we take him a short distance up,
then to-morrow we can search, and if we can find one
of those tombs, it will be a safe place for him to
stop in; and being cut in the solid rock, it would
be pleasantly cool. There will be no fear whatever
of any French soldiers coming along and entering there,
and we can live quietly until he is fit to sit a horse.
When you have taken off those things that you have
on, you had better tear off a number of long strips
for bandages. We did what we could roughly when
we first carried your father off the field; but we
can bandage his wounds carefully now, and yours also
must want looking to badly.”
When the sheik woke, after two hours’
sleep, he drank some broth. His voice was louder
and clearer, and it was evident that even the small
quantity that he had taken before, and the quiet sleep,
had refreshed him greatly.
“Now, sheik,” Edgar said,
“Hassan and Ali are going to bandage your wounds
carefully. They say that they are both accustomed
to it, and no doubt they have some experience, for
wounds are common enough in your raids and forays.”
Edgar by this time had put on the
dark-blue blouse, reaching down below the knee and
girt by a belt at the waist, which forms the main article
of dress of every Egyptian peasant. On his head
was a brown cap of rough wool, of something of the
same shape as a fez. These, and a pair of low
Turkish shoes, completed his costume, underneath which
he wore the European one, the trousers being rolled
up above the knees, so as not to show. While
the operation of dressing the wounds was going on,
he went down into the village, and finding a shop
where they sold such things, bought similar suits
to his own for the two Arabs. When he returned,
the sheik’s wounds had been dressed, a blanket
rolled up under his head, and he was looking altogether
more comfortable. Edgar now told him his plan
of carrying him off.
“It will be best,” he
said, “much the best. Though I have said
nothing, I have wondered to-day whether the French
would come along, and it has troubled me; besides,
I shall gain strength faster up in the hills.
Your plan is a good one. I think that I shall
sleep well in the blanket. Even if I wake it
will not matter; the motion will be easy, and my wounds
have been well bandaged, and I have no fear of their
breaking out again.”
In addition to the severe sabre cut
on the face, the sheik had another on the left arm.
A third had struck him slantingly on the right side,
as his arm was raised to strike; a musket shot had
also made a deep groove on the hip. When in the
village, Edgar had purchased, among other things,
several sticks of kabobs, and when it became dark the
two Arabs, now in their peasant dress, went down and
filled the water-skins at the village well. The
sheik drank off the rest of the broth, and was then
carefully lifted and laid down on the blanket, which
was still attached to the spears. The other blanket
was then placed under his head, and in half an hour
his son, who was watching him, was glad to see that
he was again asleep. Some more kabobs were put
in the pot to stew, and when ready the broth was poured
into a wine-bottle that Edgar had emptied. As
soon as the moon was fairly up they started, as before,
the two Arabs taking the pole at the sheik’s
head, Edgar those at his feet, where the weight was
comparatively a light one. Sidi would have divided
this with him, but Edgar laughed at the idea.
“I shall be well pleased, Sidi,
if you can do the walk without needing help; the weight
is really nothing. If he had been a big fleshy
Englishman it would be a different thing altogether,
but you Arabs are simply bone and muscle, and divided
between three the weight is not worth talking about.”
The blankets had been rolled up and
placed across the men’s shoulders, the water-skins
hung by their straps on either side, and they carried
the baskets, on which were also placed the bundles
of clothes, between them. No stir or movement
showed that the sheik was conscious of being lifted
from the ground. After twenty minutes’ walking
they got beyond the area of cultivated ground, and
were able to head directly for the hills, and two
hours later they were well up among them, and Edgar
and Sidi agreed that there was small chance indeed
of any French parties, especially of cavalry, searching
such broken and rugged ground. A spot was chosen
where the ends of the spears could be laid on two flat
stones high enough to keep the bottom of the hammock
from touching the ground between them.
Sidi bent over his father, and, listening
to his breathing, saw that he was sound asleep.
His only share of the burden had been a small, shallow
iron pot, in which a little charcoal fire glowed brightly.
A small bag of this, the most common fuel in Egypt,
had been bought in the village. The broth was
poured into a tin, which was hung a short distance
above the fire, so that it would warm slowly.
Then Edgar and Sidi, who were both completely worn
out, wrapped themselves, one in his burnoose and the
other in a blanket, and lay down; Hassan and Ali, who
had by turns slept during the day, undertaking to
keep watch by the side of the sheik, and to give him
the broth as soon as he woke.
Edgar dropped off to sleep instantly;
when he awoke the sun had risen. He saw that
Sidi was still asleep. The hammock had been lowered
to the ground, and Ali was holding the cup to the
sheik’s lips. Edgar saw at once that he
was better, the drawn expression and the ashen shade
round his lips had greatly abated, and his eyes were
brighter. Living so frugal and active a life,
the Arab, like the Red Indian, can bear wounds that
would be fatal to a dweller in towns; and as none of
the sheik’s wounds were in themselves very serious,
and it was loss of blood alone that had brought him
to death’s door, the night’s rest, the
nourishment that he had taken, and above all, his
joy at finding his son living, had already placed
him on the path to recovery.
“I am glad to see you looking
much better than you did yesterday,” Edgar said
heartily as he came up. “I hope that you
have slept well?”
“I have woke but twice, and
each time took some of the broth, and straightway
went off to sleep again. I did not feel my move
here, and was indeed surprised on my first waking,
when Ali told me that I was safe up in the hills.
See, I can already lift my right hand. I shall
not be your patient long.”
“There is no hurry,” Edgar
replied. “After I have had some breakfast
I shall start out to look for one of those tombs that
you told me of. There we shall have shelter from
the heat of the sun and from the night-dews.
There will be no fear of the French lighting upon us;
and indeed I do not think that, now they have Cairo
under their feet again, they will trouble more about
the matter. They have other things to think about;
and although Cairo will be quiet for a long time after
this, the French will know that their merciless slaughter
of the Mussulmans will excite the deepest feeling
of hatred against them, and that it will be even less
safe than before for small parties to move about.
“Kleber will no doubt start
again with his division for Damietta. Desaix
is many days’ journey to the south. Probably
a force will march to Suez. I heard it said by
some French officers that this would probably be the
next move, and Napoleon will not care to further weaken
the garrison of the city by sending out search parties.”
“Is Sidi’s wound a bad one?”
“No, it is nothing like so severe
as that which you received on the cheek. It was
a downright blow, but his turban saved him. It
is a pretty deep scalp wound extending down to the
ear, and he lost a good deal of blood, but it was
anxiety for you and the prospect of death for himself
in the morning that caused it to seem more serious
than it was. In three or four days he will be
nearly himself again.”
“And you, did you escape unhurt?
We deemed you certainly dead.”
“No; my horse was shot, and
I at the same moment got a bullet through my arm.
Beyond the loss of a little blood it was of no consequence.
I ran into a house close by and sheltered there until
the French column came out, and then went out in some
European clothes I found there, and had no more trouble.”