THE PARTING OF FRIENDS

Charlie picked up the letter and read it out.

Having read and re-read the brief note, Osterberg silently returned it to his friend. His face wore a troubled expression, and, as soon as Helmar had paid the messenger, he burst out into a torrent of invective.

"The lying scoundrel! Oh, George, I am so sorry I asked to bring him. It is all my fault—and I thought him honest. I can never forgive myself!" And the boy broke off, choking with anger and vexation.

"Never mind him," exclaimed George, placing the letter carefully in his pocket. "Some day, no doubt, we shall find him, and then—well, we shall see! In the meantime, I have still enough, with care, to take us to Egypt, and then we must trust to luck."

They went to their hotel, sadder and wiser youths. The thought of Mark's treachery weighed more heavily on them than either cared to acknowledge. George, with the independence of character essentially his, was the first to throw the unpleasant feeling off. They were sitting in the little room they had rented, their frugal meal finished and thoughts of bed already possessing them. Suddenly Charlie looked over to his friend.

"George, I'm going to stop in Constantinople for some time."

"Why," exclaimed Helmar, "whatever for?"

Charlie paused for a moment before answering.

"It's no use beating about the bush. You have scarcely enough money for yourself, and I've made up my mind that I will not sponge on you. I've thought it all out, and do not think there will be any difficulty in what I intend doing. You know I speak French and English well. My intention is to find employment in one of the banks, or big commercial houses, in Constantinople, and remain there until I have saved sufficient money to join you."

"You'll do no such thing! It was agreed that you should share with me all that I have, and I want you to come. Now, don't be foolish," as Charlie shook his head, "you must come!"

"No, old fellow, I will not—at least, not yet. My mind is quite made up, so it is no use your frowning. I shall accept your hospitality as far as Constantinople, and then, for a few weeks, we must part."

Helmar argued and tried to persuade, but all to no purpose; young Osterberg was as determined as he, and, on this particular point, nothing could move him. At length it was decided that they should journey, on the morrow, to Constantinople, whence George should sail at once for Alexandria, leaving his young friend at the Turkish capital.

The following morning they went aboard the little coasting vessel, and were soon on the last stage of their journey together.

On the way the two friends made the acquaintance of a doctor, who, discovering that Helmar was a medical student, took a keen interest in them. The medical man was an English army surgeon, and notwithstanding the difference of nationality his fancy was taken by the young adventurers, and, by the time they reached their destination, he had succeeded in discovering their intentions.

During the voyage Helmar had been very useful to his new friend in assisting him in the case of one of the passengers who had been taken ill, and, in return, Dr. Frank Dixon determined to try and do something for him. One evening they were sitting in the cabin, talking.

"Didn't you say our young friend here," said the doctor, indicating Charlie, "was going to remain in Constantinople if he could find employment?"

"Yes," answered Helmar, with a grimace, "much against my will, that is his intention."

"And a very laudable decision, too. I think it would be a great shame for him to let you spend what little money you have on anything but your own wants. Now, I may be of some help to him. I happen to be an intimate friend of the manager of one of the banks, and can give him a letter to him which, I feel sure, will secure him employment."

"You are awfully kind," broke in Charlie. "If you could do so, without troubling yourself too much, it would save me a good many hardships, but I should never be able to thank you sufficiently."

"Tut-tut," said the doctor, smiling at the eager young face before him, "it is nothing; besides, why should I not help you? I like your independent spirit, and feel sure you will not betray my confidence in you. Let me see, to-morrow we shall arrive. I'll tell you what to do. Array yourself in your best, and I will write the letter to-night and give it you before we land. I hope it may bring you the luck you deserve. As for you, Helmar," he went on, turning to the other, "you go on to Egypt. It will not be long before I am there too; we are bound therefore to meet, and then perhaps I may be of use to you. And now, good-night. I am going to turn in."

The friends wished their benefactor good-night, and retired to their berths.

In the morning they drew into the dock. The doctor, true to his promise, furnished Osterberg with a letter to the bank, to which place he at once proceeded. Helmar accompanied him to see how he fared.

Their luck was in, the letter secured Charlie a berth as corresponding clerk, and Helmar, satisfied with his friend's success, went at once to the shipping office and took his passage to Alexandria.

The boat started at three in the afternoon, and so the two friends spent their time in obtaining some new clothes for Osterberg, and generally fitting him to enter upon his clerical duties. As the time approached for Helmar's departure they made their way to the quay.

"I cannot say how long I shall stay in Alexandria, Charlie," said Helmar, "but I shall let you know of my movements. In the meantime, letters addressed to the Post Office will find me."

The warning bell rang, and George hurriedly shook his companion by the hand.

"I shall not be long in following you, old chap," said Charlie, pressing his friend's hand. "Give me a few weeks, or even a month or two, just long enough to get a little money together, and I'll be with you. Good-bye, and good luck."

Helmar ran up the gangway. Reaching the deck, he turned and waved his hat while the moorings were cast off. Charlie stood watching the receding boat until it was out of sight.

"There goes the man who has thrown up everything for me," he muttered, with a pained expression in his eyes. "I don't think he'll ever regret it. The greatest object of my life shall be to repay him tenfold!" And he turned away into the town.

George Helmar did not pace the deck, as most modern heroes do, for his passage was steerage, and there was very little deck for him to promenade. Just at first he was low-spirited, he felt the loneliness of his own company, everything seemed different without the bright companionship of his friend beside him. He felt keenly leaving Europe, and all the associations of the land of his birth. He was going to a country of which he knew nothing; he was about to face adventures, the outcome of which it would be impossible to anticipate. He might do well for himself, or on the contrary he might be a failure. All these things passed through his mind in the first few moments of depression that followed his departure, as he found himself cooped up in the unpleasant quarters of the steerage passengers.

He was a man of strong determination, however, and quickly threw off his despondent mood, and busied himself with plans for the future. He pictured no glorious El Dorado in the country to which he was journeying—he was much too sensible. He was aware that he would have to work, and work hard, for whatever he was to make.

One fact he had not passed idly by. He knew that trouble was brewing in Egypt; what it was he was not in a position to know. He had heard, vaguely, that at any moment fighting was likely to occur, and, if so, no doubt he would be in its midst; the very word "War" held out a world of hope to his adventurous spirit. In such times, he knew, there were no end of opportunities for the bold spirit, and, such being the case, he had no intention of letting any such chances pass unheeded.

Thoughts of his father and others he had left behind frequently recurred to him, and he wondered what they would say of his doings. At last he decided to write to all those whom his departure had affected, and tell them everything as it had occurred. This done, he felt more at his ease, and he gave himself up to the enjoyment of the lovely sea air as the vessel sped through the smooth, blue waters of the Mediterranean.

At last land was sighted, and in a short time Helmar put his foot on Egyptian soil.

The quay was thronged with a motley, dirty crew, evidently gathered there to await the arrival of the boat. The air was filled with the yelling and chattering of Arabs and negroes. The crowd was composed of all sorts of porters, hawkers offering their cheap wares for sale at exorbitant prices, dirty donkey boys with their wretched "mokes" looking even more starved and miserable than their owners. The dresses were of many kinds, and in a great variety of colours, from a dingy white to a bright scarlet. Close-fitting gowns and tunics, long, highly-coloured flowing robes, turbans, or semi-European clothing, with the usual Turkish fez, were scattered about in great profusion, and Helmar was glad to jostle his way through them to rest his eyes from the dazzling mixture. The many different tongues that caught his ear, as he made his way through the crowd, confused him terribly. Greek, Italian, French, English, Arabic, Turkish, and Persian, all shouting at once, as it seemed to him, jarred on his nerves, and he wondered if this pandemonium went on all over the town.

Making his way from the docks, he wandered about from place to place in search of quarters.

Failing to find what he wanted, he looked about for some likely-looking Europeans to whom he could appeal for guidance. He was chary of his countrymen abroad, and it was some time before he came across the man he desired.

He was recommended to a certain Greek's house, and, after what seemed an interminable day, he found to his satisfaction that here he could make himself more or less comfortable.

The next morning he set about finding work of some sort. He wandered about from street to street, gradually becoming more and more keenly interested in all he saw. First the inhabitants, then the buildings, attracted his attention. He watched the movements of the picturesque Egyptians, and was so taken with what he saw that, unconsciously, he found himself following them. This brought him again into the lower quarters of the town. The streets in this neighbourhood, whatever their redeeming charm, were certainly not to be recommended from any hygienic point of view, the smell being so bad that he quickly lost his interest in the wily native and hurriedly retraced his steps. Reaching the great square, the "Place des Consuls," with its masterful statue in the centre, he realized that the day was wearing on, and, instead of looking for work, he had been "doing" the city as a sightseer.

"This will not do," he thought. "I cannot spend the whole day without result, my cash will soon give out. Cairo seems to my mind to be the place I want, this is too near the sea. Ah, yes, Cairo, Cairo!" he went on aloud, "that surely would suit my purpose better. Why not go there at once, while I have money enough to pay my way?"

Once the thought possessed him it quickly became a fixed intention, and he hurried back to his room. Here he settled with the Greek, and then left at once for the railway station.

The express was about to start, so purchasing a ticket he got aboard, and in a few moments was on his way to Cairo.