ON PATROL

It was with very mixed feelings that Helmar rode over to the patrol. Of late he had come to regard all Egyptians with suspicion, and, in fact, the entire native population. As regards the so-called "loyal" blackies, he looked upon them as mercenaries, giving their loyalty for gain to the stronger side; being more enlightened than others, they realized that Arabi's rebellion could not possibly survive any serious opposition, and that in the end England was bound to crush it—hence their loyalty! Of course, it was well known that their ranks were crowded with spies—this was only natural—and he felt certain, though unable to prove it, that the man who had just spoken to him was one of these.

As he rode up and joined the little party of horsemen, he was in two minds about speaking to Captain Forsyth of the man's suspicious behaviour; but, in the rush of moving off, he had no opportunity, and with the bustle and interest of his new work, the incident entirely slipped from his mind. It was not till later on that every word of that conversation was brought vividly back to him.

"All right, Captain Forsyth," said the Adjutant, after inspecting the patrol; "you can move off. Good-bye, and good luck to you!"

The order to march was given, and the little party of twelve people slowly filed from the lines.

The beautiful cool of the evening after the sweltering heat of the day was refreshing to all, man and beast alike; the men laughed and chatted, the horses snorted, threw their heads up and proudly showed their mettle as the slow "walk march" was quickly changed into a canter.

The camp was gradually left behind in the distance, and long ere night set in, Alexandria, with its domes and spires, was lost in the haze of the evening, and the bare, level, open country surrounded them on all sides.

Their road lay in the direction of Kafr Dowar, distant about twenty miles to the south-east. For some time after leaving the city the railway was followed, until they arrived at the neck of land that separates the lakes Mariut and Abukir, then, leaving the road entirely, Captain Forsyth edged away from the railway and skirted along the south-west bank of Lake Abukir.

Not very far out of the city, the officer dropped back to the rear where George was riding.

"I'm going to divide the party, Helmar," he said, "and I want you to ride with me. We will travel on the west side of the railway, and shall probably meet stray Arabs in that direction, from whom we can obtain information. It will be imperative to keep a sharp look-out."

"Yes," replied Helmar, "so far we do not know if Arabi has left Kafr Dowar or not. Anyway, if he has, I expect he still has a large force there."

A flanking party was then sent out to the east. The main body, consisting of six men, were to continue the road direct for Kafr Dowar, while Captain Forsyth himself, a trooper named Brian, and George took the western flank.

Helmar and his companions soon reached and crossed the railway, and, pressing on, the main body was quickly lost to view, and the work of scouring the country began in earnest.

Helmar was very quick to learn his duties. A sort of instinct kept all his nerves and senses strained, detecting anything that might furnish information, and, although night had closed in, he found he was able to distinguish many things that he would not have thought possible in such darkness.

Their course lay across country, and the officer kept on the right track by the aid of the brilliant light of the stars. He pointed out the manner in which it was done to Helmar, who marvelled at the simplicity of it all, and wondered how it was he had never thought to try it before.

For some miles the journey was quite uneventful, and Captain Forsyth began to think that the Arabs had really retired beyond Kafr Dowar, even perhaps to Damanhour.

"There doesn't seem to be a sign of the enemy anywhere," said he. "We must be within six miles of their reputed camp now, and we haven't even seen a light. It seems very strange."

"Personally," replied George, "I think it's suspicious. These Gypsies are very foxy; there are some about, or I'm much mistaken. You don't catch a man like Arabi retiring all his troops without leaving a strong rear-guard somewhere behind. What about that rise over there?" he went on, pointing to the dim outline of a hill in the distance. "I thought I saw the flash of a light there just now, but it might have been only fancy."

Captain Forsyth pulled his horse up for a moment and looked keenly in the direction indicated; but, as nothing appeared, the journey was resumed. A little further on, he suddenly exclaimed under his breath and whispered, "Wait a minute!" while he sprang from his horse.

George felt a breath of excitement as he watched the officer's movements. The trooper Brian had come up alongside him.

"Faith, seems to me there's some one on the move ahead of us. Can't you hear the sound of horses' hoofs, sir?"

Helmar listened. At first he could hear nothing but the sighing of the evening breeze as it rustled over the open plains; but gradually he became aware of other sounds blending with it. He listened intently, and the sounds became more distinct, but still so dim that they seemed very far off.

"Yes, I think you are right, Brian, but they are a long way off. They seem to me more to the left and in the direction of the patrol."

"That's so," replied the Irishman, "and, sure, it's to be hoped the sergeant is aware of 'em."

Just then the officer re-mounted his horse.

"Well, sir, do you think it's anything coming our way?"

"No," he replied, "not our way, but it's a party of horsemen, and they seem to be going straight for our main patrol. Brian, you and Helmar remain here; don't advance. I am going to join the sergeant's party. If you hear the sound of fire-arms from that direction, you two will join us at once; and if not, in twenty minutes from now strike a light and I shall rejoin you. Don't make any mistake. Helmar, I shall leave you in charge."

While the officer was speaking, George gave all his attention to the sounds approaching, and his restless eyes scanned the darkness all round. What he had thought to be coming from the east now sounded to be from the west.

"Very good, sir," he replied, as Forsyth finished speaking. "But it strikes me you are either wrong about the direction of the sounds, or there are others coming towards us from the west."

The officer listened, but he remained convinced that what he had heard came from the direction he had said.

"No, I am right," he said, at last. "There is no sound to the west. Don't forget your instructions," and he turned his horse and disappeared in the darkness, the clatter of his horse's feet soon becoming deadened by the heavy sand.

"You're right, Mr. Helmar, and he's wrong, though it wasn't for me to say so," said Brian, in tones of firm conviction. "As the officer disappeared, did you notice how quickly the sound of his horse's hoofs died away?"

"Yes," replied Helmar. "But what has that to do with it?"

"Simple enough," replied the other; "he's forgotten about the wind. There isn't too much, it's true, but what there is is coming from the west, and consequently the sound travels with it. Now, you listen. You can't hear a sound of him now."

It was as the Irishman said. Strain as they would, there was not a sound to be heard from his retreating horse.

"You're right," said George, at last, "and the other sound is still to be heard, which means——"

"Which means that some one is approaching us from the west, and the sound is travelling with the wind. Before he gets back we'll have trouble on our hands, or I'm—I'm—a Dutchman," he finished up in his broad Irish brogue.

Although Helmar was determined and courageous, he was a novice at the art of war, and was ready to adopt any plan that appealed to his common-sense when danger threatened, so he consulted his companion.

"Assuming that we are right, what plan do you suggest?" he asked, eyeing the Irishman keenly.

"Well, it's hard to say what's best. Sure, I'm right on for a fight, but we must first locate how many are coming, and p'raps after all they may be friendlies, though I wouldn't give much for the chance."

"Neither would I," replied George, laughing. "Well, I'll tell you what I propose; we'll just lay low and be guided by circumstances, and, in the meantime, look to our arms."

The two men's revolvers were loaded, and the magazine of their rifles full; after they had examined them carefully they sat in solemn silence, with every nerve strained to its highest tension for the slightest suspicious sound.

Every moment increased their certainty of the approach of horsemen, although at a slow pace, for the sounds were infinitely more distinct.

"They're coming, right enough," said Brian abruptly in a whisper. "I caught the sound of voices just now, and by jabers it seems to me they're Gypies."

This was a surmise of the Irishman's imagination, for as yet Helmar had heard no voice; but still the sounds came nearer.

"Another two minutes and it'll be time to give the signal to Captain Forsyth," said Helmar, feeling over the face of his watch.

"Eh? And bring a hornet's nest about us!" exclaimed the Irishman in disgust. "But there, it's military orders, and I suppose they must be obeyed, whatever the consequences."

"It seems to me all wrong anyhow," replied Helmar; "I don't think he ought to have given such an order. A scout has no business to give signals like that, or even to carry matches, but I suppose it's got to be done. Get your pistol out and be ready while I strike a light."

A grunt from the Irishman signified assent, and, a moment after, Helmar struck a match. Simultaneously as the match flared up, there was a howl from the west, and the two watchers heard the galloping of horses from that direction, while from the eastward they heard a loud "whoop" from Captain Forsyth, who almost instantly dashed up.

"Quick, for your lives, men," he cried, "we are surrounded. There's a party of the enemy in hot pursuit of me. We must turn back and try to outflank them and join the rest of the patrol. Come on!"

Leading the way, he turned his horse and the three men galloped off.

"It's no go, cap'n," cried Brian, whose horse had leapt into the lead and was trying to bolt. "There's a party coming straight for us. Let's make a stand and give 'em a taste of our lead."

"On, man, on for your life! They're coming in all directions," he shouted back. "That match did it."

They turned their horses in another direction, but as they did so a rattle of musketry met them, and a hail of bullets flew over and around them.

"Pull up," said Forsyth, in quiet tones, "the game's up, we must make a fight for it."

Another volley whistled about them, and Brian's horse was hit and fell to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" cried Helmar, dismounting to his assistance.

"Not a bit," replied the fallen man cheerily, springing to his feet.

The officer jumped off his horse, and the three men stood ready to sell their lives as dearly as possible. They were none too soon, for, in the darkness, the enemy, riding at full gallop, were almost on top of them before they could pull up. The moment they were near enough to see, they poured another murderous volley into the devoted little party, and the Irishman fell with a bullet through his chest. In reply, the Captain and our hero blazed away with their rifles into the cluster of horsemen.

Suddenly a voice rang out above the noise of the cracking rifles, and the Arabs ceased fire; then clear and strong came in unmistakable European tones—

"Surrender, you English, or you die!"

In an instant Helmar recognized the voice—it was Arden's. Rage filled him as he thought that once more he was in the power of this man, and he made up his mind to fire his last cartridge before he gave in. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, but Forsyth stayed him.

"It's no use. He has got us foul. Alive we may escape, but with fifty to one against us, it is suicide." Then raising his voice to a shout, he cried, "We surrender!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when, with a terrific shout, a volley was poured into the unprepared Arabs, and a frightful mÊlÉe ensued as the rest of the patrol, headed by the sergeant, charged to the rescue.

In the confusion Forsyth and Helmar sprang on to their horses—Brian was beyond their help—and galloped towards their friends. The darkness was so intense that the two men immediately got separated. Helmar unconsciously altered his direction and immediately fell in with a party of horsemen galloping off. Thinking it to be the patrol, he joined them, and raced away. His horse was very fresh and quickly forged ahead into the midst of his companions, when, to his dismay, he discovered his mistake—he was in the midst of the flying enemy.

With an exclamation of horror he endeavoured to pull up, but this attracted attention, and the men beside him, turning, saw his white face and shouted to their leader. George raised his revolver, but ere he could pull the trigger it was knocked from his hand and he was defenceless.

The Arabs now closed all around him—there was no possibility of escape. One man had seized his horse's bridle, and he was forced to gallop on whether he liked it or not. He threw back his head and shouted, thinking his friends might still be within hearing, but a blow on the mouth with the butt end of a pistol silenced him, and bursting with rage and mortification he had to gallop on.

His feelings were terrible; to be captured in this childish manner was too disgusting for words—and by Arden too! He railed bitterly at losing the Captain in the darkness.

"If I had only had sense enough to stick close to him," he thought to himself, "I should have been all right, instead of again being in the power of this treacherous Mark. There'll be precious little mercy for me this time, and when we get to his camp, I expect he'll have me hanged."

Then the thought struck him that as yet Mark, if he was with the party, had not seen him, and he felt inclined, notwithstanding the exigencies of his position, to laugh at the surprise it would cause that worthy when he became aware of who his prisoner chanced to be.

They were ascending a hill, and on the top of it George could see a number of lights twinkling and bobbing about through the fringe of bush that covered it. His captors gave him but little time to speculate as to the place they were nearing, for not for one instant did they slacken their speed as they ascended the steep slopes. Helmar knew by the pace of the journey that he could not be far from Kafr Dowar, but he had never heard that it was on a hill, and besides, the railway passed through it. This latter thought convinced him that this place must be only some patrolling station of the rebels, and he felt sorry for himself that such was the case; he would probably be in the power of Arden or some subordinate, either of whom might, as likely as not, order him to be beheaded for the amusement of the crowd.

These thoughts were not very comforting, and he was glad to put them from him for others of a less morbid character, as he entered the low scrubby bush in which the camp was pitched.

No word had passed between him and his captors from the moment they had become aware of his presence amongst them. This ominous silence had struck him at first as curious, but realizing a few of the peculiarities of the "Gypies," he took this for one of them and refrained from breaking it.

He was still in doubt as to whether Arden was with them, or whether this was another party altogether, but, whichever way it was, he meant to keep to himself the fact that he could understand Arabic, and trusted that his knowledge of their language might help him to escape, or at least save his skin.

On the whole, after the first shock of his capture was over, he began to think that his fate might have been very much worse; he might have been with poor Brian lying dead on the sandy plain, a prey for the vultures who would swarm in dozens over his carcase at daylight; or he might only have been wounded, when to be left out in the scorching rays of the sun would have been ten times worse.

With reflections such as these he endeavoured to comfort himself, and, as he entered the rebels' encampment, he felt he was ready to face anything that was likely to happen.

Passing by a row of mud huts, the party drew up outside one bigger than the rest.

Helmar was jealously guarded by two of the soldiers armed with rifles and pistols, while a confabulation was being held by the rest. They were talking some yards away, and so many tongues were going at once that it was impossible for him to make out what was said.

At last, however, they evidently came to a decision, and at a word he was led off, with his horse, to a hut where his guards told him in Arabic to dismount.

George was prepared for something like this, and remained where he was, pretending that he did not understand. Immediately the men, taking the bait, conveyed their meaning by signs, and he instantly dismounted. He was then led into the hut, and the moment after the soldiers left him, closing and barring the door behind them.