med Helmar, looking over at his faithful guide.

"Yes," replied the Arab, "I know, it is my native place, the village
from which I take my name. It is on the fresh-water canal. We must
take the desert route, and so avoid Arabi's entrenchments."

Turning to the officer, George interpreted what Belbeis had said,
adding that he thought the suggestion the guide had made was the
best plan possible.

"Very well, but there must be no mistake, for our work will admit of
no delay. The man can be trusted, I hope."

"Without doubt," said George, at once. "He is absolutely faithful
and trustworthy."

Considering the large number of men, the journey was most rapid,
and, under the guidance of the trusty Belbeis, his native village
was reached at sundown in safety. The journey was made in the heat
of the day, and, notwithstanding the fortitude of both horses and
men, was very trying. Even the guides and Helmar, after their
terrible journey of the day before, were thankful when the little
village was sighted, and the order for the bivouac was given. Many
of the men lay down where they off-saddled, tired and worn out, and,
after a frugal meal, slept where they were, without covering, and
with only their saddles for a pillow.

George, after the wants of his horse were attended to, glanced round
the scattered soldiers, and noting the worn-out condition, registered
a mental wager that many of them would never be able to last till
Cairo was reached. At present only the shortest part of the journey
had been traversed, how would they feel at the end of the next forty
miles?

With many misgivings he found his two friends, and communicated his
fears to them.

"Seems to me," he said, seating himself beside Belbeis, "many of
those fellows will never reach Cairo."

Belbeis was thoughtfully smoking, squatting on his haunches in true
Oriental fashion, his water-bottle lying beside him, and the remains
of his supper scattered about on the ground; the other guide sat
facing him.

"The children of the West," replied Belbeis, watching the puffs of
smoke as he emitted them from his mouth, "are not used to the
Egyptian sun and the sand of the desert. It is hard for them, but
they are good men, their hearts are big. The horses are what I most
fear."

"Yes," put in the guide, "the Arab courser is as the wind in the
desert, he never tires, and nothing can travel like him."

"You are right," said George, gazing admiringly at his own mount,
c