The plans of the Arabian guide are soon made manifest, for he signifies his intention of securing a sentry who paces up and down outside the old mine.
If he were a baby he could not have made less resistance.

John would have been amazed only that he has been forewarned.

It is not the guard's policy to attempt an outcry--undoubtedly he has had his orders.
"Well ?" says Mustapha, after the fellow has been tied up, and prevented from making an outcry.
"I believe we can capture the whole outfit at that rate.

I feel equal to twenty myself.

They must have taken some drug; they have no more life than a mummy from the pyramids." The Arab grins as though he enjoys the joke.
"It is coming, prepare to see the mighty Frank's wonderful work." Even as he speaks, they hear loud shouts within the old mine--shouts that would indicate an upheaval--shouts from Arab lips, that echo from the Kabyle throats.
They seem to indicate astonishment--fear.
Above them rises the bellow of a Briton, rushing to the fray with the eagerness of an infuriated bull.
Oh, it is grand!--it is beautiful to see that one man hurl himself on half a dozen! Fear--he knows not the meaning of the word it seems--his opponents monopolize that.
John, looking in, is delighted with the spectacle, and laughs to himself as he sees how remarkably deadly are all Sir Lionel's shots.