Easy now, you rascal.

Whoa, whoa!" Fortunately for Philander the horse follows the lead of the others, and the professor is not left behind.
All seems working well.
Sir Lionel, the undaunted veteran, can afford to smile.

Success is apparently assured, for they have gone some little distance, and only now do the clamorous sounds from their rear indicate a commotion.
Pursuit may be made, but it will be useless, as they are not many miles from the walls of Algiers, which will give them shelter.
It looks like a big success, and surely after the wonderful events of this night Lady Ruth cannot ignore the claims he presents.

She must fall into the arms of the hero who has rescued her from the Arab host.
So probably he reasons.
But fate hits the man of valor a cruel blow, and that just when it seems as though he has success between his fingers.
It happens naturally enough.

At the time a portion of Bab Azoun's piratical band chanced to be separated from the main body, and were under orders to join them at the Metidja mines.
Coming up the slope, they are amazed to see a little band of pilgrims advancing, lashing their plugs of horses desperately, in the hope of making good time.
The fatal moonlight betrays the fact that this little party is made up of the hated Franks, and hearing the tremendous commotion that has now arisen in the direction of the cavern, it is easy to line up the case, and conclude that the party has escaped.
Hence it is that all of a sudden Sir Lionel finds himself in the midst of half a dozen Arab riders, who bar farther progress.
It is the unexpected that happens.
He attempts the same system of tactics that were so successful in the previous difficulty, but they do not pass current with these fierce men.
Immediately the two Franks are set upon by the desert tigers.