They are under a desperate leader, the Tiger of the Desert."

At this Monsieur Constans utters a low cry.

"He means Bab Azoun, ze terrible gate-way of death."

Mustapha again nods, and John resumes his cross-questioning with a
lawyer's tact.

"Were our friends injured?"

"Not seriously. They fight well. The soldier threatens to kill all, but
they do not allow him to do it."

"Brave Blunt; he deserves a Victoria cross. But where were you,
Mustapha?"

The Arab hangs his face; he looks sheepish.

"I come up just when all was over. They twenty against one. It would be
foolish for me to try and fight. I believe I can do better; so I watch,
I follow, I learn much."

John cannot restrain his feelings. He seizes the Arab's dusky hand and
shakes it with real Chicago ardor.

"Mustapha, you're a jewel. Go on. Where did you go at the time of the
accident?"

"Bismallah! I was after him, the cause of it all--him, who entered into