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. A man falls
every time he pulls trigger; if he rushes at a fellow, so great is the
fear his awful presence inspires that the wretched Arab sinks down and
actually expires through fright.

The doctor has seen some wonderful stage fights, but the equal of this,
never. He laughs, yet finds himself almost stupefied with amazement.
Truly, the Victoria cross would well become this remarkable hero.