been roused in a hurry, and mustering his troops, had hurried
off to the gaol.
"We shall have to fight for it, lads," cried Jack, drawing his Arab
sabre; "we must cut our way through them, or we're lost to a
certainty."
The Bedouins were prepared to follow their leader to the death.
The chief Zenaib, with his brother, Hadj Maimoun, led the desperate
enterprise, and the numbers of their followers were now increased by
all the escaped prisoners.
As they came rushing out, they were opposed by twice their number of
well-armed troops, whom they had to cut through as best they could.
It was a desperate conflict.
Hand-to-hand, cut-and-thrust, bullets discharged from pistols and
muskets, fierce charges with bayonets, continued for half an hour.
The confusion was dreadful, the noise deafening, numbers of men killed
and wounded on both sides making the result far more tragic than our
hero and his companion had ever anticipated or desired.
The prisoners fought to secure their liberty, the Arabs out of hatred
to the Turks, while Jack and Harry, with no particular animosity
against either party, now fought desperately in self-defence.
They received several severe cuts, and in a short time got entirely
separated from their friend Mole.
He, meantime, half propped up against the wall, was valorously holding
out against his former gaoler, who was trying to recapture him. At
length, the Arabs, finding it impossible to break their way through so
large a body of disciplined troops, fell back, and their destruction
would have been inevitable.
But, at this moment, one of the half-escaped prisoners called out that
he had discovered a back entrance, on the other side of a building,
through which they might all make their exit.
The Arab chief accordingly ordered an immediate retreat.
The Turkish soldiers, seeing this manoeuvre, gave chase to them, whilst
others were ordered round to intercept their flight at the back.
Jack and Harry having returned to Mole, took him between them; each one
holding an arm, they got along as swiftly as the cork legs and feet of
the _ci-devant_ pasha would allow.
But as ill-luck would have it, on emerging from one of the alleys, they
met the detachment of Turkish soldiers, who at once rushed upon them.
The whole three gave themselves up for lost.
Mole at length stumbled, and fell heavily to the ground.
"Save yourselves at once," he groaned. "Don't mind me; I'm done for, I
can
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