And the Turk stopped in the midst of his speech to spit out a second handful which Mole, with good aim, had thrown into his mouth.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed the bystanders, as Mole tore away at his false beard till he had nearly stripped the framework, while the tormentors worked away at his feet with redoubled energy.
"Stop, stop," cried the pasha, for the men in their energy had exceeded even the fifty blows without knowing it, and seemed to be going on ad libitum, "stop; unbind and release the prisoner."
The two men, who were bathed in perspiration through their exertions, accordingly removed Mole's bonds, assisted him to his feet, and helped him put on his shoes.
"Prisoner," said the lieutenant, "your heroic conduct this day has won my deepest admiration. Be seated, and rest your poor feet, and then tell me something of your history."
"My poor feet will still support me, therefore I will not be seated, but standing thus," said Mole, stamping his cork feet on the ground, "will show you something wonderful."
CHAPTER LXXIX.
MOLE PASHA ASTONISHES THE NATIVES STILL MORE—THE ORDER OF THE GLASS BUTTON.
"I am all attention," replied the lieutenant.
"I came from a land," said Mr. Mole, with a grandiloquent flourish, "where we despise physical suffering."