Two of the chief's men, disguised as Turks, were left behind to enter the town and keep an eye upon the condition of affairs there.
The chief of course took command of the party.
He seemed to make Thyra the especial object of his care.
It was evidently a case of "love at first sight" towards her who had been, with equal suddenness, smitten with Jack Harkaway.
And both attachments were equally hopeless.
In some parts the path was so narrow that it was with difficulty they could squeeze through it.
This rugged path proved particularly difficult to Mr. Mole, whose head was, as usual, not entirely free from the fumes of alcohol, and whose ungovernable legs still insisted upon going all ways but the right one.
But his Arab friends occasionally assisted his progress by prodding him in the back with their long spears, a species of incitement he could well have dispensed with, but which they insisted upon affording.
The poor orphan, too, was, as usual, bowed down with weight of woe.
"Oh, what a cold I am having," he exclaimed, pathetically, feeling for his pocket handkerchief. "It's tumbling into that fountain that did it. Oh, dear, what shall I do? It will be my death, I know it will."