That appeal was enough to arouse the chivalry in Frank’s nature. Swinging her to one side, he drew a revolver.
“Stand off!” he ordered, sternly.
“And keep off!” squealed Ephraim, as he let his clinched fist shoot out and catch one of the men under the ear.
It was a heavy blow, and the old Moor was knocked down in a twinkling.
A roar went up from all sides, and a rush was made for the two lads, who found themselves surrounded by a furious and raging mob.
It had come about with marvelous swiftness, so that even Frank was a trifle bewildered.
Some of the mob brandished daggers and scimiters, and all seemed thirsting for the blood of the two youths.
The old fellow who had been knocked down got upon his feet, waved his arms, and shouted forth an order.
In the twinkling of an eye, the lads found themselves overwhelmed. The revolver was dashed from Frank’s hand, the girl was torn from his grasp, and he received a blow that staggered and dazed him.
Ephraim was used no less severely.