"It ees good; we will live," echoes the Gaul.
"And rescue the prisoners of the desert tiger."
"How far away are these deserted mines?"
"About a mile."
"Among the hills on this side of the plain known as Metidja?"
"It is even so, illustrious Frank, on a line with that snowy peak, Djara Djura, which towers above the Atlas Mountains."
"Your plan, Mustapha—speak, for I know you have been considering it."
The courier places his hand on his chest and bows. Praise delights even the tympanum of an Arab, and flattery gains favors in the most unexpected quarter.
"Ciel! we are in the agony of suspense," declares the Frenchman, never once taking his eyes off the Arab's face.
"Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet. I am but as a grain of sand on the sea-shore. Let the praise be his."