CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MODERN LEONIDAS.
Mustapha Cadi, like most Arabs, possesses many of the properties that in times gone by distinguished our American Indians.
The signs of the desert and mountains are like an open book to him, and he is quite at home in an undertaking of this sort, a mission requiring energy and daring, as well as caution.
So, without much apparent trouble, he leads the young Chicagoan along. Sometimes the way is difficult, indeed, impossible in John's eyes, but the Arab knows the secret, and finds a passage where none appears to exist.
Thus they advance for nearly an hour. John imagines they have gone farther than is the case. This is on account of the rough ground.
"Now, caution. We draw near the place. They will be on the watch. Monsieur knows what discovery means."
"Yes—death. That is understood, but it does not prevent me from desiring to advance. Still we will redouble our caution."
They see lights. These appear to come from openings in the hill, doubtless mouths of the deserted mines, which the robber band of Bab Azoun occupy temporarily, with their accustomed boldness.