When the divine spark touches the heart, it causes men to do strange things.

Here is one who in times past has been very jealous of his honor, and would as soon cut off his hand as compromise himself.  Yet, reduced to sore straits by the success of a rival, he now descends the scale, and schemes as cleverly as any rascally adventurer.

The critical period draws near, and our military hero can scarce restrain his valor.  Indeed, he shows symptoms of wanting to rush out and annihilate the whole band of Arabs and Moors, but Lady Ruth restrains him, as though she is clever enough to see the folly of a move too premature.

It is a picturesque scene, and one that John will never forget.  The grotto alone has charming features, since the walls are white and incrusted with some metallic substance that shines like silver.

On either side can be seen giant stalactites dependant from the roof, looking like mighty columns to support the dome.

The fire and the torches illumine the scene, until it looks like one of enchantment.  The strange costumes of the nomads, with the various colors they boast, add to the romantic nature of the exposition, and his must be a poor soul, indeed, that fails to catch something of artistic fervor when such a picture appears in view.

There were twenty of Bab Azoun’s men present an hour before, but now only half of that number can be seen.

The remainder have mysteriously disappeared.  Things seem to be working to suit the desperate plans of the veteran Zulu fighter, and he will soon be in a condition to open the engagement.

There will doubtless be a battle.  John is lost in admiration of the genius that could prepare such a scene, such a triumph.  He does not anticipate that even if the Briton is successful in his plans, he will carry the heart of Lady Ruth by storm.

“We must move,” whispers Mustapha.

“Why?” asks John, desiring enlightenment.

“So as to be ready to take a hand in the grand affair,” is the reply.

Up to this moment it has not occurred to the young man from Chicago that he may be in a position to profit by this peculiar situation.

He smiles with the idea.

“Mustapha, I leave all in your hands.  Do with me as you please.”

“Then come.”

They quit the cleft, using great caution to prevent discovery.  The plans of the Arabian guide are soon made manifest, for he signifies his intention of securing a sentry who paces up and down outside the old mine.

If he were a baby he could not have made less resistance.  John would have been amazed only that he has been forewarned.  It is not the guard’s policy to attempt an outcry—­undoubtedly he has had his orders.

“Well?” says Mustapha, after the fellow has been tied up, and prevented from making an outcry.

“I believe we can capture the whole outfit at that rate.  I feel equal to twenty myself.  They must have taken some drug; they have no more life than a mummy from the pyramids.”