on, friends; Hadj Maimoun shall be
free."

A wild shout of triumph rose from the Arabs.

In a few moments they had reached the cell indicated, where a young
Arab, in heavy chains, looked up at their entrance.

The chief recognised his brother.

"Strike off these chains, villain!" the Arab then commanded the gaoler.

The chains dropped off the young Arab, whereat his friends raised
another triumphant shout--

"Allah, Allah, Allah! Glory be to the Prophet. Hadj Maimoun is free."

By this time the prison was fairly in the hands of the victorious
invaders.

One man, however, managed to slip out, and made the best of his way to
the town to rouse the pasha and other officials.

CHAPTER LXXVIII.

THE RESCUE OF MOLE.

Mr. Mole's place of incarceration would have been difficult to find in
that large rambling old building, had not Jack, by similar threats to
those of the Arab chief, forced one of the gaolers to tell him the
number of the cell.

Armed with this information and a bunch of keys, Jack made his way to
the deepest dungeon, followed by the rest.

Mole's cell was the most remote, and therefore the last they came to.

"Mercy, mercy! don't kill an unfortunate prisoner, who has got three
wives somewhere about the world, and a lot of little black and white
children to look after!" cried Mr. Mole, still confused by the tumult
around him, and the ferocious aspect of the new-comers.

"Kill you, Mr. Mole; why, we've come to let you out," said the foremost
of the group, and he flung back the cowl of his Moorish cloak, thereby
revealing to Mole the startling fact, that instead of a murderous Arab,
it was young Jack Harkaway.

Harry was close to him.

A very few words now revealed to Mole the actual state of affairs.

"Oh, my boys, my boys," he exclaimed, "what I have suffered all through
you. But still, Jack, my boy, I was not afraid of them. No, my boy, I
intended to have fought to the last, and I have no doubt I should have
killed a dozen or two of 'em."

"No doubt, sir; but let us get out of this," said Jack. "Come on."

"But my hands are fastened with these heavy chains," said Mole.

"Bring a hammer and a chisel, you fellows," called out Jack, "and we'll
have 'em off in no time."

The ex-pasha was therefore operated upon, and in a few minutes the
chains were off, and Mole was nearly a free man--not quite free,
however, for by this time the whole neighbourhood was up in arms; the
pasha had