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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"

In one
spot a naked brown arm and hand were projecting heavenward, out of the
sand-ocean, as if in mute appeal to Allah.
The Legionaries heaped sand on this grim bit of death, completely
burying it, and on the fluttering cloths. And as they peered abroad
across the desert, in the glory of morning, now nothing could be seen
to mind them of the fighting-men who, like the host of Sennacherib,
had been brushed by the death-angel's wing.
The jackals knew, though, and the skulking hyenas, already
sneaking in the _nullahs_; and so did the _rion_ and the yellow
_ukab_-birds--carrion-fowl, both--which already from the farthest
blue, had begun to wheel and volplane toward the coast.
Back on the beach, exultant, yet rather silent in the face of all that
death, the Legion at once got itself into action under the vigorous
command of the Master. Twenty-three men were still fit and active for
service; and both Enemark and Lebon would in a few days be of help.
"Man-power enough," thought the Master, as he laid out his campaign.
"The only troublesome factors, are, first, _Nissr's_ condition;
second, our lack of water and supplies; and third, the possibility of
interference from Arabs or European forces, by land or sea.


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