Brodeur turned a knurled disk, and from one of the
boxes on the grass a sudden, whining hum arose, like millions of angry
hornets.
"_Fire_!" repeated the Master.
Six rifle-hammers fell with dull clicks. Nothing more.
The Master smiled in mockery.
"O Bara Miyan," said he, "let thy men reload and fire again! Perhaps
the sweat of a great anxiety hath wet their powder!"
"Thou must indeed be _Khalil Allah_" (a friend of Allah), he admitted.
"No doubt thou art a great _caid_ in thy own country. It is strong
magic, Frank. But now behold what mine _imams_ can do!"
The riflemen, disgruntled but still, Arab-like, holding their
impassivity, returned to their horses and mounted again. At another
call of Bara Miyan, three _imams_ came from among the horsemen. They
were dressed alike, in brilliant saffron _gandouras_, with embroidered
muslin turbans from under which hung _daliks_, or sacred plaits of
hair; and each carried a plain white cloth in his hand.
In complete silence they showed the Legionaries both sides of these
cloths, then spread them on the grass. In not more than two minutes,
a slight fluttering became visible. This increased and grew more
agitated.
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