The Master, however, wise in the psychology of the Arab, only
laughed.
"This is very old magic," said he. "It is told of in the second
chapter of Al Koran, entitled 'The Cow;' only when Ibrahim did this
magic he used four birds. Well, Bara Miyan, command thine _imams_ to
do this ancient magic!"
The sharp click of a switch on the control-board sounded as the imams
picked up the little, red-dripping bundles. Silently they threw these
into the air and--all three dropped back to earth again, just as they
had risen.
A growl burst, involuntarily, from the Olema's corded throat. The
growl echoed through the massed horsemen. Bara Miyan's hand went to
the butt of his pistol, half glimpsed under his jacket. That hand
fell, numb.
"Look, O Sheik!" exclaimed the Master, pointing. The Olema turned;
and there on the highest minaret of gold, the green flag had begun
smoldering. As Brodeur adjusted his ray-focusser, the banner of the
Prophet burst into bright flame, and went up in a puff of fire.
Only by setting teeth into his lip could the Sheik repress a cry. Dark
of face, he turned to the Master. Smiling, the Master asked:
"Perhaps now, O Bara Miyan, thou wouldst ask thine _imams_ to plant
a date-stone, and make it in a few minutes bear fruit, even as the
Prophet himself did? Try, if thou hast better fortune than with the
birds! But have care not to be led into committing sin, as with these
birds--for remember, thou hast shed blood and life hath not returned
again, and El Barr is sacred from the shedding of blood!"
His tone was well calculated to make the lesson sink well to the
Olema's heart--a valuable lesson for the Legion's welfare.
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