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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


Treachery was now not greatly to be feared. Even had the salt not
held, fear of the explosive would restrain any hostile move. One stick
of the new compound, exploded at a safe distance by wireless spark,
had utterly demolished the stone which had been brought from the
watercourse.
The plain statement given Bara Miyan that the Myzab and the Black
Stone must be left on the grass until the Feringi had again flown away
toward their own country, had duly impressed the Arabs. They had seen
two sticks of the explosive laid on the holy objects, and well had
understood that any treachery would result in the annihilation of the
most sacred objects of their faith.
The Master felt, as well he might, that he absolutely held the whip
hand of the Jannati Shahr people. Elation shone in his face and in the
faces of all. The problem now had simplified itself to just this:
What weight of jewels and of gold could _Nissr_, by jettisoning every
dispensable thing, whatsoever, carry out of El Barr, over the Iron
Mountains and the Arabian Desert, back to the civilization that would
surely make peace with the Legion which would bring such incalculable
wealth?
Even the Master's level head swam a little, and his cool nerves
tingled, as he sat on his galloping white horse, riding beside the
Olema, with the thunder of the rushing squadrons--Arabs and his own
men--like music of vast power in his ears.


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