"_Ah, sacres cochons!_" shouted Leclair, emptying his pistol at the
pursuers. The Master thrust him back. The door clanged shut; down
dropped another bar.
Bohannan laughed madly. The fighting-blood was leaping in his veins.
"Oh, the grand fight!" he shouted. "God, the grand old fight!"
Confused voices, crying out in Arabic, wheeled the Master from the
door.
This inner chamber, very much smaller than the outer, was well lighted
by still more lamps, though here all were of chased silver.
At the far end, four dim figures were visible. Black faces peered in
wonder. The Legionaries caught sight of giant simitars, of fluttering
white robes as the figures advanced.
"By Allah!" a hoarse shout echoed. "Look, Mustapha! The Feringi!"
In the shadows at the other end, the amazed Maghrabi swordsmen
hesitated one precious moment. White-rimmed eyes stared, teeth gleamed
through distorted lips.
These gigantic _mudirs_, or Keepers of the Treasure, had expected the
opening of the door to show them the Feringi, indeed, but preceded by
Bara Miyan and surrounded by men of Jannati Shahr.
Now they beheld the dogs of unbelievers all alone, there, with guns in
hands, with every sign of battle.
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