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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


"Well, men," the Master laughed dryly, "here they are! Here are the
jewels of Jannati Shahr. Old Bara Miyan would probably have given us a
peck or two of them, for Myzab and the Great Pearl Star and the Black
Stone, if those hadn't been destroyed--"
"How do you know they've been destroyed?" the major cried. "How do you
know but what we'll be rescued, here?"
"If the bombardment had been going to begin, I think we'd have heard
something of it, by now. My judgment tells me there'll be no explosive
dropped on Jannati Shahr.
"We've got to fight this thing through, unaided. And at any rate, we
don't have to limit ourselves to a peck or two of jewels. We've got
them all, now--or they've got us!"
The irony of his tone made no impression on Bohannan. His mercurial
temperament seemed to have gone quite to pieces, in view of the hoard.
He cried:
"Come on, then, boys! Fill up!"
And with a wild laugh he began scooping the gems, hap-hazard, into the
pockets of his torn, battle-stained uniform. Jewels of fabulous price
escaped his fingers, like so many pebbles in a sand-pit, and fell
clicking to the golden floor. With shaking hands the major dredged
into the pit before him, mad with a very frenzy of greed.


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