The Flying Legion Part 51

Bara Miyan's arm grew rigid, quivered a second, then dropped inert.

From his paralyzed hand the simitar fell to the gra.s.s. Brodeur threw off the ray; and the Master, unsmiling, stooped, picked up the blade and with a salaam handed it back, hilt-first, to the old man.

Only with his left hand could Bara Miyan accept it. He spoke no word, neither did any murmur run through the ma.s.sed hors.e.m.e.n. But the shadow of a deep astonishment could not quite veil itself in the profound caverns of the old man's eyes.

"Strike again, Bara Miyan," invited the Master. "The other arm, perhaps, may not have lost its cunning!"

The Olema shook his head.

"No, by Allah!" he replied. "I know thy magic can numb the flesh, and it is a good magic. It is strong. But by the rising of the stars--and that is a great oath--the bullets of our long rifles can pierce thine unbelieving body!"

"Then bring six of thy best riflemen and station them a dozen paces from me," the Master challenged. "Let them look well to their cartridges. It is not I who load the guns with bullets made of soft black-lead, as the _Effendi_ Robert-Houdin did long ago to the confusion of the Marabouts in Algeria. No, let thy men load their own rifles. But," and his voice grew mocking, "let their aim be good.

Death is nothing, O Bara Miyan, but clumsy shooting means much pain."

His tone galled the aged Sheik, despite that impa.s.sive exterior. Bara Miyan beckoned, and with a command brought six riflemen from their horses.

"Load well, and shoot me this Frank!" exclaimed the Olema. A fire was burning in his eyes.

"_Aywa_!" (Even so!) replied one of the riflemen. "Allah will make it easy for us!"

"Have no fear, Bara Miyan," another said. "Not so easily shall El Kisa (the People of the Garment) be overcome by the Feringi!"

Tension held Arabs and Legionaries, alike. All remained calm, though had you watched "Captain Alden," you would have seen her fingers twisting together till the blood almost started through the skin.

The Master walked a few paces, turned and faced the squad.

"Ready, men of Jannati Shahr?" asked he, with a smile.

"We are ready, Unbeliever!"

"Then fire!"

Up came the rifles. Brodeur turned a knurled disk, and from one of the boxes on the gra.s.s 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 _cad_ 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 impa.s.sivity, returned to their horses and mounted again. At another call of Bara Miyan, three _imams_ came from among the hors.e.m.e.n. 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 gra.s.s. In not more than two minutes, a slight fluttering became visible. This increased and grew more agitated. One by one, the _imams_ gathered up the cloths, opened them and exhibited three bluish-black birds with vivid scarlet crests.

The Master nodded.

"It is an old trick," said he, indifferently. "I have seen hawks, much larger, come from under smaller cloths even in the great _suk_ (market-place) at Cairo."

Bara Miyan made no answer. The _imams_ drew knives from their belts of plaited goat-hide, and without more ado severed the birds' heads.

This the Legionaries saw with perfect distinctness. The blood on the feathers was entirely visible. The bodies quivered. Calmly the _imams_, with reddened hands, now cut wings and legs from the bodies.

They laid these dead fragments on the blood-stained cloths in front of them.

"Let every Frank behold!" exclaimed the Olema. The Legionaries drew near. The _imams_ gathered up the fragments in the cloths.

"Now," said the Master, "thine _imams_ will toss these cloths in the air, and three whole birds will fly away. The cloths will fall to earth, white as snow. Is that not thy magic?"

Bara Miyan glowered at him with evil eyes. Not yet had his self-control been lost; but this mocking of the unbeliever had kindled wrath. 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, ent.i.tled '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 ma.s.sed hors.e.m.e.n. Bara Miyan's hand went to the b.u.t.t 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. But the Olema only replied:

"The blood of believers is meant. Not of animals--or Franks!"

"And wilt thou make further trial with me?" demanded the Master.

"No, by the Prophet! It is enough!" The Master's soul warmed toward the honesty of this bluff old Arab. "Thy magic is good magic. Give me thy salt, Frank, and take mine!"

The Master signaled to Brodeur as he drew forth his bag of salt. He stretched it out in his open palm; and all at once, bag, hand, and arm up to the elbow enveloped themselves in a whirling mist and vanished from sight, even as the Master's whole body had vanished in the cabin when Leclair had tried to arrest him.

The Sheik's eyes grew white-rimmed with astonishment. Vaguely he groped for the Frank's hand, then let his own fall limp.

"_Allahu akbar!_" he gasped.

The Master nodded at Brodeur. The droning of the apparatus ceased, and again the hand became visible.

"Faith!" the major's voice was heard. "We've landed half a dozen home runs, and they've never even got to second!"

"Come, O Bara Miyan!" the Master smiled. "Now we will put away the things of magic, and talk the words of men. Here is my salt!"

The Sheik gingerly accepted a pinch, and with much misgiving put it into his mouth. He produced salt of his own, which the Master tasted.

"It is done," said the Master. "Now thou and I are _akhawat. Nahnu malihin._" (We have eaten salt.)