A cherry-red fire with golden sparks and crimson- bellied sulphur smoke was blazing in the midst of El-Kerak.
"The home of Abdul Ali of Damascus," said Anazeh with pride in his voice.

It was the pride of a man who shows off the behaviour of his children.

"My men did it!" "How can they escape ?" Grim asked him.
"Wallah! Will the gate guards stand idle?
Will they not run to the fire--and to the looting?
But they will find not much loot.
My men already have it!" "Loot," said Grim, "will delay them." "Money doesn't weigh much," Anazeh answered.

"Here my men come." Somebody was coming.

There came a burst of shooting and yelling from somewhere between us and El-Kerak, and a moment later the thunder of horses galloping full-pelt.