A shout broke from some twenty-five throats.

The men leaped up, forward, slipping, staggering in the fine sand, among the bunches of dried grass.

But forward they drove, and broke into a ragged, sliding charge up the breast of the dunes.
"Hold your fire, men! Hold it--then give 'em Hell!" the Master shouted.

He was in the first wave of the assault.

Close by came Rrisa, his brown face contracted with fanatic hate of the Beni Harb, despoilers of the Haram sanctuary.
There, too, was "Captain Alden," grim with masked face.