There he checked himself, revolver in mid-air, eyes wide with astonishment.
This way and that he peered, squinting with eyes that did not understand.
"_Nom de Dieu!_" ejaculated Leclair, at his side.
"_Wallah_!" shouted Rrisa, furiously.

"Oh, may Allah smite their faces!" Each man, as he leaped to the rampart top, stood transfixed with astonishment.

Most of them cried out in their native tongues.
Their amazement was well-grounded.

Not an Arab was to be seen.

Of all those Beni Harb, none remained--not even the one shot by the Master.
The sand on the dune was cupped with innumerable prints of feet in rude _babooshes_ (native shoes), and empty cartridges lay all about.
But not one of the Ahl Bayt, or People of the Black Tents, was visible.
"Sure, now, can you beat that ?" shouted Bohannan, exultantly, and waved his service cap.