All at once, as they came up over a breastwork of hard clay and gravel that heaved itself into rolling sands, the camp of the Beni Harb became visible.

Dim, brown and white figures were lying all about, distorted in strange attitudes, on the sand beyond the ridge.
There lay the despoilers of the Haram, the robber-tribe of Sheik Abd el Rahman, helpless in blank unconsciousness.
The Master laughed bitterly, as he strode forward into the camp, the long lines of which stretched vaguely away toward the coast where the fire was still leaping up against the stars, now paled with a strange haze.
Starlight showed weapons lying all about--long rifles and primitive flint-locks; _kanat_ spears of Indian male-bamboo tipped with steel and decorated with tufts of black ostrich-feathers; and _jambiyehs_, or crooked daggers, with wicked points and edges.
"Save your fire, men," said the Master picking up a spear.

"There are plenty of means, here, to give these dogs the last sleep, without wasting good ammunition.

Choose the weapon you can handle best, and fall to work!" With a curse on the heretic Beni Harb, and a murmur of thanks to Allah for this wondrous hour, Rrisa caught up a short javelin, of the kind called _mirzak_.

The lieutenant chose a wide-bladed sword.
"Remember only one thing, my brothers in arms!" exclaimed the Master.
"But that is most vital!" He spoke in Arabic.
"And what may it be ?" asked the Frenchman, in the same tongue.
"I do not know whether old Sheik Abd el Rahman is with this party or not, but if either of you find him, kill him not! Deliver him to me!" "Listen, Master!" exclaimed Rrisa, and thrust the point of his javelin deep into the sand.
"Well, what now, Rrisa ?" "Shall we, after all, kill these sleeping swine-brothers ?" "Eh, what?
Thy heart then, hath turned to water?
Thou canst not kill?
They attacked us--this is justice!" "And if they live, they will surely wipe us out!" put in the Frenchman, staring in the gloom.