Away on the growing sand-storm the wind whipped that laugh.

Simoom and sand now appeared forgotten by the trio.

Keen excitement had gripped them; it held them as they crouched above the Sheik.
"Allah is being good to us!" exulted the Master, peering by the gale-driven fire-glare.

"This capture is worth more to the Legion than a hundred machine-guns.

What will not the orthodox tribes give for this arch-Shiah, this despoiler of the sacred Haram at Mecca ?" He began feeling in the bosom of the old man, opening the cloaklike burnous and exploring the neck and chest with eager fingers.
"If we could only lay hands on the fabled loot of the Haram!" he whispered, his voice tense with excitement.
Rrisa, wide-eyed, with curling lips of scorn, peered down at the Sheik.