Yeb. Your man is with them, on foot, a prisoner."
"What's the trouble?" the Colonel questioned. "Are these people hostile?"
Cameron shook his head. "No; they've been quiet for years. Can't understand them. Nobody understands an Arab. We must run out there and take a look at them. I suggest that you remain"
"No. I shall go with you." The Colonel reached out to McDonald, who silently handed him a rifle.
"McDonald," he said, "I wish you would see that I get a horse. I couldn't shoot from a camel."
Messengers on swift camels were already padding away like the wind to summon Cameron's overseers—five stalwart British lads, sun-tempered and desert-wise, who would be worth a hundred of the fellaheen if it came to a brush. The Jaalins of Beni Yeb had learned promptitude from the Khalifah. Raid after raid had taught them to mount and vanish without delay—this tarteeb being followed with the precision of a fire-drill.
An even dozen white men, almost as brown as the Jaalins, fell in behind Cameron. The American, who felt that this was his quarrel, insisted upon riding in front. Horses, camels, don-
