turned the barrel of his Tommy-Noiseless to the first of the half
tracks. Already Arab Union troopers were debouching from them, some
firing at random and at unseen targets. However, the so-called Enaden
smiths were well concealed, their weapons silenced except for the
explosion of the tiny shells upon reaching their target.

It wasn't much of a fight. The recoilless automatic rifle manned by
Elmer Allen and Kenny Ballalou swept the wadi, swept it of life, at
least, but hardly swept it clean. What few individuals were left, in
what little shelter was to be found in the dry river's bottom, were
picked off easily, if not neatly by the high velocity automatics in the
hands of Abe Bakr and Bey-ag-Akhamouk.

Afterwards, the five of them, standing at the side of the wadi, stared
down at their work.

Elmer Allen muttered a bitter four-letter obscenity. He had once headed
a pacifist group at the University in Kingston, Jamaica. Now his teeth
were bared, as they always were when he went into action. He hated it.

Of them all, Bey-ag-Ahkamouk was the least moved by the slaughter. He
grumbled, "Guns, explosives, mortar, flame throwers. If there is
anything in the world my people don't need in the way of _aid_, it's
weapons."

"Our people," Homer Crawford said absently, his eyes--taking in the
scene beneath them--empty, as though unseeing. He hated the need for
killing, almost as badly as did Elmer Allen.

Bey looked at him, scowling slightly, but said nothing. There had been
mild rebuke in his leader's voice.

"Well," Abe Bakr said with a tone of mock finality in his voice, as
though he was personally wiping his hands of the whole affair, "how are
you going to explain all this jazz to headquarters, man?"

Homer said flatly, "We were attacked by this unidentified group of, ah,
gun runners, from some unknown origin. We defended ourselves, to the
best of our ability."

Elmer Allen looked at the once human mess below them. "We certainly
did," he muttered, scowling.

"Crazy man," Abe said, nodding his agreement to the alibi.

The others didn't bother to speak. Homer Crawford's unit was well knit.

He said after a moment. "Abe, you and Kenny get some dynamite and plant
it in this wadi wall in a few spots. We'll want to bury this whole mess.
It wouldn't do for someone to come along and blow himself up on some of
these scattered land mines, or find himself a bazooka or something to
use on his nearest blood-feud neighbor."