here's a so-called
Arab in all North Africa, unless he's just recently arrived, whose
family hasn't down through the centuries mixed its blood with the local
people they conquered."

"You lie!"

Abe chuckled from the background. The Chaambra leader was at least as
dark of complexion as the American Negro. Not that it made any
difference one way or the other.

"We shall see who is the liar here," Homer Crawford said flatly. "You
asked who I am. I am known as Omar ben Crawf and I am headman of a team
of the African Development Project of the Reunited Nations. As you have
said, Abd-el-Kader, this great council of the headmen of all the nations
of the world--not just the Rouma--has decided that Africa must be left
to the Africans. But that does not mean it has lost all interest in
these lands. It has no intention, warrior of the Chaambra, to allow such
as you to disrupt the necessary progress Africa must make if it is not
to become a danger to the shaky peace of the world."

Abd-el-Kader's eyes darted about the tent. So far as he could see, the
other was backed only by his single henchman. The warrior chief gained
confidence. "Power is for those who can assert it. Some will rule. It
has always been so. Here in the Western Erg, the Chaambra will rule, and
I, Abd-el-Kader will lead them!"

Homer Crawford was shaking his head, almost sadly it seemed. "No," he
said. "The day of rule by the gun is over. It must be over because at
long last man's weapons have become so great that he must not trust
himself with them. In the new world which is still aborning so that half
the nations of earth are in the pains of labor, government must be by
the most wise and most capable."

In a deft move the sub-machine gun's sling slipped from the desert man's
shoulder and the short, vicious gun was in hand. "The strong will always
rule!" the Arab shouted. "Time was when the French conquered the
Chaambra, but the French have allowed their strength to ebb away, and
now, armed with such weapons as these, we of the Sahara will again
assert our birthright as the Chosen of Allah!"

Abe Baker chuckled. "That cat sure can lay on a speech, man." As though
magically, a snub-nosed hand weapon of unique design appeared in his
dark hand.

El Aicha's voice was suddenly strong and harsh. "There shall be no
violence at a djemaa el kebar."

Homer ignored the automatic weapon in the hands of the excited Arab. He
said, and there was still a sad quality