en. In its
center, Abd-el-Kader was stripping to his waist, meanwhile laughingly
shouting his confidence to his Ouled Touameur tribesmen and to the other
Chaambra of fighting age. No one seemed to doubt the final issue.
Beneath his white burnoose he wore a gandoura of lightweight woolen
cloth and beneath that a longish undershirt of white cotton, similar to
that of the Tuareg but with shorter and less voluminous sleeves. This
the desert fighter retained.

Crawford stripped down too, nude to the waist. His body was in excellent
trim, muscles bunching under the ebony skin. A Haratin servant came up
bearing El Aicha's sword.

Homer Crawford pulled it from the scabbard. It was of scimitar type, the
weapon which had once conquered half the known world.

From within the huge circle of men, Abd-el-Kader swung his own blade in
flashing arcs and called out something undoubtedly insulting, but which
was lost in the babble of the multitude.

"Well, here we go," Crawford grunted. "You fellows better station
yourselves around just on the off chance that those Ouled Touameur
bully-boys don't like the decision."

"We'll worry about that," Abe said unhappily. "You just see you get out
of this in one piece. Anything happens to you and the head office'll
make me head of this team--and frankly, man I don't want the job."

Homer grinned at him, and began pushing his way through to the center.

* * * * *

The Arab cut a last switch in the air, with his whistling blade and
started forward, in practiced posture. Homer awaited him, legs spread
slightly, his hands extended slightly, the sword held at the ready but
with point low.

Abe Baker growled, unhappily, "He said he didn't know anything about the
swords, and the way he holds it bears him out. That Arab'll cut Homer to
ribbons. Maybe we ought to do something about it." As usual, under
stress, he'd dropped his beatnik patter.

Elmer Allen looked at him. "Such as what? There are at least three
thousand of these tribesmen chaps here watching their favorite sport.
What did you have in mind doing?"

Abd-el-Kader hadn't remained the victor of a score of similar duels
through making such mistakes as underestimating his foe. In spite of the
black stranger's seeming ignorance of his weapon, the Arab had no
intention of being sucked into a trap. He advanced with care.

His sword darted forward, quickly, experimentally, and Homer Crawford
barely caught it