s razor edge on his own.

Save for his own four companions, the crowd laughed aloud. None among
them were so clumsy as this.

The Ouled Touameur chief was convinced. He stepped in fast, the blade
flicked in and out in a quick feint, then flicked in again. Homer
Crawford countered clumsily.

And then there was a roar as the American's blade left his hand and flew
high in the air to come to the ground again a score of feet behind the
desert swordsman.

For a brief moment Abd-el-Kader stepped back to observe his foe, and
there was mockery in his face. "So thy manhood has been spat upon by one
who fights only with his mouth! Almost, braggart, I am inclined to give
you your life so that you may spend the rest of it in shame. Now die,
unbeliever!"

Crawford stood hopelessly, in a semicrouch, his hands still slightly
forward. The Arab came in fast, his sword at the ready for the death
stroke.

[Illustration]

Suddenly, the American moved forward and then jumped a full yard into
the air, feet forward and into the belly of the advancing Arab. The
heavily shod right foot struck at the point in the abdomen immediately
below the sternum, the solar plexus, and the left was as low as the
groin. In a motion that was almost a bounce off the other's body,
Crawford came lithely back to his feet, jumped back two steps, crouched
again.

But Abd-el-Kader was through, his eyes popping agony, his body writhing
on the ground. The whole thing, from the time the Arab had advanced on
the disarmed man for the kill, hadn't taken five seconds.

His groans were the only sounds which broke the unbelieving silence of
the Chaambra tribesmen. Homer Crawford picked up the fallen leader's
sword and then strolled over and retrieved that of El Aicha. Ignoring
Abd-el-Kader, he crossed to where the tribal elders had assembled to
watch the fight and held out the borrowed sword to its owner.

El Aicha sheathed it while looking into Homer Crawford's face. "It has
still never been drawn to commit dishonor."

"My thanks," Crawford said.

Over the noise of the crowd which now was beginning to murmur its
incredulity at their champion's fantastic defeat, came the voice of Abe
Baker swearing in Arabic and yelling for a way to be cleared for him. He
was driving one of the hovercraft.

[Illustration]

He drew it up next to the still agonized Abd-el-Kader and got out
accompanied by Bey-ag-Akhamouk. Silently and without undue roughness
they picked up th