"Take him at his word, my Captain!" murmured Leclair. "We can get no
better terms. Even these are a miracle!"

"My opinion, exactly," replied the Master, still facing Bara-Miyan,
who had now stepped back a few paces and was flanked by two huge
Arabs, in robes hardly less chromatic, who had silently advanced.

"I accept," decided the Master. He turned, ordered Enemark and
L'Heureux to fetch out the Apostate, and then remained quietly
waiting. Silence fell on both sides, for a few minutes. The Arabs,
for the most part, remained staring at _Nissr_, to them no doubt the
greatest miracle imaginable. Still, minds trained to believe in
the magic carpet of Sulayman and quite virgin of any knowledge of
machinery, could easily account for the airship's flying by means of
_jinnee_ concealed in its entrails.

As for the Legionaries, their attention was divided between the
strange white host, still sitting astride those high-necked,
slim-barreled Nedj horses, and the luring glimmer of the golden walls.
In a few minutes, however, all attention on both sides was sharply
drawn by the return of the two Legionaries with the Apostate.

Without ado, the lean, wild man of the Sahara was led, in wrinkled
burnous, with disheveled hair, wild eyes, and an expression of
helpless despair, to where the Master stood. At sight of the massed
horsemen, the grassy plain--a sight never yet beheld by him--and the
distant golden, glimmering walls, a look of desperation flashed into
his triple-scarred face.

The whole experience of the past days had been a Jehannum of
incomprehensible terrors. Now that the climax was at hand, strength
nearly deserted him even to stand. But the proud Arab blood in him
flared up again as he was thrust forward, confronting Bara Miyan. His
head snapped up, his eyes glittered like a caged eagle's, the fine,
high nostrils dilated; and there he stood, captive but unbeaten, proud
even in this hour of death.

Bara Miyan made no great speaking. All he asked was:

"Art thou, indeed, that Shaytan called Abd el Rahman, the Reviler?"

The desert Sheik nodded with arrogant admission.

Bara Miyan turned and clapped his hands. Out from among the horsemen
two gigantic black fellows advanced. Neither one was Arab, though no
doubt they spoke the tongue. Their features were Negroid, of an East
African type.

The dress they wore distinguished them from all the others. They had
neither _tarboosh_ nor burnous, but simply red fezes; ti