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The man blinked into the glare, across which sand-devils of whirlwinds were once more gyrating over a whiteness ending in dunes that seemed to be peppered with camel-grass. Another mirage! Grass could grow only near the coast. And now that they had both been tortured to death by Jannati Shahr men and been flung into Jehannum, how could there be any coast? It seemed so preposterous.
"The Great Pearl Star, the sacred loot from the Haram?" "Kaukab el Durri, M'almé. The Great Pearl Star itself!" With hands that quivered in unison with his nerves, now no longer impassive, the strange chief of this still stranger expedition took from Rrisa the leather sack. Over the top of the wady a million sand-devils were screeching.
These lumps were covered with tiny black inscriptions in archaic Cufic characters; though what the significance of these might be, the Master could not in that gloom and howling drive of the sand-devils even begin to determine. The whole adornment, as it lay in the Master's palm, typified the Orient.
Only a few minutes more brought them, with surprising suddenness, to the end of the Legionaries' trench. Trench it no longer was, however. All the paltry digging had been swiftly filled in by the sand-devils; and now the men were lying under the lee of the dunes, protecting themselves as best they could with the tunics of their uniforms over their heads.
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