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Updated: May 11, 2025
But now he took his course again, as he had intended to do from the Legion's fire; and presently rifle work from the Arabs, too, verified, his direction. The Master smiled. Leclair fingered the butt of his revolver. Rrisa whispered curses: "Ah, dog-sons, may you suffer the extreme cold of El Zamharir!
His eye was sparkling now, his face was pale and drawn with anger; and the blood-soaked cotton and collodion gave a vivid touch of color to the ensemble. That the Master had emotions, after all, was evident. Obvious, too, was the fact these emotions were now fully aroused. "What a devil of a place! No way to get at those dog-sons, and they can lie there and wait for Nissr to break up!"
"There goes a tray of blanks," said the Master. "Perhaps that will rout them out, eh? Once we can get them on the run " Leclair laughed scornfully. "Those dog-sons will not run from blanks, no, nor from shotted charges!" he declared. Ah, 'these dogs bare their teeth to fight more willingly than to eat. It will come to hot work soon, I think!"
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