“We do,” answered Tamahu. “Tell thy lord that The Breath of the Wind decline to make submission to the French.”

“You intend attacking Metlili?” the officer enquired, thoughtfully, twirling his pointed moustache.

Our Sheikh nodded, his keen eyes watching the face of the infidel. The latter’s countenance grew grave, whereat we, standing around leaning on our spears, laughed in derision.

“Thou art of the great army of the infidels,” Tamahu said. “Yet thy face palest when we speak of conflict!”

The officer started, and knit his grey brows.

“I fear not thine host of Veiled Men, fierce and relentless though ye be. True, I am a soldier, but one thing alone I dread.”

“Thou. . . Read More