The Mythos Tales
““Allaho akbar!”
The big Afghan shouted in glee, waving his weapon above his head, “God is great! By Allah, sahib, I have sent another one of the dogs to Hell!”
His companion peered cautiously over the rim of the sand-pit they had scooped with their hands. He was a lean and wiry American, Steve Clarney by name.
“Good work, old horse,” said this person. “Four left. Look–they’re drawing off.”
The white-robed horsemen were indeed reining away, clustering together just out of accurat...e rifle-range, as if in council. There had been seven when they had first swooped down on the comrades, but the fire from the two rifles in the sand-pit had been deadly.
“Look, sahib–they abandon the fray!”
Yar Ali stood up boldly and shouted taunts at the departing riders, one of whom whirled and sent a bullet that kicked up sand thirty feet in front of the pit.MoreLess
The big Afghan shouted in glee, waving his weapon above his head, “God is great! By Allah, sahib, I have sent another one of the dogs to Hell!”
His companion peered cautiously over the rim of the sand-pit they had scooped with their hands. He was a lean and wiry American, Steve Clarney by name.
“Good work, old horse,” said this person. “Four left. Look–they’re drawing off.”
The white-robed horsemen were indeed reining away, clustering together just out of accurat...e rifle-range, as if in council. There had been seven when they had first swooped down on the comrades, but the fire from the two rifles in the sand-pit had been deadly.
“Look, sahib–they abandon the fray!”
Yar Ali stood up boldly and shouted taunts at the departing riders, one of whom whirled and sent a bullet that kicked up sand thirty feet in front of the pit.MoreLess
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