Silently they threw these into the air and--all three dropped back to earth again, just as they had risen.
A growl burst, involuntarily, from the Olema's corded throat.

The growl echoed through the massed horsemen.

Bara Miyan's hand went to the butt of his pistol, half glimpsed under his jacket.

That hand fell, numb.
"Look, O Sheik!" exclaimed the Master, pointing.

The Olema turned; and there on the highest minaret of gold, the green flag had begun smoldering.