Sinopsis

YAR AM squinted carefully down the blue barrel of his Lee-Enfield, called devoutly on Allah and sent a bullet through the brain of a flying rider. "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 accurate rifle-range, as if in council.