“Allah! Allah!” cried the astounded Arabs. “The infidels are magicians! They have restored the dead to life! Ras al Had lives again!”
Some of them prostrated themselves in the dust. Others hastened to bring water.
Dick took a canteen and turned a little of the liquid between the lips of the injured man. He swallowed it greedily, coughed a little, and then lay gazing in a puzzled manner at the face of the American boy.
Finally, in very good English, he asked what had happened. His voice was weak and husky, yet his words were plain.
“You were struck by the train,” explained Merriwell. “Your camel was killed, and you seemed to be dead; but I think you are all right now.”
“For which you may thank this boy and his friend here,” said the husky chap, who had protected the boys. “To all appearances, you were as dead as old Mohammed; but they pumped the breath back into you in a hurry.”
Several of the Arabs now brought cushions, which were placed beneath the head and shoulders of the sheik. One of them spoke to him hurriedly in a low tone, and seemed telling him all about what had taken place. When this man had finished speaking the sheik made a gesture with his hand and bade him retire.
He then called for Dick.
“Be careful, Richard,” cautioned Professor Gunn. “These men are treacherous. There’s no telling what he means to do.”
Dick laughed and stepped nearer to the sheik.