[CHAPTER XXXIII—On the Brink of Eternity]
The Black Dog folded his arms, threw back his head, and laughed.
The guide came wriggling like a snake, working himself forward upon his elbows and his knees, almost flat upon his face, which was little raised above the ground. His dark features were expressionless. Upon his countenance was visible no sign of triumph, no elation at a victory that was well within his grasp. As he came nearer and nearer his dark eyes never moved from the stern face of the Arab sheikh.
Then slowly he rose to his feet, bringing the butt of his rifle into the hollow of his shoulder.
"Bayram," said he in a deep voice, "make your peace with the Almighty God, for you are about to die!"
The Arab extended his arms in the direction of the east. Beyond the mountains, on the far horizon, the sun was setting in a glow of crimson glory. The great hills stood forth before the sunset like the thrones of giants, their irregular, rugged outline a deep leaden colour where they were not wrapped in gathering clouds.
The Black Dog lifted his voice so that it carried far across the valley.
"Without repentance," said he, "I go into the shades. I have sometimes acted unwisely, for human flesh is weak, and man cannot have the wisdom of Allah, whose prophet is Mohammed. But for such false steps as I have taken I am ready to pay the price. Come, fire, and have done with it! I do not fear to die."
There was no question that Fernando was about to fire, when Harry cried out in the nick of time.
"The Sunstone!" he exclaimed.