The Master walked a few paces, turned and faced the squad.
"Ready, men of Jannati Shahr?" asked he, with a smile.
"We are ready, Unbeliever!"
"Then fire!"
Up came the rifles. Brodeur turned a knurled disk, and from one of the boxes on the grass a sudden, whining hum arose, like millions of angry hornets.
"Fire!" repeated the Master.
Six rifle-hammers fell with dull clicks. Nothing more.
The Master smiled in mockery.
"O Bara Miyan," said he, "let thy men reload and fire again! Perhaps the sweat of a great anxiety hath wet their powder!"
"Thou must indeed be Khalil Allah" (a friend of Allah), he admitted. "No doubt thou art a great caïd in thy own country. It is strong magic, Frank. But now behold what mine imams can do!"