The Taharan took the "magic glasses" with awe. Never could he outgrow the superstitious terror that they aroused.
"They won't hurt you," laughed Dan. "Take a chance! You saw me use them."
"Yet they are strong magic. I fear them because I do not understand."
"It's all right. They are harmless to you. Look!" And as Dick helped him to focus the binoculars, Raal cried out in amazement.
"Ah-woe, ah-woe! I see warriors!—Or demons, mounted on horses! The magic brings them close! Ah-woe!"
Dick took the glasses and thought he could make out what the sharp-eyed savage had seen.
"Arabs!" he gasped. "A wild tribe of nomads!"
"Arabs, Master?"
Raal did not know what he was talking about. Never had raiding Arabs found this spot so far from the caravan trails. In the history of the tribe, no strangers had ever visited the land until the airplanes had brought Dick and those others from the sky. Yet with the instinct of the savage, Raal was quick to grasp the idea of a raid by enemies.
"Arabs! If they be men, we will fight them!"