Kurul had come through with only slight scratches and was in attendance as his body guard.
"I need no guard," said Dick. "You Kurul, take six of the fleetest warriors and hunt in the hills for game. Before sunset we will all eat and drink to build up our strength and as soon as it is dark we will strike a blow that will rid the land of our enemies."
With all these preparations for battle, the day passed swiftly. Dick's main worry was that Jess Slythe might appear in his stolen monoplane and drop bombs upon the tribesmen as he had done before. Of course his fears might be groundless. Dick was not sure whether the fellow was still alive or whether his plane had crashed in the desert, but until he was assured of the man's death, he would have reason to fear him. If Slythe should reappear and drop grenades on the tribesmen, that would give the Arabs a chance to storm the cliffs without resistance, and would lead to the destruction of the natives and his own death as well.
But the treacherous flyer was busy elsewhere, it seemed, for the Meteorite did not appear, and as the sun sank low, Dick breathed more freely and gave orders for the last meal before the battle.
Down in the Arab camp, Abdul and Suli were also watching anxiously for the plane and cursing Jess Slythe, who had disappointed them.
"By the beard of the Prophet!" cried the Arab chief, "that dog has betrayed us."
"What trickery can he be up to?" mused Suli, staring for the hundredth time at the heavens.
"Allah alone knows what the knave is doing! But it is for no profit but his own."
"How can he expect us to storm these cliffs without his help?" exclaimed Abdul.
"We would be crushed by stones and pierced by arrows," said Suli. "Nothing for it but to wait until tomorrow. Today, it is too late to even try."