"The axe!"
"The axe, the axe!"
The terrifying shouts of the Taharans, charging upon the Arabs, drowned out the battle cry of, "Allah il Allah."
Hand to hand the Stone-Age men struggled fiercely with the Bedouins, leaping at them like wild cats, pulling them from their mounts, swinging their keen-edged hatchets of flint and their short knives of stone with deadly effect.
All the advantage of gunpowder and horses was lost in that battle in the dark.
The Arabs fought madly with their swords and daggers, but such weapons were not much more effective than the stone knives and axes. Therefore the Arabs began to give away, for their raid had been upon supposedly weak tribesmen, and instead they were facing better fighters than themselves.
Yet stubbornly they fought on. There was nothing else to do—a case of kill or be killed.
"Give it to 'em!" cried Dick.
"Give 'em the axe," shouted Dan.
"Let out your bull-roaring voice," said Dick to Raal. "Call the Gorols to join in!"