young people," Abd-el-Kader pressed on, "stripped of our former
way of life, go to the new projects, enroll in the schools, take work in
the new oases or on the roads, and disappear from the sight of their
kinsmen." He came to a sudden halt and all but glared at them,
maintaining his silence until El Aicha stirred.

"And--?" El Aicha said. This was all obviously but preliminary.

Abd-el-Kader spoke softly now, and there was a different drama in his
voice. "And now," he said, "the French are gone. All the Rouma, save a
handful, are gone. In the south the English are gone from the lands of
the blacks, such as Nigeria and Ghana, Sierra Leone and Gambia. The
Italians are gone from Libya and Somaliland and the Spanish from Rio de
Oro. Nor will they ever return for in the greatest council of all the
Rouma they have decided to leave Africa to the African."

They all stirred again and some muttered and Abd-el-Kader pushed his
point. "The Chaambra are warriors born. Never serfs! Never slaves! Never
have we worked for any man. Our ancestors carved great empires by the
sword." His voice lowered again. "And now, once more, it is possible to
carve such an empire."

He swept his eyes about their circle. "Chiefs of the Chaambra, there is
no force in all the Sahara to restrain us. Let others work on the roads,
planting the new trees in the new oases, damming the great Niger, and
all the rest of it. We will sweep over them, and dominate all. We, the
Chaambra, will rule, while those whom Allah intended to drudge, do so.
We, the Chosen of Allah, will fulfill our destiny!"

* * * * *

Abd-el-Kader left it there and crossed his arms on his chest, staring at
them challengingly.

Finally El Aicha directed his eyes across the circle of listeners at two
who had sat silently through it all, their burnooses covering their
heads and well down over their eyes. He said, "And what do you say to
all this?"

"Time to go into your act, man," Abe Bakr muttered, under his breath.

Homer Crawford came to his feet and pushed back the hood of the
burnoose. He looked over at the headman of the Ouled Touameur warrior
clan, whose face was darkening.

In Arabic, Crawford said, "I have sought you for some time,
Abd-el-Kader. You are an illusive man."

"Who are you, Negro?" the fighting man snapped.

Crawford grinned at the other. "You look as though you have a bit of
Negro blood in your own veins. In fact, I doubt if t