Now when you subject us to the slow torture of being pulled
apart by these horses, we hail death with delight as a relief to pain,
and your punishment has failed."

The Sheik scowled and said nothing.

"Where death comes quickly and without pain," continued Bouchardy, "the
desire to live is intense, and death is all that the utmost hate can ask
for as a revenge."

"Why do you point out these things to us?" asked the Sheik's vizier. "If
what you say is true, why do you point out to us a way to make your
punishment more terrible?"

"To show you how much wiser we Frenchmen are than you Arabs. To make you
see how hopeless is the design you witless Arabs cherish of driving the
wise French from the land. If my sorrow can accomplish anything for the
republic, I willingly endure it."

"Let them be shot, and at once," growled the Sheik.

"I crave a boon," said Bouchardy. "We have cured your painful foot, and
we have the right to ask a boon."

"If it be nothing that interferes with your death before the edge of the
sun touches the horizon it shall be granted."

"It is that we be shot with my revolver, and I be allowed to load it."

The revolver was loaded, and the Sheik himself stepped forth and aimed
it at Bouchardy.

Bang!

"Ha! ha!" laughed Bouchardy, and opening his mouth, he dropped out the
bullet.

Bang! went a second chamber of the revolver.

"Ha! ha!" laughed Bouchardy again, and again he dropped a bullet from
his mouth.

"Ha! ha!" chuckled a big dromedary at the right of the Sheik, and the
man turned in startled fright and fired at the animal.

"Ha! ha!" said the dromedary, and Bouchardy stepped up to it, and
opening its mouth, produced the bullet.

"Ha! ha!" said the dromedary. "Ha! ha!" said the donkey of the Sheik's
favorite wife. "Ha! ha!" said the horse of the vizier.

"Dogs, scoundrels, cowards!" sneered the dromedary.

Bang! But not the bang of the revolver, and the flint-lock of the vizier
was smoking, and the dromedary had fallen, and its life blood was
pouring out on the sand. Bang! bang! went other flint-locks. Bullets
whizzed by Bouchardy'a ears, and he did not take them out of his mouth.

"Hold!" came a voice from the mouth of the dying camel. "The curse of
Allah is on the tribe. He has loosed the Singing Sands from their place,
and they are sweeping over the desert to overwhelm you. Listen!"

Guns that had been raised to the position of aim were lowered,
half-drawn swords dropped