The Liu Sha
are not the sand you find elsewhere. They are the marching sands."
Gray smiled. He was progressing, in his search for information, from one riddle to another.
"You mean the dust that moves with the wind," he hazarded.
Mirai Khan made a decisive, guttural denial. "Not so. It is the will of Allah that moves the sands. Once there was a city that sinned"
"And a holy mullah." Gray recalled the legend Delabar had related on the steamer. "He alone escaped the dust that fell from the sky. It was long ago. So that is your liu sha!"
The hunter's slant eyes widened in astonishment. "By the beard of my father! Are you a reader of the Koran, to know such things as this? Aye, it is so. The liu sha came because of a sin, and without doubt that is why the place is still inhabited of a plague. The Chinese priests bring men there—men who are already in the shadow of death."
"Then, Mirai Khan, there must be a city or an encampment, if many men live there."
"I have not seen it. Nor have those who talked to me."
"But you have not been there?"
"How should I—seeing that the place is inhabited of a sin? No Mohammedan will go there."
"What manner of sickness is this—the pale plague?"
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