The House of the Falcon
an occasional heap of copper and silver vessels, candlesticks, and glittering cloths.
"All good Mohammedans," said Monsey complacently.
"Then why are not they at sunrise prayers?" demanded Edith coldly, remembering the custom of the devout Moslems of Yakka Arik.
"Prayers?" Monsey stared at her in some surprise. "Oh, my fellows are well enough. They are Mohammedans now, because they are on a religious mission. If need be, I dare say they could be Jainists or other things—anything but Sayaks, sun-worshipers. Every Mohammedan hates a Sayak. Now, look there."
Below the wall on the side away from the cliff Edith could see that the moat had been dug out to a greater depth. In it was a tangle of dead tree branches, with many pointed stakes uprising from the ground.
"A lesson of the war," laughed the Russian. "Openings in the wall command that cursed ditch. My men could dig there without being seen because it is below the level of the surrounding ground. Oh, they made a good job of it—rafter one or two of the lazy Tartars had the soles of their feet touched up a bit by Abbas. Now, why don't you ask how they got here?"
Edith was silent.
"Well," he went on, pleased with his own cleverness, "you'll notice those nullahs to the south. They lead in a roundabout fashion to Kashgar. I brought in my fellows, fifty or so at a time, at night. No one saw them. Only a dozen riders have been seen by the Sayak devils. That's what I want."
As a matter of fact the wooded ravines running
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