In fact, Royson found that his own men were already standing quietly in a group, waiting for orders, and the two detachments of caravan Arabs were coming in from the wings in accordance with his preconcerted plan. Some of the bolting escort were returning. They looked shamefaced when they passed von Kerber lying dead on the ground. One of them, a Hadji, who wore the green turban and black cloak of a pilgrim to Mecca, began to murmur an explanation to Royson, but the giant Effendi gave him such a glance of scorn and anger that the man made off, lest the evil from which he had fled might yet befall him. In the immediate foreground were several prostrate forms, mostly Arabs injured in the fight for the camels, and so gravely wounded that they could not move. A struggling camel or two, screaming and kicking in agony, seemed to be strangely out of place in the peaceful hush which instantly enfolded the desert. The shouting and musketry that made pandemonium there a few minutes earlier had vanished. The tops of the more distant mountains were glowing in purple and gold, and the blue of the sky was deepening. In that brief hour before the utter darkness that follows sunset the desert has a rare beauty. It has lights and shades denied to softer landscapes. Titania's bower can show no more brilliant color effects. It is then a fit background for romance and mystery, but it breathes no hint of war or death, and such things wear a sacrilegious aspect when brought forcibly into those fairy-like surroundings. Royson, though he had watched the transformation of rock and arid earth many a time with kindling eyes, gave small heed to the dream-face of nature as he scanned the splendid prospect for sign of further attack by the Hadendowas. He found none, but he happened to note the furtive manner of some among the Arab escort who were hastening toward the small hollow enclosed by the Seven Hills. Then he remembered why this solitary place had become a Golgotha. The hapless von Kerber was disinterring the treasure when the Hadendowa assault began. In all likelihood, had the free-booters ridden boldly up in the first instance, the fight would have ended in less minutes than it had occupied hours. And these other ghouls, before they were driven off by a hail of lead, had learnt what store of wealth was buried there beneath the sand. "Chaytor," said Royson, addressing one of the crew who had acted as quartermaster on board the yacht, "take three men and mount guard over any trench or other excavation you may find in the valley between those mounds. Let no Arab even approach the place. Use force if necessary, but try and avoid any shooting. I shall join you there before sunset."