Cliff growled, "I don't know. This dream of yours is growing. Where it
might end--I don't know."
As they were talking the cries of _Ul-Ul-Ul-Allah Akbar!_ had broken
out again.
"Heavens to Betsy," Isobel said. "Another contingent of camelmen?"
* * * * *
But this time the newcomers were three in number and rode in air
cushion hover-lorries, the twins of that used by Homer Crawford.
Rex Donaldson brought them up to the tent, saying, "I didn't think you
chaps were quite so close."
Homer, Cliff and Isobel faced the new recruits. The three were dressed
in khaki bushshirts, shorts and heavy walking shoes--British style.
Two were so obviously relatives that they could have been twins except
for an age discrepancy of two or three years. They were smaller in
stature than the Americans present, almost chunky, but their faces
held education and cultivation. The third was slight of build, almost
as wiry as Rex Donaldson, and seemed ever at ease.
The small, bent Bahaman made introductions. "Gentlemen, let me present
El Hassan--Homer Crawford to you--formerly of the Reunited Nations
African Development Project, formerly of the United States of the
Americas." His face twisted in his sour grimace of a grin. "Now
running for the office of tyrant of North Africa."
"And these are two of his original and most trusted adherents, Isobel
Cunningham and Cliff Jackson." Donaldson turned to the newcomers.
"John and James Peters--that's Jack and Jimmy, of course--recently
colleagues of mine with the African Department of the Commonwealth,
working largely in the Nigeria area."