When the day breaks, Fritz Mundt reins in the big, brown stallion, make him trot for a while, and then he stops behind the crest of a high dune. He dismounts, walks back, squats down behind the sharp crest of a dune, and looks back to the south, where the first powder blue light is falling over the land. He knows he is being followed because the previous night, he and Podolski had arranged it like that. It is just a matter of how far his followers are behind him, and from now on, he has to be very vigilant, as he would not like to be overpowered here in the desert. He wonders how many men Hoessein had sent. If it is three or fewer, it is not a problem, but with more than that, things can become difficult. This old rifle he had taken from the Arab guard does not help much.
“It might be tha
