Summary

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Making of the Morning Star… (1924)

When torches appeared ahead of him, he found that he could not begin to see the top of the cañon walls.
At places great boulders encroached on the narrow pass, leaving no more than a bridle way. The muffled voices and the uproar of the camels ahead sent the echoes leaping from side to side, to diminish to whispers drowned by the gusts of wind.
“Master Robert,” quoth Will, “did the minstrel say that we would fall in with a company of dead lords, and ride with King Cæsar and roguish Alexander—ha, St. Dunstan aid us!”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Making of the Morning Star… (1924)

The man who had flung it shouted and whirled up his simitar. The knight parried one cut that would have hacked a knee in half and staggered again, when another spear tore into his left shoulder. The guard—a big-boned Turk—pressed forward too hastily and was dashed down when his legs were cut out from under him by a slash of the long blade.
“By the ninety and nine holy names!” swore Inalzig, who had followed the fighting with glittering eyes. “Here is one who should be brought alive to Bokhara, for he is not as common men. See, he strides forward again.”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harold Lamb Harold Lamb The Making of the Morning Star… (1924)

Robert merely nodded at Will Bunsley, who jogged ahead on his nag, heedless of the inevitable dust-cloud and the midges that swarmed about his eyes.
“Ha, the redbeard!” Abdullah smiled. “A skilled bowman and a man without fear. Yet he rides on a vain quest with room in his skull for no more than the idea that brought him forth. Allah, do we draw rein again!”
He shaded his eyes to gaze where Inalzig had halted the head of the column to let a string of camels pass. They were racing Bactrians, and the riders jeered at the weary ponies of the Kankalis.
Source: Wikisource

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