ned Again, the World Adventurers Club greets you. Every member has had some outstanding experience in his past, and one of these adventures, culled from the far corners of the earth, is told at each meal. This time all eyes are turned to an engineer, lean and cool-eyed. Let's join the rest in listening to his story. How dear are these months when, and even I hear, the breeze fall in sight on my fanciful ears, and fill, O meld, warming the branches among. In sympathy pours the melodious song. How dear are these months, how delightful the grove, where first I have converged with her that I love. How dear are these months, how delightful the grove, where first I have converged with her that I love. Thank you. By George, it's good to be here again, boys. The comforts of civilization seem mighty good after weeks on the Dana Desert. Dana? That wild wind swept Sea of Sand in Arabia? That's it. The expedition I was with wanted to study this region in an effort to complete the zoological collections for the American Museum. That's difficult country to penetrate, isn't it? Yes, indeed. Our mode of travel was by camel caravan and a few horses. Along with some twenty animals, a bashi, or caravan leader, six men and Nahum, a native guide and interpreter, we eagerly started our journey across the mysterious Dana. All went well until the fourth day out. Then Nahum stole a horse and deserted. Our suspicions were immediately aroused, because he'd taken an unusual interest in the valuable collection of guns which we were carrying. We feared treachery from this deserter and pushed on with the utmost haste, the bashi now serving as guide. Danger seemed to lurk behind every doom. Even the moon seemed to have a sinister look. And to make matters worse, we ran into a sandstorm on the dawn of the fifth day. Looks like we're in for Atlantis. Are you spying above wind and sand? You're the boss, Mr. Murphy. This delay couldn't have come at a worse time, though. I'm afraid Nahum is up to some mischief. He may be the spy of some wild desert tribe. No desert man is going to look for us in this wind. Hello, what's that ahead? Looks like a native camp. I can hardly make it out with this sand in my eyes. Bashi! Bashi! Yes, Master? Can you tell what sort of camp that is ahead? No can see in big winds. Tell the man we'll stop here until the wind dies. I'd rather sit in a native tent than ride a swaying camel with the sand of day in my face. Come on, Landers. Inside, McCullough! I don't know that we ought to barge in there, Murphy. They might be banded. Ah, you're letting that Nahum episode get under your skin, Landers. Look, Murphy, what did I tell you? A gang of cutthroats or I don't know human nature. Ah, nonsense. They won't harm American citizens. We have our passports and papers in order. Well, it's too late to change our minds now. We're here and we'll have to trust that they can speak our language. Don't forget that we have no interpreter now. Master, master, this tribe's strange to me. Me fear for Caravan. What? You hear that, Murphy? Yes, perhaps we better take precautions. Arm your men, Bashi. Yes, master. Insha'Allah. Haka. Haka. But we are only few. They are many. Ah, well, heaven, the devil's own luck. They... We've shot down a Bashi. That's not in our man. They're savages. I've got two of them, Murphy. Make a dash for it. It's our only chance. So, my friends, you kill my brother, yes? Nahum, you crater. You are brave with the guns. But how do you feel now without them, eh? You'd better let us go, Nahum. You can't get away with this, killing our men and disarming us. At first, we were only going to take your guns. We were going to follow you. But the sandstorm brought you to us. Then this man killed my people, and now we are very angry. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. You fool. If you murder us, the government will track you to the ends of the earth. No, we are the lost tribe of Dana. We have no law but our own. You are doomed, you unbelievers. Dogs. Good God, he actually means to kill us. Yes, and not in a nice way either, from the way he's treated our poor caravan men. Look, they're digging in the sand. They wouldn't dare. Dare what? I heard it from a native once. A horrible form of torture. They bury a man to his neck in the sand and leave him to die. God. We've got to make a break, old man. Better be shot in the back than die that way. I'm with you, Murphy. Quick. Oh, so. You tried to make a shoot you, eh? But you do not fool me. I have prepared a soft tomb for you. Now you shall come into the desert hungry mouth. The sand shall be stamped down around your bodies. And when you are held safely in its arms, the grains of death shall pile against your cheeks. The wind will cover you soon, and in a few hours... You murdering rats. No trace of your graves. You unbelievers, infidels, Christian dogs. Now you can call upon your God to save you. Our God. That's it. He'll save us. Hold on to your nerve, Murphy, old man. Take it easy. The sand. They're burying us landers. Living men being buried alive. Courage, Murphy. Let's show these beings that we can die like men. But we're not dying like men. We're dying like rats in a trap. So, Father, which heart in heaven... So now he prays for heaven. Oh, you coward. If I could only feel your throat in my hands. And now you are safely buried. I believe you will be sanded wind. For there will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our day of bread. And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. You expect a miracle to happen? Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Deliver us from evil. Deliver us from evil. Forever, and ever. The wind, the sand. Look. What is it? Look, the sand. The winds are blowing it away. My shoulders are free. Mine too, landers. The miracle is happening. The sand is being cut away. A little more and our arms will be free. We must be mad, old man. It can't be true. Thank God it is true. Look, I can move my arms. The sand gives. I can pull them out. Work. Work like fury before those devils discover us. If we can reach the horses, we can leave this camp far behind. Pass. Pass. Someone might come. I'm out of it. God, I'm free. Here, old man. Catch fast to my arms. I'll pull you out. The sand is pushing. Here I come. Now for the horses. Over there. We can only reach them. We can. It's not much further. Now run for it. We'll ride with the wind. Close to me, Murphy. Ride. Ride. What a terrific experience, landers. Great Scott. Yes. How did you ever come out alive? Desert horses always have water sacks on their saddles. So we had that much to be thankful for. We rode without care as to time or direction. We were madmen. Our only thought was to put as much territory as possible between ourselves and the bandits. How did you reach civilization? How did you manage that? Another stroke of luck or faith, if you will. We were picked up by a French caravan the next day, with nothing but our lives and some harrowing memories. And you believe that you were saved by a miracle? My friend, if you were buried to your neck in sand expecting a horrible death, and the wind suddenly veered, cutting the sand away from your body instead of burying you, what would you think? There are stranger things on land and sea than man dreams of in his philosophy. Fly to the desert, fly to the desert, fly with me, fly with me, fly, fly. And another adventure ends. These men have all seen inexplicable things and have learned to accept gratefully the seemingly miraculous experiences they come through. We never know what the join in strange adventures in strange lands. Music