“Thou meanest one named Burckhardt, and Sir Richard Burton?”

The Arab shuddered at sound of those names, and silently nodded.  Then he burst out: 

“Those were their names, M’alme! Those two, disguised as Hujjaj, defiled the Black Stone, which was given by Allah to the first Arabs; and they both escaped.  But many others who have tried—­”

“Have died at the hands of thy people?”

“Bismillah!  Yea!” A flash of pride irradiated the dark face of Rrisa.  His figure drew itself erect.  Beneath the veneer of civilization with which life among the Feringi had overlaid him, the Master sensed the wild, fierce, free soul of the desert man, to whom the death of the unbelieving dog is sweet.

“It is well,” nodded the Master.  Then, suddenly he stood up, faced the Arab, and bent on him a sternly penetrant look.

“Rrisa,” said he, impressively, his voice slow, grave, sonorous, “only for me thy bones would today be moldering in the trenches at Gallipoli or maybe rotting in a Turkish grave.  The life that is in thee belongs to me!  That is thy ancient law.  Is it not true?”

“It is true, Master. Nahnu malihin.” (We have eaten salt together.)

“And the salt is still in thy stomach?[1]”

[Footnote 1:  Some Arab tribes hold that the salt binds protection for only twenty-four hours and at the end of that time must be renewed, otherwise it is “not in their stomachs.”]

“Aye, Master.  You are still dakhil (protected) to me.”

“Thou art mine to do with as I will?”

“I am the Master’s!”

“Treason to me, Rrisa, is treason to thy holy laws.  Surely, such treason would plunge thy soul far into the depths of Eblis.  When thy time cometh to walk across the burning pit, on the bridge as fine and sharp as the edge of a simitar, if it be laden with treachery to one who hath saved thy life and whose salt thou hast eaten, surely it shall not pass over, but shall fall.  Far into the deeps of Jehannum it shall fall, where the Prophet says:  ’Stones and men shall be the fuel of the everlasting flame!’”

“I am the Master’s,” repeated Rrisa, with trembling mouth.  He raised his hand to forehead, lips, and heart.  “My head is at the Master’s feet!”

“Forget that not, thou!” cried the Master, dominantly. “Ru’c’h halla!” (Go!)

CHAPTER XI

CAPTAIN ALDEN STANDS REVEALED

Hardly had the trembling Arab salaamed and departed in terror of soul, knowing not what fearful events might be impending, when Bohannan appeared.  The smile on the Master’s lips, the sternly calculating expression in his eyes, faded into something as near astonishment as this strange man ever felt, when the major exclaimed: 

“Well, faith now, what d’you think?  The most improbable thing you can imagine!”

“What may that be, Major?”