tale. Only we say again
that Rrisa's life lay always in the hands of this man, to do with as
he would.

None the less, Rrisa answered the question with a mere:

"Master, I cannot say."

"Thou knowest the name of the place where thou wast born?" demanded
the Master, calmly, from where he sat by the table.

"_A_ (yes), _M'alme_, by the beard of M'hamed, I do!"

"Well, what is it?"

Rrisa shrugged his thin shoulders.

"A tent, a hut? A village, a town, a city?"

"A city, Master. A great city, indeed. But its name I may not tell
you."

"The map, here, shows nothing, Rrisa. And of a surety, the makers of
maps do not lie," the Master commented, and turned a little to pour
the thick coffee. Its perfume rose with grateful fragrance on the air.

The Master sipped the black, thick nectar, and smiled oddly. For a
moment he regarded his unwilling orderly with narrowed eyes.

"Thou wilt not say they lie, son of Islam, eh?" demanded he.

"Not of choice, perhaps, _M'alme_," the Mussulman replied. "But if the
camel hath not drunk of the waters of the oasis, how can he know that
they be sweet? These _Nasara_ (Christian) makers of maps, what can
they know of my people or my land?"

"Dost thou mean to tell me no man can pass beyond the desert rim, and
enter the middle parts of Arabia?"

"I said not so, Master," replied the Arab, turning and facing his
master, every sense alert, on guard against any admissions that might
betray the secret he, like all his people, was sworn by a Very great
oath to keep.

"Not all men, true," the Master resumed. "The Turks--I know they
enter, though hated. But have no other foreign men ever seen the
interior?"

"_A, M'alme_, many--of the True Faith. Such, though they come from
China, India, or the farther islands of the Indian Ocean, may enter
freely."

"Of course. But I am speaking now of men of the _Nasara_ faith. How of
them? Tell me, thou!"

"You are of the _Nasara, M'alme!_ Do not make me answer this! You,
having saved my life, own that life. It is yours. _Ana bermil illi
bedakea!_ (I obey your every command!) But do not ask me this! My head
is at your feet. But let us speak of other things, O Master!"

The Master kept a moment's silence. He peered contemplatively at the
dark silhouette of the Arab, motionless, impassive in the dusk.
Then he frowned a very little, which was as near to anger as he ever
verged. Thoughtfully he ate a couple of the little _temmin_ wafers and
a few