ready unpacked his kit, and
had arranged it to perfection. Even a copper bowl of khat, the "flower
of paradise," was awaiting him.

The Master sat down, chewed a few leaves and indulged in a little
time of what the Arabs call _kayf_, or complete relaxation and inner
contemplation--a restful trick he had learned many years ago on the
coast of Yemen. The ticking of the aluminum-cased chronometer, now
marking a little past 2 a.m., soothed him, as did the droning hum of
the propellers, the piping whistle of the ship-made hurricane round
the fuselage, the cradling swing and rock of the air-liner hurling
herself almost due east.

After some quarter-hour of absolute rest, he rang for his Arab
orderly. Rrisa appeared at once. Already he had got himself into his
military uniform, the one he had worn at Gallipoli when the Master had
saved his life. As he stood there in the doorway, he swung his left
foot out and back, with clicking heels, and made a smart salute.

"What does _M'alme_ desire?" asked he, in Arabic.

"I desire to know thy opinion of all this, Rrisa. Tell me, did thy
great prophet, M'hamed, ever ride in such state through the air? Was
Al Burak, his magic horse, on which he traveled to the paradise of the
houris, more swift or mighty than this steed of mine?"

The Master speaking Arabic, weighted every word with its full meaning.

"Tell me, Rrisa, what of all this?"

"Your steed is very swift and very mighty. Your flying ship is very
great," the Arab admitted. "But Allah and his Prophet are greater!
_Allahu akbar!_" (Allah is greatest!)

"Of course. But tell thou me, Rrisa, if I were to appear at Mecca in
my _Nissr Arrib ela Sema_--my Eagle of the Sky--would not thy people
give me great honors?"

"My head is at your feet, _M'alme_, and I am yours to do with as
you will, even to the death, but I implore you, by the beard of the
Prophet, do not do this thing!"

"And why not, Rrisa?"

"You and I, Master, are _akhawat_.[1] Therefore I can speak true
words. You must not go to Mecca. No man of the _Nasara_ may go
there--and live."

[Footnote 1: _Akhawat_ signifies in Arabic the tie of sworn
brotherhood between an Arab and one of different blood.]

"Thou meanest that if we go to Mecca and they capture us, they will
kill us all?"

"Yea, Master. And I too shall die, for being with you, though I count
that as less than nothing."

The Master kept a moment's silence, pondering; while, without, the
voices of e