"I see, O Frank, that thou hast read the Strong Book. Thou dost know our law, even though thou be from Feringistan. What is thy name?" "Men know me only as The Master. And thine?" "_Bara Miyan_ (The Great Sir), nothing more." "Dost thou wish us well?" the Master put a leading question. "_Kull'am antum bil khair_!" (May ye be well, every year!) said the old Sheik. The Master sensed a huge relief. Undoubtedly--hard as this was to understand, and much as it contradicted Rrisa's prediction--the attitude of these Jannati Shahr folk was friendly. Unless, indeed, all this meant ambush. But to look into those grave, deep eyes, to see that furrowed countenance of noble, straight-forward uprightness, seemed to negative any such suspicion. "We have come to bring ye wondrous gifts," the Master volunteered, wanting to strike while the iron was hot. "That is well," assented Bara Miyan. "But never before have the Franks come to this center of the Empty Abodes." "Even Allah had to say 'Be!' before anything was!" (_i.e._, there must be a first time for everything). This answer, pat from a favorite verse of the Koran, greatly pleased Bara Miyan. He smiled gravely, and nodded. "Allah made all men," he affirmed. "Mayhap the Franks and we be brothers. Have ye come by way of Mecca?" "Yea. And sorry brotherhood did the Mecca men offer us, O Sheik! So, too, the men of Beni Harb. Together, they slew five of us. But we be fighting-men, Bara Miyan. We took a great vengeance. All that tribe of Beni Harb we brushed with the wing of Azraël, save only the Great Apostate. And from the men of the 'Navel of the World'--Mecca--we exacted greater tribute than even death!" The Master's voice held a quiet menace that by no means escaped Bara Miyan. Level-eyed, he gazed at the white man. Then he advanced two paces, and in a low voice demanded: "Abd el Rahman still lives?" "He lives, Bara Miyan." "Where is the Great Apostate?" "In our flying house, a prisoner." "_Bismillah_! Deliver him unto me, and thy people and mine shall be as brothers!" "First let us share the salt!" Speaking, the Master slid his hand into the same pocket that contained the Great Pearl Star, and took out a small bag of salt. This he opened, and held out. Bara Miyan likewise felt in a recess of his many-hued burnous. For a moment he hesitated as if about to bring out something. But he only shook his head. "The salt--not yet, O White Sheik!" said he. "We have brought thy people precious gifts," began the Master, again. Behind him he heard an impatient whisper--the major's voice, quivering with eagerness: "Ask him if this place is really all gold! Faith, if I could only talk their lingo! Ask him!" "I shall place you under arrest, if you interfere again," the Master retorted, without turning round. "What saith the White Sheik?" asked Bara Miyan, hearing the strange words of a language his ears never before had listened to.