he old Sheik dismounted; and followed
by another graybeard, likewise advanced. When the distance was but
about eight feet between them, both halted. Silence continued, broken
only by the dull drone of one engine still running on board the ship,
by the creaking of saddle-leather, the whinny of a barb.

Lithe, powerful, alert, with his cap held over his heart, the Master
stood there peering from under his thick, dark brows at the aged
Sheik. A lean-faced old man the Sheik was, heavily bearded with white,
his brows snowy, his eyes a hawk's, and the fine aquilinity of his
nose the hallmark of pure Arab blood.

Hard as iron he looked, gravely observing, unabashed in face of these
white strangers and of this mysterious flying house. The very spirit
of the Arabian sun seemed to have been caught in his gleaming eyes, to
glitter there, to reflect its pride, its ardor. He reminded one of a
falcon, untamed, untamable. And his dress, its colors distinguishing
him from the mass of his followers, still further proclaimed the rank
he occupied.

His cherchia of jade-green silk was bound with a _ukal_, or fillet
of camel's-hair; his burnous, also silk, showed tenderest shades of
lavender and rose. Under its open folds could be seen a violet jacket
with buttons of filigree ivory. He had handed his gun to the man
behind him, and now was unarmed save for a _gadaymi_, or semicircular
knife, thrust into his silk sash of crimson, with frayed edges.

A leather bandolier, wonderfully tooled and filled with cartridges,
passed over his right shoulder to his left hip. His feet, high-arched
and fine of line, were naked save for silk-embroidered _babooshes_.

The Master realized, as he gazed on this extraordinary old man, whose
dignity was such that even the bizarre _melange_ of colors could not
detract from it, that he was beholding a very different type of Arab
from any he yet had come in contact with.

The aged Sheik salaamed. The Master returned the salutation, then
covered himself and saluted smartly. In a deep, grave voice the old
man said:

"_A'hla wasa'halan_!" (Be ye welcome!)

"_Bikum_!" (I give thee thanks!) replied the Master.

"In Allah's name, who are ye?"

"Franks," the Master said, vastly relieved at this unexpected amity.
Strange contrast with the violent hostility heretofore experienced!
What might it mean? What might be hidden beneath this quiet surface?

Relief and anxiety mingled in the Master's mind. If treachery w