d 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 Azrael, 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.

"Only prayer in my own tongue, Bara Miyan. A prayer that thine and
mine may become _akhawat_"[1]

[Footnote 1: Friends bound by an oath to an offensive and defensive
alliance.]

"Deliver unto me Abd el Rahman, and let thine _imams_ (priests) work
stronger magic than mine," said the old Sheik with great deliberation,
"and I will accept thy gifts and we will say: '_Nahnu malihin_!' (We
have eaten salt together!) And I will make thee gifts greater than thy
gifts to me, O White Sheik. Then thou and thine can fly away to thine
own country, and bear witness that there be Arabs who do not love to
slay the Feringi, but count all men as brethren.

"But if thou wilt not deliver Abd el Rahman to me, or test thy magic
against my magic, then depart now, in peace, before the setting of the
sun. I have spoken!"