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Then, suddenly he stood up, faced the Arab, and bent on him a sternly penetrant look. "Rrisa," said he, impressively, his voice slow, grave, sonorous, "only for me thy bones would today be moldering in the trenches at Gallipoli or maybe rotting in a Turkish grave. The life that is in thee belongs to me! That is thy ancient law. Is it not true?" "It is true, Master. Nahnu malihin."
The Sheik gingerly accepted a pinch, and with much misgiving put it into his mouth. He produced salt of his own, which the Master tasted. "It is done," said the Master. "Now thou and I are akhawat. Nahnu malihin." "But only from this mid-day till noon of the morrow," the Olema qualified the bond. "Even so!
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