"Well, Rrisa, tell me if thou couldst!"
"Yea, Master. _Ya gharati!_ (O my calamity!) It is true I could." The
words issued from his unwilling throat as if torn out by main force.
"But I earnestly beg of you, my sheik, do not make me do this thing!"
"Rrisa, if I command, thou must obey me! 'There is only one thing can
ever loose the bonds I have knotted about thee."
"And that is certainty (death), Master?"
"That is certainty! But this, to the oath-breaker and the abuser
of the salt, means a place among the _mujrim_ (sinful). It means
Jehannum, and an unhappy couch shall it be!"
Rrisa's face grew even more drawn and lined. A trembling had possessed
his whole body.
"Master, I obey!" he made submission, then stood waiting with downcast
eyes of suffering.
"It is well," said the chief, rising. He stood for a moment peering at
Rrisa, while the hum and roar of the great air-liner's mechanism, the
dip and sway of its vast body through the upper air, seemed to add a
kind of oppressive solemnity to the tense situation. To the cabin
wall the Master turned. There hung a large-scale map of the Arabian
Peninsula. He laid a hand on the vast, blank interior, and nodded for
Rrisa to approach.
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