Then he frowned a very little, which was as near to anger as he ever
verged. Thoughtfully he ate a couple of the little _temmin_ wafers and
a few dates. Rrisa waited in silent patience.

All at once the Master spoke.

"It is my will that thou speak to me and declare this thing, Rrisa,"
said he, decisively. "Say, thou, hath no man of the _Nasara_ faith
ever penetrated as far as to the place of thy birth?"

"_Lah_ (no), _M'almé_, never. But three did reach an oasis not far to
westward of it, fifty years ago, or maybe fifty-one."

"Ah, so?" exclaimed the Master, a touch of eagerness in his grave,
impassive voice. "Who were they?"

"Two of the French blood, Master, and one of the Russian."

"And what happened to them, then?"

"They--died, Master."

"Thou dost mean, thy people did slay them?"

"They died, all three," repeated Rrisa, in even tones. "The jackals
devoured them and the bones remained. Those bones, I think, are still
there. In our dry country--bones remain, long."

"Hm! Yea, so it is! But, tell me, thou, is it true that in thy country
the folk slay all _Nasara_ they lay hands on, by cutting with a sharp