it, patted it with affection.

"We've been through some wonderful times together, old pal, you and
I," said he. "We thought it was all over, didn't we, for a while? But
it's not! Life's not done, yet. It's maybe just beginning! We're going
out on the long trek, _again_!"

For a while he sat there musing. Then he summoned Rrisa again, bade
him remove the tray, and gave him instructions about the guest soon
to arrive. When Rrisa had withdrawn, the Master pulled over one of the
huge atlases, opened it, turned to the map of Arabia, and fell into
deep study.

Rrisa's tapping at the door, minutes later, roused him. At his order
to advance, the door swung. The Arab ushered in a guest, then silently
disappeared. Without a sound, the door closed.

The Master arose, advancing with outstretched hand.

"Bohannan! God, but I'm glad to see you!"

Their hands met and clasped. The Master led Bohannan to the table and
gestured toward a chair. Bohannan threw his hat on the table with a
large, sweeping gesture typical of his whole character, and sat down.
And for a moment, they looked at each other in silence.

A very different type, this, from the dark, sinewed master of
_Niss'rosh_. Bohannan was frankly red-haired, a bit stout, smiling,
expansive. His blood was undoubtedly Celtic. An air of great geniality
pervaded him. His hands were strong and energetic, with oddly