And of a surety, the makers of maps do not lie," the Master commented, and turned a little to pour the thick coffee.

Its perfume rose with grateful fragrance on the air.
The Master sipped the black, thick nectar, and smiled oddly.

For a moment he regarded his unwilling orderly with narrowed eyes.
"Thou wilt not say they lie, son of Islam, eh ?" demanded he.
"Not of choice, perhaps, _M'alme_," the Mussulman replied.

"But if the camel hath not drunk of the waters of the oasis, how can he know that they be sweet?
These _Nasara_ (Christian) makers of maps, what can they know of my people or my land ?" "Dost thou mean to tell me no man can pass beyond the desert rim, and enter the middle parts of Arabia ?" "I said not so, Master," replied the Arab, turning and facing his master, every sense alert, on guard against any admissions that might betray the secret he, like all his people, was sworn by a Very great oath to keep.
"Not all men, true," the Master resumed.

"The Turks--I know they enter, though hated.