Beyond a certain point, which he could gauge accurately, neither gold nor fire would drive Rrisa.

The Arab would at any hour of night or day have laid down his life for the Master; but though it should mean death he would not break the rites of his faith, nor touch the cursed flesh of a pig, nor drink the forbidden drop of wine, nor yet betray the secret of his land.
All at once the Arab spoke, in slow, grave tones.
"Your God is not my God, Master," said he, impersonally.

"No, the God of your people is not the God of mine.

We have our own; and the land is ours, too.

None of the _Nasara_ may come thither, and live.