All possibility of warfare seemed to have vanished. Under the magic
spell of this enchanted, golden hall, even the grim Maghrabis, black
and motionless along the tapestried walls, seemed to have sunk to the
role of mere spectators.
The Arabs' glances, though subtly curious, appeared to hold little
animosity. Now that they had broken bread together, cementing the Oath
of the Salt, might not hospitality have become inviolable? True, some
looks of veiled hostility were directed against "Captain Alden's"
strangely masked face, as the woman sat there cross-legged like the
rest, indifferently smoking cigarettes. For what the Arab cannot
understand is always antipathetic to him. But this hostility was
not marked. The spirits of the Legion, including those of the Master
himself, rose with a sense of greater security.
Even Bohannan, chronic complainer, forgot to cavil and began to bask
in contentment.
"Faith, but this is a good imitation of Lotus-land, after all," he
murmured to Janina, at his side. "I wouldn't mind boarding at this
hotel for an indefinite period. Meals excellent; waitresses beat
anything on Broadway; atmosphere very restful to wandering gentlemen.
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