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.