Along the walls these black barbarians disposed themselves, a full hundred or more, saying nothing, seeming to see nothing, mere human automata.  Bohannan, seated cross-legged between Captain Alden and the Master, swore an oath.

“What are these infernal murderers here for?” growled he.  “Ask the Sheik, will you?  I thought you and he had eaten salt together!  If this isn’t a trap, it looks too damned much like it to be much of a picnic!  Faith, this is a Hell of a party!”

“Silence, sir!” commanded the Master; while Leclair, at his other side, cast a look of anger at the Celt.  “Diplomacy requires that we consider these men as a guard of honor.  Pay no attention to them, anybody!  Any sign of hesitation now, or fear, may be suicide.  Remember, we are dealing with Orientals.  The ‘grand manner’ is what counts with them.  I advise every man who has tobacco, to light a cigarette and look indifferent. Verb sap!”

Most of the Legionaries produced tobacco; but the Olema, smiling, raised a hand of negation.  For already the slave-girls were entering with trays of cigarettes and silver boxes of tobacco.  These they passed to the visitors, then to the Arabs.  Such as preferred cigarettes, suffered the girls to light them at the copper fire-pans.  Others, choosing a shishah, let the girls fill it from the silver boxes; and soon the grateful vapors of tobacco were rising to blend with the spiced incense-smoke.

A more comfortable feeling now possessed the Legionaries.  This sharing of tobacco seemed to establish almost an amicable Free Masonry between them and the Jannati Shahr men.  All sat and smoked in what seemed a friendly silence.

The slave-girls silently departed.  Others came with huge, silver trays graven with Koran verses.  These trays contained meat-pilafs, swimming in melted butter; vine leaves filled with chopped mutton; kababs, or bits of roast meat spitted on wooden splinters; crisp cucumbers; a kind of tasteless bread; a dish that looked like vermicelli sweetened with honey; thin jelly, and sweetmeats that tasted strongly of rosewater.  Dates, pomegranates, and areca nuts cut up and mixed with sugar-paste pinned with cloves into a betel leaf—­these constituted the dessert.

The Arabs ate with strict decorum, according to their custom, beginning the banquet with a Bismillah of thanks and ending with an Al Hamd that signified repletion.  Knives and forks there were none; each man dipped his hand into whatever dish pleased him, as the trays were passed along.  The Legionaries did the same.

“Rather messy, eh?” commented the major; but no one answered him.  More serious thoughts than these possessed the others.

After ablution, once more—­this time the white men shared it—­tobacco, pomegranate syrup, sherbet, water perfumed with mastich-smoke, and thick, black coffee ended the meal.

The Master requested khat leaves, which were presently brought him—­deliciously green and fresh—­in a copper bowl.  Then, while the slave-girls removed all traces of the feast, all relaxed for a few minutes’ kayf, or utter peace.