In the end matters passed off well, though the irony of the review was terrible. Enver, Jemal and Feisal watched the troops wheeling and turning in the dusty plain outside the city gate, rushing up and down in mimic camel-battle, or spurring their horses in the javelin game after immemorial Arab fashion. “And are all these volunteers for the Holy War?” asked Enver at last, turning to Feisal. “Yes,” said Feisal. “Willing to fight to the death against the enemies of the faithful?” “Yes,” said Feisal again; and then the Arab chiefs came up to be presented, and Sherif Ali ibn el Hussein, of Modhig, drew him aside whispering, “My Lord, shall we kill them now?” and Feisal said, “No: they are our guests.”