The glasses showed tawny reaches of sand, back a little from the coast; and beyond these, low hills, or rather rolling dunes, lay empurpled by vibrant heat-hazes.
"It won't be much like navigating over that Hell-spot, three or four miles in the air," muttered Bohannan.

He looked infinitely depressed.
The way he gnawed at his red mustache showed how misadventure had raveled his nerve.
No one answered him.

Leclair lighted a cigarette, and silently squinted at Africa with eyes long inured to the sun of that land of flame.

Alden, at the other window, kept silence, too.

That masked face could express no emotion; but something in the sag of the woman's shoulders, the droop of her head, showed how profound and intense was her suffering.
"Faith, are we going to make it, chief ?" asked the major, impatiently.
Not his the temperament that can wait in silence.