On the horizon, the hills seemed suddenly to break away.

As the air-liner roared onward, a dim plain appeared, with here or there a green-blue blur of oasis and with a few faint white spots that the Master knew were pilgrims' camping-places.
Down through this plain extended an irregular depression, a kind of narrow valley, with a few sharply isolated, steep hills on either hand.
The Master's eyes gleamed.

His jaw set; his hand, on the controls, tightened till the knuckles whitened.
"The Valley of Mina!" he exclaimed.

"Mount Arafat--and there, beyond, lies Mecca! _Labbayk! Labbayk!_".