By main force he wrenched it up almost at right angles.

He gave another pull, snapped it short off, dragged it to the parapet of the Ka'aba, and with a frantic effort swung it, hurled it into the nacelle.
Down sank the basket, a little, under this new weight.
The doctor leaped, jumped short, caught the edge of the basket and was just pulling himself up when a slug caught him at the base of the brain.
His hold relaxed; but the major had him by the wrists.

Into the nacelle he dragged the dying man.
"For the love o' God, _haul up!_" he shouted.
The basket leaped aloft, as the winch--that had been jammed by a trivial accident to the control--took hold of the steel cable.

Up it soared, still pursued by dwindling screams of rage, by now futile rifle-fire.

Before it had reached the trap in the lower gallery, the main propellers had begun to whicker into swift revolution, all gleaming in the afternoon sun.