Furiously the Legionaries worked the stone back and forth; a shower of mortar fell on the workers' feet and on the upturned, staring faces of the paralyzed Moslems trampled by the horrible contamination of heretical boots--perhaps even pigskin boots!--and then, all at once, the Hajar el Aswad slid from the place where it had lain uncounted centuries.
Cursing with frantic excitement, the Legionaries tugged it from the wall, together with its golden band.

Above them the _kiswah_ bellied outward, swaying in the breeze.

No Moslem has ever admitted that the Ka'aba veil is ever moved by any other thing than the wings of angels.
Those of the Faithful who now beheld that movement, felt the avenging messengers of Allah were near, indeed; and a thousand unspoken prayers flamed aloft: "Angels of death, Azrael and his host, smite these outcasts of Feringistan!" The prayers seemed more likely of fulfilment from the hands of the oncoming hordes already streaming into the converging streets to the Haram.

As the stone came clear, into the hands of the invaders, a dank, chill blast of air blew from the aperture against the white men's faces.

It seemed to issue as from a cavern; and with it came a low, groaning sound, as of a soul in torment.
A shadow fell across the Haram; the light of the sun was dulled.