It was surrounded by a border of cement that looked like pitch and
gravel; and the major noted, even as he drove his pick into this
cement, that both the stone and the border were enclosed by a massive
circle of gold with the lower part studded full of silver nails.
Only these hasty observations, and no more, the Legionaries made as
they fell with furious energy to the task of dislodging the venerable
relic. To all but this labor they were oblivious--to the heat and
stifle of that sun-baked square, the mute staring of the paralyzed
_Hujjaj_, the wafting languor of incenses from the colonnades, the
quiet murmur of waters from the holy well, Zem Zem.
The scene, which ordinarily would have entranced them and filled them
with awe, now had become as nothing. Every energy, every sense had
centered itself only on this one vital work of extracting the Black
Stone from the Ka'aba wall and of making a swift getaway with it
before the rising murmur of rage, from without the area of paralysis,
should sweep in on them with annihilating passion.
"Here, Emilio--drive your pick here!" commanded the major, his red
face now dark crimson with heat and excitement as well as with the
intense force wherewith he was wielding his implement.
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