Cement flew
in showers at every stroke, out over the sweating Legionaries and the
prostrate Moslems near the stone. The white men slid and stumbled
on limp bodies, trampled them unheedingly, and of the outstretched
pilgrims made as it were a kind of vantage-post for the attack on the
inmost citadel of Islam.
"Work quick, Major!" came the Master's voice, seemingly at Bohannan's
elbow. "There's a fearful drove of the rascals coming. You'd better
get that stone out and away in double-quick time!"
The major replied nothing, but his pick-axe flailed into the cement
with desperate energy. Emilio and others seconded him, while Rennes
and Wallace dug, kneeling, with their crowbars. The blows echoed with
staccato rapidity through the sacred Haram, which now had begun to
fill with the confused roar of the on-coming mobs from the Ma'abidah
suburb and the Plain of Mina, from Jebel Hindi and the Sulaymainyah
quarter.
"You have about five minutes more," the Master spoke again. "If
necessary, we will open on them with machine-guns, from the ship, but
I'd like to avoid bloodshed if possible. Do the best you can!"
Bohannan had no breath for answering. Every ounce of energy of all
seven men was being flung into that mad labor.
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