Amzi touched him on the arm. "Why do you weep, friend? Thou art a false
Guebre, truly! Know you not that even they hold the Caaba in high
reverence?"

There was a tone of good-natured raillery in the voice, and the speaker
continued: "Arouse yourself, my friend. See how they worship in Mecca.
They are at it already! See them run! By my faith 'tis a lusty morning
exercise!"

Yusuf looked up to see a great concourse of people gathering in the
court-yard. Many were rushing about the Caaba, and pausing frequently at
one corner of the huge structure.

"Each pilgrim," explained Amzi, "holds himself bound to go seven times
about the temple, and the harder he runs the more virtue there is in
it--performing the Tawaf, they call it. Those who seem to pause are
kissing the Hajar Aswad--the Black Stone, which, the Arabs say, was once
an angel cast from heaven in the form of a pure white jacinth. It is now
blackened by the kisses of sinners, but will, at the last day, arise in
its angel form, to bear testimony of the faithful who have kissed it,
and have done the Tawaf faithfully. And now, friend, come to the house
of Amzi, and see if he can be as hospitable as Musa the Bedouin."

Yusuf gratefully accepted the invitation, and the camels were urged on
again down the narrow, crooked street.

"Know you aught of one Mohammed?" asked the priest. "A roguish Hebrew
left me, with scant ceremony, in possession of a manuscript which must
be given to him."