The Minaret.” Half-way between Muna and Arafat, it is about
three miles from both. There is something peculiarly striking in the
distant appearance of the tall, solitary tower, rising abruptly from
the desolate valley of gravel, flanked with buttresses of yellow rock.
No wonder that the ancient Arabs loved to give the high-sounding name
of this oratory to distant places in their giant Caliph-empire.
Here as we halted to perform the mid-day prayer, we were overtaken by
the Damascus Caravan. It was a grand spectacle. The Mahmil, no longer
naked as upon the line of march, flashed in the sun all green and gold.
Around the moving host of white-robed pilgrims hovered a crowd of
Badawin, male and female, all mounted on swift dromedaries, and many of
them armed to the teeth. As their drapery floated in the wind, and
their faces were veiled with the “Lisam,” it was frequently difficult to
[p.182] distinguish the sex of the wild being, flogging its animal to
speed. These people, as has been said, often resort to Arafat for
blood-revenge, in hopes of finding the victim unprepared. Nothing can
be more sinful in Al-Islam than such deed—it is murder, “made sicker” by
sacrilege; yet the prevalence of the practice proves how feeble is the
religion’s hold upon the race.