Guns fired incessantly. Horsemen and camel-riders galloped
about without apparent object. Even the women and the children stood
and walked, too restless even to sleep. Arrived at the tent, I was
unpleasantly surprised to find a new visitor in an old acquaintance,
Ali ibn Ya Sin the Zemzemi. He had lost his mule, and, wandering in
search of its keepers, he unfortunately fell in with our party. I had
solid reasons to regret the mishap—he was far too curious and too
observant to suit my tastes. On the present occasion, he, being
uncomfortable, made us equally so. Accustomed to all the terrible
“neatness” of an elderly damsel in Great Britain, a few specks of dirt upon
the rugs, and half a dozen bits of cinder upon the ground, sufficed to
give him attacks of “nerves.”
That day we breakfasted late, for night must come before we could eat
again. After mid-day prayer we performed ablutions; some the greater,
others the less, in preparation for the “Wukuf,” or Standing. From noon
onwards the hum and murmur of the multitude increased, and people were
seen swarming about in all directions.
A second discharge of cannon (at about 3.15 P.M.) announced the
approach of Al-Asr, the afternoon prayer, and almost immediately we
heard the Naubat, or band preceding the Sharif’s procession, as he wended
his way towards the mountain.
