"Yea, Master, that is true," answered the Arab, with strange eyes.
"And is it indeed covered with a wondrous silken and gold cloth, every year renewed, known as the kiswah?"
"Those words are true."
"All Moslems greatly revere the Ka'aba?"
"It is the center of our mighty faith, Master."
"And thou hast seen it with thine own eyes?"
"With my own eyes, Master, for I am a Hadji.[1]" Attentively the Arab was now watching the Master. Slowly he continued: "Prayer, with face to Mecca, alms-giving, the keeping of the fast of Ramadan, and the pilgrimage to the Ka'aba, these are our law. Yea, Master, I have myself seen the Ka'aba, and more than once!"
[Footnote 1: Title among the Arabs and Moslems in general for one who has performed the pilgrimage to Mecca, a journey which every good Moslem considers necessary for salvation.]
A certain trouble had now grown manifest in Rrisa's eyes. His lips moved silently, as if still praying; but no words were audible. The Master pondered a moment more, then demanded:
"Is it true there is a sacred Black Stone in the walls of the Ka'aba, precious to all followers of the Prophet, from Africa to China and to the farthest isles? Revered by all the two hundred and thirty million of your faith?"