THE TWO men led the youngest camel far, far out into the desert, and after a long time, when they seemed to be out of sight and hearing of any living thing, they gave him the command to lie down. He kneeled obediently before them, and then they unwound the ropes from around their waists and pushed him over on his side, and while one camel driver sat on him, the other began hastily to bind him. They drew his hind legs roughly forward and knotted them tightly to his forelegs, and he never dreamed of kicking or protesting. He had been brought up to look on man as master, for his mother had always told him this was one of the unalterable truths.
So he lay there very meekly on one side and allowed them to pass the ropes around his body and draw them fast. He did not utter a sound, but his heart was filled with fear. He was fastened so firmly that he could scarcely breathe, and his ankles seemed almost cut in half, but still he did not think to struggle. When their work was done, the camel drivers each gave him a parting kick or two and then went off in the direction from which they had come. He tried to raise his head a little from the sand and with his eyes follow their retreat through the starlit night. But after a moment the two shapes muffled in their flowing robes were lost in the darkness, and as the little camel realized he was alone, he uttered one sudden terrible scream.
He lay there very meekly on one side
He had no intention of making a fuss or calling a lot of attention to himself, but now he knew beyond any doubt that this was the ordeal of loneliness at last and he could not control the shaking and the quaking and the sobs which shook his frame. All about him lay the warm desert silence, and there was no smell anywhere of other camels or of man. He strained his ears until he thoughtthey would fall from his head for some sound of bells or perhaps the faintest echo of his mother’s voice still calling out to him, but everything was as quiet as the tomb.
After some time had passed like this, he began kicking with all his strength. This was not such an easy matter, either, because his feet were very firmly tied. But he doubled up his legs as best he could and then shot them savagely out. All this served no purpose, however. In fact, it seemed to draw the cords tighter and tighter around his neck and shoulders and it certainly made the knots cut deeper into his anklebones. So presently he gave that up and tried lifting himself by pushing one shoulder and one hip hard against the ground. But this got him no further, and added to everything else he had now got sand into both his eyes, and his mouth was filled as well. In his misery, he tried to remember all the things his mother had told him as they lay under the oasis trees at night. Once she had said to him:—
“If a camel falls ill or is overcome with old age while crossing the desert, the men unsaddle and unload him and divide his pack among the others,and then he is abandoned. They leave him alone there to die, kicking hour after hour against death, while his friends are forced on, screaming aloud with terror and despair and trying to look back over their shoulders at him as they go.”
“If the truth is so terrible as all that,” he had said to his mother, “I don’t see why anyone pays any attention to it. I think it would be much better to make up something else instead.”
And another night his mother had said to him—
“If a camel does not have the smell of his own kind about him, he is horribly frightened. But this is such a foolish thing, if you really stop and think about it, that wise camels have taught themselves to master their fear.” And another time his mother had said: “If we camels have silence in our ears, that is another thing that drives us out of our minds with fright. Perhaps that is the reason they hang bells around our necks or perhaps that is why you like to sing so loud at night when everything is still.”
Remembering her words, the little camel began to sing in a high quavering voice. He was in such a state of nerves that he didn’t know what wordshe sang, and the tune kept changing from one thing to another, and he couldn’t manage to keep on the right key. But still he went on singing and singing, making up songs about nothing lasting forever, and about the swiftness of time passing.
“All the time I am singing [was what he sang],Time is passing, passing, passing.The ordeal of loneliness will be over before I know it.The camel drivers will come back and fetch meAnd I’ll run as fast as I can to Aqsu and find my mother—”
“All the time I am singing [was what he sang],Time is passing, passing, passing.The ordeal of loneliness will be over before I know it.The camel drivers will come back and fetch meAnd I’ll run as fast as I can to Aqsu and find my mother—”
“All the time I am singing [was what he sang],
Time is passing, passing, passing.
The ordeal of loneliness will be over before I know it.
The camel drivers will come back and fetch me
And I’ll run as fast as I can to Aqsu and find my mother—”
But when he reached the word “mother” his voice rose to a high wail and the tears rushed into his eyes and down his cheeks. Very soon after this, he must have cried himself to sleep, and when he awoke the sun was already rising. He rolled his eyes around in bewilderment a moment, and then he felt the ropes fast on his legs and neck still and the sand gritting in his teeth, and he knew where he was and why he was there. As the sun rose, it beat hotter and hotter on him and the sky seemed to be on fire above him and the sand on fire underneath him, and it is very probable that he became delirious as noon approached.
At one moment he thought he heard the faraway tinkling of camel bells and he tried to call out, but he could not. A little later, he thought he saw pomegranate flowers and fruit hanging on cool leafy branches before his eyes. Hour after hour passed and he lay there gasping under the sun, and at times he believed that icy pools of water were just within reach, and at other times he thought that fresh ripe figs were just about to melt on his tongue. His eyes were glazing as his fever rose, and his mind was filled with visions of strange and beautiful things. With his parched black lips he kept repeating:—
“Music’s invisible, memory’s invisible, love’s invisible,” and in the same faint voice he whispered: “Even hope’s invisible, but it must be there just the same—”
As he uttered these words, he heard a gentle sigh like a breeze stirring the air, and the next instant a hand was laid on his forehead. He looked up through the blinding waves of heat and he saw a man standing beside him and leaning over to stroke him, but strangely enough there was no smell of man in his nostrils.
“This must be another vision,” he said to himself, but at once the man began speaking to him in a sweet musical voice.
“I’ve been waiting around for seventeen hours for you to say that,” said the man, and for some inexplicable reason he spoke a language which the youngest camel understood with ease.
“Say what?” he murmured, and the man crossed his legs under him and sat down on the sand. Then he lifted the little camel’s head and laid it on his silk-clad knees and stroked back his hair as a mother might have done.
“I’ve been waiting for you to say the word ‘hope,’” he answered, “because as soon as you said that you proved you hadn’t given up, and then I was able to become visible and rescue you.”
“Who are you?” asked the little camel. He was almost too weak to keep his eyes open now, but he felt the man loosening the ropes that bound him and this gave him courage to speak.
“Oh, I’m one of Mohammed’s sons,” the man said casually. “I’m one of the youngest and not one of the important ones. This year I’ve been givenall the camels to keep an eye on. That’s why I’m here.” All the time he talked he kept undoing the ropes and drawing them from under the little camel’s hot body and shaking them off his ankles. “If only you’d mentioned the word ‘hope’ sooner I could have let you free hours and hours ago. You see, ‘hope’ is the one word that lets me become human for a little while and help camels when they have been bound up like this by men. I had to stick around here quite invisible until you said that one particular word. One of the laws is that I’m not allowed to make any suggestions, no matter how much else I have to do. So you can see what a lot of time I have to waste just waiting.”
“Why is the word ‘hope’ magic?” asked the youngest camel, stretching out one stiff leg to see if it still could move. And now Mohammed’s son lifted the little camel’s head up again and laid it against his shoulder while he shook the remaining cords away. When he did this, the little camel saw that he was young and very handsome. He was wearing a silk turban with pearls and turquoises embroidered on it, and carved gold ornamentshung from his ears, and there was a look of great gentleness in his face.
“Well, you see,hstands for ‘help,’ andostands for ‘O,’ andpstands for ‘power,’ andestands for ‘eternal,’” he said so lightly and merrily that he seemed to be making fun of something. He took out a little ivory flask from his garments and poured some fresh water between the little camel’s burning lips. “So when you say ‘hope’ like that, you’re really saying ‘Help, O power eternal!’ And that means me because I’ve been appointed your patron saint this year.”
The youngest camel was feeling so much better by this time that, assisted by Mohammed’s son, he was able to get to his knees and look around him. But there was nothing at all to see as far as the eye could reach but the empty sky and the wastes of sand. Feeling a bit dizzy still, the little camel looked up into the young man’s face and tried to smile.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you anything to eat,” Mohammed’s son went on as he patted the little camel’s cheek affectionately. “But it’s really too difficult to travel around invisible with a lot ofmimosa branches and bones and things hanging on me. But if you feel strong enough now, I can start you off in the direction for Aqsu. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble at all in finding your way.”
“Oh, please, don’t leave me alone! Please stay with me until I find my mother and the caravan again!” the youngest camel pleaded. But Mohammed’s son shook his head at him and gently smiled.
“I can’t run around after you like a nursemaid,” he said. “You see, there are lots and lots of other young camels in just the same situation as you were in when I came along, and I have to rescue them too if it’s not too late. Only most of them are so stupid or have been so obstinate about not listening to what older camels say that I can’t do anything for them. They just won’t use the word ‘hope,’ so I usually have to leave them there bound up.” The little camel thought to himself that certainly no one had ever been able to call him stupid in his whole life, and he began to feel rather pleased with himself again. “My father made a rule,” Mohammed’s son went on, “that the guardianof the camels could only bring help to those whom men had tied up in knots; therefore, no matter what happens to you, I won’t be able to help you any further. But I’m sure nothing can possibly happen to you now if you listen carefully to my directions and do exactly what I say.”
The little camel was able to stand now and even to walk without too much difficulty, and Mohammed’s son led him a little farther into the desert. All the time he talked lightly and happily to him as they went.
“Now, the thing to keep in mind is that you must follow the sun,” he said. “If you do that, and run very fast, you will be in Aqsu just as night is beginning to fall. Remember not to let the sun show either over your right shoulder or over your left, and don’t let the heat of the sun fall warm on your tail. That will mean you are going in quite the wrong direction. About twenty miles from Aqsu you’ll come to a lovely oasis with hundreds of herons bathing in the waters and flamingos flying through the luxuriant glades. When you reach that oasis, you will know for certain that you haven’t much farther to go. If you do as I say,” said theyoung man, stopping and putting one arm around the youngest camel’s neck, “you can’t possibly make a mistake.”
The little camel began to wonder if he had ever in his entire life made a mistake, and he really couldn’t think of a single time he had. But now Mohammed’s son was saying farewell, and the little camel cried out:—
“Oh, thank you a thousand times! Thank you, thank you!”
“Now you must repeat after me the word which restores me to godhead,” the young man said. “For it is past time for me to go.”
“What is the word?” the youngest camel asked, and the other replied:—
“Pernod.”
“What does it mean? What does per—” the little camel began, curiously, but Mohammed’s son interrupted him:—
“Don’t say it or I’ll disappear at once and then I won’t be able to tell you!Pestands for ‘power eternal’ just as before, andrnodstands for ‘reign near our dreams.’ I never liked the word ‘reign’ much, but my father thought it added dignity tothe formula so we let him have his way. So now repeat it after me—P-e-r-n-o-d.”
“Oh, please let me thank you again,” the little camel said, “and, please, wouldn’t it be possible for you to let my mother know that I’m—”
“Good gracious,” said the young man, “you mustn’t think about yourself all the time the way you do! I have so much work to do I really haven’t the time to rush around with personal messages to camels’ mothers—”
“I’m sorry,” said the youngest camel, and this time when Mohammed’s son smiled at him and said the word he repeated it at once: “Pernod!”
As soon as the syllables had passed his lips, the handsome youth waved his hand in farewell and vanished from sight. Without wasting another instant, the little camel turned his head towards the sun and, his heart singing with hope in him, began to run as fast as he possibly could across the stretches of white desert in the direction of Aqsu.