Part 4

The great kingly camel was lolling back on a divan covered with silk cushions of every color of the rainbow, and with one hand he lazily fanned himself with a soft peacock-feather fan. A necklace of opals as big as alligator eggs hung around his shoulders, and elaborate earrings of opals and tiny bright diamonds studded his hairy ears. But it was his eyes which held the youngest camel entranced--they were big and brown, and heavy lids hung over them like white velvet curtains. Every time the white velvet curtains seemed about to close completely over his eyes, the old camel would snap them up again, and then slowly, sleepily, they again began falling, until the final moment when he jerked them back. This happened several times before he spoke.

“Stand up,” he said with a yawn. “You don’t have to overdo it. It’s just as bad to be too humble as it is to be too self-satisfied. There’s certainly no need to call me master, although I don’t mind at all your revering and worshiping me.” He leaned up on one elbow, slowly fanning himself, and examined the youngest camel. “You wouldn’t be bad-looking if you learned how to carry yourself better,” he said at last. “You let your head hang down as if you were ashamed of something, and you have a rather silly smile.”

“I’m sorry,” said the little camel, standing contritely before him.

“Oh, it doesn’t really make any difference,” said the white camel dreamily, and he raised his fan to hide his yawn behind the peacock feathers. “Everyone has different ideas about things. Men try to make their children sit up straight so they won’t have humps on their backs and mother camels do all they can to make their children hump themselves for fear their backs will turn out straight. It’s just a matter of preference. But now you mustn’t keep us dawdling here any longer, for it’s getting late and we must set out on our journey. Oh, in case you didn’t recognize me,” he added, “I’m the leader of the caravan of white camels that circles the earth and we must be getting started.”

“But my mother told me the caravan of white camels didn’t exist!” exclaimed the youngest camel in surprise.

“Of course we exist,” said the white leader, and instead of making any move towards rising he sank farther back into his cushions and gave a tremendous yawn. “Everything exists somehow, either in the imagination or really or only at night or simply in the daytime.” His lids sank so low over his eyes now that the little camel thought the great white leader had finally fallen asleep. But just at the last moment he jerked them up again and went on talking. “What was I saying? Oh, yes. Now, you mustn’t hold us up any longer, for we really have to get started.”

“Where are we going?” asked the young camel respectfully when he saw the white leader was making no move to rise.

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” the old camel answered. “We just go round and round and try to make you give in to one temptation after another. It’s not at all amusing for us because we have to go through it so often. You’re the only one who gets any fun out of it because it’s all new to you. Only if you give in to a single temptation, that’s the end. You have to go all the way back to the first night when the camel drivers tied you out in the desert, and once you’re out there bound up again you die of fright.”

The old camel gave such a terrific yawn at this that his servants must have thought they were being called, for at the sound of it two sleek white camels with brocaded bands around their shoulders came in through the door of the tent and kneeled before their leader.

“Very well,” he said, closing his fan. “Let’s get going.”

Immediately the two servants rose and slipped their bands under the two ends of the old camel’s divan and lifted him, cushions and all, and bore him out of the tent into the light of the softly dawning day.

“I hate getting up so early,” said the old white camel as he adjusted the cushions behind his head with one lifted arm. The youngest camel trotted along beside him and respectfully nodded his head. “Why don’t you speak frankly to me?” the old camel asked him dreamily. “You were thinking I wasn’t at all up, weren’t you? You felt like saying that I was really more down, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” admitted the little camel. “I was thinking that.”

As soon as he had said this, he saw that a beautiful pure-white camel had suddenly appeared behind them and was following close behind the litter on which the drowsy leader stretched at his ease. His hoofs, too, were of finest gold and he wore a halter of spun gold. When the old camel saw the youngest camel staring with admiration at the new arrival, he said:--

“That’s Fourteen Carat. He’s the first always to join the caravan and that means you’ve passed safely through one temptation.” They were moving out from under the green trees now onto the desert sands. “Of course, you were tempted to lie when I asked you what you were thinking.”

“Just for politeness’ sake,” said the youngest camel, contritely.

“Well, most camels do lie when I ask them that, so as not to hurt my feelings,” the old white leader said. “And then it’s the end of them. They simply vanish into thin air, like a puff of smoke. Every time you resist a temptation,” he went on, trying hard not to yawn, “you’ll notice that another camel joins our caravan.”

_VI_

So, hour after hour as they traveled across the desert, the ordeal of temptation went on.

After the temptation to tell a lie for politeness’ sake came the temptation to rest by reclining on the beautiful litter which camels brought and set down before him.

“You might as well take it easy the way I’m doing,” said the old white camel. “My servants are quite used to carrying people, and if you rest now you won’t be nearly so tired at the end of the day. We have a long, long journey before us and--”

“Oh, no, thank you!” said the youngest camel. “I’m quite used to walking by this time.”

And no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he saw a second white camel spring up behind Fourteen Carat and join the caravan. Then came the temptation to crunch the bones which were served on platters within an inch of his nose; and then the temptation to drink from the copper basins which they carried to him filled with sparkling water and lemonade, but all this he resisted. Then the white leader reached indolently up from his litter as they jogged along, and drew down the weather and showed the little camel that it was actually a fan with two sides to it. One side was good weather and the other was bad, and he strongly advised the little camel to accept it as a gift.

“No,” said the little camel. “Thank you very much, but I think I’d better not.”

“You’re very silly if you don’t,” said the old white leader, opening the fan to show him how nice it was. “Think how useful it would be to your mother. You could take it to her as a present this evening, and from then on she could always have exactly the kind of weather she wanted.”

The little camel considered seriously for a moment, and the desire to take it grew stronger and stronger as the white leader went on talking to him in a slow, dreamy voice.

“Your mother would never be too cold or too hot ever again,” he was saying to him. “She wouldn’t have to get drenched by storms any more or covered with snow on the steppes during the bad season. I can’t imagine why you hesitate like this.”

But at last the little camel made a great effort and he set his fuzzy chin firmly and replied:--

“No, thank you, I don’t think I will after all. But thank you just the same.”

And as soon as he had said this, another snow-white camel sprang up in the caravan.

Next came the temptation to flee before a great wall of fire which rose suddenly before them, but this too he resisted, and as he passed through it with his eyes tightly closed he did not even feel its heat; and then the temptation to cry out with fright and swoon at the sight of three dead llamas stretched out on the lonely sands; and then the temptation to sob aloud when the old camel spoke for a long time to him about his mother, and how hard she had worked all her life, and how tired she was of carrying the burdens of men. But all these he resisted, and each time he did so he saw to his joy that another beautiful white camel joined the growing caravan.

Then came the temptation of the sun, which the white leader plucked lazily out of the sky and smashed in pieces like a ripe melon on a salver which camel servants held before him.

“You see it’s a pineapple with its skin taken off,” the old camel remarked dreamily, as if it were of no importance at all. “It has a wonderful flavor--not like real fruit, of course, because it comes from heaven.”

“It looks awfully good,” said the youngest camel, and he felt his mouth watering.

“Well, there’s no earthly reason why you shouldn’t have a piece. I’m going to,” said the old white camel, and he indolently chose the biggest, juiciest bit and put it in his mouth. The little camel stood watching him enviously as he chewed, and licked his own parched lips thirstily.

“I don’t think I’d better,” he said. “My mother told me it wasn’t true about the sun being a pineapple, so perhaps there’s something queer about it.”

“Oh, mothers have so much on their minds that they can’t remember any more what things are real and what aren’t,” said the old camel while the juices dribbled down his chin. “If you just take a piece you’ll see it’s true enough. It’s very refreshing and much better than anything you’ve ever tasted before. It’s rather like ice cream, only a great deal nicer.”

He selected another ripe, golden piece and conveyed it lazily to his lips, and the little camel turned his head away.

“I don’t think my mother would want me to,” he said, and immediately another white camel joined the procession which was beginning to reach almost out of sight across the sands.

Then came the temptation to run like a coward from a flock of vultures which swarmed about him, the blood still bright on their beaks; and then the temptation to gather up some of the fine false teeth which appeared like shells by the dunes, and put them in his pocket for his mother; and then the temptation to take the way through the grassy, fertile valley under the shade of trees, as the old leader advised him to do, instead of stumbling across the barren badlands. All these and many more temptations he resisted, and now the caravan of white, golden-hoofed camels stretched far beyond the horizon.

As they went slowly on, he caught sight of a group of young camels like himself who were romping and playing together on the edge of an oasis not far away. He could hear their happy shouts of laughter, and his sad, weary heart was suddenly made glad.

“Oh, look!” he cried out, and the old white camel seemed to start from sleep at the sound of his voice.

“Eh, what?” he mumbled, leaning up on his cushions and rapidly blinking his eyes. “What did you say?”

“Look at those other children over there!” the youngest camel cried out in excitement. “Do you see them? They seem to be having such a good time!”

“Oh, well, run along and join them for a bit,” said the old white camel, lolling back on his cushions and stifling a yawn. “We can’t stop long, but we’ll excuse you for a few minutes while you get acquainted.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” cried the little camel, and with a skip and a jump he was off towards the green oasis where the other young camels were playing leapfrog in the shade. He felt like a brand-new, happy, well-fed little camel just from seeing such happiness and such carefree antics after all the experiences he had been through.

So as fast as his legs would go he trotted towards them over the sand, thinking of nothing but how wonderful it would be to play with children like himself again. But suddenly the wind began to rise, and its wailing filled his ears. And now he saw a white cloud coming swiftly across the sky. In another instant, the sand dervishes sprang up in spirals before him, and whirled and spun wildly in his path.

“Go back, go back!” whispered one as the wind flung her against him.

“Turn around, turn around before it’s too late!” murmured another, and the little camel stopped short in surprise.

“Go back to the caravan!” another breathed in a hushed voice in his ear as she threw her sandy arms around his neck. “This is one of the temptations! Run back to the white leader as quickly as you can!”

The youngest camel’s knees went weak beneath him as he realized the terrible thing he had almost done, and now he turned and began tottering back to the caravan. No sooner had he taken the first step than the wind’s voice died away and the sand dervishes sank down motionless about him on the desert. In another moment he was back beside the litter on which the old white camel lay.

“Well, you changed your mind in time,” said the leader with a yawn.

“Yes, I did,” said the little camel in a trembling voice, and although he could not see it, another snow-white camel took its place at the end of the caravan miles and miles away.

“Time’s getting on,” said the old white leader as the litter began to move forward again. “Nearly all our companions are with us now. After another few temptations, the circle around the earth will be complete and then you will join your mother. But, of course, the hardest things have been saved up till the end.”

Next came the temptations of salt and tobacco, and the little camel looked at them with longing eyes. For a moment he could not make up his mind what to do, because his mother had always told him since his earliest days that salt and tobacco were so rare and so tasty that never, under any conditions, must he dream of refusing them. She said they were part of the daily fare of rajahs and pashas and kings, and if a poor camel ever had the luck to get near them, he should snatch them up as quickly as he could.

“This is just a little pick-me-up to give you the strength to keep on going until evening,” said the white leader casually, and he held the nice assortment out under the youngest camel’s sensitively quivering nose. “They’re something like Turkish delight, only ever so much better. Anyway, they’re not a real meal in any sense of the word, and it can’t possibly do any harm if you try a little. Just lick a bit of the salt to see.”

But the little camel set his chin firmly and shook his head.

“Thank you very much, but I think I’d rather not,” he said, and instantly another white camel with golden hoofs joined the end of the caravan almost twenty thousand miles away.

Temptation after temptation followed this, and the little camel bravely resisted them all. There was the temptation to pick up his harp when he saw it lying before him on the sand, and the temptation to send a message to his mother by a bird of paradise who flew down close to him and said he knew just where she was and that he could take it to her without any trouble. And then, just as the sun was sinking beyond the desert’s horizon and the little camel believed he had really come to the end of his strength at last, he saw something so marvelous just ahead that he thought he must be dreaming. Yes, it was. No, it couldn’t possibly be. But still it _was_. Yes, surely, it was. The more he looked the more convinced he became, and suddenly he jumped straight up into the air with joy.

“My mother! I can see my mother over there!” he cried out, and the old white camel lifted himself lazily on one elbow on his cushions to see.

“Well, I must say it rather looks like her,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I wonder what she’s doing wandering about like that alone?” He sank back on his litter again and picked up his peacock-feather fan. “Perhaps she’s strayed from her caravan and is wandering around in despair.”

“Perhaps she’s looking for me!” cried the little camel in great excitement, but the white leader only yawned again. She was jogging along just ahead of them with her moth-eaten tail hanging down behind, and the youngest camel cried out: “It must be my mother! I know it’s my mother!”

“No one ever said it wasn’t,” said the old camel, and this time it really sounded as if he were falling asleep. “But you can’t possibly be sure at this distance whether it’s your mother or just a striking likeness--”

“But I couldn’t mistake my own mother, could I?” asked the youngest camel, almost tearfully. “I know the way her elbows look from the back, and the way her hump humps--”

“Well, there’s only one way of finding out for certain,” said the white leader, with his heavy head nodding drowsily. “You’d better skip along and catch her up.”

“Oh, would you excuse me for a minute while I do?” asked the little camel, so excited that he could scarcely wait.

“Run along,” said the old white camel. “Anything’s better than having you hemming and hawing like this, but please don’t loiter on the way.”

The old leader gave a terrific yawn at this and stretched himself out as if for a long sweet sleep, and without waiting another minute the youngest camel started off in a gallop across the hot stretches of sand. Faster and faster he went, stumbling over his own feet, gasping and choking for breath, and still he seemed to come no nearer to her.

“Mother!” he cried out. “Mother! Wait, I’m coming.”

At the sound of his voice, she turned her head over her shoulder and looked back at him and smiled.

But just as it seemed he must reach her side at last, a sudden burst of bright-feathered little birds descended between them and set about his eyes and ears like a swarm of bees. They were all chattering wildly, and try as he would he could no longer see to pass them.

“Oh, let me go! Please let me go,” he pleaded, but his words were drowned out by the whistling and scolding of the scores and scores of birds.

Now that he had stopped, they settled at once on his head and on his hump, while others flew furiously before his eyes. If he turned in desperation to the right or to the left, they pursued him, chattering, while still others swung like tiny sharp-clawed monkeys on his tail. He spun around, but they were everywhere, increasing in numbers and in fury with every instant that passed. Finally one single brilliant bird poised herself before him on the air and spoke these words:--

“Listen to us once again. You have lost a great deal of your conceit since we last met, and you have almost entirely ceased to lie. Moreover, you have learned to be polite to everyone you meet.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” trilled all the birds in chorus.

“You are much braver now, as well,” the single bird’s voice went on, “and much humbler than you ever were before.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” cried all the shrill little voices again.

“So now, go back,” warbled the bird as she dipped and winged before him on the air. “Go back, go back before the white leader wakes up and sees.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” cried all the little birds at once, and suddenly the youngest camel’s knees began to shake under him as he asked himself if it was true that this was just one more temptation which had been put to him.

“But--but--but I’m sure--I’m sure--I’m sure I saw my mother,” he protested, and as he said this all the birds rose up from his back and from his head and from his tail with a great rush of tiny wings.

“Look, four-footed child!” sang the single bird’s voice to him. “Look ahead and look well at her. She’s nothing. She’s just a reflection on the mists of evening. Can’t you see she’s a mirage like the oasis you followed?”

“Yes, a mirage, a mirage, a mirage!” trilled the hundreds of birds around him.

The youngest camel looked very hard at the figure of his mother jogging along ahead, and now it seemed to him indeed that there was something rather hazy and misty about her such as he had never noticed before. He turned in his tracks, with just enough breath left to call out his thanks to the birds, and then he made his way back to the caravan as quickly as he could. His knees were still quaking under him when he reached the litter’s side, and from there he saw the flock of tiny bright birds disappear like a sunset cloud into the sky.

“So here you are after all!” exclaimed the old white camel as he woke up with a start. “So you came around to my way of thinking in the end?”

“Yes, I did,” said the little camel, so tired by this time that he could hardly stand. And as soon as these words had passed his lips, the last pure-white camel with golden hoofs joined the caravan and the sun set with a jerk and a thousand torches suddenly sprang alight the whole length of the magic caravan. He could see the endless line of camels girdling the earth with the torches carried flaming on their heads and their gold hoofs shining wondrously across the sand.

“It’s rather effective, isn’t it?” said the old white leader, looking rather pleased at the whole display. There were four tall torches lit about him now, two at his head and two at his feet, and the diamonds in his ornaments glittered in their light. “This is the part I like the best of the whole business because it’s so near the end,” he said.

The old white camel put his peacock-feather fan aside and fumbled in his cushions for a moment, and then he drew forth the most beautiful necklace the youngest camel had ever seen. All the beads of it were of different colors and they were strung together on a solid-silver string. There was the bright red one, and the clear green one, and the moonstone, and the diamond, and looking closer he could make out the tiny lettering which was carved in the center of each one. The little camel could scarcely believe his eyes, and he stepped closer to the litter and peered into the brilliance of the torches’ and jewels’ light. And now he saw that the jade bead had written inside it: “I am the green valley you long for. You may live in me forever.” And the topaz had written within it: “I am a silk tent to protect you from sandstorms and from winter and from the midday sun.” And the ruby came next, and then the ivory bead, and the amethyst, and the sapphire, and all the others, exactly like the story he had told his mother.

“These are magic beads,” the old camel said, holding them up to the light. “They’re the most valuable possession anyone can possibly have, because they’re practically impossible. You see, if they belong to you, then you can always have everything you want.”

“Oh, yes, I know, I know!” cried the little camel, clapping his hands together.

“How could you know about them?” asked the white leader, just managing to swallow his yawn. “I’m the only person in the world who knows about them.”

“Have you ever tried them? Do they work?” asked the youngest camel eagerly, and the old white camel answered:--

“Of course they do.”

“Well, then, excuse me,” said the little camel, “but why don’t you live in a green valley forever the way the jade bead says you can do?”

“Because I prefer to travel on a litter,” said the white leader. “It’s much more restful and I see more of the world this way, too. There’s nothing I dread so much as being bored, and I know I’d be awfully bored lying in a valley without any change of scenery.”

“Yes, of course,” said the youngest camel, doubtfully, and after a moment he said: “If you’ll excuse me again, I hope you won’t think I’m rude, but I should like to know why you don’t press the sapphire against your forehead for an instant and have all your years drop from you?”