“Why should I? The angel guides swing the torches of the unchangeable Father to give us glimpses of our way. All is well; I saw by the lightning flash that we are passing safely the camp lines of our captors.”
A few miles were over-past. The storm had abated a little, and the first streaks of dawn, like spears, were rising in the east.
“Would God, good Jew,” said the now wearied Sir Charleroy, “that the Prophet of the Moslem, who, near by here, is said once by a stamp of his foot to have brought forth from the rock a camel, were present to dance for us now.”
“He is not here, so we must help ourselves, knight.”
“Ah, my dear man, canst thou dance rocks into camels?”
“No, but there are houses nigh, and each thou knowst has it’s stable-yard in front.”
“But there is the thorny nubk tree, surrounding the herds.”
“I’ve faith to try my faith when all I have is faith.”
“What for; to steal a camel?”