Each day I was more impressed with Bu Helega as a traveling companion. He was a man of few words, with a big heart and generous spirit. His years and his white hair and beard gained him the respect of all of us, for in the desert the man of experience, who is possessed of the wisdom that comes with age, is the invaluable one. Zerwali and I, therefore, referred continually to Bu Helega’s judgment. He was tactful in offering his suggestions for my consideration, but I was wise enough not to disregard them.
He was constantly on the lookout for the well-being of the camels, and his splendid voice was heard at intervals through the day addressing the camels or the men.
“The white camel is weary. To-morrow, Ibrahim, we will shift its load to the old brown one,” he says to his slave.
“Talk to them, men, talk to them,” he commands, knowing how much better the camels travel under encouragement, and again, “Sing to them, Ibrahim.”
“Follow the guide, you beautiful beasts,” he exhorts the camels.
“Pray, Hamad, that saddle has shifted; it will irritate the camel’s back.”
When the twilight comes he gives the order, “Light the lantern; it pleases the camels.”
The qualities of the camel are seldom, if ever, appreciated on a slight acquaintance. The camel is as clever as a horse, if not more clever, and in some ways is more human. “Patient as a camel,” is an Arab saying and a very true one. If you ill-treat a camel he will never forget it, but he will not attack you on the spot. He will wait, and if you repeat the offense again and again, he makes up his mind to get his revenge. Not, however, when there are many people about. Here he behaves in a most human way. He watches his chance until you and he are alone, and then he goes for you, either by snatching at you with his mouth and throwing you to the ground, or by kicking you and then trampling upon you. There is a case known where a camel trampled on a man and then sat on him, refusing to move even after punishment from the men who ran up to the rescue, wanting to make sure that he had finished his man, as, indeed, he had.
People imagine that in the desert a camel has to be roped in and led. As a matter of fact, it is very hard in the desert to keep a camel away from the rest of the caravan, for instinctively he knows that to be left behind is death; so he keeps as near the bulk of the caravan as he can. It is a sad sight to see a camel straggling behind a caravan. It is like the soldier in retreat, unable to keep up with his comrades, knowing that nobody can carry him and that to fall behind means disaster.
The camel also displays his intelligence when he is taken from the oasis and pushed into the waterless trek. Instinctively he tries at night, even three or four days after the start, to go back to the oasis. There have been a few desert tragedies when all the camels have deserted the men at night, either on the outward or the home-coming journey, when the caravan was still a few days from its destination. Or, in the event of some accident befalling a caravan, camels which have traveled a certain road for ten or fifteen years will complete the journey alone.