The day moved slowly and halts were constant in one line of camels or another, while in the wake of the caravan lay a trail of rope-ends and saddle leavings. The type of country did not help matters, for it was reg of stone and rocks; rough on the camels’ feet, and uneven in contour.
Nevertheless, the Taralum travelled painstakingly for fourteen hours, and, after dark, reached the end of the rough reg country to camp on the edge of a vast ocean of sand, that held, somewhere in its bosom, the salt-giving oases of Fachi and Bilma—the latter the goal of the caravan.
Like everyone else, I was tired, yet the sounds and scenes of that first camping of the Taralum were so astonishing that I almost forgot my fatigue.
Camels being off-loaded are noisy at any time, but tired camels seem to believe in letting everyone within hearing know that they have a cause for complaint. The twenty to thirty of one’s own line can make noise enough. But add to that the clamourings and complaints of thousands, and then try to imagine something of the astonishing uproar that resounded through the encampment of the Taralum.
Nor was the commotion all over in a little. It kept on almost until midnight, while, like a great cable being drawn slowly in, the huge caravan rolled slowly forward to arrive length by length and find resting-place, band beside band, on the “floor” of the sheltered basin that had been chosen for the night.
The shallow valley, drear and dead when we arrived, was soon a vast arena of twinkling camp-fires, in area ever increasing as fresh arrivals came in. There were no trees or other hindrance to the vision, and the whole massed encampment lay open to view. It made an impressive scene; impressive because of its size and singular wilderness character, and because of its romantic mission. It comprised an army of nomads and animals on their first step of invasion, halted in an alcove below the dark rocks of the outland of Aïr, while beyond lay the ocean of sand, which on the morrow, and thereafter, held their adventure.
In my own band our camp was about as usual, for we were seasoned travellers long ere this. But we were all tired, since the day had been irksome and long. Wherefore we were soon in our blankets, resting but awake, because of the noise around us.
Our camels had been offered some of the coarse hay we carried, only to sniff at it disdainfully and refuse it. Whereupon my head camelman smiled and rebaled it, remarking in his own tongue:
“Wait till this time to-morrow. They won’t be so particular when real hunger seizes them.”
