They tried to call attention by waving their hands, but their efforts remained unnoticed, and Mūshteri sank once more with exhaustion. Bader could now see no hope of deliverance, but the master insisted that his attendant should push onward, leaving him to be rescued when the caravan had been reached; reluctantly he did so, and Mūshteri anxiously watched his friend as he slowly approached the line of march, trying with frantic gesture to attract their attention. Would he succeed, or must they die within the very sight of aid? At last the foremost camel turned his head, and courage revived the efforts of the man who was struggling toward him, while hope lighted the heart of the faint watcher upon the desert sands; but the camel turned away again and with long swinging step resumed his way to the southward—nay, he seemed to lengthen and quicken his pace, while his head pointed straight towards the horizon as if the wide nostrils were drinking in the welcome smell of water. A cloud had been gathering in the west, and when it floated over the blazing sun the soft shades of gray brought relief to the strained eye and a passing shelter from the fierceness of the heat. It seemed to give new life to Bader, and he struggled on with renewed hope, passing slowly over the long reaches of sand which were sometimes smooth as the beaten beach, and again were heaped together in long ridges like the drifted snow of a northern clime.
At last a driver turned his head, and fancied that he saw a dark object upon the pathless tract; he looked again, thinking there were signs of life, then he called to his companion, and the two drivers gazed until they were sure it was a man upon the desert waste; a halt was called, and then the course of the caravan was slightly changed, and the line bore down toward Bader. He was sure it was coming, and the reaction was so strong upon his exhausted frame that he fainted before it reached him, but onward came the great camels careening like ships on the sea of sand, swinging forward with long elastic tread; noiselessly they came, keeping the line so exactly that they all seemed to step in the very tracks of the leader. The exhausted man was taken up and a gurglet of skin containing water was brought from their stores, when the kindly leader sponged the face and hands of the exile; a little of the precious water was forced down his throat and then nature caught eagerly at the great restorative and he drank of the life-giving fluid.
The owner of the caravan was Mohiār, a Persian merchant, and he quickly ordered food for the sufferer; out of the strange baskets, closely woven from the fibers of the palm, they took dates and Syrian pomegranates, wine in gurglets of skin, and meats which were dried and smoked, but Bader, being unable to eat or to speak, was placed in a cot suspended by the side of a camel, and the caravan made ready to depart.
They had traveled a little way before the agonized man was enabled to tell them that his friend lay dying on the desert sands; then the line was turned again, and soon Mūshteri heard the tinkling bells fastened to the brazen chains of the camels; soon he saw their long slender necks and the scarlet fringe upon the bridle across their foreheads; he saw them, but in a dazed, indifferent way, as if it mattered little to him whence they came or whither they went. But in a moment more he was raised in strong arms, and water, life-giving water, passed over his face and was poured down his swollen throat. They were soon able to taste of refreshing fruits, and then the caravan moved on its course, carrying the exiles upon restful cushions, while above them was stretched a kindly shade. That night they rested beside a cool spring and beneath the trees of an oasis; the generous Mohiār ordered a stay of a few days at the feet of the cooling palms that his own men, and especially the weakened exiles, might become refreshed. They were then taken beyond the desert boundaries and generously entertained at the city of their host.
A SHIPWRECK.
Although in the care of hospitable friends they were still in the dominions of the Shāh, and liable at any moment to be apprehended and punished; therefore as soon as they were strong enough their host provided them with a little money, and with his own horses carried them down to the shores of the Caspian Sea, where a ship was standing in port, ready to start on a trading voyage to other lands.
Fearful of losing this opportunity they had traveled all the latter part of the night, and they stepped upon the deck of the merchant-ship in the early morning. After they had bidden their friends farewell, Mūshteri turned thoughtfully toward the soft green waves beyond him and said to his friend: “Surely here is a welcome change from the desert waste; the cooling breath of the water has a caressing touch, and the morning light is strewing the sea with opals.”
“Ah, yes!” replied Bader, “the sea hath no perils like the desert heat,—better the cooling wave, even though it wraps our dying limbs than the hot breath of the simoon, and a terrible death amidst the bleaching bones of perished caravans.”
Soon the order was given to raise the anchor, and with a merry shout the sailors sprang to their task; the ship drifted outward, slowly at first, and then as her sails caught the welcome breeze she sped over the waves like a thing of life.
The exiles felt that they were at last beyond the reach of the unreasonable monarch, beyond the reach of the Persian banditti, and far from the torrents of burning sand rolling before the desert winds, and they looked into each other’s eyes with renewed hope and gratitude. Day after day passed by in restful calm, but the water itself was an ever-changing picture to the loving eye of Mūshteri; the early morning found him always on the deck watching the waves and listening to the changing voices of the sea.