“I hope,” said Edmund gravely, “that whatever happens you’ll always keep a kindly feeling for her in your heart.”
Edmund led me up to my camel. The brute slewed its head round and eyed us with a supercilious and malevolent expression that reminded me of Jakoub. It kept its mouth open, ready to protest against whatever was done to it, showing a great bunch of teeth in its lower jaw. As we approached it made a noise as if it were gargling its throat.
“All you’ve to do,” said Edmund, “is to nip on to the saddle quickly and hang on to this wooden upright. He’ll start getting up the minute you’re on and that throws you about a bit, but once he’s on his feet you’ll be all right and quite comfortable. Cross your feet over his left shoulder, and hold on to the upright at first till you’re used to the motion. Keep him in a sort of half trot if you can, it’s less tiring than walking. But he’ll follow Jakoub’s beast anyhow.”
“What am I to do if he runs away?”
“He won’t do that. He’ll keep in the string all right.”
I watched Jakoub mount, and with a great effort of will-power followed his example.
I stretched one leg over the brute and was pulling myself into my seat to an accompaniment of appalling growls, when an earthquake seemed to take place. I was flung forward, then backwards and forwards again, and shot up skywards at the same time, but remained safe on the bundle of mats they called a saddle. I found myself at a dizzy height with the camel’s greyish white neck stretched out a long way below me, and a single slender rope in my hand to guide him with.
However, the brute stood quiet. He was now silent and showed no disposition to do untoward things.
“Well done,” Edmund called up to me; “you’ll be all right now.”
“I’m all right,” I said, “unless he turns round and chews my feet.”