“Oh yes, we will find it. The camels know,” said Jakoub, “but we must not halt. It might be impossible to make them start again.”
“I don’t want to halt.”
“Good. The effendi is very strong, what you call ‘very hard,’ is it not? There will be times when we will be able to see a little with the moon, when the sand will not be so thick in the air to blind us. So, we will find the temple and rest.”
The man’s confidence encouraged me and I could not but admire it in face of the wrath of Nature.
Every joint of me ached with the ungainly motion of my mount, and my skin was become as sodden paper. A stream of tears cut channels in the dust that plastered my face. Sometimes the darkness lightened a little, and a greenish light filtered through the sand from the invisible moon, reminding me of the faint light that comes down through the water in glazed tanks of a darkened aquarium.
I could now just see the pale hindquarters of the beast in front of me, and the long neck and head of my own solemnly bowing as it went.
I do not know how long this torment lasted, for I lost all count of time. My only fear was lest the camels should stop in their march, and I counted every painful step a gain.
I had reached the stage of half-conscious misery when suddenly the wind seemed to cease blowing. There were harsh guttural shouts from the Arab boys, and the camels stopped. Then I felt rather than saw the loom of a vast building beside me on my right.
An Arab boy came and took the head-rope from my hand, and dragging at it he made a noise as though he was clearing his throat of all the colds that ever afflicted humanity. Again I was flung backwards and forwards as my camel folded itself up and came to rest on the ground. I slid off too weak in the knees even to get out of the range of its teeth. But the poor beast made no assault on me, and I felt that it had carried me faithfully and well and was grateful.
I saw a match struck, and Jakoub came up with a lantern. My heart faintly warmed to him.