“And have you perceived the singular fact, that though the country hereabout resembles the garden of Eden, we have this long day not seen a single sign of life,” said Cordosa, not undisturbed in his mind.
“Allah achbar! what sea is it there we are drawing nearer to?” asked the Bashi in alarm.—“A big water in the mountain!”
“By the beard of the Prophet, how can a big water climb up a mountain?” ejaculated the astonished guide.
“What you see is no water, but a heavy fog, which looks like water,” corrected Cordosa, much surprised however at the phenomenal denseness of the cloud.
“True, it is a fog; but I have never seen one that looked so much like a rolling tide threatening to engulf us. Everything that is alive seems to have fled before we entered this region,” observed the guide, apprehensively.
And a strange fog it was, which rolled forward like a tidal wave, and ere long buried the caravan in a cloud so dense that one could not see his own feet, and the men became alarmed lest they go down unwarned over the brink of some precipice. The camels were allowed to grope their way, the guide having given up the idea of guiding; and the long string of animals progressed slowly amidst a flood of vapor with nothing to vary the nerve-trying suspense for fully an hour. Everything and everybody was soaked by the moisture; the air did not stir, and the stillness was oppressive. At last there was a rift in the hitherto impenetrable mass; and when a breeze lifted the fog, Cordosa rubbed his eyes to assure himself of being awake.
“Dost thou see what I see?” asked he of the Karawan-Bashi.
“And what dost thou see, O, man, who hast traversed the Red Desert?” asked in turn the Bashi of the guide.
“I see, high up, a city of marble palaces with roofs of silver and balconies of gold, as glorious as Balbec and Chilminar,” cried the guide, enthusiastically.
“That is what I see; we have been lured into the domain of the genii, and harm will betide us if we fail to evade their crafty wiles,” answered the Bashi, nervously.