The camel driver made a queer sound.
Some one shouted, “Now hold on, Miss Dinah, the camel is going to rise.”
The camel did rise indeed,—not on his fore legs, but he rose up behind, as if his back had been shot up out of the earth.
“Dinah” grasped the saddle, and fell forward, exclaiming, “Holy Moses!” A wild look came into her face. Then the front part of the camel rose up, and the sable bride found herself in the air.
“Here yo’ dar, yo’, let me get off! Stop! dis yere beast am all broke up. No lady can ride in dis yere way. Stop! Whoa!”
But the camel driver did not heed. The camel began his swaying motion, tossing Dinah, if we may so call her, up into the air in this way, and then in another. It was such a comical sight that the good-natured crowd stood laughing, each one looking at the other, to share the humor.
As the camel passed down the street, its upheaving motions increased.
“Whoa, dar!” shouted Dinah. “Stop yer wobblin’ dar! Driver, stop, dar, I’ll fall off! Dar, I’m goin’ right ober now! Whoa! If you don’t stop him I’ll hollar!”
The camel gave a sidling lurch, sending Dinah high up into the air with her ribbons and feathers flying. The crowd followed her, laughing.
Down the street she went, shouting, “Stop, dar! Stop, dar!” tossed this way and that, and once threatening the philosophical driver with—“If you don’t stop dat dare critter, I’ll cry ‘Perlice, murder!’” But the camel driver did not heed.