Now they can sit outside the tent and enjoy the evening, and the mother brings out dates and little hard cakes of bread, with plenty of butter made from goats' milk. The tall, dark servant-woman, with loose blue cotton dress and bare feet, milks a camel, and they all take their supper, or dinner perhaps I had better call it. They have no plates, nor do they sit together to eat. The father eats by himself: when he has finished, the mother and children take the dates and bread which he leaves. We could teach them better manners, we think; but they could teach us to be hospitable and courteous, and more polite to strangers than we are.
When all is finished, you see there are no dishes to be washed and put away.
The stars have come out, and from the great arch of the sky they look down on the broad sands, the lonely rocks, the palm-trees, and the tents. Oh, they are so bright, so steady, and so silent, in that great, lonely place, where no noise is heard! no sounds of people or of birds or animals, excepting the sleepy groaning of a camel, or the low song that little Alee is singing to his sister as they lie upon their backs on the sand, and watch the slow, grand movement of the stars that are always journeying towards the west.
Night is very beautiful in the desert; for this is the desert, where Abdel Hassan the Arab lives. His country is that part of our round ball where the yellow sands stretch farther than eye can see, and there are no wide rivers, no thick forests, and no snow-covered hills. The day is too bright and too hot, but the night he loves; it is his friend.
He falls asleep at last out under the stars, and, since he has been sleeping so long in the daytime, can well afford to be awake very early in the morning: so, while the stars still shine, and there is only one little yellow line of light in the east, he calls his wife, children, and servants, and in a few minutes all is bustle and preparation; for to-day they must take down the tent, and move, with all the camels and goats, many miles away. For the summer heat has nearly dried up the water of their little spring under the palm-trees, and the grass that grew there is also entirely gone; and one cannot live without water to drink, particularly in the desert, nor can the goats and camels live without grass.
Now, it would be a very bad thing for us, if some day all the water in our wells and springs and ponds should dry up, and all the grass on our pleasant pastures and hills should wither away.
What should we do? Should we have to pack all our clothes, our books, our furniture and food, and move away to some other place where there were both water and grass, and then build new houses? Oh, how much trouble it would give us! No doubt the children would think it great fun; but as they grew older they would have no pleasant home to remember, with all that makes "sweet home" so dear.
And now you will see how much better it is for Gemila's father than if he lived in a house. In a very few minutes the tent is taken down, the tent-poles are tied together, the covering is rolled up with the pegs and strings which fastened it, and it is all ready to put up again whenever they choose to stop. As there is no furniture to carry, the mats and cushions only are to be rolled together and tied; and now Achmet, the old servant, brings a tall yellow camel.
Did you ever see a camel? I hope you have some time seen a living one in a menagerie; but, if you haven't, perhaps you have seen a picture of the awkward-looking animal with a great hump upon his back, a long neck, and head thrust forward. A boy told me the other day, that, when the camel had been long without food, he ate his hump: he meant that the flesh and fat of the hump helped to nourish him when he had no food.
Achmet speaks to the camel, and he immediately kneels upon the sand, while the man loads him with the tent-poles and covering; after which he gets up, moves on a little way, to make room for another to come up, kneel, and be loaded with mats, cushions, and bags of dates.