The baggage camels crowded very close together, as though for the comfort each found in the others, when the dalul leaped. His roar robbed them of common sense, so that they began a wild plunging. Even better than Ali, the baggage camels knew the dalul's quality. They'd have broken their tethers and stampeded had not some of the Druse taken note of the situation and rushed in to quiet the terrified beasts.
For the first time, Ali had a few fleeting moments to wonder why he still lived. It had seemed inevitable that, if the Druse did not kill him, the dalul most certainly would. Perhaps, during the tortured hours it had stood as captive, it had marked its enemies and knew Ali was not among them. More probable, Ali's gift, his ability to understand and be understood by all camels, had proved itself once again.
Ali shrugged. He didn't know, and probably never would know, just why the dalul had not killed him the instant it was free. But Allah knew, and it was not for Ali to question or even wonder about His judgments.
Ali's business was camels. He decided that it was high time he took his business in hand and called the dalul.
It responded, but before coming all the way to Ali, it stopped twice to bestow a long, lingering and disappointed look upon the camp of the Druse. Raging, but bound and helpless, the dalul had promised his captors a battle as soon as he was free. The challenge still stood, and, even though the Druse were not accepting, the situation rebounded to Ali's benefit. While the dalul roamed the camp, the enemy dared not move freely, and Ali's peril was correspondingly less.
After his second inspection of the enemy camp, the dalul did not stop again or even look about him but continued straight to Ali. He halted a few steps away and grunted a little camel song. Then he extended his long neck and lightly laid his head on his rescuer's shoulder. Ali embraced the great head with both arms and pressed his cheek close to the dalul's neck.
"Mighty one!" he crooned. "Peerless one! Where is a name worthy of such as you?"
The Druse were continuing the hunt, and when and if they found Ali, they'd be overjoyed to kill him as dead as possible in the shortest necessary time. But creeping into an armed Druse camp, his only weapons a dagger and courage, was one matter. Waiting beside the young dalul, whom the Druse had every reason to fear, was quite another. Again Ali addressed the young stallion.
"Sun of cameldom! Jewel of the caravan routes! By what title may you be called so that, wherever you may venture, all men shall know your deeds when you are called by name?"
The young dalul—and if he had the faintest interest in the name Ali or anyone else might bestow, there was no indication of that—took his head from Ali's shoulder to sniff his hand. Obviously, it was high time for Ali to seek divine assistance in determining a name for the dalul, and it would not come amiss to indicate that haste was in order. Even Druse tribesmen, knowing Ali was in camp but failing to find him, must sooner or later deduce that he was with the dalul.