Ali faced Mecca. He began his supplication with the customary "Allahu akbar—God is most great." He ended it at precisely the same place, more than a little overwhelmed by the speed with which Allah may respond to even the least of His worshipers. Ali had scarcely started when he knew the name he sought. He whirled to the dalul.
"From this moment you shall be known as Ben Akbar!" he declared happily. "Ben Akbar!"
Transcending mere perfection, the name was a stroke of genius. Ben Akbar, the unequaled, the peerless, the greatest dalul of any. No matter how hard they racked their own brains, regardless of the masters of rhetoric they might consult, no camel rider anywhere would ever hit upon a name that described his favorite in terms more superlative.
Now that Ben Akbar bore the only name that truly conformed to his dignity and power, Ali turned his thoughts to affairs of the moment.
His entry into the Druse camp, audacious though it had been, never would have created other than momentary alarm. Freeing Ben Akbar, a confirmed killer camel in the mind of every Druse, gave a wholly different meaning to the entire affair. The least of the raiders would happily prowl the camp in search of Ali. But while darkness held sway, not even the best of them cared to chance an encounter with Ben Akbar.
In addition, or so the Druse would think, killer camels made no distinction among Moslems, Christians, Jews, or men of any other faith. They killed whomsoever they were able to catch. Since Ali had been near enough to cut the dalul's bindings, it followed that the killer camel had been able to catch him.
Regardless of anything the Druse thought at the moment, Ali knew that they would not continue to remain deceived after sunrise. The signs, the tracks, would be there for them to read, and few desert dwellers read signs more skillfully. Despite anything their minds told them, their eyes would leave no doubt that Ali and the dalul had gone away together.
For a brief interval, Ali speculated concerning the inscrutable ways of Allah, who had bestowed upon the Druse tribesmen a maximum of ferocity and a minimum of common sense. Obviously, it was his duty to take certain most urgent action if he would live to greet another sunset.
At night, the Druse would have no stomach for attacking, or even coming near, Ben Akbar. As soon as a new day brought light enough so they could see, they'd never hesitate. If Ali happened to be near Ben Akbar, where he had every intention of being, he'd be found.
Ali said softly, "We go, brother." With Ben Akbar pacing contentedly at his shoulder, he faded into the darkness.