The sky was cloudless, but there was no moon and, at this early hour, very few stars shone. Ali advanced with silent and unfaltering speed, in spite of the fact that he could see almost nothing. A dozen times during the day he had marked the exact route between himself and the young dalul. He knew where he was going.
Ali's fingers tightened on the dagger's hilt. If Allah saw fit to reveal him to the Druse, he hoped that the All Merciful would see equally fit to defend himself manfully. When Ali was within a dozen yards of the dalul, the peaceful night was shattered by an alarm.
"Ho! Wake and arm! There is an enemy among us!"
Because that was all he could do, Ali began to run. He had cast his lot, and now all depended on the dalul. If he could free it, then mount and ride, he and the camel would be safe at least until morning.
Ali was within an arm's length of the dalul when it turned and spoke to him. It was a guttural sound, and scarcely audible, but as different from the usual camel's grunt as the scream of a hawk is from the chirp of a robin. Even as he flung himself forward and started slashing at the nearest rope, Ali heard and correctly interpreted.
The dalul had just said that it would kill him if it could!
2. Fugitive
The picketed camels, that never saw any reason to give way to excitement just because humans did, shuffled their feet, grunted and went on munching fodder. His warning voiced, the young dalul remained silent. He would waste no more breath on threats or further warnings; just let any man who came near enough look to his own safety! His very silence had all the lethal promise of a poised, unsheathed dagger!