Our coats are the color of drought and sand.
Does it matter? Oh, child, does it matter?
In our humps we carry a treasure of crystal and diamond-white water;
Jewel box of the desert, my son, you hold dreams
Of topaz and emerald, ruby and pearl,
Like nothing at all in your h-e-a-r-t, in your h-e-a-r-t.”
No sooner had he finished than two camel drivers came to where they were seated under the trees, and without speaking a word one of them put a rope around the youngest camel’s neck. He was so surprised that he simply stood there looking at them in amazement, but his mother understood at once what was taking place, and she raised herself quickly from her knees and said to him in a soft voice:—
“Do not resist them. Go quietly.”
As they led him away, she hurried after him, calling:—
“Be brave, my son. Think of me and remember all I have told you.”