IV
BY FOUR o’clock in the afternoon the little camel was still running hard, but now he had begun to slacken his pace a little, for it seemed to him that some sort of object was appearing on the horizon far, far away. Whatever it was, it was decidedly to one side and not at all in the direction of the sun where the handsome youth had told him the oasis would be. As he ran he kept glancing out of the corner of one eye at the dark object that seemed to be growing bigger and bigger over his left shoulder, and he kept asking himself what in the world it could be.
After a while his curiosity got the best of him and he stopped running entirely and turned halfway around and gave the dark thing a good long stare. And then he really began to suspect it was the oasis. It looked exactly like an oasis. He was sure he could make out the tops of the trees against the sky. It was certainly the oasis. In another minute he had turned all the way around, and even though he felt the light of the sun falling warm on his tail, he was convinced it was the oasis.
He thought he could even make out tiny black specks hovering above it.
“Those are probably the herons and the flamingos,” he said to himself. “Mohammed’s son said there were hundreds of them there.”
So without any further hesitation he started running again, but this time in an entirely different direction from the one in which Mohammed’s son had told him he should go. Faster and faster he sped towards the perfectly clear oasis ahead, and now the sun was shining well over his right shoulder.
“Mohammed’s son certainly didn’t know what he was talking about,” he said with a little snort of laughter. “It’s evident even to an idiot that the oasis is over there right in front of me and not in the direction of the sun in the slightest.”
In half an hour at the most, he thought, he would be snuggling down against his mother among the fresh grasses of the oasis twenty miles this side of Aqsu. He knew he was absolutely right and he began complimenting himself on his quick eyes and wits. Most young camels would have gone right on and never noticed what fools they were making of themselves, he thought with satisfaction.
“It just shows,” he said to himself, “that it doesn’t pay to believe everything you’re told.”
He was so pleased with himself that he began to whistle as he ran. He whistled treble and bass and, by curling his tongue up against his lower teeth, managed to do some double-stops. And now that he made out what looked exactly like branches of palm trees waving against the sky ahead, he gave a few little hops and skips of joy.