“The wind is coming,” murmured one grain of sand to another all over the desert, and the others whispered:—
“In a little while we shall have to rise and dance.”
Before the little camel had gone much farther, he saw a white cloud of wind advancing rapidly across the clear blue sky, and in another minute he heard it wailing:—
“Here I am, ow-oooo-ow—oooooo! Here is your master, ow-ooo! Arise, slaves! A-r-i-i-i-i-se!”
Here and there across the desert the sand began to rise in spirals, whirling and turning and swaying its arms in the frantic dance. Wild, ghost-like figures of sand spun up around the youngest camel, reaching taller and taller above him.
“Dance! Dance!” screamed the wind as he lashed them, and in an instant the little camel was almost blinded by the gritty veils which were flung into his eyes. Nothing could he see to the east or the west or the north or the south except the dervish-like white figures which spun around him. The sun seemed to have been blown from the sky, and the gray of twilight closed upon them. As the little camel staggered blindly on through the swirling skirts of flying sand, he heard the voices speaking secretly in his ears.
“Close your eyes,” whispered one sand dervish as the wind thrust her fiercely upon him.
“Close your lips,” said another as the wind blew her savagely against the little camel’s tender nose.
“Do not breathe deeply,” whispered a third, and still another murmured:—
“Do not struggle. You will only wear yourself out.”