The force of the wind had blown every thought from his head, and now he closed his eyes and his lips as the sand dervishes had bade him and he let himself be guided by their gentle hands. How many hours passed like this he never knew. All around him spun the tireless dancers, torn this way and that by the wind’s screaming fury, and when they came near they whispered words of hope and courage to him.
“When you find the pathway between the winds, you will be saved,” one sand dervish murmured in his ear, and another one whispered:—
“Believe in us. We will show you the way.”
All through that afternoon, perhaps, and through the night that followed, the youngest camel staggered blind and spent through the storm. But now there seemed to be no longer any division of time, no night or day, no sun or moon, no heat or cold. But finally, when he thought he could go no farther, the voice of a sand dervish whispered to him:—
“Now we have brought you to the pathway between the winds. Go quietly ahead. Farewell.”
Almost at once the gale’s force grew less and less about him and the screams of the wind grew fainter and fainter until there was nothing to be heard except a last long parting wail. Then a perfect calmness fell upon the earth and air around the little camel, and in another moment he ventured to open his eyes. And there he stood blinking in bewilderment, for he saw he was no longer on the desert, nor was there any sign of sand or a distant horizon to be seen. His feet lay on a carpet of fresh green grasses, and a little rivulet ran chattering through the rocks beside him. All about stood luxuriant fruit trees with their boughs laden, and through their thick foliage he saw the sun was rising. Delicate birds with bright exotic plumage winged from branch to branch above his head, and shy wood animals moved swiftly in the glades.
Now that his eyes grew accustomed to these unexpected wonders, he saw that a few steps before him, just at the edge of the wood, a silk tent was pitched. Its brocaded doors were caught back with brooches of shining stones and a thin thread of incense smoke was drawn languidly upward from its opening onto the quiet air. The youngest camel looked in amazement about him, and then he fell joyfully on his knees at the stream’s brink and lowered his head toward the cool running water. But before he had time to drink, a rather lazy, indolent voice called out to him from inside the tent.
“Not so fast, not so fast, young camel. Listen first to what I have to say. You have passed through the third and last night of your ordeal of loneliness,” it said, “but the third day is just dawning. Twelve hours lie ahead of you before you may safely eat or drink. The day which is just being born is the Day of Temptation. Some camels consider it the most difficult day of all.”
If anyone had said this to the little camel the week before, he would have paid no attention at all, but would have gone right ahead and drunk his fill at the brook. Then he would have jumped up and run to the big trees and started pulling the fruit hungrily down from the heavily laden boughs. But so much had happened to him in the past two days that now he rose obediently without so much as wetting his parched lips, and turned respectfully towards the beautiful silk tent.
“Well, I must say you’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” the voice went on, and the youngest camel stood listening to it with lowered head. “If you hadn’t done what I told you, all this would have vanished in the twinkling of an eye and you would be right back in the middle of the sandstorm again and this time the sand dervishes would never have helped you to get out.”