So as fast as his legs would go he trotted towards them over the sand, thinking of nothing but how wonderful it would be to play with children like himself again. But suddenly the wind began to rise, and its wailing filled his ears. And now he saw a white cloud coming swiftly across the sky. In another instant, the sand dervishes sprang up in spirals before him, and whirled and spun wildly in his path.
“Go back, go back!” whispered one as the wind flung her against him.
“Turn around, turn around before it’s too late!” murmured another, and the little camel stopped short in surprise.
“Go back to the caravan!” another breathed in a hushed voice in his ear as she threw her sandy arms around his neck. “This is one of the temptations! Run back to the white leader as quickly as you can!”
The youngest camel’s knees went weak beneath him as he realized the terrible thing he had almost done, and now he turned and began tottering back to the caravan. No sooner had he taken the first step than the wind’s voice died away and the sand dervishes sank down motionless about him on the desert. In another moment he was back beside the litter on which the old white camel lay.
“Well, you changed your mind in time,” said the leader with a yawn.
“Yes, I did,” said the little camel in a trembling voice, and although he could not see it, another snow-white camel took its place at the end of the caravan miles and miles away.
“Time’s getting on,” said the old white leader as the litter began to move forward again. “Nearly all our companions are with us now. After another few temptations, the circle around the earth will be complete and then you will join your mother. But, of course, the hardest things have been saved up till the end.”
Next came the temptations of salt and tobacco, and the little camel looked at them with longing eyes. For a moment he could not make up his mind what to do, because his mother had always told him since his earliest days that salt and tobacco were so rare and so tasty that never, under any conditions, must he dream of refusing them. She said they were part of the daily fare of rajahs and pashas and kings, and if a poor camel ever had the luck to get near them, he should snatch them up as quickly as he could.
“This is just a little pick-me-up to give you the strength to keep on going until evening,” said the white leader casually, and he held the nice assortment out under the youngest camel’s sensitively quivering nose. “They’re something like Turkish delight, only ever so much better. Anyway, they’re not a real meal in any sense of the word, and it can’t possibly do any harm if you try a little. Just lick a bit of the salt to see.”