Probably the country over which Michael had travelled belonged to the last type of desert. There had been wonderful effects of light and shade and strange changes in the colour of the sand and rocks, owing to geological reasons. Sometimes such strange effects that he found it hard to believe, from a distance, that there were not bright carpets or gay flowers spread on the sands.
To the uninitiated it sounds as if such a journey could become dangerously monotonous and boring, and so it would to the eye or mind which has not the true desert instinct. Michael's had it. He loved its passionate intensity of sky and space as a true sailor loves the ocean. He loved his "ship of the desert," which bore him silently over the rolling waves of sand, as a Jack Tar loves his ship. He loved the stories of the desert which his guide told him at night under the southern stars, as an English Jack Tar loves his fo'c's'e yarns.
Although nothing ever happened, there was for Michael something happening every minute, some fresh beauty which revealed a new phase of Nature, some geological surprise which changed the colour and atmospheric effect of his surroundings. At one time mirage after mirage appeared and disappeared like delicate, subtle dreams; fair cities sprang up on the horizon with white-winged sailing-boats drifting on their waters; tall palm-trees, black against the light, stood up and refreshed the eye, only to become fainter and fainter until they were no more.
These fair Jerusalems, God's help to tired travellers, with eyes grown weary of emptiness and space, made beautiful interludes in the day's march. Since their first day's march they had seen no real desert villages, with their much-treasured palm-trees and picturesque inhabitants, for they had made for the open desert. Where palm-trees grow, there are also human habitations and Government taxes. Anything green in the desert which is of lasting duration is the result of artificial irrigation. But if the sand brings forth no food for man or beast, its emptiness holds a world of prayers and desires.
* * * * * *
It was about noon of the fourth day of Michael's journey when he saw in the distance a cavalcade of camels riding towards him. It had emerged out of nothing; suddenly it became clearer and clearer. Was it mirage? It was still so distant that it might yet prove an optical delusion.
He stopped his camel. Abdul, seeing that his master evidently wanted something, rode forward quickly.
"Look, Abdul," Michael said, "can you see some camels coming towards us?"
Abdul had no need to look. His eyes could see much further than
Michael's. He had already noticed the cavalcade.
"Aiwah, Effendi, they are camels carrying real human beings." His master's words had implied that he wondered if he was looking at a mirage. Michael had never seen a mirage of anything but scenery, villages with minarets and rivers with boats—reflections, in fact, of distant towns.