"We absorb the fat of which they are composed into our system," said Aleppo, "just as, in colder regions of the earth, the Bears, during their long winter sleep live on the thick layer of fat stored up for them during the autumn beneath their skins."
"Is there water in your hump, too?" asked Phil. "I often used to wonder when I heard about you how you can go as many days without it as they say you do when you are crossing the desert."
"No," said Aleppo, with a wide grin. "We hold our stores of water in what you might call a 'reservoir' of deep honeycomb cells inside our paunch. These cells hold altogether as much as six quarts of fluid, and when we have taken a long drink the mouth of each cell contracts, so that the water is prevented from mixing with our food.
"Some Camels can go longer without drinking than others. This is because they can dilate these cells, and so carry a larger supply of water. It is said"—his voice became very mournful, and he stopped scrunching the dry jeans—"that rather than die of thirst the Arabs have been known to kill us in the wilderness, that they might steal the water yet remaining in our cells! But I can scarcely, believe it!"
Phil was deeply impressed.
"Is there any other animal in the world so wonderfully made as you are?" he asked.
Aleppo looked at him with a kind smile, for he, in common with every living creature, was glad to be appreciated.
"There are many just as wonderful in their own way," he said, "but the only other animal I know of who has this 'reservoir' inside him is the Llama. In the mountainous regions of Chili and Peru he fills our place as servant to man."
Phil waited to hear more, but Aleppo was trapped in thought.
The dusk had gathered; the sellers from the market place had gone away, and as the brilliant stars flamed in the heavens one by one, a hush fell over the scene. Suddenly Aleppo raised his head; from afar off came the jangling of many bells, the sound of flutes and flageolets, of the beating of drums and of shouts of exultation.