"It is a caravan of pilgrims," said Aleppo, "on their way to the Holy City, where, enthroned upon a Camel, Mohammed gave the law. The pilgrims travel by night; they started only a few hours since, and this is not one of their halting places, so you will see them pass."
The cavalcade came nearer. Phil could see now the lighted torches that the pilgrims waved; their yellow flames lit up the scene, and shone on the silver trappings of the foremost Camels. Streamers of coloured silk floated above their heads or trailed behind them; the saddles of the Heiries were of the richest velvet, purple and blue, and necklaces of coral and amber hung below their bridles. The swarthy faces of their riders shone with fervour as they played their flutes, or sang their hymns of praise, and the satin-skinned Arab Horses, who formed a minor part of the cavalcade, pranced and curveted as the torch light gleamed on their polished sides.
"Poor things," said Aleppo with a pitying look. "When the fierce rays of the sun stream down upon them, and their hoofs sink deeply into the shifting sands, they will suffer tortures. Many die on these pilgrimages before the journey is half over, for Nature has not fitted them, as she has us, to cross the desert."
"Tell me about them!" entreated Phil, as the beautiful creatures still came on, their eyes flashing with pride of race, and every line of their slender bodies a thing of beauty.
"They are famous all the world over," said Aleppo; "so famous that it is difficult now for even an Arab Sheik to increase his stud. To be accounted of pure lineage, an Arab Horse must belong to one of the five breeds which are said to be descended from King Solomon's favourite mares! Their pedigrees are written in parchment; they are contained in the little pouches their masters hang round their necks. Arab Horses do not know the meaning of a blow, and because they have never been roughly treated they are as gentle as they are brave. They neither jib nor rear, and in spite of their small size are full of fire and courage."
The Arab Horses passed, and yet the cavalcade streamed on. Now there were Camels again, still more resplendent in their trappings than those that had gone before. Embroideries of gold and silver bedecked their saddles, and glittered beneath the robes of flowing white which are the Arabs' native dress. One pure grey Heirie was decked with ostrich feathers, and had his bridle studded with rubies and emeralds, and gleaming topaz. His master was the Emir Hadgi, the commander of the pilgrimage.
"I once took part in a pilgrimage myself," said Aleppo reflectively, when the last of the cavalcade was out of sight. "Even for me, trained as I was to go long distances, it was a hard struggle to endure to the end. There was a terrible sand storm, and water failed; the wells, when we reached them, were all dried up, and but few of the pilgrims survived."
Aleppo paused. He was thinking of the strange fascination of the desert in spite of all its terrors, and of the wonderful pictures he had seen in the desert sky that men called "mirages." They were of shady groves and flowing rivers, and many a time had Aleppo seen them as he pressed on through the sands, with head held high, so that he might scan the horizon for the longed-for oasis. He turned to speak of these to Phil; but his little companion, he saw, had meantime drifted off to dreamland.