I told Ben what Siddy Boo Cassem had said.
“Let him give me the chance, and I will see what I can do,” he answered.
We were allowed another night’s rest, with a sufficiency of food,—for just then provisions were plentiful in the place, or we should have been left by our masters to pick up what we could. We tried in vain to discover who the charitable female was who had brought us provisions on the previous evening. It confirmed my belief, however, that Woman is the same all the world over; and that in every place some are to be found who, according to the light within them, endeavour to do their duty in the sight of God, by affording sympathy and help to their fellow-creatures in distress.
Again we were on the road,—Ben being summoned to attend to his master, while we trudged wearily on foot. Having neither cattle, sheep, nor goats to impede us, our progress was more rapid than it had been across the Desert. The baggage was carried on camels and asses; while the more wealthy people rode, and the rest had to walk.
For several days we advanced, passing numerous ruins, which showed how thickly the country at one time had been populated. At last one afternoon we encamped on high ground, outside an ancient town or fortress, amid which palms and other trees had grown up, attesting its antiquity. The tents were pitched, and Boxall, Halliday, and I were sent out with the horses and camels to graze on the pastures surrounding the hill. Returning in the evening, we met Ben with his camel—beside which it was his duty to sleep close to his master’s tent. Ours was not far off.
“I have a notion, Mr Blore,” said Ben, “that if you could take my place for the evening, you would find out more of what these fellows are about than I can. Half-a-dozen or more are sure to be seated in front of the tent for a couple of hours or so after dark, talking away, and smoking their pipes; but for the life of me, though I listen, I cannot make out what they say. They will not know the difference between you and I, however, and the camel will be as quiet with you as he is with me.”
I was very willing to take advantage of Ben’s suggestion; so giving my horses into his keeping, I took his camel and led it up in front of Siddy Boo Cassem’s tent, where, making it lie down, I threw myself on the ground near it. Its owner and several friends were seated, as Ben expected,—the hoods of their burnouses, drawn over their heads, making them look more like a party of old crones than stalwart Arabs habituated to war and the chase; or I might have taken them for the witches in “Macbeth” discussing their malevolent designs. On one side were the ruined walls of the Roman town, with a tall monument rising above them; in front were the tents, spread beneath a few sparsely scattered palm-trees; while beyond could be seen the boundless Desert, the crescent moon casting a pale light over the scene.
As Siddy Boo Cassem knew that Ben could not understand him, even had he been, as he supposed, near at hand, he and his friends spoke in loud tones; every now and then indulging in a chuckling laugh at each other’s wit, or at the recollection of some scene in which they had been engaged. I listened attentively, endeavouring to catch all they said. Much of their conversation was not very edifying, but I became all attention when Siddy Boo Cassem began to talk of his famous camel, and to boast of his deads.
“Curses on the mother who bore them!” he exclaimed. “The rogues would like to have him again, if they knew how near he was to them; but I will take good care that none of their tribe scour again over the plain on his back. He is not likely to remember his old haunts, or the masters who owned him, or I should not have brought him so near them again.”
“How did you obtain him, O friend of the Prophet?” asked one of the party.