to dig a badger by night," he said, "and that disturbed the little
people. So they killed him."
THE STORY OF A CAMEL
When Abdullah, the slave dealer, led the long file of loaded camels
towards the desert on the bright April morning, only one of his animals
remained in the fandak. Within a week she had a companion, her little
baby camel who came into the world as though to give her his company
during the long, hot months of summer when, at the sun's bidding, the
caravan that had just set out would cease from its labours and rest in
the far-off city of Timbuctoo.
The fandak was a large rectangular enclosure open to the sky everywhere
save in the cloisters round the inside walls. It was filthily dirty, and
full of flies and insects, but Basha the baby camel noted none of these
things. He passed his early days wandering round the cloisters to look
at the half-starved mules and donkeys that were brought in there for
their much needed rest, and when the heat was greatest and the flies
most insistent, he would lie contentedly by his mother's side. For all
the fandak's limitations Basha had been born in fortunate hour. His
mother's services were not required in field or city, heavy spring rains
had made food plentiful and cheap, so that she was well fed, and the
little one, who by the way was two feet odd inches high when he was
born, enjoyed an unfailing supply of milk. Had he come into the world at
another time or place, his mother might have been put to work hard
before he was three months old, her milk might have been required for
cheese, and he would have pined and died as so many baby camels do. Even
when the summer waned and the autumn rains starred the fields with
flowers of bewildering beauty, Basha stayed with his mother on a farm
outside the city gates. The caravan came back in the season of cool
weather and in place of the merchandise they had taken to the South, the
camels brought slaves for the Sok el Abeed, but they could not go out
again. Between them and the Soudan the fierce veiled Touaregs of the
desert were in arms, and in the direction of the coast the chief camel
road was held by the braves of a tribe that was in open revolt against
Morocco's Sultan.
So, while Abdullah swore strange oaths by the Prophet's beard, and
declared that the men of the desert were descended from devils and the
men of the western province from apes, little Basha grew strong and
unshapely, and life was an affair of sunshine and good milk. Day by day
the farmer spread his mother's food before her on a cloth; dried beans,
crushed date stones and a very small measure of corn and chopped hay,
and Basha would sniff at it with very little interest. If the farmer
himself was absent the cloth might be forgotten, and then Mother Camel
would make an angry noise in her throat and refuse to eat, and little
Basha would suffer accordingly.
"Why must you have a cloth to eat from?" he asked her one day, when she
was gurgling indignantly while the rats made merry at her expense, and
she made no attempt to check their depredations.
"It is Camel Law," replied his mother. "If we were to eat our food from
the bare ground we should take all manner of dirt into our mouths, and
in a little while it would make us ill, perhaps fatally. Our inside
arrangements are very delicate and complicated. In the fandak two camels
and no more will feed from one mat or cloth, and it is right that there
should be precedence at meal-times. The most important camels should be
fed first. That is etiquette, and we set a great store by it. Indeed, if
this consideration is overlooked we let our masters know about it."
"But when you leave your food, I get less milk," remonstrated Basha.
"You can't begin too early," explained the Mother Camel, "to understand
that all camels must suffer. It is part of our life to work hard, to
endure ill-treatment and to be deprived of our fair share of good
things. Down to the present your good luck has been astonishing. Your
brother and sister, one born seven years ago and the other four, died of
starvation before they had lived through one summer. I myself was born
in the country of the black men south of the Atlas mountains, and had to
come here with my mother across the desert before I was six months old."
Basha took small account of these warnings. He could do no more than
judge life as he found it, and do credit to his environment by growing
to be a fine specimen of his race. When at length he was taken from his
mother he was fully a year old, and he enjoyed some idle months on the
farm land, living for the most part upon green herbage, and straying far
and wide in search of camel thorn, r'tam, tamarisk and mimosa. When he
had found his favourite bush, he would run his upper lip over the leaves
as though to assure himself that they were what he sought, but if he
knew what he liked he did not know what was good for him. A wandering
Bedouin shepherd came upon him one morning just as he was beginning to
sniff with appreciation at some leaves that would have finished his
career at once, and thereafter Basha's liberty was curtailed and he had
his first experience of the manacles. They were made of steel and fitted
round each fore-leg above the ankle. This was a most effective device,
for a camel walks moving both legs on the same side simultaneously, and
the steel was capable of arresting the walk altogether. He had to endure
many long and painful hours in this confinement.
As he was quite unconscious of having done anything to deserve such
treatment, and knew nothing of his own stupidity, Basha was full of
indignation and kicked with his hind-legs at all passers, exhibiting
early signs of bad temper. Then the first evil days came to him, and in
the picturesque language of his master he "ate the stick" until he knew
fear and understood the virtue of docility. But in after days when he
was goaded beyond endurance he always kicked out with his hind-legs, and
he learned that many camels do the same when they are angry, although
their fore limbs are much stronger than the hind ones. Perhaps the early
use of the shackles accounts for this tendency, which is common to the
most of African camels.
If his training in those early days was cruel, Basha was no worse off
than his fellows. He had to learn to endure the saddle and the pack, to
kneel at word of command, and to go with the other camels on short
journeys carrying some light load in preparation for the trying days to
come. He grew very slowly but managed to preserve a good condition,
clearly to be seen in the rising hump and in the well-covered skin.
Camels that were overworked or underfed lost their hump, and if they had
any serious illness, their skin looked like a moth-eaten fur.
In his fifth year when he was reckoned fit for the full measure of work
Basha was a very finely developed beast, even though his ugliness was
undeniable. His long, thick upper lip was divided in two, and this
peculiarity accounted in part for his perpetual sneer; his eyes, the one
redeeming feature of his head, were shaded by heavy brow and coarse
eyelashes; his ears were very small and round and he acquired the
curious power of compressing his nostrils that was to be so serviceable
in days to come. His legs were long and thin, and the great shapeless
feet in which they terminated looked very absurd; his walk was little
better than an awkward flat-footed shuffle. His tail was short and
stumpy, and his mode of resting had brought well-defined hard growths to
his chest and knees. He could travel without fatigue over endless miles
of level ground, but hills tired him at once; and he could swim sturdily
though nothing but the most severe thirst would make him drink of
running water. His early-day nervousness had gone though he was still
restive when taken from his companions. He seldom called as he had been
in the habit of doing when he was young, but with manhood, if the term
be permissible, he had developed a violent temper, and there were
seasons of the year when only Abdullah dare approach him. At these times
he would grow very excited, he would repeat the horrid gurgling noise
that his mother had made, and would go about with a hideous pink bladder
hanging from one side of his mouth. At the first sign of this state
among his male camels Abdullah would seek to reduce their rage by
bloodletting. The camels would be hobbled in turn and told to sit down,
and after a cord had been tied tightly round the neck two small
incisions would be made just below the cord. This was an effective cure
for ferocity, but was not always a possible remedy when the camels were
on the march, for it left them very weak.
In the first year of his complete strength Basha was hired with two
other camels by a Moor who traded between the Atlantic coast and
Marrakesh, the far southern capital of the Moorish Empire. The work was
hard and the loads were heavy, but the Moor did not spare himself. The
start from coast or capital would be made in the very early morning
hours. The camels would be loaded in skilful fashion, the weight being
put as high on the ribs as possible, because the hind limbs were so much
weaker than the others. If there was any mistake or the weight was
unfairly heavy, the camels would gurgle angrily and refuse to rise. Then
some fresh adjustment was necessary for Abd el Karim knew better than to
waste his time in trying to force an ill-loaded or over-strained animal
to his feet. Once a camel had risen and started he would go until he
dropped, but no animal would rise before being satisfied that he was
being fairly handled. In those early hours the beasts would be fed with
cakes made of crushed grain and dates, mixed for choice with camel milk
or, failing that, with water. The meal over, the little procession would
start out well in advance of sunrise, and when the first halt was called
it would be to avoid the midday sun and give the weary men a little time
to repose. When the journey was resumed it would be kept up until night
was falling and it was no longer safe to be found on any one of the
broad tracks that served the southern countries for a road. Then Abd el
Karim would seek an ensala, a piece of bare ground next some village,
fenced round with cactus thorn and prickly pear. He would pay the
equivalent of a few pence for admission, and once there the headman of
the village would be responsible to the nearest country governor for the
safety of the little company. The camels would be unloaded, watered and
fed, three or four pounds of grain being the maximum supply for each
beast, and they would enjoy some six hours' rest. But as soon as the
false dawn appeared in the sky and Abd el Karim had said the early
morning prayer that is called the fejer, and comes with the third
cock-crow, loads would be replaced and the journey resumed. Basha
plodded along with seeming content, but in his heart he hated his new
master. It was not that he had any special unkindness to complain about,
the ill-treatment was quite impartial, he hated all humans, and Abd el
Karim stood for him as the type of the tyrants who inflicted such base
servitude upon the camel world. He had no pet grievance, and would most
certainly have resented any special act of kindness as an impertinence.
Whatever kindly feelings he might have had were kept under so severely
that his face had but two expressions. He looked upon the world with
indignation and contempt in turn. When he walked through the narrow
streets of Marrakesh carrying a pack that weighed between three and four
hundred pounds upon his shoulders, he would turn neither to the right
nor to the left; horses, mules and pedestrians had perforce to make way
for him. Not only was he prepared to walk over anything that stood in
his way, he was ready to turn round and bite any passer who came within
reach of his mouth. From nose to tail he could not have been less than
eight feet long in those days, and he stood more than six feet high from
hump to ground. In brief, Basha was an ill-natured, sulky beast, but his
powers of endurance gave him a value for which all his little failings
were forgiven.
In the camel fandak at Marrakesh where he had first seen the daylight he
would join the rest of Abdullah's animals from time to time and hear of
their adventurous journeys to the Soudan. His mother was still at work
among them and had lost another son since Basha was born. She was ageing
now under the combined influences of hard work and insufficient food,
and the sight of her condition roused her son to a state of anger in
which pity took no part. He had no affection for her, but her state
increased the bitterness of his feelings against the enemy man. From
time to time he noted the disappearance of animals he had known and
asked about them.
"He fell," replied his mother once, referring to a camel of his own age,
"and then you know the old cry."
"I don't," confessed Basha, "what do you mean?"
"It has passed into the proverbs of our masters," said his mother
slowly. "'When the camel falls,' runs their adage, 'out with your
knives.' It is a recognition of our undying pluck. So long as we can
endure we keep up and when we fall we are beaten and done for. No rest
can cure us. Our masters know that, and when we fall in our tracks their
knives are out--sometimes before we are dead."
Basha turned away, sick with anger. This then was the end of things, to
labour through the heat of day, to toil until the last store of strength
was exhausted, and then die a dishonourable death under the curved
daggers of brutal masters. How he hated them, one and all.
It was on account of his recent losses that Abdullah decided to include
Basha in the next caravan that left Marrakesh for the South, and so it
happened that he made one of a string of fifty beasts that filed out of
the city by way of the Dukala Gate on a fine September morning. For some
weeks past the camels had rested and had been tended with an approach to
care. Before a final selection was made each animal was examined with
care and a few were rejected on account of ailments that were plain to
the practical eyes of Abdullah and his assistants. Chief of these
disqualifying symptoms was a foot disease brought on by overwork, and
the fate of Basha's mother hung in the balance for she was beginning to
show signs of the unending labour imposed upon her. But there was a fair
sporting chance for her, and Abdullah took it. The unaccustomed rest of
the past three weeks and the regular food had almost restored her
strength.
Although he was now in his tenth year Basha had not crossed the Sahara.
He had not finished growing but was immensely strong, and the journey
had no terrors for him. For the first few days the land was one vast
oasis and the camels went unwatered, feeding in the very early morning
before the dew was off the autumn greenery, and so storing enough
moisture to last them through the day. They were well fed at night, and
Basha began to think that the difficulties of which his companions spoke
after supper when they sat in a great group, had been exaggerated. Then
the caravan reached the real desert beyond the Draa country, and he
understood. The sun was like molten copper above, and the sands seemed
white-hot underneath. Vegetation ceased. No man spoke, and at night the
hours of respite from the heat seemed to fly. A reserve stock of water
was carried in goat-skin barrels on some of the camels, but Abdullah
made a detour in order to reach the oases that lay scattered here and
there. And when the wells at one of these oases were found to be dry,
the real troubles of the journey commenced. Supplies were reduced all
round as they moved towards the next oasis, and on the second morning
following the reduction the desert was swept by a dust-storm.
Long before Abdullah and his companions could note its approach, the
leading camels saw the advancing columns of the storm, and with one
accord they dropped to their knees and crouched with their long necks
stretched out and their nostrils firmly closed to face the coming
trouble. The men shrouded themselves in their haiks and crouched on the
ground, taking refuge with Allah from Satan and his legions, for they
knew well that the sand columns were really djinoon, who went about the
desert seeking whom they might devour. When the legions of the storm had
passed, and men and beasts arose to continue the journey, the terror of
the desert lay heavily upon one and all.
The caravan had a mournful appearance as it laboured across the desert
in the tracks of the storm. Camels shuffled along with the hopeless,
listless energy of creatures attuned to suffering in its every form; the
men, riding or walking, seemed to have yielded to the depression that
the Sahara knows so well. Shifting sand and raging wind had hidden the
tracks, but Abdullah and Abd el Karim, who was acting as his lieutenant,
had rare eyes, and they corrected their bearings by the stars at night.
For perhaps the first time in his life Basha realised the cunning
economy of his body. His stomach had four compartments, to say nothing
of cells, that served for the preservation of the water-supply, and he
could regulate the flow of food and water in manner that took the keen
edge from his sufferings. Men suffered more than beasts, but they had
the consolation of their faith. "Mektub," they muttered, when Abdullah
pointed out the need for diminished rations lest the next oasis should
fail them, "it is written". If their safe arrival in the far-off
Abaradiou of Timbuctoo was decreed, no dust storm would avail to stay
them; if they were to be one of the caravans that the pitiless Sahara
swallows up, no complaint would avail to avert the evil decree.
At night when the packs were removed and the men smoked the forbidden
haschish over their scanty supper, or took council with the star Sohail
that served to guide them to the South, the camels held converse after
their own fashion.
"The end is upon me," cried Basha's mother one evening, "My feet are
worn away. It is not for me to see the Niger's bank or to eat the camel
thorn in the woods beyond the Mosque of Sankoréh".
"It is well, mother," said the camel crouched by her side; "you will
rest at least. We shall go on, and your load will be added to ours.
Rejoice then in the end of the day's work." And late on the following
afternoon, at the hour when the sun first appeared to relent of his
pitiless severity, Basha saw his mother stoop slowly to the earth.
"A camel falls," cried Abd el Karim, who walked by his side, "out with
your knives." He leapt forward, Basha saw the red stain in the white
sand, and then passed on with averted eyes. A few camels gurgled to
express sympathy or indignation, three or four were stopped by
Abdullah's orders and the burden of the dead beast was divided among
them. Then the march was resumed, and in the evening an oasis was
reached where there were date palms in plenty, and a well untouched by
drought. Far into the night the water was poured into the puddled
troughs from the goat-skin bucket that served the well, each of the
camels receiving ten or twelve gallons--enough to quench their raging
thirst and give them a store for two or even three days.
Half of the party remained at the oasis, the other half under Abdullah's
guidance turned aside to El Djouf, the desert city where the merchandise
of the camels would be exchanged for the great blocks of salt that were
worth their weight in gold, and slaves in far-off villages beyond
Timbuctoo. Basha was one of the camels that remained behind, and he sat
through the night with sleepless eyes seeing ever before him the dead
body of his mother, and hearing Abd el Karim's horrid cry. It was anger
with the living rather than pity for the dead that fed his growing
wrath. A light breeze stirred the palm leaves, he heard the far-off cry
of a jackal and then the patter of little feet. This last sound came
nearer until a company of desert antelope ran in view. Undisturbed by
the camels they ranged in search of green food, and drank of the water
remaining in the puddled troughs as though indifferent to the proximity
of the sleeping men.
One, who seemed to be the leader of the deer, paused by Basha's side.
"Little master," said the camel, "whence come you, and what have you
seen?"
"We range the sands," replied the stranger, "from the oasis that is
tended by man even to the far-off spring that only the gazelles have
seen. And to-night we fly from El Kebeer, the great jackal, who has
brought his pack in search of meat."
"Where is he now?" asked Basha, shuddering.
"All are together now," said the gazelle. "They have found the body of
an old mother camel fallen by the way. Until the morning comes they will
hardly leave the spot, and ere then we shall be miles from here. We
shall seek green places that the desert hides from all save us, we shall
rejoice in our freedom and our peaceful lives. Farewell."
He slipped noiselessly into the shadows and was gone. But Basha sat
wakeful and watchful through the night.
With the break of day the most of the camels in the oasis rose to search
for the young green growths that held the dew, but Basha sat silent.
"Fool," cried Abd el Karim, staggering from his tent, the haschish
dreams still clouding his brain; "art thou too among the sick? Shall I
kill thee, or wilt thou eat, O thrice cursed beast?"
"Leave me while there is time," growled Basha, but Abd el Karim heard no
more than the usual angry gurgle, and drawing off one of his slippers he
struck Basha across the mouth.
With a curious cry like a trumpet-call Basha shuffled to his feet, and
Abd el Karim, realising that some awful change had come to his charge,
turned and ran.
In long slanting strides, with outstretched neck, lowered head and open
mouth, Basha pursued noisily. The other camels were feeding behind the
palm grove, their guardians with them, Abd el Karim had run towards the
desert. But the drug he favoured had made his feet unsteady; in the hour
of his direst need he slipped and fell. Basha's teeth closed on the
white haik that enveloped his master, and then he came down slowly to a
sitting position and thrust the man, senseless now from fright, between
the smooth rock and the bony ridge of his chest.
When he rose and ran towards the open desert he was mad, doomed to run
until he dropped and died. But the man he had left prone on the rock
that had tripped him would never, never rise again.
* * * * *
Many days later, in the great fandak of the Abaradiou beyond the gates
of Timbuctoo, Abdullah told his friend the slave-merchant of the
journey. "We had two anxious days," he said, "but the grace of Allah was
upon all save Abd el Karim. One of the camels that had never known the
desert broke down and went mad. Perhaps the man had ill-treated him,
perhaps even strove to stop him. Who shall say more than that Abd el
Karim's hour had come? May Allah have pardoned him."
THE RED GROUSE
When he woke to being, and left the warm shelter of his mother's
feathers to take a look at the world around him, the sun was smiling
upon the purple heather, and a light wind was stirring the leaves of
birch and mountain-ash in the plantation below. He was no more than a
tiny ball of yellow fluff with some dark-brown marks on back and sides,
and a chestnut patch on his head, and there were eight brothers and
sisters exactly like each other, waiting for him by the side of the
heather tuft under which his mother had been hatching her eggs.
His father sat on another tuft a few yards away, spreading his plumage
in the sunlight, and the little grouse thought he was fortunate in
having such a handsome parent. The head, neck, breast and sides of
Father Grouse were of a very bright chestnut colour, with black lines
across, his lower feathers were darker, but tipped with white, to show
his pure Highland breeding.
"Kok-kok," said Father Grouse. "What a fine family I have to be sure.
The stupid gamekeeper put his foot in our first nest and we had to make
another one. So you are all very late. June is already here, the other
birds on the moor can fly by now. Kok-kok."