The forcing to their feet of three camels by voice persuasion alone is no mean performance, but no voice, not even the vocal chords of the Archangel Gabriel, would have moved the cause of all this pother, for at the word of command, in a tone which should have put fear of death into her black heart, she slightly shifted her hind-quarters and lay still.

“So thou wilt not move, thou daughter of a desert snail!  Verily then shalt thou so remain!”

A sharp word, and the two upstanding camels moved forward, coming to a standstill as they felt the weight of their recumbent sister.  There was then heard a sharp swish, as the courbaash delicately flicked each astounded quadruped, astounded indeed, for never had they felt the like before, and be it confessed, never had their master been possessed of such a fury.

Simultaneously they bounded forward, if so one can describe their action, bringing a snarl of rage from the unrepentant Desert Pearl.  Straining and tugging, with the whip constantly flicking and stinging, they slowly dragged Taffadaln over the sand, until gradually the agony of the tightening muzzle-thong cut not only into the flesh, but into the very soul of the rebellious camel queen.

Foam began to gather round the bruised mouth, dripping from the teeth only half closed by the leather strap; a drop of blood showed red near the corner, cut by the cruel knot, sweat poured from the silky coat as again and again she vainly tried to scramble to her feet, whilst the eyes of her master, ablaze with hate, watched her futile efforts.

Suddenly he halted the animals, and sat contemplating the beautiful Taffadaln, panting and moaning upon the sand.

“Get up!” he suddenly cried, with a ring of steel in the usually soft voice, and obediently the brute scrambled to her feet, leaving red patches where had rested her mouth.

“Now that I have almost broken thy neck, will I essay to break thy heart.”  In which endeavour the Arab entirely failed.[1]

“Thou wouldst halt, therefore shall thou run!”

But Taffadaln was no fool, no, not one bit.  For the first few yards, as her sisters raced ahead, she hung back, pulling on the blood covered thong, and tearing her tongue between her vicious teeth.  Faster, and faster, sped the forerunners, and how fast that can be may only be understood by one who has pressed this swift moving animal’s pace.  Resisting less and less, Taffadaln raced after, until the agony and outrage of the proceedings suddenly drove her mad, and also to her fastest speed, until with a positive shriek of hate she rushed upon the pack camel, regardless of the slackened reins which were like to trip her at every step, a scream of agony announcing the fact that the bloody teeth had met in the camel’s side.  “Allah!” ejaculated Hahmed as again and again he struck at the animal’s infuriated face, when she turned her attention to her black sister, whom she had the full intention of savaging, what time the three were tearing like the wind towards those palms under which figures in white could easily be discerned.