After this the camels were loaded, and this was what Cara and Camer enjoyed most of all.  It was such fun to watch some camel, who was particularly ill-natured, kneel down with a series of groans and grumbles in deep, bubbling tones, open his mouth savagely whenever his master came near him, and do his best with his big teeth and flexible, cleft lips to catch hold of some part of his master’s body.  But grumbling was of no use.  The loads were strapped on in spite of it, and when all the camels were carefully loaded the caravan started on its long, wearisome journey across the desert.

Cara and Camer rather enjoyed it at first.  They had no loads to carry; had their usual good, warm food, and, what was better than all besides, youth and strength.  But, on the second day, the heat grew appalling; not for the camels, for they love the broad glare of the sun, but for the Arabs, who, in spite of their hardihood, grew faint and weak as the sun, like a ball of fire, poured its scorching rays on the white, glistening sand.

Then came a curious silence:  a silence in the midst of silence; so deep and intense that it could almost be felt, while the air grew red like blood, and in a moment, with one accord, masters, servants and animals threw themselves on the sand.  The Arabs lay with their faces downwards and their cloaks thrown over their heads; the camels, not even stopping to grumble, stretched their necks straight out along the sand, closed their curious, oblique nostrils and lay absolutely motionless.

Cara’s mother had often told him about this, and taught him how to close his nostrils when caught in a simoom.  At first Cara wondered what had happened, and even when he saw his mother lay down and stretch her neck along the sand did not realize what it meant; but in another instant his mother had warned him, and as he lay down and closed his little nostrils he noticed a huge, curious cloud sweeping across the desert.

And that was all he did notice, for the next instant he felt scorched and suffocated, while a heavy weight was on his limbs and body and head.  How long he lay there quivering all over with fright and gasping for breath he never knew, but he was aroused by the groans and grumbles of the camels and the cries of the Arabs.  He struggled up at last, and for a moment thought he too had been loaded for a journey, for the simoom had covered him with a small mountain of sand.

After a few snorts and groans, Cara shook himself and looked round.  Most of the camels were on their feet by this time, and their masters were preparing to go forward again.  At last they started, but before they had gone many yards the caravan stopped to wait for a camel who had lingered behind and was making cries of distress.

It was Camer’s mother.  On the sand, lying in a limp, unnatural position, was Camer.  No longer the bright, little baby-camel that Cara had known, but a quiet, inanimate thing, which neither answered nor moved in response to its mother’s pitiful entreaties.