Season of the Sandstorms - Mary Pope Osborne [6]
“No! Don’t!” yelled Jack. He tried pulling the bag away, but Beauty played tug-of-war. “Come on, let go,” Jack said. “Give it back, stupid!”
“Do you really think she is stupid?”
Jack jumped. Mamoon had ridden up behind him and was watching as he tried to get his bag back from Beauty.
Jack was embarrassed. “Um, she won’t let go of my stuff,” he said.
Mamoon grabbed the strap of Jack’s bag. He clucked his tongue, and the camel let go. She groaned as Mamoon hooked the leather bag back onto the saddle horn.
“For thousands of years, camels like this one have carried people across the desert,” said Mamoon. “She is truly a miracle of nature.”
Some miracle, thought Jack.
“She can drink two barrels of water in ten minutes,” said Mamoon, “and then go for a week without drinking again. She can live many days without food, too.”
“Really?” said Jack.
“She is well suited to travel in the desert,” said Mamoon. “Her thick eyebrows protect her eyes from the glare of the sun. Her long eyelashes and the fur around her ears keep out the windblown sand.”
“Cool,” said Jack softly.
“Her feet are so tough, they do not feel the heat of the desert,” said Mamoon. “And they are so big that they keep her from sinking down into the loose sand.”
“Hmm,” said Jack.
“She can carry five hundred pounds of baggage on her back,” said Mamoon, “and travel one hundred miles in a single day.”
“That’s a lot,” murmured Jack.
Mamoon tugged on the camel’s reins and clucked his tongue. Beauty breathed heavily as she rose up on her long, powerful legs to her full height.
Mamoon looked at Jack. “We must respect her and honor her,” he said. “In many ways, she is superior to us, no?”
Jack nodded. He thought of the words of Merlin’s letter. To succeed in your mission, you must be humble. He patted the camel. “Good girl, Beauty.”
Mamoon clucked his tongue again to coax the camel forward. Perched high on his saddle, Jack rocked from side to side. He did not feel at all safe, but he stayed calm. Beauty ambled over to Cutie. The two sisters stood together and snorted.
The desert sky was bright with stars. Mamoon called to his men, and the caravan started moving forward.
The camels walked with a swaying motion. They moved two big feet on one side, then two big feet on the other. Jack gripped the horn of his saddle as his “ship of the desert” rocked from left to right.
“Isn’t this fun?” said Annie, rocking alongside him.
“Sort of,” said Jack, shivering. Actually, he wasn’t having any fun at all. He felt seasick and was freezing in the night air. Also, he was worried about their mission. Would the caliph meet with them? If he did, how could they help him “spread wisdom to the world”? And if Baghdad was very far away, how would they ever find their way back to the tree house?
Mamoon slowed his camel until he was riding between Jack and Annie. “When I was a boy, I spent many cold nights in the desert riding with my father on journeys to the west,” he said. “At first, I, too, thought camels were foolish. I always longed for more blankets and for a smoother ride. I wished to be back in Baghdad in my own warm bed.”
Jack smiled. He liked the caravan leader.
“But over time, I have come to love the cold desert nights,” said Mamoon. “Now when I am sleeping in my warm bed in Baghdad, I long to be here instead. I wish to be reading the wind and the stars.”
“How do you read the stars?” asked Annie.
“They have their own language,” said Mamoon. “At this moment, we are heading east, toward the Goat Star.” He pointed at the sky.
Jack couldn’t tell which star was the Goat Star. But he was filled with wonder. Thousands of tiny lights twinkled in the black dome of night. There were more stars than Jack had ever imagined. Some looked close enough to touch.
Mamoon started singing a song. The other camel riders joined in. Jack couldn’t understand the words, but the tune was soothing. The camels seemed to sway to the music.
Jack stopped worrying about how they would get back to the tree house. And he found he was actually