Season of the Sandstorms - Mary Pope Osborne [8]
“My men fought well,” said Mamoon. “The thieves fled with only a few bags of pepper and painted beads.”
“And we kept your box safe, too!” said Annie proudly. She knelt and dug in the sand until she uncovered the wooden box. She handed it to Mamoon.
“Ahh, very good,” the caravan leader said.
“What’s in the box?” asked Annie.
“A priceless treasure,” said Mamoon. “I have brought it all the way from Greece. And I am taking it to Baghdad. Thank you both for guarding it with your lives. You are very special.”
“Sure, no problem,” said Jack. He still wondered what was in the box. Gold? Silver? Precious jewels?
But Mamoon did not say. He put the box back into his camel’s saddlebag. “Let us be on our way now,” he said.
Jack climbed on top of his kneeling camel. He clucked his tongue. He was surprised and pleased when Beauty rose up on her tall legs.
“We will catch up with the others in Baghdad,” said Mamoon. “If all goes well, we will arrive in the city in the afternoon. We must head east toward the morning sun.”
Mamoon rode out of the dunes. Jack and Annie followed him. As their camels rocked through the chilly dawn, daylight shimmered over the sand.
“Mamoon, last night we heard strange sounds in the dunes,” said Annie. “Like music playing.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mamoon, “the whistling sands.”
“What are the whistling sands?” asked Jack.
“Some say it is magic,” said Mamoon. “But I believe that all things in nature have their reasons. That is why I like the study of science. Science says we must observe our world. We must make experiments and try to find out why things happen. We have learned the whistling is made by sands settling in the drifts.”
“Oh,” said Annie. “I’d hoped it was magic.”
“Learning the reasons for things is magic,” said Mamoon. “True knowledge brings light to the world. And that is a magical thing, no?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
Annie nodded thoughtfully. “I guess, when you put it that way,” she said.
Swaying from side to side on their camels, the three riders traveled toward the dawn. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the desert grew blazing hot. A dry wind whipped through the air, making snaky patterns in the sand.
Mamoon halted his camel. He looked around and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” said Jack. “Are there signs of bandits?”
Mamoon shook his head. “No, it is the desert itself that worries me now,” he said. “It is restless.” He clucked his tongue, and his camel began walking again.
As they rode over the restless desert, the wind picked up loose sand and tossed it into the air. Jack and Annie lowered their heads to keep the sand from blowing into their eyes. Their head cloths flapped in the wind. More and more sand started blowing. The desert seemed alive as the sand shifted and swirled.
Mamoon stopped again and looked about. The snaky patterns in the sand were blowing into round, curly patterns. Jack heard a weird moaning sound. “Is that the whistling sands again?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” said Mamoon. “That is the cry of a terrible sandstorm. And it will soon be upon us.”
In the distance, a haze of sand was spreading over the desert. As the wind picked up, the sky turned red and the haze thickened into a brown cloud. The cloud began gliding toward Jack, Annie, and Mamoon like a moving wall.
“Get down! Lie on your bellies!” ordered Mamoon. “Quickly! Cover your faces with your head cloths!”
Jack clucked his tongue. Beauty knelt to the ground. Jack, Annie, and Mamoon jumped off their camels and lay down on the sand beside them.
Jack tried desperately to cover his face with his head cloth, but the raging wind kept whipping the cloth from his hands. The sky turned from red to black. The moaning sound turned into a loud rumbling.
Jack looked up and saw the wind rip the saddlebag off Mamoon’s kneeling camel! The bag hit the ground and fell open. The box bounced out and tumbled away in the driving wind.
“The treasure!” cried Jack, but his voice was drowned out by the wind. He jumped up and bolted after the box.
Jack raced across the desert as the sand battered his body. The