“Now is it clear that he knows the language of beasts; for how else could he read the mind of this camel, that he is tired of playing alone? By Allah, he is no less than a prophet. Praise to the Highest, who has made us his companions.” “Where sleep you to-night?” asked the camel’s master, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robe. They answered him: “At Es-Salt, whither thou also goest.” “Good. Then I travel with you.” Throughout the rest of the journey, which was very monotonous, the eyes of that fellâh dwelt upon Shems-ud-dìn, raptly staring as at a vision. In the town of Es-Salt it would have been hard to find a lodging for the women, since the only khan was filled with a caravan bound to Bûsra from the Holy City; but this man took them to the house of a friend of his, who, on hearing the case explained, turned out with his family into the adjoining stable, and so made room for them. And when Shems-ud-dìn arose in the morning and looked forth, there was this same man squatting patiently beside the threshold. At sight of the sheykh, he fell down and kissed his feet. “May thy day be happy, O my master! I seek a boon of thee. Grant me but leave to journey with thee to the Holy Place. I will be no charge upon thee; for I have this hour received the price of my camel.” “But thy business!—thy house!—thy woman!” “Those are always with me. They await my return. But as for thee, thou passest. It is an occasion to be seized.” “But—Merciful Allah!—I travel not for pastime, O my son.” “I know, O my lord. Thy companions have already told me; and I sorrow with thee. How is the health of the lady, thy daughter, this morning?” “In sh’ Allah, it is no worse. She yet lives,” said Shems-ud-dìn sadly. “May Allah heal her quickly! Deign now to give me the saddlebags. I will make ready the horse for thy Grace.” He would not be gainsaid. CHAPTER V When the cavalcade assembled without the town, this new companion came riding upon the sorriest ass ever seen, which, it transpired, he had borrowed from a friend. He took all the laughter at his expense in excellent part. His name, he said, was Zeyd the son of Abbâs. He had been born in El Arìsh, toward the country of Masr, but had not beheld that place for many years. Bred to the calling of a muleteer, he had led a wandering life from childhood. It was now three years since he had settled down in a certain village, about six hours distant from the spot where they had found him at hide and seek with his camel. He had taken to wife a girl of that place, and was fairly prosperous as poor men reckon. Not half of all he said reached Shems-ud-dìn’s ears, which were strained toward the palanquin; but a word of courteous acquiescence contented Zeyd.