Sometimes, when, as it seems to him,
he is on the point of being hurled from his high seat, he feels
himself grasped and placed in an easier position on his cushion by
two arms, and then on they move again at a swift trot. He feels that
they are riding through the desert. The camel's feet sink deep into
the sand, and then, when the ground beneath becomes firm, their
speed is increased, and lessened when it again sinks into the sand.
To Mohammed the ride seems to have lasted an eternity already.
However, a few hours only have passed, when the dromedary halts, and
a sweet voice whispers:
"I am sorry for you; it is horrible to be borne on through the night
this way, bound and gagged, your face covered. I should like to
relieve you by removing the cloth. But if you are cruel, you might
tear my arm with your teeth."
Mohammed shakes his head slightly, and she feels the movement in her
arm that encircles his head.
"You shake your head and promise not to do so, stranger, and I will
trust you. I will free your head and lips, but I must first bind you
to the saddle, to make sure of you." She unwinds the shawl from her
delicate waist, slips it around his body, and binds him securely to
the palanquin; she then unties the knot binding the cloth that
envelops his head and passes over his mouth. The cloth falls down
and Mohammed breathes freer and looks up.
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