They Scudded On The Wings Of The
Whirlwind Over The Plain,—Huge Yellow Shafts, With Lofty Heads,
Horizontally Bent Backwards, In The Form Of Clouds; And On More Than
One Occasion Camels Were Thrown Down By Them.
It required little
stretch of fancy to enter into the Arabs’ superstition.
These
sand-columns are supposed to be Jinnis of the Waste, which cannot be
caught, a notion arising from the fitful movements of the electrical
wind-eddy that raises them, and as they advance, the pious Moslem
stretches out his finger, exclaiming, “Iron! O thou ill-omened one[FN#15]!”
During the forenoon we were troubled by the Samum, which, instead of
promoting perspiration, chokes up and hardens the skin. The Arabs
complain greatly of its violence on this line of road. Here I first
remarked the difficulty with which the Badawin bear thirst. Ya Latif,—“O
Merciful!” (Lord),—they exclaimed at times; and yet they behaved like
men.[FN#16] I had ordered them to place the
[p.70] water-camel in front, so as to exercise due supervision. Shaykh
Mas’ud and his son made only an occasional reference to the skins. But
his nephew, a short, thin, pock-marked lad of eighteen, whose black
skin and woolly head suggested the idea of a semi-African and ignoble
origin, was always drinking; except when he climbed the camel’s back,
and, dozing upon the damp load, forgot his thirst. In vain we ordered,
we taunted, and we abused him:
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