After Some Eight Miles Of Stones, On Which I Could Distinguish
No Trail, We Came To The Sand, And At Once I Could See Our Former Tracks
Right Ahead, Which Little Satan Had Followed With The Precision Of A
Black-Fellow.
In repasssing old camping-places on the road, camels will often stop, and
look surprised if made to go further.
They have, too, an excellent idea of
time, and know very well when the day's march should come to an end.
With what sad reproof they look at one with their great, brown eyes, that
say, as plainly as eyes can speak, "What! going on? I am SO tired."
I fancy the reason that camels are so often described as stupid and
vicious, and so forth, is that they are seen, as a rule, in large mobs
under the care of Indian or other black drivers, whose carelessness and
cruelty (so far as my experience goes) are unspeakable. For that reason I
never have had an Afghan driver in my employ, nor can I see any advantage
in employing one, unless it be on the score of cheapness. Camels are
infinitely better managed and treated by white men - of course, I speak
within my own knowledge of Australia - and in consequence their characters
develop, and they are properly appreciated.
In due course the expected inspecting engineer came to see our mine, and,
as he had several reports to make, we had the pleasure of his company at
our camp, and very glad we were to do what we could for such a fine
specimen of an expert and gentleman as Mr. Edward Hooper.
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