Certainly Some
Camels Are Hard To Put Out Or Fluster; Such A One Was Omerod, Who Lay
Without A Kick Until Relieved Of His Saddle, When He Rose And At Once
Proceeded To Feed On The Scrub.
Later, we had another instance of his stolidity; that was when crossing
a salt lake.
Jenny was light and escaped bogging; not so Omerod, who sank
as far as his legs would allow, and there waited calmly until we had
unpacked the loads, carried them across the lake, and returned to help
Shimsha, who struggled violently in the sticky clay. When he was safely
taken across to an island on which we sought refuge, Omerod was attended
to. There he lay, half buried in salt mud, chewing his cud unconcernedly;
either he had perfect confidence in us, or was indifferent as to his
fate - he looked rather as if he were saying "Kismet." We had some trouble
in digging him out, during which operation Luck fared as I had done
before; he was pinned beneath the camel, waist deep in clay, and in that
position had to emulate the stolid patience of Omerod until I could dig
him out. At last they were both free, and after considerable labour we
landed on the island, camels, baggage, and all, just as night fell.
We WERE cold too, clothes and arms and faces covered with moist salt clay,
and nothing with which to make a fire but sprigs of dead samphire. A cold
night means an early start - so we were up betimes and found that the
camels, not tied, since we thought them safe on an island, had in search
of feed hobbled across the lake, and were standing disconsolate on this
sea of mud, afraid to move now that in daylight they could see their
surroundings.
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