not walk, then shall thy
sisters force thee to run; thou wilt lie down, then shall they drag
thee until thy mouth runs blood.

"Behold has thou brought misery to thy fair mistress, O! curse of
camels, and for each moment that thou shalt have lost unto her the
shade of the palm tree, for each moment shall thou shed a drop of
blood."

Howesha of her own free will scrambled to her feet, whilst the Arab
raised the girl, who, sunk in a sleep resembling unconsciousness, took
no heed of these untoward events, and placing her so that her head lay
softly against his shoulder, mounted his camel and brought the animal
to her feet.

The forcing to their feet of three camels by voice persuasion alone is
no mean performance, but no voice, not even the vocal chords of the
Archangel Gabriel, would have moved the cause of all this pother, for
at the word of command, in a tone which should have put fear of death
into her black heart, she slightly shifted her hind-quarters and lay
still.

"So thou wilt not move, thou daughter of a desert snail! Verily then
shalt thou so remain!"

A sharp word, and the two upstanding camels moved forward, coming to a
standstill as they felt the weight of their recumbent sister. There
was then heard a sharp swish, as the _courbaash_ delicately flicked
each astounded quadruped, astounded indeed, for never had they felt the
like before, and be it confessed, never had their master been possessed
of such a fury.

Simultaneously they bounded forward, if so one can describe their
action, bringing a snarl of rage from the unrepentant Desert Pearl.
Straining and tugging, with the whip constantly flicking and stinging,
they slowly dragged Taffadaln over the sand, until gradually the agony
of the tightening muzzle-thong cut not only into the flesh, but into
the very soul of the rebellious camel queen.

Foam began to gather round the bruised mouth, dripping from the teeth
only half closed by the leather strap; a drop of blood showed red near
the corner, cut by the cruel knot, sweat poured from the silky coat as
again and again she vainly tried to scramble to her feet, whilst the
eyes of her master, ablaze with hate, watched her futile efforts.

Suddenly he halted the animals, and sat contemplating the beautiful
Taffadaln, panting and moaning upon the sand.

"Get up!" he suddenly cried, with a ring of steel in the usually soft
voice, and obediently the brute scrambled to her feet, leaving red
patches wh