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Updated: June 11, 2025
In which endeavour the Arab entirely failed. "Thou wouldst halt, therefore shall thou run!" But Taffadaln was no fool, no, not one bit. For the first few yards, as her sisters raced ahead, she hung back, pulling on the blood covered thong, and tearing her tongue between her vicious teeth.
Unfastening the lead from the pack camel, the man knotted it firmly to the back of her flat saddle, which usually makes the foundation for the animal's burden, then urging her to her feet led her in front of Taffadaln, who, a little at sea as to the proceedings, was marking time with her head.
Jill stood ankle-deep in flowers looking down at her mount, the prize of the desert. "I do not know how you will fare, woman of the West. I dare not put palanquin on Taffadaln for fear that she might bolt from terror and take you far into the desert, there to die.
Resisting less and less, Taffadaln raced after, until the agony and outrage of the proceedings suddenly drove her mad, and also to her fastest speed, until with a positive shriek of hate she rushed upon the pack camel, regardless of the slackened reins which were like to trip her at every step, a scream of agony announcing the fact that the bloody teeth had met in the camel's side.
Having four times successfully foaled a she-camel, Taffadaln, the Glory of the Desert, was ultimately shot on account of her demoniacal temper. The devil. The sun was sinking when Jill moved, stretched a little, half opened her eyes, and closing them turned over and went to sleep again for about two minutes.
"But you will find the going irksome even on Taffadaln, and so that you may rest, beautiful woman, whose name even I do not know, Howesha, which name, being translated, means that she is a past mistress in the art of grumbling, carries all that will give you repose if you should desire to stop before we reach our caravan."
"What!" she had exclaimed. "You don't mean to say that you are going to leave all this for the first thief to collect," withdrawing as she spoke her basket of dates from the vicinity of her new camel's mouth. Verily, a beast of great beauty and worth was she, but shining as a mere rushlight, in comparison to the Blériot head-light radiance of the fallen Taffadaln. "The Arab does not steal!"
Things went well for a score or so of yards, the three animals proceeding at a stately demure pace, until verily the devil entered into Taffadaln. Suddenly she rushed sideways, then with front legs wide apart came to a dead stop, jerking the black camel violently.
With a scream, the rage-filled Taffadaln flung herself upon the two camels and then upon her master and she who lay in his arms and who was the real cause of this unseemly fracas.
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