CARA, THE CAMEL


The hot, red sun was sinking behind the hard, straight outline of one
of the sandy deserts of Arabia. The Arabs had pitched their tents,
unloaded and fed their camels, and were now making their evening meal
from dried meat and a preparation of camel's milk, which had been
mixed with meal and then allowed to become sour.

Many of the camels were lying down--not that they were tired, for they
had been taking their journey by easy stages, and among them were
several with baby camels.

Cara was one of the babies, and an extremely ugly baby he was, for a
thin body, long, spidery limbs, homely head and funny little tail gave
him a curious, unfinished look.

Another baby was Camer. But she was as yet only an hour old, while
Cara was a week and a day old, and stood three feet high on his thin
legs. He was a sturdy little fellow in spite of his thinness, and had
already given proof that he inherited the irritable, morose and
grumbling nature of his race to a very marked degree; for from the
first hour of his birth Cara had grumbled. Grumbled when his mother
rested--as her kind master allowed her to do, for a few days after
Cara's birth; grumbled when the Arabs and camels moved on; grumbled
when any one touched him with a pat or caress, and grumbled when let
alone. In fact, the only time when Cara did not grumble was when he
took his meals, and this was simply because his mouth and tongue were
occupied with getting his food.