burden-bearers, always appealing to our sympathy because always
apparently tired, hungry, sleepy, worn-out--always reeling on as if
looking for quiet places in which to slip their loads of whatever kind,
and lie down and die; but the camel aroused, enraged, frightened,
panic-struck, rebellious, sending forth strange cries, and running with
all its might--an army of camels hurling their gigantic hulks along at a
rate little less than blind impetus. And they went, singly, and in
strings, and yonder a mass. The slower, and those turned to the right or
left of the direct course, and all such as had hesitated upon coming to
a descent, were speedily distanced or lost to sight; so the ensemble was
constantly shifting. And then the rolling and tossing of the cargoes and
packages on the backs of the animals, and the streaming out of curtains,
scarfs, shawls, and loose draperies of every shape and color, lent
touches of drollery and bright contrasts to the scene. One instant the
spectator on the hill was disposed to laugh, then to admire, then to
shiver at the immensity of a danger; over and over again amidst his
quick variation of feeling, he repeated the exclamation: "These are not
men, but devils fleeing from the wrath of God!"

Such was the spectacle in what may be called the second act; presently
it reached a third; and then the fury of the movement, so inconsistent
with the habits and patient nature of the camel, was explained. In the
midst of the hurly-burly, governing and directing it, were horsemen, an
army of themselves. Some rode in front, and the leading straps on which
they pulled with the combined strength of man and horse identified them
as drivers; others rode as assistants of the drivers, and they were
armed with goads which they used skilfully and without mercy. There were
many collisions, upsets, and entanglements; yet the danger did not deter
the riders from sharing the excitement, and helping it forward to their
utmost. They too used knotted ropes, and stabbed with sharpened sticks;