CAMY AT THE SULTAN'S COURT

Now the Comfortable Camel, though nearly choked and almost drowned, had instantly recognized Tuzzle. Like a bad and half remembered dream, his former life in Samandra came back to him. The long, tiresome journeys across the desert, the bad temper of the Sultan, the heavy loads he was forced to carry in order that his peppery little master might travel in comfort and luxury. He opened his mouth to cry out, but found to his horror that he could not speak a word. Instead of indignant protests against his captors, he was uttering only camelish grunts and gurgles, and when three minnows swam down his throat he gave up in despair, and closing his eyes and his mouth allowed himself to be towed along in silence. In Samandra, he recalled bitterly, he had not been able to converse at all. How dreadful to be but a dumb beast of burden after his interesting and cozy existence in the Emerald City of Oz. It was not to be thought of or endured.

"I'll run away first chance I have, and let them try to stop me if they dare," he decided grimly, beginning to work his feet to keep the rope round his neck from strangling him. Tuzzle, meanwhile, leaning proudly over the rail, was already counting up the rewards he might claim for his cleverness in capturing the Camel. Rubbing his hands with anticipation, he bade the slaves row faster. This they did, and in less than an hour the Royal Sampan drew alongside the golden dock in the Sultan's city. The Sultan, warned of their arrival by watchers he had stationed along the bank, came hurrying down from the palace, followed closely by the Grand Bozzywoz and other dignitaries.

"Am I a good Seer, or am I not?" queried Chinda, waving complacently at the Camel swimming feebly after the yellow barge. "Behold your Majesty's Comfortable Camel!"

"It certainly does not appear to be very comfortable at the present moment," observed the Keeper of the Royal Records. "A most uncomfortable camel I should call it."

"Hold your tongue," advised the Sultan disagreeably, and after a quick glance to assure himself that the Camel's saddle sacks were in place, he called impatiently to the slaves to bring the half drowned creature ashore. The Camel's first action was to shake himself violently, drenching everyone on the dock. Then with an angry snort he trod heavily on the toes of Tuzzle and as many more as he could manage to get near.

"Patience! Patience, my precious little parsnip," wheezed the Sultan, wiping the water out of his eyes with his sleeve and motioning for the Keeper of the Camels to approach. "Let him be given a triple portion of dried peas and rice, and with my own hands I will remove his heavy trappings." At this, Camy, remembering the ill-natured kicks and prods given by his former master, let out such a squeal of defiance that the courtiers tumbled in every direction to get out of his way. But the Camel Driver, slipping a stout noose over his head, forced him unwillingly up the bank and toward the Royal Camel Quarters behind the castle. The Sultan, fairly bubbling over with relief and excitement, pattered after him, for he, for very good reasons of his own, did not want the Camel out of his sight for an instant.

"Has your Highness no word of welcome or commendation for me?" complained Tuzzle, limping aggrievedly beside the Sultan. "Do you not desire to hear of my reception at Ozma's court and of the masterful manner in which I was finally able to restore this long missing miscreant to your Majesty's stable? Have I sought out and captured this capricious Camel by main strength only to be ignored and stepped upon?"

"Posh! Bosh! And a pound of tea!" sputtered the Sultan, waving him carelessly aside, and bidding all of his advisors return to the palace he proceeded joyfully to the stall set aside for the most important member of his herd. There, tied fast to an iron ring in the side of the wall and facing a heaping measure of dried peas and rice, the Comfortable Camel's usual good judgment and temper returned to him. Sir Hokus and Peter, he felt sure, would soon come to his assistance. Meanwhile, he might as well make the best of things and enjoy what he could of the experience. Nibbling daintily at the peas and rice, he paid scant attention to the Sultan, who had dismissed the attendant and was standing on a small ladder at his side. Tossing everything out of the left hand saddle sack, the Sultan suddenly gave such an exclamation of fury that the Comfortable Camel turned his head. The fat little ruler, coming to the bottom of the sack, had found the secret compartment open and the precious package he had been so long seeking and so anxiously waiting for--gone!

"Great, lazy, stupid son of a cow!" bellowed the Sultan, dancing up and down like a dervish on top of the ladder. "What have you done with my dates? Who has taken the dates?"

"Aha!" mused the Camel to himself. "So he is at the bottom of this date magic. It's the dates he wants, and not me at all." And as the enraged Sovereign continued to dance and scream, he went calmly on with his lunch.

"Son of a scorpion," hissed the Sultan vindictively. "Cousin to a cougar and uncle of a goat, how dare you come back without those dates?" Hammering the Camel with both fists, he nearly cried with rage.

"Why, he's even better at calling me names than he used to be," marveled the Camel, paying no heed to the thumps, which hurt him hardly at all. "I must remember all this to tell Hokus--that is, if I can ever talk as I used to do, I'll tell him. Heigho, there goes the fat pest, and good riddance." For the Sultan, seeing nothing was to be got out of the Camel, had finally stopped hammering him and gone away. Racing back to the palace he sought out Chinda and started to shake the Grand Bozzywoz with all his strength.

"What now?" groaned the astonished Seer, clutching his turban, which was tossing like a ship in a hurricane. "Have you not got your precious Camel back again? Is this gratitude? Is this thanks--or----"

"That silly Camel is of no use to me," screamed the Sultan angrily, almost, in his excitement, revealing the secret of the magic dates. "There was a package of great value in his left hand saddle sack. It has been lost--or stolen!" he panted desperately. "And I must have that package at once, at once, do you hear me?"

"Package?" repeated Chinda dully. "Well, why did your Excellency not say so in the first place? All these years I have been seeking a Camel, and now you tell me it is a package and not a Camel you desire."

"Silence!" shrieked the Sultan, beginning to shake him again, and in the next breath, "Speak, fellow, have you nothing in your head at all?"

"The telescope!" puffed Chinda, jerking away from his tempery little master. "Let us consult the magic telescope and see what it can tell us of this strange matter." For ten minutes in his tall, glass enclosed tower, the Chief Seer and Grand Bozzywoz of Samandra gazed through the magic lens of his huge telescope; then, turning to the Sultan, who was stamping anxiously up and down the laboratory, he spoke:

"You will find part of what you seek in the middle of the night," he announced solemnly.

"In the middle of the night?" gasped the Sultan. "But where, how, and what night?"

"More I cannot tell you now, but if your Highness will depart and leave me, I will go into a great silence and endeavor to discover the exact location of the missing package." Far from satisfied, but not knowing what else to do, the Sultan returned reluctantly to his throne room. There, clutching Confido to his breast, he whispered long and anxiously to the Imperial Peke and waited impatiently for nightfall.