Ali awakened in the dim light of very early morning. For a startled moment, he reverted to old habit and lay perfectly still, for he was not at once sure as to what lay about him. Then came comprehension.

The many nights he had slept in his lean-to shelter behind the camel khan marked the longest uninterrupted period of his life ever spent in any one house. He had become accustomed to it and was momentarily bewildered to awake in unfamiliar surroundings. Then the days at Camp Verde seemed to fade away and it was as though he had never slept anywhere except on bare earth, with the sky his only roof. The fact that he was wrapped in a blanket rather than his burnous was the only difference between this and the life he had always led.

Ali preferred the burnous, but his was becoming tattered and a new burnous seemed to be almost the only article one could not hope to find in the rich markets of vast America. Putting the garment away against some vague future when nothing else would serve, Ali had taken the first step toward becoming an American by accepting American clothes.

He raised on one elbow and looked toward the corral. All was peaceful there, so he settled back down. His plan had worked.

The camels had not had enough trail work to toughen their feet, and the journey from Camp Verde to the expedition's base camp near San Antonio had necessarily been a slow one. Arriving with some sore-footed camels, in spite of a leisurely pace, the horses and mules that were also to be part of the expedition promptly took the usual violent exception to these trespassers from a far land.

In any other circumstances, Ali could have corrected all trouble simply by going on with his camels. In this instance, it was not only impossible to go on, but the camels must travel with the rest of the expedition's livestock for many days and miles and a full-scale rodeo every day and every mile was not the way to assure success. Since a definite and final settlement was obviously indispensable, Ali requested and received Lieutenant Beale's permission to put the camels in the same corral with the horses and mules.

The immediate result was pandemonium. Though the camels again refused to give way to excitement, just because everything about them was hysterical, and remained serene, the horses and mules did everything except tear the corral apart. Since no flesh and blood could maintain such a pace, eventually they had to quiet down because they were too tired to do anything else. Now, although the camels formed their own group and stood apart from the rest, all was still peaceful. East and West had finally met, and, even though neither considered the other socially acceptable, at least they had become acquainted. What might have been a major problem was already solved.

Some distance away from the corral, a herd of more than three hundred sheep were bedded under the watchful eye of a Mexican herder and his dog. The sheep were also to go with the expedition, Ali neither knew nor cared why. There were to be eight big freight wagons, each drawn by six mules, and two smaller wagons for personal effects and Lieutenant Beale's engineering equipment. There was a total of fifty-six men, most of them soldiers who had discarded conventional uniforms in favor of more practical buckskin garb. There was a miscellany of livestock, to serve wherever extra animals were needed.

Some of the soldiers were to help with the camels. Ali knew nothing about any of them except that they knew nothing about camels. Some, as usual, resented such duty but, for once, resentment of Ali and his charges posed no problem. Though relations were on a congenial and informal basis, nobody had the faintest doubt but that Lieutenant Beale commanded.

Foremost among the enthusiastic advocates of the proposed Camel Corps, Beale had taken a strong liking to Sied, the white dalul, and Ali had already given him a few riding lessons. In addition, whenever he could spare the time, Beale was sitting at Ali's feet and doing his best to learn Syrian, so that he might address the camels in a tongue with which they were already familiar.

Known as a fair-minded man, Beale also had a reputation for meting out deserved punishment with anything except kid gloves. Thus there was small probability that smoldering resentment would be expressed in hostile action, as had been the case at Camp Verde. One of the camels, that had somehow escaped from the khan and strayed, died shortly after she was recovered. Subsequent examination disclosed that she had been hit on the neck with sufficient force to fracture the bones. Nobody ever found out who did it.

Presently, Ali got up and carefully folded his blanket. He laid it beside the spare clothing and few personal articles that belonged to him and wrapped all in a square of canvas. Though he hadn't the least trouble carrying all his worldly goods in one hand, it never even occurred to Ali that he lacked anything. On those rare occasions when he gave the matter any thought, the contents of his bundle were wealth indeed compared with what he'd had on the night he rode Ben Akbar away from Al Misri's camp.

Leaving the bundle where it lay, Ali devoted himself to the first solemn duty of every morning. He walked toward the corral. Seeing him, Ben Akbar detached himself from the little herd of camels and came to the fence. Ali dug in his pocket for a lump of sugar, a delicacy that only the wealthy could enjoy elsewhere but that was available to even the poorest in America. Ben Akbar licked it from the palm of his hand and made gusty smacking noises as he chewed. Ali scratched the big dalul's neck.

"We are on the way," he murmured. "The camp of idleness lies behind, and once more the caravan routes are ahead. It is well."

Only the cook, a sour individual who must necessarily be astir long before anyone else if breakfast was to be eaten in time for an early start, had been up before Ali. He greeted the young camel driver with a grunt, but heaped a plate with food and filled a mug with coffee. Ali had finished his breakfast when the rest of the camp began to stir.

Returning to the corral, Ali looked past Ben Akbar to the remaining camels. A troubled frown creased his brow.

The horses and mules were none of his responsibility, for which he was duly thankful. The camels were, and Ali's frown deepened as the problem he must solve assumed its correct proportions. On the trip from Camp Verde, the camels had carried little except their bells, harness and a few gay trappings to add color. In spite of that, and a leisurely pace, some had come in sore-footed.

Because Lieutenant Beale was determined to forestall any possible accusations to the effect that there had been no fair test, every camel was to carry a full load from this camp on. Though all were in superb condition in every respect save one, that single lack could be serious and perhaps disastrous. Since their feet were still soft, sore-footed camels were not only to be expected but were practically inevitable. Until such time as they were again trail-hardened, camels that might otherwise have left a favorable impression on a highly-skeptical public would make a dismal showing indeed.

Ali shrugged. There was nothing for it except go on, hope for the best and trust Lieutenant Beale.

Entering the corral, Ali saddled and bridled Ben Akbar and tied him to the top rail. It would help nothing if some soldier who decided he could handle Ben Akbar as he might a fractious mule were trampled and mauled for his pains.

Presently the soldiers came. All had considerable experience in conventional Army transport and all would have known exactly what to do if they were about to deal with conventional beasts of burden. As it was, none had the vaguest notion of the correct procedure with camels, and their lack of knowledge was expressed in a lack of confidence. They were awkward and self-conscious, and, at the same time, they were trying to conceal their uncertainty beneath a mask of indifference.

"Here we are, pal," the leader informed Ali. "What's next?"

Ali grinned, understanding nothing but having been previously informed that his helpers would need instruction. Before anything else, he pointed to Ben Akbar. As Lieutenant Beale had instructed, he said, "Bad one. Stay away."

The soldiers regarded Ben Akbar with respect plus challenging interest. All had met the bad ones and none had stayed away, but they had been handling beasts with which they were familiar. This time, at least until they had a better idea of what they were doing, it might be well to take this camel driver's advice. They turned expectantly back to him.

Ali saddled Mohamet, seeming to do so with a few deft motions, but years of experience and great skill were his invisible helpers. None knew better than he that a camel must be saddled with absolute perfection. If anything less, a slipping saddle will be certain a chafe a tender hump. It was an unwise practice, even if one had no regard for the animal itself; sore-backed camels cannot carry packs.

When Ali finished, each soldier selected a saddle and set about to practice the lesson he had just learned. Busy with a second camel, Ali pivoted when the air was split with a thunderous, "You ornery, slab-sided, no good, devil-begotten son of nothing!"

One of the aspiring cameleers was reeling back with both hands over his eyes. The camel he had been trying to saddle was standing quietly, apparently interested in nothing but a dreamy contemplation of the horizon. The soldier wiped his eyes.

"The critter spit at me!" he ejaculated. Again, and as though he didn't quite believe, "The critter spit at me, and got me square in the eyes!"

Ali went patiently to the aid of the agitated soldier. If he had known how, he would have explained that improperly handled camels will not only spit, but are uncannily accurate. Wilder beasts than these would bite.

Two hours later, an anxious Lieutenant Beale entered the corral. "How's it going?" he queried.

Ali indicated the few saddled camels that were tied to the rail and the many unsaddled ones that were presently dodging about the corral and rather deftly eluding amateur packers. It would be necessary to catch every one. Since nobody except Ali had yet succeeded in bringing a camel and a camel saddle together, it followed that Ali would have to saddle every one after he caught it.

Lieutenant Beale nodded and left.

Back pillowed against a boulder, Ali sprawled in the warm sun and watched the camels browse. Far more than a pleasant sight, he thought, it was a vision that could not fail to lift the heart of anyone not too dull to be inspired. For to see the camels as they were—and where they were—meant that a great victory was won.

It was no small victory.

The camels had arrived at the expedition's base camp on the twenty-first of June. Departure was scheduled for the next morning. But with camels already driven wild by inexperienced help and rapidly getting wilder, they hadn't even succeeded in saddling all of them on that day or for several days thereafter.

Not until June the twenty-fifth were they finally under way, and Ali could not recall a sorrier caravan. The soldiers had acquired just enough skill so they could put a pack on a camel and have some assurance that it wouldn't fall off. In accordance with Lieutenant Beale's wish for a thorough test, the minimum load for any baggage animal was seven hundred pounds. That was far more than should have been carried by animals whose exercise in recent months had consisted of shuffling about the khan.

There were immediate complications. Freight wagons drawn by six mules, conveyances not noted for speed, whizzed past sore-footed and overloaded camels and seemed swift in comparison. To the unrestrained hilarity of those who came to watch—and presently of the country at large when news sources got hold of the story—the camels functioned in every way except efficiently. Far from reaching the Colorado River at the California border, the end of the survey, it became increasingly apparent that Beale and his camels would be fortunate indeed if they were trapped in the suburbs of a growing San Antonio.

Then the outlook changed.

Though it did not happen overnight, eventually the camels became trail-hardened. Weary and sore beasts that had plodded into camp hours after the mule wagons were already there during the first harassed days began arriving at the next night's camp hours before the wagons were even sighted. Two camels so ill that they were abandoned on the trail, rejoined the caravan, apparently as well as ever, a few days afterwards.

Baggage camels that staggered under over-heavy loads on the day of departure, now bore equally-heavy burdens without the least effort. They proved as indifferent to drenching rains as they had been to blazing sun. They not only ate but thrived on any forage they found; the expedition's store of grain never had to feed starving camels.

Soldiers who hadn't known the first thing of camel transport had acquired a liberal education. Most had come to like these strange beasts. Some turncoats had even been heard to declare that camels were far better than mules in any way anyone might compare the two species.

Probably the outstanding triumph belonged to Lieutenant Beale. Growing ever fonder of Sied, Beale had ridden the white dalul at every opportunity and even Ali admitted that he had become a very skilful rider. Near Albuquerque, Beale had news that a friend, Colonel Loring, was in the vicinity.

Mounting Sied, Lieutenant Beale set out to find his friend. The camel, whose only nourishment since leaving San Antonio had consisted of whatever forage the trail offered, not only carried his rider to Colonel Loring, but when Loring accepted an invitation to visit the expedition's camp, outdistanced the grain-fed horses of the colonel and his men on the return trip.

All was well, Ali thought dreamily, and may Allah have mercy on whoever was unable to see sublime beauty in the camels as they were and where they were. For they were still fat and healthy and they were at Fort Defiance. The pedestrian and least interesting part of the journey was behind. Fort Defiance was a true frontier post. Unless they turned back, which was unthinkable, they must go ahead.

And ahead lay the unknown.