you
everything you want to know about other animals; because it understands
_their_ talk quite naturally and without being made. The present parrot
declined ordinary conversation, and when questioned only recited poetry
of a rather dull kind that went on and on. 'Arms and the man I sing' it
began, and then something about haughty Juno. Its voice was soothing,
and riding on the camel was not unlike being rocked in a very bumpety
cradle. The children were securely seated in things like padded
panniers, and they had had an exciting day. As the sun set, which it did
quite soon, the parrot called out to the nearest dog, 'I say, Max,
they're asleep.'

[Illustration: On the top of a very large and wobbly camel.]

'I don't wonder,' said Max. 'But it's all right. Humpty knows the way.'

'Keep a civil tongue in your head, you young dog, can't you?' said the
camel grumpily.

'Don't be cross, darling,' said the other dog, whose name was Brenda,
'and be sure you stop at a really first-class oasis for the night. But I
know we can trust _you_, dear.'

The camel muttered that it was all very well, but his voice was not
quite as cross as before.

After that the expedition went on in silence through the deepening
twilight.

A tumbling, shaking, dumping sensation, more like a soft railway
accident than anything else, awakened our travellers, and they found
that the camel was kneeling down.

'Off you come,' said the parrot, 'and make the fire and boil the
kettle.'

'Polly put the kettle on,' Lucy said absently, as she slid down to the
ground; to which the parrot replied, 'Certainly not. I wish you wouldn't
rake up that old story. It was quite false. I never did put a kettle on,
and I never will.'

Why should I describe to you the adventure of camping at an oasis in a
desert? You must all have done it many times; or if you have not done
it, you have read about it. You know all about the well and the palm
trees and the dates and things. They had cocoa for supper. It was great
fun, and they slept soundly and awoke in the morning with a heart for
any fate, as a respectable poet puts it.

The next day was just the same as the first, only instead of going
through fresh green fields, the way lay through dry yellow desert. And
again the children slept, and again the camel chose an oasis with
remarkable taste and judgment. But the second night was not at all the
same as the first. For in the middle of it the parrot awakened Philip by