Taj and the Great Camel Trek Read Free

supplies that Mr Elder had provided. Their objective was to find a watered way to Perth, but overall to stay alive. That meant Padar would need to keep the camels alive. Mr Giles asked Padar a question about the camels and then he turned his attention to me. I was sitting on my mattress, listening and wishing.
    Mr Giles’ eyes were piercing, even in the light of the lantern. ‘Young man, how far did you go into the desert today?’
    I glanced at Padar; was I in trouble? But he lifted his chin at me. ‘A long way. We travelled for a few hours.’
    Mr Giles glanced at Mr Tietkins. ‘And how did you survive the storm without tents and tarpaulins?’
    â€˜We hid behind Mustara.’
    â€˜Mustara is your camel?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜Miss Emmeline tells me this young camel negotiated the desert and delivered you home.’
    I nodded uncertainly. Some of Mr Giles’ words were strange but he seemed kindly.
    With another glance at his companion, Mr Giles cleared his throat. ‘In the light of this information I would like to offer you a place on the expedition. You and your camel, Mustara.’
    I sat up straighter. I must have heard wrong. ‘Pardon?’ I glanced at Padar. His face was carefully blank, so he knew about this.
    Mr Giles smiled at me. ‘Come now. I have already spoken to your father and wouldn’t you like to be with him? I’m sure he needs the help. We are taking twenty-two camels. It is a lot of work for one man to load them, retrieve them in the mornings, treat them for illness, not to mention mending those infernal saddles. What do you say?’
    â€˜Thank you, sir. But why? You didn’t choose Mustara this morning.’
    Mr Giles rose from his stool. ‘This morning we didn’t know your camel could find the home paddock after a dust storm so far into the desert. We need camels who can find the base camp after a storm.’ Mr Giles looked back at me as he shook Padar’s hand. ‘Besides,he will grow on the way to Perth and you will be good company for Tommy.’
    When they’d gone I sat stupefied. It was Padar who spoke. ‘Mustara, he is a good camel – you both have earned this fairly.’ Then he went to the tin trunk he kept by his bed. He took a key from his shalwar pocket and glanced at me. ‘There is something I need to give you now you are coming with me.’
    I watched the key in his fingers. As far as I knew there were only clothes and money kept in Padar’s trunk. The lid swung back with the squeak I’d always heard as a child whenever Padar opened the trunk in the evening. On top were my mother’s dresses. His hands slid over them and hesitated. I saw the glistening in his eyes and I averted mine so I wouldn’t see his pain. Why couldn’t we talk about it? It was as if my mother was a curtain hung between Padar and me and neither of us had the power to pull it aside.
    Padar wiped his eyes before he slipped one hand down one side and withdrew an oilskin. He laid it on the bed and unrolled it. I crept close to see, and lying before me was a knife. No ordinary knife, but an ancient one, curved like a miniature scimitar with a scabbard. Designs were painted on the handle and scabbard in bright colours and gold. I looked up at him. I knew a knife like this was given as a sign of manhood and authority; surely he wasn’t giving this tome? His eyes were calm now, and thoughtful as they regarded me; what control he had. ‘I have kept this for you. It was given to me by my father, his father gave it to him. Now it is yours.’ He lifted it and handed it to me as though we were part of a ritual. I took it just as carefully. It was too beautiful to say so. Padar always said it was best not to attract the evil eye by remarking on someone’s beauty. No doubt that would work for knives as well.
    I pulled the knife from the scabbard and tested the sharpness of the point with