The novel opens with Ali waking in the Syrian desert, his hand moving to a jeweled dagger beneath his patched burnous. The first paragraph establishes a world where motion attracts enemies and a camel is the finest possession. Kjelgaard’s prose is precise: Ali extends his hand “very slowly and very stealthily,” and the dagger is both a practical tool and a friend. The setting is not generic—it is the Syrian desert, with specific references to Damascus, Mecca, and the ihram robe. The narrative voice is close to Ali’s perspective, conveying his wariness and his sharp observations of others, such as the tailor Mustapha who cheats him with lead coins.

Ali’s World: Trust, Daggers, and Camels

From the opening lines, the text foregrounds a code of suspicion. Ali does not move until he knows what lies about him, because “only the reckless turned their backs to their own caravan companions.” This is not a generic adventure; it is a world where a friend might be an enemy. The dagger is described as “the best of friends,” and the camel—specifically a dalul, or riding camel—is ranked even higher. The narrative is grounded in material details: the patched robe, the silver and lead coins, the ceremonial ihram. Ali’s goal is the hajj, but the journey is complicated by practical needs—he must bargain with Mustapha, who raises the price from five to six pieces of silver. The text does not romanticize; it shows a boy who is poor, shrewd, and determined.

American Ingenuity and the Camel Ferry

When Ali encounters the American ship Supply, the narrative shifts to a contrast of technologies. Ali, who knows every method of moving camels, is astonished by the American ferry: a wheeled truck pushed through hinged doors, a boat of “very shallow draft” that can run up on any beach. The description is methodical, listing dimensions and steps. Ali’s companion Mimico Teodara handles a Bactrian camel with “consummate skill,” and Ali notes that Bactrians are less hardy and have two humps that could be “twice the trouble.” The text does not praise American superiority; it shows Ali’s careful assessment. He wonders why the Americans would send a ship at vast expense for only forty-four camels, and learns this is their second voyage. The exchange between Ali and Mimico is terse, respectful, and reveals a growing trust.

The Bond with Ben Akbar

Ali’s dalul, Ben Akbar, is a character in his own right. When Mimico approaches, Ali waits to see if the camel man will recognize the dalul’s temperament and halt at a respectful distance. The test is passed: Mimico halts, turns, and beckons. The scene is understated but significant—Ali’s judgment of people is tied to their handling of camels. The loading process is described with technical precision: the camel is led onto the truck, made to kneel, and strapped in place. Ali’s admiration for Mimico grows because he “never used words when deeds were in order.” The bond between Ali and Ben Akbar is not sentimental; it is built on mutual wariness and respect, and it is the anchor of Ali’s identity in a world where trust is rare.

Readers should attend to the way Kjelgaard uses material culture—daggers, coins, robes, camels—to define character and conflict. The narrative is lean, with few adjectives and many verbs of action and observation. The historical basis (the U.S. Camel Corps experiment) is present but not dominant; the story remains focused on Ali’s perspective. The excerpts do not reveal the full arc, but they establish a pattern of testing and trust that likely continues throughout the voyage and into the American Southwest.