I searched for it in vain on the
sand, where I had thrown the turban.
"I stretched myself out upon the ground, and yielded without further
struggle to my evil destiny. What I suffered from thirst, hunger, and
heat cannot be described. At last I fell into a sort of trance, during
which images of various kinds seemed to flit before my eyes. How long I
remained in this state I know not: but I remember that I was brought to
my senses by a loud shout, which came from persons belonging to a caravan
returning from Mecca. This was a shout of joy for their safe arrival at
a certain spring, well known to them in this part of the desert.
"The spring was not a hundred yards from the spot where I lay; yet, such
had been the fate of Murad the Unlucky, that he missed the reality,
whilst he had been hours in pursuit of the phantom. Feeble and
spiritless as I was, I sent forth as loud a cry as I could, in hopes of
obtaining assistance; and I endeavoured to crawl to the place from which
the voices appeared to come. The caravan rested for a considerable time
whilst the slaves filled the skins with water, and whilst the camels took
in their supply. I worked myself on towards them; yet, notwithstanding
my efforts, I was persuaded that, according to my usual ill-fortune, I
should never be able to make them hear my voice. I saw them mount their
camels! I took off my turban, unrolled it, and waved it in the air.
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