Later, the curator of the zoo called. He and the Earl were old friends, but still there was an edge to his voice as he said, “You’ve nabbed my Bactrian camel!”
“I haven’t nabbed him,” said Lord Basin. “He wasn’t invited here; he’s just a gate-crasher.”
“You can say that again,” remarked the curator. “It’s going to cost us thousands to repair the damage.”
The Earl pulled at his beard thoughtfully.
“Look,” he said. “I’ll pay for the damage.”
“Really? That’s very good of you.”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me keep him.”
There was a pause, and then the curator said, “It’s an idea. But I think we’d need a bit of icing on the cake. What can you offer in return for him?”
“A zebra?”
“Oh, no.”
“A giraffe?”
“No.”
“How about a white tiger?” said Lord Basin.
“It’s a deal!”
“Good. By the way, what’s the camel’s name?”
“Hezekiah.”
The Earl of Basin went to bed that night in a daze of happiness. He was fond of animals in general, but the one that had stuck in his memory all those years was that old Bactrian camel on which he’d ridden at the zoo. And now he actually owned one!
He stroked his beard as he settled himself for sleep. And it’s a very hairy beast too, he thought.
While Hezekiah had been kneeling below the steps to the front entrance of Shortseat, two of the park rangers had put a rope over his neck, one on either side. They prepared themselves for what they imagined would be quite a tussle when the camel got to his feet. But Hezekiah stood quite quietly, gazing at them with eyes as mild as an old Holstein cow. He did make a lot of rumbling noises, though of course they couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Now look, you chaps,” he said. “I’ve come a heck of a long way today and I could do with a good night’s sleep.”
Which is just what he got, for the rangers decided not to turn him out into one of the enclosures, but to put him, for the time being, in a nice warm old shed that was sometimes used to house sick beasts.
After letting him drink his fill from a water trough, they made him a good bed of straw, and gave him a helping of hay and some interesting roots he’d never seen before. It didn’t take long for Hezekiah to decide that he liked mangel-wurzels, and he polished them all off. Then, with a long sigh of content, he fell into a deep sleep.
He slept so well and dreamlessly that the next thing he knew it was morning. Someone opened the door of the shed and came in. He looked at
the man’s hairy face and recognized him as the person who had stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in strange clothes.
Lord Basin had risen early and hurried out, still in his nightclothes. He wore pajamas and a dressing gown and slippers, all very brightly colored. On his head was a brilliant red woolly nightcap.
“Hezekiah!” he cried.
This was in fact the only word of human language that the camel knew, so often had he heard it. He recognized it as his name. He got to his feet and moved a pace or two toward the Earl. They looked into each other’s eyes, and perhaps
because each was so hairy, both felt that they were kindred spirits and had become—and would always continue to be—best friends.
“I expect you’d like to stretch your legs,” said Lord Basin. “It’s a bit cramped for you in this old shed. Though you can always come back in here to sleep if you like.”
In reply he heard the camel make a number of grunty, growly noises. “Any chance I could stretch my legs?” Hezekiah was saying. “This old shed’s not all that big. Though I wouldn’t mind coming back in here at night.”
The Earl of Basin put out a hand to his Bactrian camel. Something told him that the animal would not bite his hand, and indeed Hezekiah did not. He merely touched it gently with his thick rubbery lips in a kind of kiss.
