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 Although the Bactrian or two-humped freight camel is a native of the high, cold plains of Central Asia and North China, he thrives and works just as well in the heat and drought of the desert. In his old home he is a draft animal, too. He carries burdens over snow-covered plains and even mountains. He sleeps out of doors on the snow in gales of icy wind. He eats, not only hard, bitter plants, but fish, bones and tough skins. He can go for a week without water, and when no other is to be found, can drink the salt, bitter waters of dead seas. On the desert he can carry heavier burdens and endure greater hardships than the one-humped dromedary, although he is burdened with an arctic coat of wool and hair. He is the ox of the earth's waste places, as the dromedary is the riding horse.

At night, when a caravan is in camp, the little children of the chief drink cups of the camel's thick, cheesy milk mixed with water. On the chief's table is camel flesh, as juicy and tender as beef. The herders wear robes and turbans of brown, camel's hair cloth. The master sleeps under a camel's hair tent. Without this ugly, stupid, useful beast, the hot deserts of the Old World would lie unpeopled and unknown. The camel knows nothing of his value and cares less. Like the desert itself, he submits to be used, but remains wild. Sullen and forbidding, he holds his master a stranger.

There is just one thing for which the camel has a softer feeling. The mother camel shows affection for her baby. After the day's march she has him all to herself. She nurses him, she nuzzles him with her sensitive hare-lip. He cuddles up to her for warmth. After the terrible heat of the day the night on the desert is often cold. But it is very still and clear. She can feast her eyes on her baby, for the dark, blue-velvet dome of the sky is hung all over with little golden lamps of stars.