CHIRPING GIANTS 165 



I crossed over the tongue of sand. But what were these 

 monstrous shapes in the night ? Thank heavens ! Only drome- 

 daries. What on earth were they doing here at this hour? 

 There were ten or twenty of them in single file with the head 

 male in the lead and the others in order behind, the very 

 smallest bringing up the rear. They looked double their size 

 in the gloom. They were coming out of a ravine and making 

 for the sea. On seeing me they stopped and stared. If I 

 wished to continue, I would have to make my way through 

 them. Something, however, restrained me. I felt as if I had 

 been locked in a park after closing time. The line continued 

 way back through the ravine. Were all the wild dromedaries 

 of the peninsula gathering here tonight for a dromedary 

 orgy? 



We remained staring at each other, the big chief and I, 

 for five minutes. Suddenly my inquisitor let out a long 

 lacerating bellow. The birds fled and there was silence. 

 Then the bellow was taken up and all the dromedaries on 

 the island blew their lungs out — a strident nasal sound, the 

 sound of a stupid malignant animal. 'This time,' I told 

 myself, 'they're going to do me in.' Tired of hanging around, 

 the reaction came to me instinctively. I took my gun by 

 the barrel — it would have been a mug's game to shoot — and 

 marched on towards them bellowing too, like a primitive 

 man before throwing his club. 



It worked. The dromedaries got the wind up, broke file, 

 pounded back up the ravine and scattered. 



The beach was deserted. I continued my steps in the 

 moonlight. 



The Formica on the high seas. Cecco and Gigi were stretched 

 out on the anchor cables when Asgodum, the negro boy. 



