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.