by Joan Aiken
Ali Beg softly lifted the latch.
He tiptoed in.
Very, very gently, so as not to wake Mrs. Noot, he pulled the beautiful red and blue and green and crimson and pink and gold quilt from under her hands. He never noticed the needle. Mrs. Noot never woke up.
Ali Beg stole out of the door, carrying the quilt.
He spread it out on the snow. Even in the moonlight, its colors showed bright.
Ali Beg sat down on it. He said:
“By hill and dale,
Over forest and foam,
Carry me safely,
Carry me home!”
Old Mrs. Noot had stitched a lot of magic into the quilt as she sewed and sang. It was even better than the carpet. It rose up into the air and carried Ali Beg south toward the hot country.
When Mrs. Noot woke and found her beautiful quilt gone, she and little Nils hunted for it everywhere, but it was not in the kitchen—nor in the woodshed—nor in the forest—nowhere.
Although it was his birthday, little Nils cried all day.
Back in the desert, Ali Beg lay down on the quilt and went to sleep. The camels stood round, shading him.
Then the youngest camel said, “Friends, I have been thinking. Why should we keep the sun off this wicked man while he sleeps on a soft quilt? Let us roll him onto the sand and sit on the quilt ourselves. Then we can make it take us away and leave him behind.”
Three camels took hold of Ali Beg’s clothes with their teeth and pulled him off the quilt. Then they all sat on it in a ring, round the star-shaped hole in the middle. (Luckily it was a very big quilt.)
The eldest camel said:
“Beautiful quilt,
So fine and grand,
Carry us home
To your native land.”
At once the quilt rose up in the air, with all the camels sitting on it.
At that moment, Ali Beg woke. He saw them up above him. With a shout of rage, he jumped up and made a grab for the quilt. His fingers just caught in the star-shaped hole.
The quilt sailed along with Ali Beg hanging underneath.
The youngest camel said, “Friends, let us get rid of Ali Beg. He is too heavy for this quilt.”
So all the camels humped and bumped and thumped, they knocked and rocked, they slipped and tipped, they wriggled and jiggled, until the needle that Mrs. Noot had left sticking through a patch ran into Ali Beg’s finger. He gave a yell and let go. He fell down and down, down and down and down, until he hit the sea with a great SPLASH.
And that was the end of Ali Beg.
But the quilt sailed on, with the camels. As they flew over Beirut they threw down the twelve green traffic lights.
When at last they landed outside Mrs. Noot’s house Nils came running out.
“Oh, Granny!” he cried. “Come and see! The quilt has come back! And it has brought me twelve camels for a birthday present.”
“Dear me,” said Mrs. Noot. “I shall have to make them jackets, or they will find it too cold in these parts.”
So she made them beautiful patchwork jackets and gave them plenty of hot porridge to eat. The camels were very happy to have found such a kind home.
Mrs. Noot sewed the last star into the patchwork and spread the quilt on Nils’s bed.
“There,” she said. “Now it’s bedtime!”
Nils jumped into bed and lay proudly under his beautiful quilt. He went straight to sleep. And what wonderful dreams he had that night, and every night after, while his granny sat in front of the big fire, with six camels on either side of her.
Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Text copyright © 1968 by Joan Aiken
Text copyright renewed © 1996 by Joan Aiken
Illustrations copyright © 2001 by Kevin Hawkes
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eISBN: 978-0-307-55853-4
June 2003
v3.0