Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Tragedy of the Korosko — Chapter VI
(1896)
“ The long line of camels moved as noiselessly as ghosts across the desert. Before and behind were the silent, swaying white figures of the Arabs. Not a sound anywhere, not the very faintest sound, until far away behind them they heard a human voice singing in a strong, droning, unmusical fashion. It had the strangest effect, this far-away voice, in that huge inarticulate wilderness. And then there came a well-known rhythm into that distant chant, and they could almost hear the words-- We nightly pitch our moving tent, A day's march nearer home. ”
