before him. For a moment or two the
fagot-maker hesitated to enter; but all was as still as death, and
finally he plucked up courage and went within.

By this time the day was brightening and the sun rising, and by the gray
light the fagot-maker could see about him pretty clearly. Not a sign was
to be seen of horses or of treasure or of people--nothing but a square
block of marble, and upon it a black casket, and upon that again a gold
ring, in which was set a blood-red stone. Beyond these things there was
nothing; the walls were bare, the roof was bare, the floor was bare--all
was bare and naked stone.

"Well," said the wood-chopper, "as the old men have taken everything
else, I might as well take these things. The ring is certainly worth
something, and maybe I shall be able to sell the casket for a trifle
into the bargain." So he slipped the ring upon his finger, and, taking
up the casket, left the place. "I command thee to be closed," said
he, "in the name of the red Aldebaran!" And thereupon the door closed,
creaking and groaning.

After a little while he found his ass, saddled it and bridled it, and
loaded it with the bundle of fagots that he had chopped the day before,
and then set off again to try to find his way out of the thick woods.
But still his luck was against him, and the farther he wandered the
deeper he found himself in the thickets. In the meantime he was like to
die of hunger, for he had not a bite to eat for more than a whole day.

"Perhaps," said he to himself, "there may be something in the casket to
stay my stomach;" and, so saying, he sat him down, unlocked the casket,
and raised the lid.

Such a yell as the poor wretch uttered ears never heard before. Over
he rolled upon his back and there lay staring with wide eyes, and away
scampered the jackass, kicking up his heels and braying so that the
leaves of the trees trembled and shook. For no sooner had he lifted the
lid than out leaped a great hideous Genie, as black as a coal, with one
fiery-red eye in the middle of his forehead that glared and rolled most
horribly, and with his hands and feet set with claws, sharp and hooked
like the talons of a hawk. Poor Abdallah the fagot-maker lay upon his
back staring at the monster with a face as white as wax.

"What are thy commands?" said the Genie in a terrible voice, that
rumbled like the sound of thunder.

"I--I do not know," said Abdallah, trembling and shaking as with an
ague. "I--I have for