am
master. What ye have to say must wait until after the morning
service."

Silently and patiently they waited, sitting in all manner of queer
places. Some of them perched on the backs of the seats, a few clung
like great big flies to the pillars, others sat on the window-sills,
and several of the tiniest hung from the rafters in the ceiling. As
soon as the service was over, the clamor broke out anew.

"Give to us the perjurer," screamed the demons. "He is not fit to
live."

With some difficulty, the rabbi stilled the tumult, and said:

"Listen unto me, ye demons and sprites of the land of Ergetz. This man
has fallen into my hands, and I am responsible for him. Our king,
Ashmedai, must know of his arrival. We must not condemn a man unheard.
Let us petition the king to grant him a fair trial."

After some demur, the demons agreed to this proposal, and they trooped
out of the synagogue in the same peculiar manner in which they came.
Each was compelled to leave by the same door or window at which he
entered.

Bar Shalmon was carried off to the palace of King Ashmedai, preceded
and followed by a noisy crowd of demons and fairies. There seemed to
be millions of them, all clattering and pointing at him. They hobbled
and hopped over the ground, jumped into the air, sprang from housetop
to housetop, made sudden appearances from holes in the ground and
vanished through solid walls.

The palace was a vast building of white marble that seemed as delicate
as lace work. It stood in a magnificent square where many beautiful
fountains spouted jets of crystal water. King Ashmedai came forth on
the balcony, and at his appearance all the demons and fairies became
silent and went down on their knees.

"What will ye with me?" he cried, in a voice of thunder, and the rabbi
approached and bowed before his majesty.

"A mortal, a Jew, has fallen into my hands," he said, "and thy
subjects crave for his blood. He is a perjurer, they say. Gracious
majesty, I would petition for a trial."

"What manner of mortal is he?" asked Ashmedai.

Bar Shalmon stepped forward.

"Jump up here so I may see thee," commanded the king.

"Jump, jump," cried the crowd.

"I cannot," said Bar Shalmon, as he looked up at the balcony thirty
feet above the ground.

"Try," said the rabbi.

Bar Shalmon did try, and found, the moment he lifted his feet from the
ground, that he was standing on the balcony.

"Neatly done," said the king. "I see thou art