Tales of the Caravan, Inn, and Palace. Вильгельм Гауф

forward. In half an hour they came to the fountain, and at once began to use their crowbars. The wall was thick and solid but could not long withstand the united strength of the four men, and they had soon made an opening large enough to crawl through. Orbasan passed through first, and helped the others after him.

      When they all stood in the court, they looked closely at the side of the castle facing them, to pick out the door that had been described. But they did not all agree on this point, for on counting from the right tower toward the left, they found one door that had been walled up, and they could not decide whether Fatima had passed this door by, or had counted it in with the others. But Orbasan did not hesitate long. "My good sword will open every door to me," exclaimed he, and went to one of the doors followed by his companions. They opened the door and discovered six black slaves lying on the floor asleep. They were about to withdraw quietly, as they saw they had missed the right door, when a man's form arose in the corner, and in a well-known voice, called for help. It was Hassan, the deserter from Orbasan's camp. But before the black guards could find out what had happened, Orbasan rushed at the little wretch, tore his girdle into two pieces, with one of which he bound his mouth, and with the other tied his hands behind his back; then he turned on the slaves, some of whom were already partially secured by Mustapha and his companions, and assisted to completely overpower them. At the point of the dagger, the slaves confessed that Nurmahal and Mirza were in the adjoining room. Mustapha rushed in, and found Fatima and Zoraide, who were already aroused by the noise. They quickly collected their clothing and ornaments, and followed Mustapha. The two robbers now begged permission of Orbasan to plunder whatever they found; but he forbade them, saying: "It shall never be said of Orbasan that he broke into a house at night to steal gold."

      Mustapha and the young girls slid quickly into the aqueduct, Orbasan promising to follow immediately; but as soon as the others were out of sight, Orbasan and one of the robbers took Hassan out into the court, and tying a silk cord around his neck, hung him to the highest point of the fountain. After having inflicted this penalty on the wretch, they descended into the aqueduct and followed Mustapha.

      With tears the two young girls thanked their noble rescuer Orbasan, but he hurried them on in their flight, as it was quite probable that Thiuli-Kos would pursue them in all directions. With deep emotion, Mustapha and the rescued ones parted from Orbasan on the following day. Of a truth, they will never forget him. Fatima, the freed slave, disguised herself and went to Balsora to take passage for her home, and all reached there safely after a short and agreeable journey.

      The joy of seeing them again almost killed my father; but the day after their arrival, he ordered an immense banquet, to which the whole town came. My brother had then to repeat his story before a large number of relatives and friends, and with one voice they praised him and the noble Orbasan.

      When my brother had finished, my father rose and led Zoraide up to him. "Thus," said he in joyful tones, "do I lift the curse from thy head; take her as the reward, which thou hast won through thy tireless zeal; take my fatherly blessing; and may our city never be wanting in men who, in brotherly love, in wisdom and zeal, resemble thee."

      The caravan had reached the end of the desert, and the travelers joyfully greeted the green meadows and the thick foliage of the trees; a delightful view, of which they had been deprived for many days. In a beautiful valley was situated a caravansary, which they chose for a night's lodging; and although it offered poor accommodation and refreshment, yet the whole company were in better spirits and more confidential than ever, as the feeling that they had escaped all the dangers and discomforts which a journey through the desert brings, opened all hearts and disposed all minds to jests and sports. Muley, the active young merchant, danced a comic dance, accompanying himself with songs, until even the sad features of Zaleukos, the Greek, relaxed into a smile. But not satisfied with having entertained his fellow travelers with dances and games, he related, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his violent exercise, the story which he had promised them.

LITTLE MUCK.

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      In Nicæea, my dearly-loved native city, lived a man who was called Little Muck, I can recall him distinctly, although I was quite young at the time, chiefly because of a severe chastisement I received from my father on his account. This Little Muck was already an old man when I knew him, and yet he was not more than four feet in height. His figure presented a singular appearance, as his body, small and childlike, seemed but a slender support for a head much larger than the heads of ordinary people. He lived all alone in a large house, and cooked his own meals, and had it not been for the smoke that rose from his kitchen chimney at midday, the townspeople would have remained in doubt as to whether he still lived; for he went out but once a month. He was, however, occasionally seen walking on the house-top, and to one looking up from the street there was presented the singular sight of a head moving to and fro. My companions and myself were rather bad boys, who took delight in teasing and making sport of everybody; so it was always a great holiday for us whenever Little Muck went out. We gathered before his house on the appointed day, and waited; and when now the door opened, and the large head, wrapped in a still larger turban, peeped out, followed by the rest of his little body, done up in a threadbare cloak, baggy breeches, and a wide sash, from which hung a dagger so long that it could not be told whether Muck stuck on the dagger or the dagger on Muck--when he thus made his appearance, the air echoed with our shouts; we threw up our caps, and danced around him like mad. Little Muck, however, returned our salute with a grave nod of the head, and shuffled slowly down the street in such great, wide slippers as I had never seen before. We boys ran behind him, shouting: "Little Muck! Little Muck!" We also had a jolly little verse that we now and then sang in his honor, which ran as follows: