his mules, but really to tell his men what to do.  Beginning at the first jar and ending at the last, he said to each man:  “As soon as I throw some stones from the window of the chamber where I lie, cut the jars open with your knives and come out, and I will be with you in a trice.”  He returned to the house, and Morgiana led him to his chamber.  She then told Abdallah, her fellow-slave, to set on the pot to make some broth for her master, who had gone to bed.  Meanwhile her lamp went out, and she had no more oil in the house.  “Do not be uneasy,” said Abdallah; “go into the yard and take some out of one of those jars.”  Morgiana thanked him for his advice, took the oil pot, and went into the yard.  When she came to the first jar the robber inside said softly:  “Is it time?”

Any other slave but Morgiana, on finding a man in the jar instead of the oil she wanted, would have screamed and made a noise; but she, knowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and answered quietly:  “Not yet, but presently.”  She went to all the jars, giving the same answer, till she came to the jar of oil.  She now saw that her master, thinking to entertain an oil merchant, had let thirty-eight robbers into his house.  She filled her oil pot, went back to the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil jar and filled a large kettle full of oil.  When it boiled she went and poured enough oil into every jar to stifle and kill the robber inside.  When this brave deed was done she went back to the kitchen, put out the fire and the lamp, and waited to see what would happen.

In a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke, got up, and opened the window.  As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little pebbles which hit the jars.  He listened, and as none of his men seemed to stir he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard.  On going to the first jar and saying, “Are you asleep?” he smelt the hot boiled oil, and knew at once that his plot to murder Ali Baba and his household had been discovered.  He found all the gang was dead, and, missing the oil out of the last jar, became aware of the manner of their death.  He then forced the lock of a door leading into a garden, and climbing over several walls made his escape.  Morgiana heard and saw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell asleep.

At daybreak Ali Baba arose, and, seeing the oil jars still there, asked why the merchant had not gone with his mules.  Morgiana bade him look in the first jar and see if there was any oil.  Seeing a man, he started back in terror.  “Have no fear,” said Morgiana; “the man cannot harm you:  he is dead.”  Ali Baba, when he had recovered somewhat from his astonishment, asked what had become of the merchant.  “Merchant!” said she, “he is no more a merchant than I am!” and she told him the whole story, assuring him that it was a plot of the robbers of the forest, of whom only three were left, and that the white and red chalk marks had something to do with it.  Ali Baba at once gave Morgiana her freedom, saying that he owed her his life.  They then buried the bodies in Ali Baba’s garden, while the mules were sold in the market by his slaves.