The fourth day of his journey, he was so much incommoded by the heat of the sun, and the reflection of that heat from the earth, that he turned out of the road, to refresh himself under some trees, that he saw in the country. There he found, at the foot of a great walnut tree, a fountain of very clear running water; and alighting, tied his horse to a branch of a tree, and sitting down by the fountain, took some biscuits and dates out of his portmanteau; and as he ate his dates, threw the shells about on both sides of him. When he had done eating, being a good Mussulman, he washed his hands, his face, and his feet, and said his prayers. He had not made an end, but was still on his knees, when he saw a genie appear, all white with age, and of a monstrous bulk; who, advancing towards him with a scimitar in his hand, spoke to him in a terrible voice thus: Rise up, that I may kill thee with this scimitar, as you have killed my son; and accompanied those words with a frightful cry. The merchant, being as much frightened at the hideous shape of the monster as at those threatening words, answered him, trembling, Alas, my good lord, of what crime can I be guilty towards you, that you should take away my life? I will, replies the genie, kill thee, as thou hast killed my son. O, heaven! says the merchant, how should I kill your son? I did not know him, nor ever saw him. Did not you sit down when you came hither? replies the genie. Did not you take dates out of your portmanteau, and, as you ate them, did not you throw the shells about on both sides? I did all that you say, answers the merchant; I cannot deny it. If it be so, replied the genie, I tell thee that thou hast killed my son; and the way was thus: when you threw the nutshells about, my son was passing by, and you threw one of them into his eye, which killed him, and therefore I must kill thee. Ah! my lord, pardon me, cried the merchant. No pardon, answers the genie, no mercy: is it not just to kill him that has killed another? I agree to it, says the merchant, but certainly I never killed your son; and if I have, it was unknown to me, and I did it innocently; therefore I beg you to pardon me, and suffer me to live. No, no, says the genie, persisting in his resolution; I must kill thee, since thou hast killed my son; and then, taking the merchant by the arm, threw him with his face upon the ground, and lifted up his scimitar to cut off his head.