So she fetched the rope, the hatchet, and the pin and the needles, and said, ‘Take them, and put them in the pocket of your cloak, and be sure not to lose them.’ Dschemil put them carefully in his pocket, and tied the rope round her, and let her down over the wall. ‘Are you safe?’ he asked. ‘Yes, quite.’ ‘Then untie the rope, so that I may draw it up.’ And Dschemila did as she was told, and in a few minutes he stood beside her. Now all this time the ogre was asleep, and had heard nothing. Then his dog came to him and said, ‘O, sleeper, are you having pleasant dreams? Dschemila has forsaken you and run away.’ The ogre got out of bed, gave the dog a kick, then went back again, and slept till morning. When it grew light, he rose, and called, ‘Dschemila! Dschemila!’ but he only heard the echo of his own voice! Then he dressed himself quickly; buckled on his sword and whistled to his dog, and followed the road which he knew the fugitives must have taken. ‘Cousin,’ said Dschemila suddenly, and turning round as she spoke. ‘What is it?’ answered he. ‘The ogre is coming after us. I saw him.’ ‘But where is he? I don’t see him.’ ‘Over there. He only looks about as tall as a needle.’ Then they both began to run as fast as they could, while the ogre and his dog kept drawing always nearer. A few more steps, and he would have been by their side, when Dschemila threw the darning needle behind her. In a moment it became an iron mountain between them and their enemy. ‘We will break it down, my dog and I,’ cried the ogre in a rage, and they dashed at the mountain till they had forced a path through, and came ever nearer and nearer. ‘Cousin!’ said Dschemila suddenly. ‘What is it?’ ‘The ogre is coming after us with his dog.’ ‘You go on in front then,’ answered he; and they both ran on as fast as they could, while the ogre and the dog drew always nearer and nearer. ‘They are close upon us!’ cried the maiden, glancing behind, ‘you must throw the pin.’ So Dschemil took the pin from his cloak and threw it behind him, and a dense thicket of thorns sprang up round them, which the ogre and his dog could not pass through. ‘I will get through it somehow, if I burrow underground,’ cried he, and very soon he and the dog were on the other side. ‘Cousin,’ said Dschemila, ‘they are close to us now.’ ‘Go on in front, and fear nothing,’ replied Dschemil. So she ran on a little way, and then stopped. ‘He is only a few yards away now,’ she said, and Dschemil flung the hatchet on the ground, and it turned into a lake. ‘I will drink, and my dog shall drink, till it is dry,’ shrieked the ogre, and the dog drank so much that it burst and died. But the ogre did not stop for that, and soon the whole lake was nearly dry. Then he exclaimed, ‘Dschemila, let your head become a donkey’s head, and your hair fur!’ But when it was done, Dschemil looked at her in horror, and said, ‘She is really a donkey, and not a woman at all!’ And he left her, and went home.