Hassan and the Thief urged their horses up a small, steep hill, from the top of which they beheld the city, and much country on all hands. Beneath them in the dale they had just left were many olive trees a-shimmer in the sun, which cast a filigree of shade upon the field and on the bridle path which wound among them. Having secured their horses out of sight, they sat to watch that path. At last, when from long watching he had dropped to sleep, old Hassan was aroused by an exclamation from the Thief at his side. He presently became aware of figures moving upon the path, drawing near out of the distance. He perceived a fat man bestriding a tall black jackass, and beside him a servant, walking, holding a sunshade over the fat one’s head. The donkey bore full saddlebags, to judge from the angle of projection of his rider’s legs. And the fat man kept clutching the bosom of his robe, as if that, too, were not empty. “Come, O my lord. Let us descend,” hissed Nesìb. “Yon old man has our money. Watch his hands; observe his glance of fear to every side. Y’Allah!” They stole rapidly down the hill, making use of every scrap of cover. Long before the fat man and his servant reached the place of their descent, two simple men, an old and a young, sat by the roadside, beneath a wall that fenced the olive yards, holding one another’s hand, enjoying innocent converse in that shady spot. The younger of the twain crooned a love song with closed eyes. All at once, as the black donkey came ambling by, the pair sprang up suddenly, while the elder presented a large and very curious pistol at the rider’s head. Upon that, seeing the miscreants were two, himself but one, the servant turned and fled with the open sunshade. A minute later, when the fat man lay on the ground, puffing and cursing beneath the clever hands of Nesìb, Hassan saw that servant afar off, frantically endeavoring to climb a tree, while the parasol, still open, adorned the ground close by, seeming some strange white flower. At that instant Nesìb swore roundly. The fat man had bitten deep into the wrist of his despoiler. “Pig of a citizen!” yelled the Thief. “I will tear thy beard out. I will stab thy filthy eyes.” He kicked his victim, and would have leapt upon the hill of fatness had not Hassan Agha restrained him. “Nevertheless, he shall be punished, and that at once,” said the Circassian. “We asked but his wealth; Allah witness, we bore no grudge to this man more than to any other. But now, since he curses me and has bitten my companion, the case is altered.” So saying, he removed the saddlebags from the donkey’s back, then, letting go the bridle, drove his dagger into its flank. The black jackass screamed, plunged, and careered away. Nesìb, meanwhile, was employed in tearing the raiment off the fallen fat one, now quite paralyzed with rage. The despoiled gasped and gurgled convulsively.