his hand, and, running after the ox,
belaboured it soundly. "O man!" cried the Turk, "what are you beating my
beast for?"

"Hold your tongue, you fool," said the Khoja, "and don't meddle with
what doesn't concern you. _The ox knows well enough._"

_Tale_ 30.--The Khoja's Camel.

The next time Khoja Effendi was obliged to take a journey he resolved to
accompany a caravan for protection.

Now the Khoja had lately become possessed of a valuable camel, and he
said to himself, "I will ride my camel instead of going on foot; the
journey will then be a pleasure, and I shall not be fatigued." So he
mounted the camel and set forth.

But as he was riding with the caravan the camel stumbled, and the Khoja
was thrown off and severely hurt. The people of the caravan coming to
his assistance found that he was stunned, but after a while they
succeeded in restoring him.

When the Khoja came to his senses he tore his clothes, and cried in
great rage and indignation, "O Muslims! you do not know what care I have
taken of this camel, and this is how I am rewarded! Will no one kill it
for me? It has done its best to kill me."

But his friends said, "Be appeased, most worthy Effendi, we could not
kill your valuable camel."

"O benefactors!" replied the Khoja, "since you desire the brute's life
it must be spared. But it shall have no home with me. I am about to
drive it into the desert, where it may stumble to its heart's content."

So the Khoja drove the camel away; but before he did so he tore the
furniture and trappings furiously from its back, crying, "I won't leave
you a rag, you ungrateful beast!"

And he pursued his journey on foot, carrying the camel's furniture as
best as he might.

_Tale_ 31.--An Open Question.

The Khoja wanted vegetables for cooking, so he took a sack and slipped
into a neighbouring garden, which was abundantly supplied. He picked
some herbs, and pulled up some turnips, and got a little of everything
he could find to fill his bag. Both hands were full, when the gardener
suddenly appeared and seized him.

"What are you doing here?" said the gardener.

The Khoja was confounded, and not being able to find a good excuse, he
said, "A very strong wind blew during the night. Having driven me a long
way, it blew me here."

"Oh," said the gardener; "but who plucked these herbs which I see in
your hands?"

"The wind was so very strong," answered the Khoja, "that when it blew me
into this place I cl