TWILIGHT LAND

So he went his way and he fished his fish, and twelve
months and a week or more passed by. Then one day
he went past the baker shop, and there sat Selim the
Baker smoking his pipe of tobacco.

“So, friend,” said Selim the Fisherman, “ you are back ~
again in the old place, I see.” ;

“Yes,” said the other Selim; “awhile ago I was a
king, and now I am nothing but a baker again. As for
that gold ring with the red stone—they may say it is
Luck’s Ring if they choose, but when next I wear it may
I be hanged.”

Thereupon he told Selim the Fisherman the story of
what had happened to him, with all its ins and outs, just
as I have told it to you.

“Well,” said Selim the Fisherman, “I should like to
have a sight of that island myself. If you want the ring
no longer, just let me have it; for maybe if I wear it
something of the kind will happen to me.”

“You may have it,” said Selim the Baker. “ Yonder
it is, and you are welcome to it.”

So Selim the Fisherman put on the ring, and then went
his way about his own business.

That night, as he came home carrying his nets over his
shoulder, whom should he meet but the little old man in
grey, with the white beard and the black cap on his head
and the long staff in his hand.

“Ts your name Selim?” said the little man, just as he
had done to Selim the Baker.

“Yes,” said Selim, “it is.”

“ And do you wear a gold ring with a red stone?” said
the little old man, just as he had said before.

“Ves,” said Selim, ‘I do.”

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