THE ENCHANTED ISLAND

““Then come with me,” said the little old man, “and I
will show you the wonder of the world.”

Selim the Fisherman remembered all that Selim the
Baker had told him, and he took no two thoughts as to
what to do. Down he tumbled his nets, and away he
went after the other as fast as his legs could carry him.
Here they went and there they went, up crooked streets
and lanes and down byways and alley-ways, until at last
they came to the same garden to which Selim the Baker
had been brought. Then the old man knocked at the
gate three times and cried out in a loud voice, ‘‘ Open!
Open! Open to Selim, who wears the Ring of Luck!”

Then the gate opened, and in they went. Fine as it
all was, Selim the Fisherman cared to look neither to the
right nor to the left, but straight after the old man he
went, until at last they came to the seaside and the boat
and the four-and-twenty oarsmen dressed like princes and
the black slaves with the perfumed torches.

Here the old man entered the boat and Selim after him,
and away they sailed.

To make a long story short, everything happened to
Selim the Fisherman just as it had happened to Selim the
Baker. At dawn of day they came to the island and the
city built on the mountain. And the palaces were just as
white and beautiful, and the gardens and orchards just as
fresh and blooming as though they had not all tumbled
down and sunk under the water a week before, almost
carrying poor Selim the Baker with them. There were
the people dressed in silks and satins and jewels, just as
Selim the Baker had found them, and they shouted and
hurrahed for Selim the Fisherman just as they had
shouted and hurrahed for the other. There were the

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