The camp was pitched near water in a pleasant grove of trees, and on one of these not far from the tent of Ithobal Metem noted that there hung the body of a black dwarf.
"Behold the fate of him who shoots at the buck and hits the doe.

Well, I have always said that murder is a dangerous game, since blood calls out for blood," thought Metem as he rode towards the tent.
At its door stood king Ithobal looking very huge and sullen in the sunlight.

Metem dismounted and prostrated himself obsequiously.
"May the King live for ever," he said, "the great King, the King to whom all the other kings of the earth are as the little gods to Baal, or the faint stars to the sun." "Rise, and cease from flatteries," said Ithobal shortly; "I may be greater than the other kings, but at least you do not think it." "If the king says so, so let it be," replied Metem calmly.

"A woman yonder in the market-place told me that the king wished to trade for my merchandise.

So I have brought the best of it; priceless goods that which much toil I have carried hither from Tyre," and he pointed to the two camels laden with the inferior articles which he had purchased, and began to read the number and description of the goods from his tablets.
"What value do you set upon the whole of them, merchant ?" asked Ithobal.
"To the traders of the country so much, but to you, O King, so much only," and he named a sum twice that which he had paid in the city.
"So be it," assented Ithobal indifferently; "I do not haggle over wares.
Though your price is large, presently my treasurer shall weigh you out the gold." There was a moment's pause, then Metem said:-- "The trees in this camp of yours bear evil fruit, O King.