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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 417 pages of information about The Pacha of Many Tales.

I was very much alarmed at what had occurred; for although I felt justified in self-defence, I was aware that my master would be very much annoyed at the loss of the slave, and as there were no witnesses, it would go hard with me when brought before the cadi.  After some reflection I determined, as the slave had said “He would not remain to be beaten,” that I would leave my master to suppose he had run away, and in the mean time conceal the body.  But to effect this was difficult, as I could not take it out of the cooperage without being perceived.  After some cogitation, I decided upon putting it into the cask, and heading it up.  It required all my strength to lift the body in, but at last I succeeded.  Having put in the head of the pipe, I hammered down the hoops and rolled it into the store, where I had been waiting to fill it with wine for the next year’s demand.  As soon as it was in its place, I pumped off the wine from the vat, and having filled up the cask and put in the bung, I felt as if a heavy load had been removed from my mind, as there was no chance of immediate discovery.

I had but just completed my task, and was sitting down on one of the settles, when my master came in, and inquired for the slave.  I replied that he had left the cooperage, swearing that he would work no more.  Afraid of losing him, the Jew hastened to give notice to the authorities, that he might be apprehended; but after some time, as nothing could be heard of the supposed runaway, it was imagined that he had drowned himself in a fit of sullenness, and no more was thought about him.  In the meanwhile I continued to work there as before, and as I had the charge of every thing I had no doubt but that, some day or another, I should find means of quietly disposing of my incumbrance.

The next spring, I was busy pumping off from one cask into the other, according to our custom, when the aga of the janissaries came in.  He was a great wine-bibber, and one of our best customers.  As his dependents were all well-known, it was not his custom to send them for wine, but to come himself to the store and select a pipe.  This was carried away in a litter by eight strong slaves, with the curtains drawn close, as if it had been a new purchase which he had added to his harem.  My master showed him the pipes of wine prepared for that year’s market, which were arranged in two rows; and I hardly need observe that the one containing the Ethiopian was not in the foremost.  After tasting one or two which did not seem to please him, the aga observed, “Friend Issachar, thy tribe will always put off the worst goods first, if possible.  Now I have an idea that there is better wine in the second tier, than in the one thou hast recommended.  Let thy Greek put a spile into that cask,” continued he, pointing to the very one in which I had headed up the black slave.  As I made sure that as soon as he had tasted the contents he would spit them out, I did not hesitate to bore the cask and draw off the wine, which I handed to him.  He tasted it and held it to the light—­tasted it again and smacked his lips—­then turning to my master, exclaimed, “Thou dog of a Jew! wouldst thou have palmed off upon me vile trash, when thou hadst in thy possession wine which might be sipped with the Houris in Paradise?”

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