“Not till I am safely out,” repeated Aladdin.

Then the Magician stamped with rage, and rushing to the fire threw on it some more of the curious powder, uttered the same strange words as before, and instantly the stone slipped back into its place, the earth closed over it, and Aladdin was left in darkness.

This showed indeed that the wicked old man was not Aladdin’s uncle.  By his magic arts in Africa he had found out all about the lamp, which was a wonderful treasure, as you will see.  But he knew that he could not get it himself, that another hand must fetch it to him.  This was the reason why he had fixed upon Aladdin to help him, and had meant, as soon as the lamp was safely in his hand, to kill the boy.

As his plan had failed he went back to Africa, and was not seen again for a long, long time.

But there was poor Aladdin shut up underground, with no way of getting out!  He tried to find his way back to the great halls and the beautiful garden of shining fruits, but the walls had closed up, and there was no escape that way either.  For two days the poor boy sat crying and moaning in his despair, and just as he had made up his mind that he must die, he clasped his hands together, and in doing so rubbed the ring which the Magician had put upon his finger.

In an instant a huge figure rose out of the earth and stood before him.

“What is thy will, my master?” it said.  “I am the Slave of the Ring, and must obey him who wears the ring.”

“Whoever or whatever you are,” cried Aladdin, “take me out of this dreadful place.”

Scarcely had he said these words when the earth opened, and the next moment Aladdin found himself lying at his mother’s door.  He was so weak for want of food, and his joy at seeing his mother was so great, that he fainted away, but when he came to himself he promised to tell her all that had happened.

“But first give me something to eat,” he cried, “for I am dying of hunger.”

“Alas!” said his mother, “I have nothing in the house except a little cotton, which I will go out and sell.”

“Stop a moment,” cried Aladdin, “rather let us sell this old lamp which I have brought back with me.”

Now the lamp looked so old and dirty that Aladdin’s mother began to rub it, wishing to brighten it a little that it might fetch a higher price.

But no sooner had she given it the first rub than a huge dark figure slowly rose from the floor like a wreath of smoke until it reached the ceiling, towering above them.

“What is thy will?” it asked.  “I am the Slave of the Lamp, and must do the bidding of him who holds the Lamp.”

The moment the figure began to rise from the ground Aladdin’s mother was so terrified that she fainted away, but Aladdin managed to snatch the lamp from her, although he could scarcely hold it in his own shaking hand.

“Fetch me something to eat,” he said in a trembling voice, for the terrible Genie was glaring down upon him.