On this the Khoja rose from his seat, and taking the axe proceeded to lock it up in a box.
"What are you doing with the axe, Khoja?" said his wife.
"I am hiding it from the cat," replied the Khoja. "The sort of cat who steals two pennyworth of liver is not likely to spare an axe worth forty pence."
Tale 19.—The Cadi's Ferejeh.
One day a certain Cadi of Sur-Hissar, being very drunk, lay down in a garden and fell asleep. The Khoja, having gone out for a walk, passed by the spot and saw the Cadi lying dead drunk and senseless, with his ferejeh—or overcoat—half off his back.
It was a very valuable ferejeh, of rich material, and the Khoja took it and went home remarkably well dressed.
When the Cadi recovered his senses he found that his ferejeh was gone. Thereupon he called his officers and commanded them, saying: "On whomsoever ye shall see my ferejeh, bring the fellow before me."
Meanwhile the Khoja wore it openly, and at last the officers took him and brought him before the Cadi.
"O Khoja!" said the Cadi, "how came you by what belongs to me? Where did you find that ferejeh?"
"Most exemplary Cadi," replied the Khoja, "I went out yesterday for a short time before sunset, and as I walked I perceived a disreputable-looking fellow lying shamefully drunk, and exposed to the derision of passers-by in the public gardens. His ferejeh was half off his back, and I said within myself, 'This valuable ferejeh will certainly be stolen, whilst he to whom it belongs is sleeping the sleep of drunkenness. I will therefore take it and wear it, and when the owner has his senses restored to him, he will be able to see and reclaim it.' So I took the ferejeh, and if it be thine, O Cadi, take it!"