“You cannot pass,” said he. His scimitar glittered in the sun.
“But we repent! We repent!” cried my sister.
“Too late, too late!” said the Guardian. “See!”
He pointed upward, and afar off in the sky appeared a black speck, speeding toward us.
“The genie!” I cried; and I had no sooner said it, than the earth trembled, and before us on the ground towered the genie, breathing fire.
“Save us from him!” I cried, turning to the Guardian, but he was gone. We were alone with the genie.
The genie swung him back and forth and tossed him out to sea
The Pulling Off of the Genie’s Ring
“Off with the ring! That will send him away!” I cried to my sister, and she tugged at the ring on her forefinger, to pull it off; but it came unwillingly; and as she pulled, her finger lengthened; she tugged harder, and as the ring came her finger stretched out longer and longer; and when the ring was off and dropped on the ground, the first finger of her right hand was more than a foot long,—a black, stiff rod, hooked at the end like a poker.