Hatim requested the king to give him more minute description of the monster that created such dismay in his dominions; to which his majesty replied, “A terrible creature, which we call the Siyah-dil,* came down from the mountain Kāl, and formed his haunt within our boundaries. Every day he used to come into the city and devour multitudes of the inhabitants, till no living creature is left. The citadel he has not as yet been able to enter, for it is surrounded by a very deep wide ditch. Once a day, however, the monster makes the attempt of springing from the further side to the top of the wall; but fortuntately it is more than he can accomplish; he always falls short of the top, and rolls headlong into the water.”

When Hatim heard the king’s account, he said, “Sire, let your mind be at peace, for by the aid of heaven, I have slain your enemy, which I am convinced is the same that attacked me in the forest.” Hatim then detailed the whole circumstance, as already mentioned; whereupon, the king immediately admitted him into the citadel, and after treating him with the highest respect, and offering him food and drink becoming a prince, he said, “Brave stranger, I doubt not your honour; but, in order to satisfy my friends and subjects, you will forgive me if I request you some proof of what you have stated.” Hatim immediately produced the teeth and ears of the Siyah-dil; on seeing which, the king was so delighted that he prostrated himself at his feet, and loaded him with well-merited encomiums.

His majesty thereafter despatched those who were near him in all directions with letters certifying the death of the Siyah-dil, and inviting his subjects to return to their homes. In the course of a few days the city was restored to its former life and bustle; and Hatim, taking leave of the king, requested to have a guide to conduct him to the mountain of Nida. The king tried to induce Hatim to stay with him, and said, “Bravest of men, why will you leave me? This city and these realms are yours. I am now old, and have an only daughter; accept her for your wife, and you shall reign in my stead.”— “Generous sire,” returned Hatim, “at present my vow forbids me to accept aught earthly, that may benefit myself, till I have discharged a sacred duty which I owe to a friend.”

The king, with tears in his eyes, admired Hatim’s noble and generous conduct, and immediately ordered one of his subjects to conduct him safe to the mountain of Nida. Hatim with his guide retraced their way back to the spot where the road separated, which they reached in a few days. The guide then pointed out to him the right-hand path, and said, “Brave prince of Yemen, follow this road, and it will take you to the city of Nida.” Ten days after, Hatim came to a large and populous city, and the moment he entered within the walls, the people conducted him before the governor. His highness received Hatim with due courtesy; and having requested him to be seated, said, “Tell me, sir, of what country are you, and how came you hither? It is certain that no strager has visited this city since the time of Alexander the Great, who traversed the whole of the inhabitable globe. May I ask, then, what has been the cause of your visit?”

Hatim gave a full account of Husn Banu and the prince Munir, also what he had himself done up to that moment. When the ruler of the city heard this, he said to Hatim, “Noble stranger, rest yourself here for some days, and you will learn enough of the mountain of Nida; for were I now to describe to you its mysteries, you could not comprehend them.” Hatim accordingly accepted the governor’s invi­tation, and had a house appointed for him to live in, and food, drink, and every other requisite plentifully supplied. All the principal men of the city visited him, and were delighted with his agreeable society.

One day, while they were in conversation, Hatim asked one of them which was the mountain of Nida. They pointed it out to him, and said, “That peak, whose summit penetrates the clouds, is the mountain of Nida.” Mean­while a loud voice issued from the mountain, and at that moment one of the men in the company all of a sudden became silent and thoughtful. Soon after he rose up; and regardless of the numerous entreaties of his friends, he bent his course towards the mountain. His companions ran after him, but in vain; he spoke not a word, and with a pale countenance he quickened his pace to the mountain. Hatim followed among the rest and said to them, “My good friends, what has befallen the young man, that he thus runs like a maniac he knows not whither?”— “His hour is arrived,” they replied, “for the voice from the mountain exclaimed, ‘come quickly.’”— “And whose voice is it,” said Hatim, “that he should thus blindly obey it?”— “That,” replied they, “is more than we know, you must ask himself.”

Hatim ran with all his might till he overtook the devoted young man, whom he seized by the hand, and thus addressed, “My dear friend, it is unkind, nay inhuman, to refuse the information I ask. Tell me, I beseech you, who is he that has called you to yonder mountain, and I will myself accompany you thither.” Hatim’s entreaties were of no avail; the young man gave no answer, but drew away his hand from him, and ran swift as the wind towards the mountain. Hatim followed close after; but, when he was about half way, the mountain before him vanished from his sight. He stood in the utmost amazement, and cast his eyes in every direction, but no trace of Nida nor of the young man could he discover, he only saw in its place a large stone, possessing all the hues of the rainbow.

Hatim, in the utmost despair, returned towards the city, till he met the people that had come out with him. These were assembled on the road; and when he reached them, they were performing some ceremony known to themselves. They thrice repeated a form of prayer with their faces turned towards the spot where the mountain had been; and this done, they returned to the city, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. On their return, the young man’s friends and relatives, far from giving way to sorrow, prepared a feast, and entertained all the poor of the city; and after some time spent in mirth and joy, they resumed their usual occupations.

Hatim, however, could not conceal his grief for the unfortunate young man who had disappeared so mysteri­ously. The people laughed at his sorrow, and said to him, “Stranger, it is not our custom to give way to weeping and lamentation; we forgive you, however, this time; but if you are to reside among us, you must conform with our manners, otherwise we shall expel you hence. Hatim accordingly restained his grief, and, resided among them for the space of six months, in which period ten or twelve people disappeared in a similar manner. In vain did he ask the inhabitants for an explanation of the mystery; either they could not or would not satisfy his curiosity.

Among the inhabitants of the city there was an intelli­gent man by name Jam, with whom Hatim formed the most sincere friendship and affection, so that they became inseparable companions. One day as they were conversing together, the awful voice sounded loud from the summit of the mountain. When Hatim’s friend heard the sound, he all at once became silent, and it was easy to see that his hour was come. He quickly rose up and began to make for the mountain, of which, when his relations received, intelligence, they all prepared to follow him. Hatim with a heavy heart accompanied his beloved friend, for he knew that he was called thence no more to return. He resolved however, not to part with him till death, and made up his mind to enter with him into the mysterious mountain, what­ever might be the consequence. Hatim then girded up his loins; and placing his trust in God, he laid hold of his friend Jam by the hand, and marched along with him towards the foot of Nida.— “My dearest friend,” said Hatim, “why this silence? Speak to me, who have, as your brother, resolved to share your fate.” But Jam uttered not a word in reply: cold and senseless, he hurried onwards, endeavouring from time to time to free himself from Hatim’s friendly grasp. At last he exerted his utmost strength, and so sudden was the movement, that ere Hatim was aware of his intention, he found himself stretched upon the ground while his companion ran off at full speed. Hatim lost no time in pursuing, and having again overtaken Jam, he siezed him by the skirt, and clung to him with all his might.

Thus they proceeded up the side of the mountain, Jam endeavouring in vain to cast off his companion. At length they arrived at a spot where the rock rent asunder, and both of them entered the chasm, which immediately closed behind them. Meanwhile, those who had followed them from a distance, seeing that Hatim and Jam had both entered the mountain, returned to their houses, regretting the loss of the noble stranger. They went to the ruler of the city, and informed him how the Arabian prince had accompanied Jam, and disappeared with him in the mountain. The governor was much grieved, and threat­ened the people with severe punishment for not detaining the generous stranger, who thus rashly incurred his own destruction.

To return to Hatim. After they had entered the fissure of the mountain, an extensive plain appeared before them, the verdure and beauty of which exceeded description. As far as the eye could reach, the same endless green presented itself. As Hatim and his friend advanced, they reached a black spot on the plain, the shape of a grave, on which no plant whatever grew, and there Jam fell length ways while his soul left his body. Hatim felt the earth shake beneath and straightway the body of his companion sunk into the ground; and the spot that had been previously bare and barren, became verdant as the rest of the plain.

Hatim, having witnessed this wonderful scene, raised his voice in prayer to the all-wise Creator, whose decrees are beyond our comprehension. He now knew the mys­teries of Nida, that the people of the city thus closed their earthly career. He looked around him for a path to lead him to the city, but no trace could he find either of the mountain or the way by which he came there; the same verdant plain extended in every direction as far as he could see. For seven days and nights he thus wandered, without a morsel of food or a drop of water, nor did the sight of any living creature greet his eye. Hatim was about to sink upon the ground, and resign his soul to God, for he saw no way of escape, and he concluded that his death was decreed in those silent realms.

While occupied in such forebodings, Hatim thought that he heard hallow roar, like the rushing of waves in the distant ocean. He advanced in that direction, and at last arrived at the shore of a turbulent and foaming sea, whose farther extremity his eye could not discern. Hatim stood thoughtful upon the beach, and said to himself, “At last my earthly pilgrimage is at an end, for here is a sea, beyond which I cannot pass; but He who ruleth all things can even here assist me.”

As Hatim was straining his sight across the watery expanse, he saw at a distance a small vessel struggling with the raging billows, and making for the shore; and great was his joy when he considered that his deliverance was at hand. When the vessel reached the sand at no great distance from where he stood, he quickly ran and stepped into it; but what was his surprise to find no living creature within. On a small table he saw two loaves and a fried fish; and as his hunger was excessive, he praised the Lord, and was about to eat. But on further reflection, he considered that the victuals must belong to the pilot of the vessel, who cannot be far off, perhaps gone on shore unobserved; and “in such a case,” said Hatim, “it would be highly improper in me to eat what has been prepared for another: I will wait till his return and share his hospitality, if such be his pleasure.”

While Hatim was thus waiting, a large dolphin raised his head above the water, and thus spoke: “O Hatim, these two loaves and the fried fish have been dressed for thee only; eat, then, and appease thy hunger.” When the dolphin had done speaking, he dived into his native element; and Hatim, without further delay ate the loaves and the fish, after which, he allayed his thirst from a jar of fresh water that stood in a corner of the vessel. Shortly after a favourable breeze sprung up, and Hatim having trimmed the sails, launched into the wide ocean. His greatest wish was to return to the city of Nida, and inform the inhabitants of the fate of his friend Jam; but then be knew not which way to steer, so he placed his reliance upon Providence, and allowed his bark to sail smoothly before the wind.