Thief in a box

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If you want to really learn something, do it. You cannot swim on the shore. This reminds me of a story:



This is the meaningful tale of the son of a thief, as the Mulla learned it in far away China and then told it as his own, many times:

The son of a thief saw his father growing older and resolved to start helping him.

“If you become too old, I will have to be the breadwinner of the family.” said he. “It’s time to teach me your craft of stealing, if you please.”

The old thief agreed and took him the same night to rob a rich house.

The thief cut a hole in the fence and they tiptoed into the house. Then he opened a large chest and pointed his son to go inside and look for jewels.

As soon as the young man got in, the thief shut the lid, locked it, and left. He also threw a stone in the courtyard to wake up the family while he quietly slipped away through the fence.

The people of the house lighted candles but found nothing. The son froze frightened, confined in the chest.

After a while, as his heartbeat decreased but his despair grew he had an idea. He scratched the wood to imitate the gnawing of a mouse.

The lady of the house told a maid to take a candle and look into the chest. Once the lid unlocked, the captive leaped out, blew out the light of the maid’s hand and fled. Everybody caught arms and charged after him.

The boy ran for his life. Through the bushes, the party was getting closer. Then he saw a well.

He threw in a boulder and hid in the thicket. As his hunters lost time to fish out his drowned body the boy crawled away and got safely to his house.

His father looked at him with interest and asked him how he got off.

“Why did you act so cruelly?” reproached the son.

“Well my son, isn’t this what you wanted? Here you are, now you learned the art of burglary.”

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