“You can draw?” demanded the Pasha fiercely.
With some hesitation the steward admitted that he could—“a little.”
“Go then, draw the poultry, every cock and hen and chicken,” said the Pasha, with a wave of his hand which dismissed the household servants and sent the luckless steward to his task.
After this pipes were refilled, fresh stories were told, and more songs were sung. After a considerable time Mustapha returned with a large sheet of paper covered with hieroglyphics. The man looked timid as he approached and presented it to his master.
The Pasha seized the sheet. “What have we here?” he demanded sternly.
The man said it was portraits of the cocks and hens.
“Ha!” exclaimed the Pasha, “a portrait-gallery of poultry—eh!”
He held the sheet at arm’s-length, and regarded it with a fierce frown; but his lips twitched, and suddenly relaxed into a broad grin, causing a tremendous display of white teeth and red gums.
“Poultry! ha! just so. What is this?”
He pointed to an object with a curling tail, which Mustapha assured him was a cock.