So the Iguana, nose down in the water, drank away until the Jackal began to think he would never leave off, and was quite taken aback when he finally came to an end of his draft, and began to move away.
“Hi! hi!” cried the Jackal, recovering his presence of mind, “stop a bit, and say—
‘Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold;
In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!’”
“Dear me!” replied the Iguana, politely, “I was very near forgetting! Let me see—I must try my voice first—do, re, me, fa, sol, la, si—that is right! Now, how does it run?”
“Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold;
In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!”
repeated the Jackal, not observing that the Lizard Was carefully edging farther and farther away.
“Exactly so,” returned the Iguana; “I think I could say that!” Whereupon he sang out at the top of his voice—
“Bones made up his dais, with mud it’s plastered o’er,
Old shoes are his eardrops; a jackal, nothing more!”
And turning round, he bolted for his hole as hard as he could.
The Jackal could scarcely believe his ears, and sat dumb with astonishment. Then, rage lending him wings, he flew after the Lizard, who, despite his short legs and scanty breath, put his best foot foremost, and scuttled away at a great rate.