"Allah forbid," replied Giaffar; "I will myself encounter the wrath of this least of dogs, may his grave be defiled." During this parley, their host, who had become more good-humoured in his cups, cast his eyes upon them. "What in the name of Shitan, are you chaps prating and chatting about?" inquired he. Giaffar, perceiving him in a more favourable mood, seized the occasion to speak. "Most amiable and charitable sir," replied he, "we were talking of your great liberality and kindness in thus permitting us to intrude upon your revels. We only request, in the name of friendship, the name and profession of so worthy a Mussulman, that we may remember him in our prayers." "Why, thou impudent old porpus; did you not promise to ask no questions? In the name of friendship! Truly it is of long standing." "Still I pray Allah that it may increase. Have we not sat a considerable time in your blessed presence--have you not given us refuge? All we now ask is the name and profession of one so amiable and so kind-hearted?" "Enough," replied the host, pacified with the pretended humility of the vizier. "Silence, and listen. Do you see that skin which hangs over my head?" The caliph and his companions looked up and perceived the tanned skin of a young ox, which appeared to have been used for carrying water. "It is that by which I gain my daily bread. I am Yussuf, son of Aboo Ayoub, who dying some five years ago, left me nothing but a few dirhems and this strong carcass of mine, by which to gain a livelihood. I was always fond of sports and pastimes--overthrew everybody who wrestled with me; nay, the man who affronts me, receives a box on the ear which makes it ring for a week afterwards." "Allah preserve us from affronting him!" whispered the caliph.