“Sir, he is one violent and dangerous character and will assault the peaceful and mild.  Yea—­he may even attack me,” objected the babu.

“Are we to understand that you admit your inability to maintain order in this Reformatory?” inquired the Director of Public Instruction from the Chair.

Anything but that.  They were to understand, on the contrary, that the babu was respectfully a most unprecedented disciplinarian.

“You don’t expect cock angels in a Reformatory, y’ know,” said the engineer, suddenly awaking to light a fat black cheroot.  “Got to use the—­ah—­strong hand;—­on their—­ah—­you know,” and he resumed his slumbers, puffing mechanically and unconsciously at his cheroot.

So Moussa Isa was flogged and sent back to gardening, lessons and drawing.

Yes—­the Somali was taught drawing.  Not mere utilitarian drawing-to-scale and making plans and elevations, but “freehand"-drawing, the reproducing of meaningless twirly curves and twiddly twists from symmetrical conventional “copies”.  He copied copies and drew lines—­but never copied things, nor drew things.  In time he could, with infinite labour, produce a copy of a flat “copy” that a really observant eye could identify with the original, but had you asked him to draw his foot or the door of the room, his desk, his watering-can or book, he would probably have replied, “They are not drawing-copies,” and would have laughed at your absurd joke.  No, he was not taught to draw things, nor to give expression to impression.

And he had a special warder all to himself, who watched him as a cat watches a mouse.  However, warders cannot prevent looks and smiles, and whenever Moussa Isa saw the Brahmin youth, he gave a peculiar look and a meaning smile.  It was borne in upon the clever young man that the Hubshi looked at his neck, below his ear, when he smiled that dreadful smile.

Sometimes a significant gesture accompanied the meaning smile.  For Moussa Isa had decided, upon the rejection of his prayer by the Committee, to wait until he was a little older and bigger, more like a proper criminal and less of a wretched little “juvenile offender,” and then to qualify, by murder, for the Aden Jail—­with the unoffered help of the Brahmin boy.

Allah would vouchsafe opportunity, and when he did so, Moussa Isa, his servant, would seize it.  Doubtless it would come as soon as he was big enough to receive the privileges of an adult and serious criminal.  Anyhow, the insult would be properly punished and the honour of the Somal race avenged....

Came the day when certain of the sinful inhabitants of the Duri Reformatory were to be conducted to a neighbouring Government High School, a centre for the official Drawing Examinations for the district, there to sit and be examined in the gentle art of Art.