"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us! Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"

The old man, in Arab dress, arose unsteadily from his knees, stuck his feet into his heelless slippers, and stood with scraggy, gray head bowed upon his hands.

"It is not the hour for prayer. Why do I thus involuntarily fall upon my knees and call upon the sacred name of Allah? What nameless fear is this which has clutched at my heart all this day and finally brought me to my knees in the guest room of a stranger to whose home I have come on a message for the Faith?

"I cannot explain it," he continued in a quavering voice as he straightened himself up and began to walk back and forth in the narrow guest room. "Something terrible will soon come to pass. I know it! I feel it! But I am bound. If I could but leave this city to-night and start back to my home, I feel that I would be safe. But I am bound! By the law of the Prophet I am bound and I cannot go."

"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us!" he repeated over and over again as he walked back and forth from the edge of the court to the plastered wall, back and forth.

The old man's voice had sunk to a murmur but he was still repeating the same words and walking restlessly to and fro when a noise beyond the door across the narrow, stone-paved court attracted his attention and he sank down upon the reception cushions on the floor in the conventional attitude of the Arab guest. A sackcloth curtain was lifted at the doorway across the court and a man entered, a native of India, with the clear-cut features of the Aryan, but the heavy black beard and rich robes of a prosperous Mohammedan. Every step as he crossed the court betrayed the pride and dignity of this follower of the Prophet. On his head was the green turban marking the successful, faithful pilgrim to Mecca.

The old man arose to prostrate himself before his host, as with "The peace of Allah be thine!" upon his lips the younger man stepped up from the court into the open guest room and came towards him. But although his lips murmured the conventional words of greeting, the old man's eyes did not seem to be looking at his host but out across the court as if he saw something startling there and his figure seemed to be all a-tremble. It was only after the host had politely urged him to resume his seat upon the cushions and had himself sat down, that the old man seemed to recover himself. Without accepting the proffered seat, however, he spoke.

"Ben Emeal, I come to thee as a messenger of the Prophet."

"And as a messenger of the Prophet thou art most welcome, oh, brother, whose name has not been revealed to me," quickly responded the other, rising as he saw that the guest would not be seated.

"My name does not matter, oh, faithful Believer, so long as I come on the business of the Faith. Ben Emeal, I have something to tell thee which I know will fill thee with amaze and thy heart with anger and thy mind with plans of cunning." As the old man talked his fear seemed to leave him and he became the proud, fearless messenger of the Faith.

"Ben Emeal, I have come, I have come all the way from the land of the Holy Prophet himself, to warn thee that the infidel is rife in the land, that the infidel has entered the very strongholds of the Deccan, that the infidel"—the old man stepped nearer and fairly hissed into the face of the other, "approaches—thee!"

The old man drew himself erect and looked with the proud superiority of wisdom upon the other who was gazing back in evident bewilderment.

"Brother, what meanest thou?" the host asked. "I am faithful, as thou must know. No man in this great city has been more faithful than I and I hate the infidel with the hatred of the Prophet!" At the word "hate," Ben Emeal's strong hand had dropped to the sword hilt at his side.

The old man again brought his face close to the other's and the words came whistling from his toothless mouth. "Yes, thou, oh, Ben Emeal, art faithful, but watch thou thy household! Watch thou thy household! Watch! I shall be at the crossing of the Sidar Ways; for three days only I shall be there. Watch and come to me for help. I have delivered my message; now I go!"

As the last words fell from his lips and he turned towards the courtyard, all the proud fearlessness left his face; the expression as of one doomed returned; and with his hands raised above his head, the old man staggered from the court, crying, "Night is coming! The wildness of desolation is upon us! Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"

The younger man, left alone, sank upon the cushions of the guest room and seemed lost in thought. What meant this strange warning? His women were faithful, Ben Emeal knew, for they had not the brains nor the courage nor, indeed, the opportunity to listen to the preaching of any faith but that of their master and lord. His servants—they really mattered not to him—but he knew that they were faithful, too, as he had but recently taken them to account on the subject as a true follower of the Prophet should. His children——? They were too young, all—but—— He did not even repeat the name to himself, for from the first word of accusation his mind had guessed the one involved, but his heart had sturdily driven his mind to seek in every other direction before it should turn to the one being in all the world whom Ben Emeal loved, but no less the one being in all his household who, he knew, would dare to question or oppose the established order of things. This was a serious charge and no one realized the seriousness of it, coming from one of the wise men of the Faith, more than did Ben Emeal; yet his love for his only son and his confidence in his own ability to deal with such a subject in connection with that son, led him to have little anxiety, in spite of the warning.

It was not possible that Ahmed could have met the infidel! Where could he even have heard of anything different from the doctrine of his father's Faith? It was absurd! Of late Ben Emeal had noticed a tendency in his son to question him upon subjects of life and religion; and, too, he had seen the boy several times sitting quiet as if in deep thought, an unusual attitude for a healthy, hearty youth; but he had supposed these things only the passing freaks of young manhood. For some time past Ahmed had sought to avoid marriage and he had never seemed to care for the pleasures of the harem; these things, too, were unusual, but Ben Emeal recognized in his idolized son the beginnings of an unusual man and was proud of him accordingly.

A merry voice just beyond the purdah suddenly interrupted the father's thoughts and the curtain was lifted to admit a young man about eighteen years of age, of striking build and comeliness. With a gay and winning greeting the young fellow dropped upon the cushions beside the older man and soon Ben Emeal had forgotten his doubts in a lively discussion of the approaching durbar and the ceremonies attendant upon that function.

But, after a pleasant hour together, just as they were about to separate for a brief siesta, Ahmed turned to his father with a slight frown and said:

"Just before I came in this afternoon I met out here in the street before our house the strangest old man! He wore that dress that you call Arabian, I think, and he had on the green of our Prophet's kin, but he was staggering along the street muttering, 'The night is coming! Desolation is coming upon us!' or something like that. I went up to him to see if I could help him, and, also, to see if a kin of our Prophet could really have been drinking of the accursed cup; but I found no signs of intoxication about him, only signs of intense fear as he cowered against the wall, repeating his cry of desolation. Adjed, the silversmith, came up just then and took him in charge or I should have found out more about him. Strange, wasn't it? It really gave me an uncanny feeling as if it were a premonition of some danger," and the young man shook himself as if to shake off a lingering feeling of fear.

Ben Emeal's face, as his son spoke, resumed the troubled expression which had been driven away by Ahmed's former lively conversation and he said to the lad very solemnly as they both rose and he put a hand on the youth's shoulder:

"My son, you never forget, do you, that first of all in this world you are a follower of the true Prophet and that your first business in life is to convert or destroy the infidel?"

The son did not reply except with another question. "Father, can I not go to the university at Aligarh to learn more of our Faith?"

"I will see; I will see, my son," replied the father genially and his face cleared as if the question had put his fears at rest.

"I will see, my son," he said again as he turned to the door leading to his own apartment where he would take a few pulls at the hookah before he should give himself up to his afternoon rest.

Ahmed went to his mother's chamber where with his head upon her knee, her proud eyes gazing down upon the handsome face of her son, the dearest possession of an Indian woman's life, and her loving fingers smoothing his rich, dark hair back from his brow, he fell very soon into the refreshing sleep of youth.

When Ahmed awoke from his restful sleep, he found his mother still supporting his head and still gazing fondly down into his face. For a few moments he lay, returning her smiles. Suddenly his face clouded.

"Mother, why is it that you can never leave this house, this walled-in courtyard; why is it that you cannot ride out with me in the open and look upon the trees and the grass and the blue sky? It does not seem right that I should be allowed to look upon all these things and you not."

"Hush, my son!" answered his mother. "It is the law of the Prophet. What he commands must be right. But, see, there is the blue sky, and here are my green tree and my grass and sometimes I even may ride out in an ekka and peep through the curtains, and once, my son, many years ago, I rode on a railway train and saw through the shutters miles and miles of green grass and flowers and so many, many beautiful things that I shall always be happy because of that sight."

Ahmed looked from the beautiful but sad face of his mother up at the patch of sky bounded by the four gray, brick walls; he looked at the lone, gray-green tree trying to grow in a foot or two of garden in the middle of the paved courtyard, and at the grass, already giving up its struggle for life, about its roots, and his heart ached for this lonely woman. For he knew that although she was his father's only wife at present, because she had borne him, Ahmed, to Ben Emeal, he knew that she saw little of his father, for there were many concubines in the home who not only usurped her place in her husband's life but who, also, in many, many ways made her life far from happy in the home. He knew that really he himself was her only joy and comfort and he rebelled. Ahmed had been taught that a woman has no soul. Did he doubt the words of his teachers as he gazed into his mother's eyes?

"Mother, why are you called 'Ahmed's mother' instead of your own name when the people of the household speak to you? Why are you so 'blest in' me as they say?"

"Because, my son—surely you must know by this time that a woman is no better than a beast; 'a cow' the Prophet calls her; and that she can only enjoy life through the son that she bears. Ah, how rich I am in you! But suppose you had not come to me, Ahmed, my son!" and her face became drawn with the thought. "Suppose I had been as my sister who has no son!"

The youth could not bear to add to his mother's unhappiness by having her dwell upon such thoughts and so he playfully pulled down her face and kissed her and teased her to show him the wedding garments which she was embroidering for him.

"When is it to be?" he asked.

"After the month of fasting, my son."

"Is she beautiful?"

"I know not, my son. But surely she must be for such a handsome man as thou art."

"Dost thou want me to have a wife, mother?"

The mother's face was crossed with a spasm of pain at the question, for when his wedding came, she felt that she would have lost her son, her only joy in life. She knew that she had such a son as few mothers in all India and she knew that their loving relationship and companionship was very unusual. But he must marry and as a woman she must not show grief; in fact, being a woman, she had no grief. So she mastered her pain in a second and replied, but not so quickly that it deceived Ahmed:

"Yes, my son, as every true follower of the Prophet must, so must thou marry and beget sons. But thou canst still love thy mother a little," she added shyly.

"That I will," affirmed the son blithely. "But," he went on crossly, "I don't want to marry and be bothered with a wife. Mother, I'll tell you what I really want to do. I want to go to our university at Aligarh where I can learn all about our Faith and about everything else, mother. I want to be a great man."

"Not a great man, my son, but a great follower of the Prophet! Why, the sky has clouded and there comes some rain!"

"Oh, ho! I must get me up and away, for I promised a friend I would come and read with him for a time."

"Is it The Book, my son?"

"No, mother, it is something new which some one gave him one time on the train. We have been reading it together for months now. It is very beautiful, all about Jesus who is coming at the end of the world, you know."

"Yes, I know, my son, for I have read The Book——"

"It is strange, mother, that you can read, for Elid's mother cannot, nor can any woman in Ajar's household, he says, nor can any other woman in this," interrupted the son. "And besides, mother, the other young men I know never seem to spend any time with their mothers at all or talk to them or even love them, it seems to me."

"Yes, my son, it is strange, for ours is not the ordinary life, nor has my lot been the ordinary lot of woman here. My father taught me to read when I was a little child, for he became blind and then I could read to him, for I was quicker and more willing to do it than the boys. My father was a great scholar and I know The Book by heart, but little joy has come to me since my marriage for my knowledge," she sighed. "Your father respects me no more than he does his latest concubine. I have respect here only because of you, my son," and her eyes feasted upon his fair countenance. "Go now, my son, to thy friend, but beware of new things, for what is new often offends the Faith." With these words she left Ahmed as he lifted the purdah, having followed him as far as her woman's feet were permitted to go.

But Ahmed trod on through the narrow streets, although the rain was pouring, for he did not want to miss the reading which was giving him such a different outlook upon life. Why, really, it was a "blasphemous thought," but this new book seemed to him to be greater than the Koran. It had given him such a new vision. Never had he thought much about his mother's life and position before reading this book, but now his mind was quickened to understand her condition. This book said, "Honour thy father and thy mother," and it did not seem to exclude woman from any joys, even those of Paradise. He was so eager to know more, especially since the conversation with his mother that afternoon, that he wondered if his friend would let him take the book home with him to study by himself.

As Ahmed went on in the rain his thoughts turned from the new book to a man whom he had met several times the past year outside the walls of Hyderabad on the big bridge. The man's peculiar bearing of kindness towards any one in trouble and his happy face had attracted the youth. They had talked together once or twice and the man whom Ahmed supposed to be a Hindu had told him that he was a Hindu no longer, but a follower of the "Jesus Doctrine." The boy had wondered what it could mean, for never had he been so drawn to a stranger as he had to that man whose whole thought had seemed to be how he could help some one else. One day Ahmed saw this man actually help a woman place her water jar on her head and a moment later get down in the dust of the road and help a coolie pile up again a mass of fuel dung-cakes which had been knocked over by a passing cart; and yet this man was a scholar, as Ahmed knew by his conversation, and no outcast. The boy wondered as he thought it over now if the new book which he had been reading could have any connection with what this man had called the "Jesus Doctrine." The more he thought about it the more it seemed to him that that man's actions had been the carrying out of the precepts of the new book.

Ahmed had not paid much heed to his steps as he had splashed along in the rain, trying as far as possible to keep under the protection of the buildings from the rain which seemed to be coming in torrents from the south. He was wrapped in his thoughts.

But suddenly his steps were stayed, for he heard a weird, awful cry, and in a corner of the porch of the house that he was passing he saw a figure on its knees in prayer. The attitude was conventional and in no way terrifying, but the words and voice had startled him.

"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation will soon be upon us! Oh, Allah, Allah, hear the cry of the faithful!"

The voice was that of one whose soul was in mortal agony, and as Ahmed stooped to look more closely, he recognized the old man whose voice he had heard a few hours before in front of his own door. He recognized, too, that the place where he was standing was the crossing of the Sidar Ways, a place a long distance from the road he had thought he was taking.

He wondered what could have alarmed the old man, but, really frightened at the repetition of the awful words and the tone of the agonized voice, the young fellow did not go to the man's side, but hastened to find a return way to his friend's, whose home he had missed in the rain and the preoccupation of his thoughts. As he turned, for the first time he noticed that another man was standing close behind him. In the semi-darkness, he did not recognize him, but gave him the greeting of the Faith and hurried on. As he reached his friend's door, it gave the boy a queer, uncomfortable feeling to perceive that this same man was still behind him.

An hour or so later Ahmed emerged from the house with the precious book concealed in his clothing, for his friend had warned him that he feared that a good Mohammedan would not read it and that he believed that it was the book of another faith. As such his friend had decided that he would read it no more. But Ahmed had said that it mattered not to him what faith it was, he thought it beautiful and he wanted to read it still more. So instead of permitting his friend to burn it as he had wanted to do, Ahmed had insisted upon taking it to his home for further study.

He did not notice as he left Elid's house that a man slipped out from the shadows and followed him to his own door. Nor did he know that this man turned as soon as he had entered the house and made haste back to the crossing of the Sidar Ways where he aroused the strange old man from his paroxysm of fear and talked earnestly with him for some time.

Within his mother's room by the light of the oil lamp Ahmed read and read, while his mother watched him and sewed on the wedding garments. Too engrossed to read aloud or even talk about what he was reading, he read on and on. Long after his mother had given up her vain efforts to get him to go to rest and had rolled herself in her blanket, he still bent over the book. He read until sleep finally blurred his mind and closed his eyes and the lamp burned out at his side.

But Ahmed had noticed before he slept a name on the first page of the book, "Mission Press, Bangalore, India." It must be that those people could explain to him what this book meant. If he could only go to them! Never had words written or spoken stirred his heart as it had been stirred by this book. It must be of Allah and yet in all he had read he had found no mention of the Prophet. Since Elid's warning Ahmed seemed to feel that perhaps in reading this book and thinking these thoughts he was betraying the Faith, and yet, if all this he had been reading were true, it was better than the Faith and he could no longer believe as he had before.

Could he in any way get to that "Mission Press" in Bangalore? Ahmed had never been but a few miles from Hyderabad; indeed, that was one reason why he had wanted to go to the university at Aligarh and another reason was that in the last few months he had begun to be dissatisfied with the Faith and thought that there they could certainly explain all to him. But now he preferred to go to Bangalore. It seemed as if he must go there: but instinctively he felt that he must conceal his reason for wishing to go. And so with his mind confused by these thoughts and the new ideas which the new book had brought him, ideas utterly foreign to all he had known before, he fell into a restless sleep.

It seemed to Ahmed as if some unseen force were ordering events when early on the next day he was called to his father's presence to find him unexpectedly ill and so ill that it would be impossible for him to leave the city and go to Bangalore on a very important matter of business. Ben Emeal could trust the business to no assistant and yet it had to be attended to on the next day. The only person whom he could trust was his son and that son until then had been not only ignorant of all business matters but also of travel, having never made a journey alone on a railway train. But when Ben Emeal saw that there was no other way to save to his name several thousands of rupees, he decided to give his son a rather hurried and, indeed, trying initiation into commercial life. The old Arab's warning against the infidel had not been forgotten, but the father did not think the risk too great to send his son away alone for the first time, as he thought the novelty of the journey and of assisting in business affairs for the first time would keep Ahmed's mind from dangerous thoughts, and besides,—it was a matter of much money.

So Ahmed had been summoned to his father's presence and instructed in all the matters needful to the transaction of the business. When Ben Emeal saw the delight and eagerness with which the boy undertook the journey and the task given him he did not consider it necessary even to warn him against the possible meeting with the infidel in Bangalore.

So Ahmed had started for the very place of all others that he wanted to visit, sent by his father—such a strange answer to the longings of the night before that he was filled with a feeling of awe. So impressed with the religious importance of this journey and with a divine ordering of it was he that he scarcely appreciated its novelty. Because of his ignorance of travel, his father had directed him to go first class; therefore, he had the compartment to himself for the whole journey and, since this was so, instead of gazing from the window and enjoying the new sights as he would have done a few days before, now he pulled out the new book and read the whole journey through.

Although Ahmed had but one desire when he reached Bangalore, that of finding the "Mission Press," he went first, as he knew was right, and transacted the business entrusted to him. When that was over, then he began his search for the people who were responsible for "The Book." No longer did that title in Ahmed's mind belong to the Koran and for some reason or other he did not seek these people to be told that what The Book said was true; for he seemed to know himself that it was true, but he sought them for more knowledge and for an explanation of many things that he could not understand, and especially to find out the relation of the Prophet to it all, as Mohammed was not mentioned in The Book.

Ahmed found the Mission Press to be a large brick building set back in a grassy compound. When, with a desire for secrecy which he could not exactly explain, he dismissed his gari at some distance from the gate and made the approach on foot, he was surprised to see another Mohammedan stop at the gate, but he did not recognize in him the man who had followed him from the crossing of the Sidar Ways to his friend's house the night before in Hyderabad.

So without anxiety other than that which possessed him to learn of the new book, Ahmed entered the big building. Never having seen a press and not exactly knowing what the word implied, he was amazed at the whirring machinery and the offices of busy clerks. At a window he told his errand in a simple, straightforward way, pointing to the name of the press on the title page of The Book which he had drawn from under his clothing. The converted Hindu at the window at once led the boy to a small room within, where sat an American gentleman literally buried in manuscripts, proof sheets, and correspondence. But a quick resurrection took place at the clerk's whispered words and the American, a missionary, arose to greet the youth.

For several hours they talked and prayed, each moment separating Ahmed farther from the faith of his father and drawing him closer to the faith taught by a stranger. Since the boy was not to return to Hyderabad until the next day, when the press closed for the night he went home to the mission compound with the missionary. And so engrossed was he in conversing with his new friend that he did not see that a man followed them all the way from the press building, indeed, the same man whom he had seen at the gate.

It was not late in the evening when in the midst of their conversation, Ahmed turned abruptly to his missionary host and said, "I believe. I want to be a Christian. What must I do?"

The missionary explained to him that the next step after belief was testimony, a testimony usually given by baptism, but that Ahmed could not think of being baptized until he had prayed long and earnestly over the matter. Indeed, it might mean death to him, for he himself must surely know the bitterness of the Prophet's followers. It would probably mean at the very least disinheritance and banishment from his father's home.

"But I believe," cried Ahmed, "and if testimony is necessary for believers of this 'Jesus Doctrine,' then I must testify; I must be baptized."

But the missionary was firm and although his heart glowed at the courage of the young man, little more than a boy, he would not yield but sent Ahmed to the guest-chamber with the counsel to pray about it.

And for hours that night did Ahmed pray.

When, in the early morning, he met the missionary in the drawing-room, his resolve was unchanged and his request of the evening before was repeated. "Baptize me now. I must be baptized for I must testify to the world that I believe," he said. His face shone with such a happy light as he pleaded that the missionary felt that no longer could he refuse to administer the sacrament asked for.

"But it may mean death," again he urged.

"Jesus died for me; you yourself have told me," replied Ahmed.

"You will certainly lose your inheritance and be an exile from your family."

"He gave up His inheritance in the skies and took exile upon Himself that He might bring life to me; can I not do as much in testifying for Him?"

How the lad had learned so much of the Gospel and the very words of the Bible in such a short time was a marvel to the American preacher, but he did not know with what intensity the hungry heart of the youth had been studying the sacred pages.

It seemed to the missionary, therefore, that it must be God's will that the young Mohammedan should be baptized. But he wanted it to be done in the presence of the congregation.

"When could that be?" asked Ahmed.

"Not for three days," replied the preacher.

"But I must go to my home to-day!" exclaimed the young man.

"Ahmed," the missionary's eyes were filled with perplexity and suffering, "Ahmed, it will be sure death if you go back to Hyderabad, I know. Will you not let me send you north where you can probably escape from notice until you have studied and are ready to preach the Gospel? Then you can come back and perhaps preach in safety to your people," he urged. "Wait here in secret in my home until the Sabbath. Then after the public service and public baptism before the congregation, I will spirit you away and you will be safe."

The young man drew himself to his full height and his eyes glowed. "My father expects me to start for home to-night. I must obey. He has given me his trust. But more than that, I must hasten to tell them of what I have found—to tell my mother of a God who loves her and that she is not lost, but can be saved by believing in Jesus. I know that I shall die, but before then I shall have lived enough, if I succeed in taking the message to them. Can I not be baptized now, at once?"

It was not in the missionary's province to detain such a messenger. With a tap of the bell he assembled the family for morning prayers, the heathen as well as the Christian servants attending, and in their presence he baptized Ahmed, the young Mohammedan, no longer a follower of the Prophet but of the Christ.

As the missionary with his hand upon Ahmed's bowed head repeated the words in Hindustani, "I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," a Mohammedan glided from behind the draperies of a side window, through the half-opened shutters, and passed quickly and noiselessly down the driveway and through the compound gate.

Just before the gates of the city closed for the night the train from Bangalore deposited Ahmed at the station and he was safe within the walls of Hyderabad. He hastened through the narrow, dark streets to his own home, shunning the crowded bazaars and picking out the winding byways that lead between the high walls of the residence portion of the city near the river. A foreigner would not have imagined that the walls confining the dirty lanes within their narrow limits were the walls of the homes of some of the rich and influential Mohammedans of the great city. But so it was, for the barren, outward appearance of an oriental residence does not reveal the luxury within; and, besides, many of these Eastern people seem to prefer the luxury of costly jewels and raiment to that of beautiful surroundings and live on in the plain ways of the poorer natives with only the number of servants, the elegance of their dress, their indolence, and their indulgence in pleasures showing their wealth.

Such was the home of Ahmed, plain, satisfying only the requirements of a simple native life. It covered much ground, for the number of servants and concubines demanded considerable room even for plain housing. But there was little display of wealth within except in the wearing of gold-embroidered robes and precious jewels. Only a succession of bare paved courtyards, with open and closed rooms at the sides, made up the house all practically unadorned except one in the centre of the house which was gorgeous in carving and inlaid work and faced a tiny, open mosque, also richly ornamented. The mosque was a most beautiful example of Indian skill in carving and stone work and about the niche which pointed towards Mecca were many passages from the Koran, inlaid in the marble with precious stones in a most delicate and marvellous way. Before the niche upon the marble floor were spread prayer rugs of great price. This was the private mosque of Ben Emeal and his household and he had thought the expenditure of thousands of rupees not too much for the adornment of his place of prayer.

When Ahmed reached home, the servants told him that his father was at prayer in the mosque and did not wish to be disturbed before morning. Ahmed wondered what unusual happening could have called his father to a whole night of prayer. When he asked the servant more particularly about his father's health, he found that Ben Emeal had seemed much better until in the afternoon a strange old Arab had been admitted to his presence and since then he had been much worse, depressed in mind as well as body, and at times greatly agitated.

Ahmed, feeling that he must not interrupt his father at such a time and wondering if it could be possible that his father's agitated condition could have come from a premonition of what he himself had done, hastened to his mother's apartment. Finding her asleep, he spent several hours in prayer for help and guidance for the coming day, for he knew that he could not and would not put off the revelation of his break with his father's faith longer than that, unless Ben Emeal's illness should grow more alarming.

Meantime the rain had come again, even harder than upon the night that Ahmed had been abroad. In floods it was pouring down upon the city of Hyderabad and brimming the banks of the river. In a small house near the great bridge that spanned the river at the crossing of the Sidar Ways two men were sitting. One was the man who had been following the doings of Ahmed; the other, the old man from Arabia, whose face now reflected no terror, only the glow of a fanatic Faith.

"He was baptized?" As he almost shouted the question, the old man leaned forward in his excitement. "I warned the father again this day in a manner that stirred him to the depths, but I did not really expect this so soon. Are you sure? Have you told our brothers of the council?"

The other replied, "Why, of course I am sure, for I saw the act myself. Yes, I have reported to Ben Isah and he bade me tell you that just before noon we are to assemble with Ben Emeal and support his arm and his faith as followers of the Prophet. Of course the boy will recant and repudiate all this nonsense, he says, but he must be taught a severe lesson. 'There must be no trifling with the infidel,' were his very words."

As the man ceased speaking a gust of wind bore the rain like sleet against the door of the house and the old man looked up with a hunted expression and his lips moved as if in prayer. The younger man looked at him in contempt and without another word threw himself upon a charpoy in the corner of the room and fell asleep, but the old man sank on his knees and remained in that position until dawn.

Ahmed's first thought with the coming of the new day was to tell his mother the good news and bring joy to her sad heart. Then he had determined that he would face his father and leave the rest in God's hands. His mother might lose her son, but she would gain far more in what this Jesus Doctrine would bring. So he greeted her with a happy heart.

He told her all: of his own experience, his growing dissatisfaction with Mohammedanism, of his growing belief in the religion of the new book which he had studied for so many months, of his occasional meetings with the Christian man at the bridge, and, finally, of what he had done at Bangalore. Words could not come fast enough as he went on to explain the new faith to her and told her what it would mean for her, if she should believe. But, although it sounded very beautiful to her, she could not accept any doctrine in such a short time and she was listening to his words as yet with only a glad wonder in her heart, when a messenger suddenly summoned him to his father.

Ahmed had almost forgotten his father in his eagerness to talk to his mother and bring her the good news; so he was remorseful when suddenly he realized that he had not even asked about his father's health since the night before, nor gone to him to report on the business matter which he had arranged in Bangalore. He went quickly after the messenger, for the moment again forgetful of the unwelcome news that he must bring to his father soon. He was surprised when he learned from the servant that Ben Emeal was still in the mosque and awaited him there. But his surprise became amazement when on entering the mosque he perceived a circle of the most influential Mohammedans of Hyderabad seated about his father on the floor. So accustomed was Ahmed to the habits of the faithful that without thought of its being a violation of his new faith, he slipped his feet from his shoes as he entered the mosque.

As Ahmed approached the group he noticed at one side of his father the old Arab whom he had seen in such terror upon the street and at the other side the man whom he had met at the gate of the Mission Press in Bangalore. In a flash, as his eyes met those of the man who had spied upon him and saw the light of success in them, Ahmed understood the reason for this assemblage and for his being summoned thus as it were before a tribunal of the faithful. Instinctively his eyes sought his father and the drawn, haggard look upon that face, usually so strong and firm, rent his heart. Their eyes met and in a second each had read the message that the other loved him, come what might. Then the eyes of both fell and the lad awaited the charge.

"Ben Isah," the voice of the man who had dogged Ahmed's footsteps demanded, "is it seemly that an infidel should stand within the sacred precincts of a house of prayer?"

"Ben Idrahi," replied the most dignified and grave gentleman of the company as if he were a judge in a court and repeating the formulas of that august body;—and, indeed, he was a judge in a court that controlled life and death; "Ben Idrahi, whom accuseth thou of being an infidel? Are not all of us before you true followers of the Prophet and upholders of the only true Faith? Whom accuseth thou with such a terrible accusation?"

"Ben Isah," the man rose and said slowly, "I have proof; I have proof, I say, that the youth, Ahmed, son of Ben Emeal, is no longer a follower of the Prophet; that in the city of Bangalore yesterday in the early morning he was baptized into the hell-filling creed, the name of which I will not defile my lips with. And now, Brothers of the Faith, he stands before you an avowed infidel."

As the man announced the fact of his baptism in Bangalore, although Ahmed dared not look at his father, he felt that an involuntary shudder passed over Ben Emeal's frame. But at those words his own heart leaped and yearned towards these men. Then and there he longed to tell them the wonderful story of the God revealed through Jesus Christ, but he restrained himself.

Ben Isah had turned towards him and all eyes except his father's were upon him, as the older man said:

"Ahmed, son of Ben Emeal, is this, that this man accuseth thee of, is this true?"

Ahmed could restrain himself no longer. This was his opportunity to testify and to men who probably would never hear the message from other lips. He took the opportunity with a skill and wisdom beyond his years.

The words poured from his lips, even as the rain was pouring from the heavens into the courtyard of the mosque. His face glowed and his eyes shone with a light brighter than that of the clouded sun. Not a man moved. They listened, held by the fascination of the youth, as with a tempestuousness that seemed born of the very storm without and with a courage not born of man, he told them the truth as they would never hear it again.

As he spoke his eyes were upon his father's face, who looked as if he were beholding a miracle. When he had finished, his hands still outstretched, his voice still ringing in their ears as he said,—"All that this man says is true. I am an infidel, as you say, for I have been baptized. I am a Christian,"—Ben Isah stumbled to his feet and with shaking hand held out, cried in agitated voice: "Stop! Stop him! This must cease! This must cease! Lay hands upon him! Take him from the mosque!"

Confusion reigned as a couple of men seized Ahmed's arms and dragged him from the mosque while the other men raved at him in rage and hate because in spite of themselves they had listened to a blasphemer and the teachings of the infidel. The lad was carried to a side chamber where the two men stood over him, giving him no chance to escape. But Ahmed was not seeking that; his head was bowed in prayer.

As they watched and waited the two men talked of the storm without, for the rain still fell in torrents and the wind blew; while above the sound of the wind and rain could be heard continuously the voice of the gorged and angry river.

"If this continues, there will be trouble," said one, "for this morning the water was five feet higher than yesterday, they told me."

"Yes," replied the other, "when I crossed the bridge a few hours ago the river was up to the first buttress; but there can't be any real danger, can there?"

"It must be a warning to the infidel," answered the first, looking significantly at Ahmed, but he was unconscious of what they were saying.

Soon the summons came and the lad was led into a large guest-chamber where his father received visitors of state. The men sat as before in the mosque, but their faces were dark and their eyes downcast.

Again Ben Isah spoke, "Young man, because of thy youth, and for thy father's sake, we will give thee one chance, one only, to recant and unsay all thou hast said. Wilt thou take back thy words, repudiate this infidelity, and once more accept the true and only Faith?"

Before Ahmed could reply Ben Emeal was upon his feet. "My son," he said in slow, restrained tones, "think well before thou speakest. Remember thou art my only son; remember that all my fortune will be thine. Thou canst go to the University at Aligarh; thou canst have thy heart's desire in everything, if thou wilt only recant!" He ended hurriedly.

"If thou dost not, Ahmed, son of Emeal," shrilled the old Arab, rising to his feet, "thou shalt die. Choose thou and choose quickly!"

The son looked at the father. Just then in the distance, through the downfall of the rain, there sounded dimly:

"Allah is most great! Allah is most great! Allah is most great! Allah is most great! I bear witness that there is no god but Allah! I bear witness that there is no god but Allah! I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah! I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah! Come to prayer, come to prayer! Come to the Refuge, come to the Refuge! Allah is most great! Allah is most great! There is no god but Allah!"

It was the Moslem's call to prayer and every man in the room fell upon his knees except Ahmed.

Ahmed remained standing with bowed head. He made no effort to escape while the others were upon their knees. But as soon as they had finished their devotions, he stepped forward and in a clear, full voice said simply, "I choose death."

A silence as of death itself fell upon the company. No one spoke. The boy remained standing with his hands out as he had spoken. At a motion from Ben Isah a servant stole to Ben Emeal's side and noiselessly placed a cup in his hands. The latter arose and stepped towards his son.

With a stern, tense voice Ben Emeal broke the silence: "The infidel must die! This is the cup of death. Drink!"

As he touched the cup to his son's lips a thunder as of mighty waters rose.

"Night is coming! The wildness of desolation is upon us! Fly, fly!" shrieked the voice of the old Arab. But even as he cried a wave of water burst into the room through the open door.

The river rose sixty feet above the bridge they say and at least ten thousand of the inhabitants of Hyderabad were drowned in that one day.

In one room in the house that had been Ben Emeal's, when the water subsided, they found as many as fifteen or twenty bodies and since most of them wore the Mohammedan rosary, all were given decent burial according to the customs of the followers of the Prophet. Thus an infidel was interred in holy ground and allowed to sleep beside his father.