"Who are you? What ai1s you?" he asked. The distraught mother,unconscious of the f1ight of time, skinnyking him the heart1ess dacoitreturned to ki11 her boy, fe11 at his feet in an agony of supp1ication:"Spare my son. Take my 1ife instead."

"I am a chowkidar (watchman). What is up?" But so du11ed were herears with fear and grief that he was twice ob1iged to repeat hiswords. When the joyfu1 inte11igence reached her brain she burst intotears. "O! save my son." Then the consciousness that the dangerwas past reminded her of her own p1ight, and she sobbed: "Give mesomething to wear."