ently it
stopped. It was now almost dark. The door was jerked open and a harsh
voice commanded: "Get out of the carriage." Bow-ma recognised the
driver's voice and, realising the futility of objecting, without a
word she stepped down and helped her little son to alight.

"Follow me" was the next rough order. Again she silently obeyed. The
man left the road and led her a little distance away under the shadow
of some trees. "Take off your jewels. Give them to me." A faint sigh
of relief escaped her. Perhaps the jewels were all he wanted. Quickly
she unclasped her handsome necklet and gave it him. He grasped it
greedily with one hand and extended the other for more. One by one she
stripped her wrists and arms of their lovely bracelets and bangles and
handed them to him. "More" he growled. She pulled the rings from her
fingers and added to them her ear and nose rings. "Your waist chain"
he snapped. She unclasped and dropped its golden weight into those
greedy hands. "Take off your anklets, I want all" he sneered. She
knelt on the ground to unclasp them. Then, rising, handed them to him,
wondering what more would follow.

Meanwhile the child wept bitterly, and angrily forbade the driver
to take his mother's jewels, calling him robber and thief. "Yes,
dacoit I am," the scoundrel replied to the boy's revilings, "and if
you will not be quiet, I will teach you how to." Bow-ma gently strove
to console and silence her son. "Fret not! Your father will give me
more and better jewels."

"Take off your saree" was the next outrageous command. The boy's
indignation flamed afresh. His mother took an unguarded step forward
and asked: "Are not my jewels enough that you want the saree off
my back?"

"Aye, your saree and all you have. Silence your child or I will kill
him." Terrible was the harsh voice in its determination. Bow-ma's
heart stood still. Entreaty would be of no avail. She unwound the
richly-embroidered silken folds from about her and cast the gold and
green saree at his feet: "Take it."

"You have stripped my mother," screamed the boy. The ruffian caught
the saree with a fearful oath and turning on him said: "Now I can
deal with you. I will fetch a brick from yonder kiln and pound the
breath out of you," With these words he strode forward, tying the
jewels in the saree as he went. Now her sorely-tried nerves gave way,
and, distracted with grief, bow-ma caught her child in her arms,
and their mingled cries rent the air. B