The Persian and Afghan uttered exclamations of surprise; but a thoughtful inquiring look was on the face of the aged Sikh.
"Where can that mushak be seen?" he enquired.
"Here," replied the Bengali; and he drew a Bible from his vest. "This book contains the Word of God; and its contents, when received with faith, are spirit and life."
"It is the Christian's Scriptures," said the old Sikh, raising his hand to his brow in token of respect.
"Let me pour forth some drops of the living water," said the native evangelist; "as the moonlight is so bright that I can, by it, read a little from the pages which I know and love so well."
No one made any objection: the Persian listened with curiosity, and the Afghan with some attention; but it was on the old Sikh that the holy words fell like the rain from Heaven. This was not the first time that he had drunk from the precious mushak of inspired Truth, and its water became to him as a stream of life which should never fail him till time should be lost in eternity.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
The Legend of the Shekel.
