"Did not the rescued boy owe a deep debt of love and gratitude to the king?"
A nod was the only reply.
"And now, O Bandhu, have you paid it? Do you not know that you yourself are the helpless sick child, saved from the jaws of the tiger?"
"I don't believe your story, not a word of it!" cried Bandhu. "I never lay in a jungle covered with sores. I am a Chhatri, a twice-born; I was never in danger from any wild beast."
"Farebwala, for his own purposes, has concealed the truth from you," answered Prem Chand; "but you have a simple way of finding out whether he or I have spoken falsehood. Where is the truth-telling mirror, where the precious bracelet given to you by the king?"
Bandhu answered by a stupid stare. He did not at first even understand what was meant by the stranger.
"I mean the mirror which reflects with perfect accuracy, and on whose golden frame words appear which, in every varying case, every difficulty, every danger, show us what we should do."
"I never saw such a mirror," said Bandhu.
"And have you never worn the bracelet that, by pressure on the wrist, gives warning when anything approaches to harm?"
"I never wore it," replied the lad.