small sword girt on and his small lance held in his grip in imitation of his father. He was having his "baptism of fire." When his father fell fighting in the rear and the enemy surrounded him to rifle him, Jalim sprang down and stood by his dead father's side and brandishing his tiny sword—his eyes emitting sparks of fire—cried out at the top of his little voice, "No Mussalman touches my father's body. He dies who approaches it!" Muhammad Ali himself was among those who heard this challenge. He looked at the little hero and his heart overflowed with admiration. "Don't touch the dead man," cried he to all about him, "nor his son.” And presently coming up he bowed his head to the noble boy and said, "Sheathe your sword, for I, Muhammad Ali, assure you that no Moslem shall touch your father’s body, but it shall be borne in all honour by some Rajputs in my service and cremated on the bank of the Ganges according to your Hindu rites. And, my little hero, if you will have me for your protector and father now that your own father is gone, you are thrice welcome."
Nothing, however, is known of the subsequent development of so much promise.
