our two pilgrims sped down the Jhelum Valley two hundred miles to the railway station at Rawalpindi, where still more thrills, surprises and shocks awaited them. They had a wait of several hours before they took the train for Bombay, so while Abdullah guarded the luggage Mohammed Beg went about seeing the sights.
As he walked through the streets of the bazaar it seemed to Mohammed Beg that he was in a world of magic. There were lights that could be turned on and off at will by pressing a button, and without striking a match. Water ran from pipes, and one could drink his fill without having to carry it from a distant spring or stream. It was hot, but people kept cool with whirring fans that worked by electric power. He heard a phonograph for the first time, and marveled as he listened to that whirling black disc recite a whole chapter from the Koran just as the Moslem clergy would do in real life! He saw men speak into a black horn-shaped thing, and was told that they were speaking to their distant friends over wires that were strung for miles all over the country.
Mohammed Beg rushed back to old Abdullah with tales of these wonders. Not only did he tell his grandfather of these strange things, but he shared with him his disturbed thoughts. The Moslems here in this strange city seemed to be so busily engaged in the pursuit of wealth that they were not much concerned with the religious way of life. Could it be that religion did not matter so much as he and his
