Bál Mukand had but a short time to give to such reflections, for scarcely had the bearer left the jeweller’s shop when the sound of a fearful scuffle was heard in the street. Three thieves of the city had gained information that Parduman had in his charge a necklace of inestimable value. Lurking near the goldsmith’s shop, these thieves had heard the abuse lavished by the bearer on the Christian. While revilings and curses were yet on the lips of Parduman, he was suddenly felled to the earth by a blow. Being active and strong, he struggled again to his feet, calling out loudly for help. But the three thieves were far more than a match for the bearer. A second time he was hurled bleeding to the ground, and his wicked tongue might then have been silenced for ever, had not the brave Shib Das rushed out of his shop to the help of his enemy. The jeweller had snatched up a heavy stick on hearing Parduman’s cry for help; and of this stick he made such vigorous use that the thieves were not only put to flight, but forced to leave the jewels behind them.