Kim

by

Rudyard Kipling

JTABLE 4 15 1

Chapter 1

 O ye who tread the Narrow Way By Tophet-flare to judgment Day, Be gentle when 'the heathen' pray To Buddha at Kamakura!

 Buddha at Kamakura. 

He sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam Zammah onher brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gher--the Wonder House, asthe natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammah, that'fire-breathing dragon', hold the Punjab, for the great green-bronzepiece is always first of the conqueror's loot. 

There was some justification for Kim--he had kicked Lala Dinanath's boyoff the trunnions--since the English held the Punjab and Kim wasEnglish. Though he was burned black as any native; though he spoke thevernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertainsing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with thesmall boys of the bazar; Kim was white--a poor white of the verypoorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium, and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square wherethe cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother'ssister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a Colonel's family and hadmarried Kimball O'Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks, anIrish regiment. He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, andDelhi Railway, and his Regiment went home without him. The wife diedof cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink and loafing up anddown the line with the keen-eyed three-year-old baby. Societies andchaplains, anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but O'Haradrifted away, till he came across the woman who took opium and learnedthe taste from her, and died as poor whites die in India. His estateat death consisted of three papers--one he called his 'ne varietur'because those words were written below his signature thereon, andanother his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim'sbirth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his gloriousopium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account wasKim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece ofmagic--such magic as men practised over yonder behind the Museum, inthe big blue-and-white Jadoo-Gher--the Magic House, as we name theMasonic Lodge. It would, he said, all come right some day, and Kim'shorn would be exalted between pillars--monstrous pillars--of beauty andstrength. The Colonel himself, riding on a horse, at the head of thefinest Regiment in the world, would attend to Kim--little Kim thatshould have been better off than his father. Nine hundred first-classdevils, whose God was a Red Bull on a green field, would attend to Kim, if they had not forgotten O'Hara--poor O'Hara that was gang-foreman onthe Ferozepore line. Then he would weep bitterly in the broken rushchair on the veranda. So it came about after his death that the womansewed parchment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leatheramulet-case which she strung round Kim's neck. 

'And some day, ' she said, confusedly remembering O'Hara's prophecies, 'there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and theColonel riding on his tall horse, yes, and' dropping intoEnglish--'nine hundred devils. '

'Ah, ' said Kim, 'I shall remember. A Red Bull and a Colonel on a horsewill come, but first, my father said, will come the two men makingready the ground for these matters. That is how my father said theyalways did; and it is always so when men work magic. '

If the woman had sent Kim up to the local Jadoo-Gher with those papers, he would, of course, have been taken over by the Provincial Lodge, andsent to the Masonic Orphanage in the Hills; but what she had heard ofmagic she distrusted. Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reachedthe years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and whitemen of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kimdid nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderfulwalled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; washand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun alRaschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the ArabianNights, but missionaries and secretaries of charitable societies couldnot see the beauty of it. His nickname through the wards was 'LittleFriend of all the World'; and very often, being lithe andinconspicuous, he executed commissions by night on the crowdedhousetops for sleek and shiny young men of fashion. It wasintrigue, --of course he knew that much, as he had known all evil sincehe could speak, --but what he loved was the game for its own sake--thestealthy prowl through the dark gullies and lanes, the crawl up awaterpipe, the sights and sounds of the women's world on the flatroofs, and the headlong flight from housetop to housetop under cover ofthe hot dark. Then there were holy men, ash-smeared fakirs by theirbrick shrines under the trees at the riverside, with whom he was quitefamiliar--greeting them as they returned from begging-tours, and, whenno one was by, eating from the same dish. The woman who looked afterhim insisted with tears that he should wear European clothes--trousers, a shirt and a battered hat. Kim found it easier to slip into Hindu orMohammedan garb when engaged on certain businesses. One of the youngmen of fashion--he who was found dead at the bottom of a well on thenight of the earthquake--had once given him a complete suit of Hindukit, the costume of a lowcaste street boy, and Kim stored it in asecret place under some baulks in Nila Ram's timber-yard, beyond thePunjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning afterthey have driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolicafoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda, all tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, oryelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house, more often there was not, and then Kim went out again to eat with hisnative friends. 

As he drummed his heels against Zam-Zammah he turned now and again fromhis king-of-the-castle game with little Chota Lal and Abdullah thesweetmeat-seller's son, to make a rude remark to the native policemanon guard over rows of shoes at the Museum door. The big Punjabi grinnedtolerantly: he knew Kim of old. So did the water-carrier, sluicingwater on the dry road from his goat-skin bag. So did Jawahir Singh, the Museum carpenter, bent over new packing-cases. So did everybody insight except the peasants from the country, hurrying up to the WonderHouse to view the things that men made in their own province andelsewhere. The Museum was given up to Indian arts and manufactures, and anybody who sought wisdom could ask the Curator to explain. 

'Off! Off! Let me up!' cried Abdullah, climbing up Zam-Zammah's wheel. 

'Thy father was a pastry-cook, Thy mother stole the ghi, ' sang Kim. 'All Mussalmans fell off Zam-Zammah long ago!'

'Let me up!' shrilled little Chota Lal in his gilt-embroidered cap. His father was worth perhaps half a million sterling, but India is theonly democratic land in the world. 

'The Hindus fell off Zam-Zammah too. The Mussalmans pushed them off. Thy father was a pastry-cook--'

He stopped; for there shuffled round the corner, from the roaring MoteeBazar, such a man as Kim, who thought he knew all castes, had neverseen. He was nearly six feet high, dressed in fold upon fold of dingystuff like horse-blanketing, and not one fold of it could Kim refer toany known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long open-work ironpencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his head was agigantic sort of tam-o'-shanter. His face was yellow and wrinkled, likethat of Fook Shing, the Chinese bootmaker in the bazar. His eyesturned up at the corners and looked like little slits of onyx. 

'Who is that?' said Kim to his companions. 

'Perhaps it is a man, ' said Abdullah, finger in mouth, staring. 

'Without doubt, ' returned Kim; 'but he is no man of India that I haveever seen. '

'A priest, perhaps, ' said Chota Lal, spying the rosary. 'See! He goesinto the Wonder House!'

'Nay, nay, ' said the policeman, shaking his head. 'I do not understandyour talk. ' The constable spoke Punjabi. 'O Friend of all the World, what does he say?'

'Send him hither, ' said Kim, dropping from Zam-Zammah, flourishing hisbare heels. 'He is a foreigner, and thou art a buffalo. '

The man turned helplessly and drifted towards the boys. He was old, and his woollen gaberdine still reeked of the stinking artemisia of themountain passes. 

'O Children, what is that big house?' he said in very fair Urdu. 

'The Ajaib-Gher, the Wonder House!' Kim gave him no title--such asLala or Mian. He could not divine the man's creed. 

'Ah! The Wonder House! Can any enter?'

'It is written above the door--all can enter. '

'Without payment?'

'I go in and out. I am no banker, ' laughed Kim. 

'Alas! I am an old man. I did not know. ' Then, fingering his rosary, he half turned to the Museum. 

'What is your caste? Where is your house? Have you come far?' Kimasked. 

'I came by Kulu--from beyond the Kailas--but what know you? From theHills where'--he sighed--'the air and water are fresh and cool. '

'Aha! Khitai [a Chinaman], ' said Abdullah proudly. Fook Shing hadonce chased him out of his shop for spitting at the joss above theboots. 

'Pahari [a hillman], ' said little Chota Lal. 

'Aye, child--a hillman from hills thou'lt never see. Didst hear ofBhotiyal [Tibet]? I am no Khitai, but a Bhotiya [Tibetan], since youmust know--a lama--or, say, a guru in your tongue. '

'A guru from Tibet, ' said Kim. 'I have not seen such a man. They beHindus in Tibet, then?'

'We be followers of the Middle Way, living in peace in our lamasseries, and I go to see the Four Holy Places before I die. Now do you, who arechildren, know as much as I do who am old. ' He smiled benignantly onthe boys. 

'Hast thou eaten?'

He fumbled in his bosom and drew forth a worn, wooden begging-bowl. Theboys nodded. All priests of their acquaintance begged. 

'I do not wish to eat yet. ' He turned his head like an old tortoise inthe sunlight. 'Is it true that there are many images in the WonderHouse of Lahore?' He repeated the last words as one making sure of anaddress. 

'That is true, ' said Abdullah. 'It is full of heathen busts. Thoualso art an idolater. '

'Never mind him, ' said. Kim. 'That is the Government's house andthere is no idolatry in it, but only a Sahib with a white beard. Comewith me and I will show. '

'Strange priests eat boys, ' whispered Chota Lal. 

'And he is a stranger and a but-parast [idolater], ' said Abdullah, theMohammedan. 

Kim laughed. 'He is new. Run to your mothers' laps, and be safe. Come!'

Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the old man followedand halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood the larger figures ofthe Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long since, byforgotten workmen whose hands were feeling, and not unskilfully, forthe mysteriously transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds ofpieces, friezes of figures in relief, fragments of statues and slabscrowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhiststupas and viharas of the North Country and now, dug up and labelled, made the pride of the Museum. In open-mouthed wonder the lama turnedto this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a largealto-relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was represented seated on a lotus the petals of which wereso deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoringhierarchy of kings, elders, and old-time Buddhas. Below werelotus-covered waters with fishes and water-birds. Two butterfly-wingeddevas held a wreath over His head; above them another pair supported anumbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat. 

'The Lord! The Lord! It is Sakya Muni himself, ' the lama half sobbed;and under his breath began the wonderful Buddhist invocation:

To Him the Way, the Law, apart, Whom Maya held beneath her heart, Ananda's Lord, the Bodhisat. 

'And He is here! The Most Excellent Law is here also. My pilgrimageis well begun. And what work! What work!'

'Yonder is the Sahib. ' said Kim, and dodged sideways among the casesof the arts and manufacturers wing. A white-bearded Englishman waslooking at the lama, who gravely turned and saluted him and after somefumbling drew forth a note-book and a scrap of paper. 

'Yes, that is my name, ' smiling at the clumsy, childish print. 

'One of us who had made pilgrimage to the Holy Places--he is now Abbotof the Lung-Cho Monastery--gave it me, ' stammered the lama. 'He spokeof these. ' His lean hand moved tremulously round. 

'Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I amhere'--he glanced at the lama's face--'to gather knowledge. Come to myoffice awhile. ' The old man was trembling with excitement. 

The office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from thesculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself down, his ear against acrack in the heat-split cedar door, and, following his instinct, stretched out to listen and watch. 

Most of the talk was altogether above his head. The lama, haltingly atfirst, spoke to the Curator of his own lamassery, the Such-zen, opposite the Painted Rocks, four months' march away. The Curatorbrought out a huge book of photos and showed him that very place, perched on its crag, overlooking the gigantic valley of many-huedstrata. 

'Ay, ay!' The lama mounted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles of Chinesework. 'Here is the little door through which we bring wood beforewinter. And thou--the English know of these things? He who is nowAbbot of Lung-Cho told me, but I did not believe. The Lord--theExcellent One--He has honour here too? And His life is known?'

'It is all carven upon the stones. Come and see, if thou art rested. '

Out shuffled the lama to the main hall, and, the Curator beside him, went through the collection with the reverence of a devotee and theappreciative instinct of a craftsman. 

Incident by incident in the beautiful story he identified on theblurred stone, puzzled here and there by the unfamiliar Greekconvention, but delighted as a child at each new trove. Where thesequence failed, as in the Annunciation, the Curator supplied it fromhis mound of books--French and German, with photographs andreproductions. 

Here was the devout Asita, the pendant of Simeon in the Christianstory, holding the Holy Child on his knee while mother and fatherlistened; and here were incidents in the legend of the cousinDevadatta. Here was the wicked woman who accused the Master ofimpurity, all confounded; here was the teaching in the Deer-park; themiracle that stunned the fire-worshippers; here was the Bodhisat inroyal state as a prince; the miraculous birth; the death at Kusinagara, where the weak disciple fainted; while there were almost countlessrepetitions of the meditation under the Bodhi tree; and the adorationof the alms-bowl was everywhere. In a few minutes the Curator saw thathis guest was no mere bead-telling mendicant, but a scholar of parts. And they went at it all over again, the lama taking snuff, wiping hisspectacles, and talking at railway speed in a bewildering mixture ofUrdu and Tibetan. He had heard of the travels of the Chinese pilgrims, Fu-Hiouen and Hwen-Tsiang, and was anxious to know if there was anytranslation of their record. He drew in his breath as he turnedhelplessly over the pages of Beal and Stanislas Julien. ''Tis allhere. A treasure locked. ' Then he composed himself reverently tolisten to fragments hastily rendered into Urdu. For the first time heheard of the labours of European scholars, who by the help of these anda hundred other documents have identified the Holy Places of Buddhism. Then he was shown a mighty map, spotted and traced with yellow. Thebrown finger followed the Curator's pencil from point to point. Herewas Kapilavastu, here the Middle Kingdom, and here Mahabodhi, the Meccaof Buddhism; and here was Kusinagara, sad place of the Holy One'sdeath. The old man bowed his head over the sheets in silence for awhile, and the Curator lit another pipe. Kim had fallen asleep. Whenhe waked, the talk, still in spate, was more within his comprehension. 

'And thus it was, O Fountain of Wisdom, that I decided to go to theHoly Places which His foot had trod--to the Birthplace, even to Kapila;then to Mahabodhi, which is Buddh Gaya--to the Monastery--to theDeer-park--to the place of His death. '

The lama lowered his voice. 'And I come here alone. Forfive--seven--eighteen--forty years it was in my mind that the Old Lawwas not well followed; being overlaid, as thou knowest, with devildom, charms, and idolatry. Even as the child outside said but now. Ay, even as the child said, with but-parasti. '

'So it comes with all faiths. '

'Thinkest thou? The books of my lamassery I read, and they were driedpith; and the later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law havecumbered ourselves--that, too, had no worth to these old eyes. Eventhe followers of the Excellent One are at feud on feud with oneanother. It is all illusion. Ay, maya, illusion. But I have anotherdesire'--the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of theCurator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped on the table. 'Yourscholars, by these books, have followed the Blessed Feet in all theirwanderings; but there are things which they have not sought out. Iknow nothing--nothing do I know--but I go to free myself from the Wheelof Things by a broad and open road. ' He smiled with most simpletriumph. 'As a pilgrim to the Holy Places I acquire merit. But thereis more. Listen to a true thing. When our gracious Lord, being as yeta youth, sought a mate, men said, in His father's Court, that He wastoo tender for marriage. Thou knowest?'

The Curator nodded, wondering what would come next. 

'So they made the triple trial of strength against all comers. And atthe test of the Bow, our Lord first breaking that which they gave Him, called for such a bow as none might bend. Thou knowest?'

'It is written. I have read. '

'And, overshooting all other marks, the arrow passed far and far beyondsight. At the last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there brokeout a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by ourLord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, isthat whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin. '

'So it is written, ' said the Curator sadly. 

The lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain ofWisdom, where fell the arrow?'

'Alas, my brother, I do not know, ' said the Curator. 

'Nay, if it please thee to forget--the one thing only that thou hastnot told me. Surely thou must know? See, I am an old man! I ask withmy head between thy feet, O Fountain of Wisdom. We know He drew thebow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where, then, is the River? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. Butwhere is the River?'

'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'

'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things, ' the lama went on, unheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream, maybe--dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat anold man. '

'I do not know. I do not know. '

The lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a handsbreadthfrom the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of theLaw, the matter is hid from thee. '

'Ay--hidden--hidden. '

'We are both bound, thou and I, my brother. But I'--he rose with asweep of the soft thick drapery--'I go to cut myself free. Come also!'

'I am bound, ' said the Curator. 'But whither goest thou?'

'First to Kashi [Benares]: where else? There I shall meet one of thepure faith in a Jain temple of that city. He also is a Seeker insecret, and from him haply I may learn. Maybe he will go with me toBuddh Gaya. Thence north and west to Kapilavastu, and there will Iseek for the River. Nay, I will seek everywhere as I go--for the placeis not known where the arrow fell. '

'And how wilt thou go? It is a far cry to Delhi, and farther toBenares. '

'By road and the trains. From Pathankot, having left the Hills, I camehither in a te-rain. It goes swiftly. At first I was amazed to seethose tall poles by the side of the road snatching up and snatching uptheir threads, '--he illustrated the stoop and whirl of a telegraph-poleflashing past the train. 'But later, I was cramped and desired towalk, as I am used. '

'And thou art sure of thy road?' said the Curator. 

'Oh, for that one but asks a question and pays money, and the appointedpersons despatch all to the appointed place. That much I knew in mylamassery from sure report, ' said the lama proudly. 

'And when dost thou go?' The Curator smiled at the mixture ofold-world piety and modern progress that is the note of India today. 

'As soon as may be. I follow the places of His life till I come to theRiver of the Arrow. There is, moreover, a written paper of the hoursof the trains that go south. '

'And for food?' Lamas, as a rule, have good store of money somewhereabout them, but the Curator wished to make sure. 

'For the journey, I take up the Master's begging-bowl. Yes. Even asHe went so go I, forsaking the ease of my monastery. There was with mewhen I left the hills a chela [disciple] who begged for me as the Ruledemands, but halting in Kulu awhile a fever took him and he died. Ihave now no chela, but I will take the alms-bowl and thus enable thecharitable to acquire merit. ' He nodded his head valiantly. Learneddoctors of a lamassery do not beg, but the lama was an enthusiast inthis quest. 

'Be it so, ' said the Curator, smiling. 'Suffer me now to acquiremerit. We be craftsmen together, thou and I. Here is a new book ofwhite English paper: here be sharpened pencils two and three--thickand thin, all good for a scribe. Now lend me thy spectacles. '

The Curator looked through them. They were heavily scratched, but thepower was almost exactly that of his own pair, which he slid into thelama's hand, saying: 'Try these. '

'A feather! A very feather upon the face. ' The old man turned hishead delightedly and wrinkled up his nose. 'How scarcely do I feelthem! How clearly do I see!'

'They be bilaur--crystal--and will never scratch. May they help theeto thy River, for they are thine. '

'I will take them and the pencils and the white note-book, ' said thelama, 'as a sign of friendship between priest and priest--and now--' Hefumbled at his belt, detached the open-work iron pincers, and laid iton the Curator's table. 'That is for a memory between thee and me--mypencase. It is something old--even as I am. '

It was a piece of ancient design, Chinese, of an iron that is notsmelted these days; and the collector's heart in the Curator's bosomhad gone out to it from the first. For no persuasion would the lamaresume his gift. 

'When I return, having found the River, I will bring thee a writtenpicture of the Padma Samthora such as I used to make on silk at thelamassery. Yes--and of the Wheel of Life, ' he chuckled, 'for we becraftsmen together, thou and I. '

The Curator would have detained him: they are few in the world whostill have the secret of the conventional brush-pen Buddhist pictureswhich are, as it were, half written and half drawn. But the lamastrode out, head high in air, and pausing an instant before the greatstatue of a Bodhisat in meditation, brushed through the turnstiles. 

Kim followed like a shadow. What he had overheard excited him wildly. This man was entirely new to all his experience, and he meant toinvestigate further, precisely as he would have investigated a newbuilding or a strange festival in Lahore city. The lama was his trove, and he purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had been Irish, too. 

The old man halted by Zam-Zammah and looked round till his eye fell onKim. The inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for awhile, and hefelt old, forlorn, and very empty. 

'Do not sit under that gun, ' said the policeman loftily. 

'Huh! Owl!' was Kim's retort on the lama's behalf. 'Sit under thatgun if it please thee. When didst thou steal the milkwoman's slippers, Dunnoo?'

That was an utterly unfounded charge sprung on the spur of the moment, but it silenced Dunnoo, who knew that Kim's clear yell could call uplegions of bad bazaar boys if need arose. 

'And whom didst thou worship within?' said Kim affably, squatting inthe shade beside the lama. 

'I worshipped none, child. I bowed before the Excellent Law. '

Kim accepted this new God without emotion. He knew already a few score. 

'And what dost thou do?'

'I beg. I remember now it is long since I have eaten or drunk. What isthe custom of charity in this town? In silence, as we do of Tibet, orspeaking aloud?'

'Those who beg in silence starve in silence, ' said Kim, quoting anative proverb. The lama tried to rise, but sank back again, sighingfor his disciple, dead in far-away Kulu. Kim watched head to one side, considering and interested. 

'Give me the bowl. I know the people of this city--all who arecharitable. Give, and I will bring it back filled. '

Simply as a child the old man handed him the bowl. 

'Rest, thou. I know the people. '

He trotted off to the open shop of a kunjri, a low-castevegetable-seller, which lay opposite the belt-tramway line down theMotee Bazar. She knew Kim of old. 

'Oho, hast thou turned yogi with thy begging-bowl?' she cried. 

'Nay. ' said Kim proudly. 'There is a new priest in the city--a mansuch as I have never seen. '

'Old priest--young tiger, ' said the woman angrily. 'I am tired of newpriests! They settle on our wares like flies. Is the father of my sona well of charity to give to all who ask?'

'No, ' said Kim. 'Thy man is rather yagi [bad-tempered] than yogi [aholy man]. But this priest is new. The Sahib in the Wonder House hastalked to him like a brother. O my mother, fill me this bowl. Hewaits. '

'That bowl indeed! That cow-bellied basket! Thou hast as much graceas the holy bull of Shiv. He has taken the best of a basket of onionsalready, this morn; and forsooth, I must fill thy bowl. He comes hereagain. '

The huge, mouse-coloured Brahmini bull of the ward was shouldering hisway through the many-coloured crowd, a stolen plantain hanging out ofhis mouth. He headed straight for the shop, well knowing hisprivileges as a sacred beast, lowered his head, and puffed heavilyalong the line of baskets ere making his choice. Up flew Kim's hardlittle heel and caught him on his moist blue nose. He snortedindignantly, and walked away across the tram-rails, his hump quiveringwith rage. 

'See! I have saved more than the bowl will cost thrice over. Now, mother, a little rice and some dried fish atop--yes, and some vegetablecurry. '

A growl came out of the back of the shop, where a man lay. 

'He drove away the bull, ' said the woman in an undertone. 'It is goodto give to the poor. ' She took the bowl and returned it full of hotrice. 

'But my yogi is not a cow, ' said Kim gravely, making a hole with hisfingers in the top of the mound. 'A little curry is good, and a friedcake, and a morsel of conserve would please him, I think. '

'It is a hole as big as thy head, ' said the woman fretfully. But shefilled it, none the less, with good, steaming vegetable curry, clappeda fried cake atop, and a morsel of clarified butter on the cake, dabbeda lump of sour tamarind conserve at the side; and Kim looked at theload lovingly. 

'That is good. When I am in the bazar the bull shall not come to thishouse. He is a bold beggar-man. '

'And thou?' laughed the woman. 'But speak well of bulls. Hast thounot told me that some day a Red Bull will come out of a field to helpthee? Now hold all straight and ask for the holy man's blessing uponme. Perhaps, too, he knows a cure for my daughter's sore eyes. Ask. Him that also, O thou Little Friend of all the World. '

But Kim had danced off ere the end of the sentence, dodging pariah dogsand hungry acquaintances. 

'Thus do we beg who know the way of it, ' said he proudly to the lama, who opened his eyes at the contents of the bowl. 'Eat now and--I willeat with thee. Ohe, bhisti!' he called to the water-carrier, sluicingthe crotons by the Museum. 'Give water here. We men are thirsty. '

'We men!' said the bhisti, laughing. 'Is one skinful enough for sucha pair? Drink, then, in the name of the Compassionate. '

He loosed a thin stream into Kim's hands, who drank native fashion; butthe lama must needs pull out a cup from his inexhaustible upperdraperies and drink ceremonially. 

'Pardesi [a foreigner], ' Kim explained, as the old man delivered in anunknown tongue what was evidently a blessing. 

They ate together in great content, clearing the beggingbowl. Then thelama took snuff from a portentous wooden snuff-gourd, fingered hisrosary awhile, and so dropped into the easy sleep of age, as the shadowof Zam-Zammah grew long. 

Kim loafed over to the nearest tobacco-seller, a rather lively youngMohammedan woman, and begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sellto students of the Punjab University who copy English customs. Then hesmoked and thought, knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and theoutcome of his thoughts was a sudden and stealthy departure in thedirection of Nila Ram's timber-yard. 

The lama did not wake till the evening life of the city had begun withlamp-lighting and the return of white-robed clerks and subordinatesfrom the Government offices. He stared dizzily in all directions, butnone looked at him save a Hindu urchin in a dirty turban andIsabella-coloured clothes. Suddenly he bowed his head on his knees andwailed. 

'What is this?' said the boy, standing before him. 'Hast thou beenrobbed?'

'It is my new chela [disciple] that is gone away from me, and I knownot where he is. '

'And what like of man was thy disciple?'

'It was a boy who came to me in place of him who died, on account ofthe merit which I had gained when I bowed before the Law within there. 'He pointed towards the Museum. 'He came upon me to show me a roadwhich I had lost. He led me into the Wonder House, and by his talkemboldened me to speak to the Keeper of the Images, so that I wascheered and made strong. And when I was faint with hunger he beggedfor me, as would a chela for his teacher. Suddenly was he sent. Suddenly has he gone away. It was in my mind to have taught him theLaw upon the road to Benares. '

Kim stood amazed at this, because he had overheard the talk in theMuseum, and knew that the old man was speaking the truth, which is athing a native on the road seldom presents to a stranger. 

'But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. By this I know thatI shall find a certain River for which I seek. '

'The River of the Arrow?' said Kim, with a superior smile. 

'Is this yet another Sending?' cried the lama. 'To none have I spokenof my search, save to the Priest of the Images. Who art thou?'

'Thy chela, ' said Kim simply, sitting on his heels. 'I have never seenanyone like to thee in all this my life. I go with thee to Benares. And, too, I think that so old a man as thou, speaking the truth tochance-met people at dusk, is in great need of a disciple. '

'But the River--the River of the Arrow?'

'Oh, that I heard when thou wast speaking to the Englishman. I layagainst the door. '

The lama sighed. 'I thought thou hadst been a guide permitted. Suchthings fall sometimes--but I am not worthy. Thou dost not, then, knowthe River?'

'Not I, ' Kim laughed uneasily. 'I go to look for--for a bull--a Red. Bull on a green field who shall help me. ' Boylike, if an acquaintancehad a scheme, Kim was quite ready with one of his own; and, boylike, hehad really thought for as much as twenty minutes at a time of hisfather's prophecy. 

'To what, child?' said the lama. 

'God knows, but so my father told me'. I heard thy talk in the WonderHouse of all those new strange places in the Hills, and if one so oldand so little--so used to truth-telling--may go out for the smallmatter of a river, it seemed to me that I too must go a-travelling. Ifit is our fate to find those things we shall find them--thou, thyRiver; and I, my Bull, and the Strong Pillars and some other mattersthat I forget. '

'It is not pillars but a Wheel from which I would be free, ' said thelama. 

'That is all one. Perhaps they will make me a king, ' said Kim, serenely prepared for anything. 

'I will teach thee other and better desires upon the road, ' the lamareplied in the voice of authority. 'Let us go to Benares. '

'Not by night. Thieves are abroad. Wait till the day. '

'But there is no place to sleep. ' The old man was used to the order ofhis monastery, and though he slept on the ground, as the Rule decrees, preferred a decency in these things. 

'We shall get good lodging at the Kashmir Serai, ' said Kim, laughing athis perplexity. 'I have a friend there. Come!'

The hot and crowded bazars blazed with light as they made their waythrough the press of all the races in Upper India, and the lama moonedthrough it like a man in a dream. It was his first experience of alarge manufacturing city, and the crowded tram-car with its continuallysquealing brakes frightened him. Half pushed, half towed, he arrivedat the high gate of the Kashmir Serai: that huge open square overagainst the railway station, surrounded with arched cloisters, wherethe camel and horse caravans put up on their return from Central Asia. Here were all manner of Northern folk, tending tethered ponies andkneeling camels; loading and unloading bales and bundles; drawing waterfor the evening meal at the creaking well-windlasses; piling grassbefore the shrieking, wild-eyed stallions; cuffing the surly caravandogs; paying off camel-drivers; taking on new grooms; swearing, shouting, arguing, and chaffering in the packed square. The cloisters, reached by three or four masonry steps, made a haven of refuge aroundthis turbulent sea. Most of them were rented to traders, as we rentthe arches of a viaduct; the space between pillar and pillar beingbricked or boarded off into rooms, which were guarded by heavy woodendoors and cumbrous native padlocks. Locked doors showed that the ownerwas away, and a few rude--sometimes very rude--chalk or paint scratchestold where he had gone. Thus: 'Lutuf Ullah is gone to Kurdistan. 'Below, in coarse verse: 'O Allah, who sufferest lice to live on thecoat of a Kabuli, why hast thou allowed this louse Lutuf to live solong?'

Kim, fending the lama between excited men and excited beasts, sidledalong the cloisters to the far end, nearest therailway station, whereMahbub Ali, the horse-trader, lived when he came in from thatmysterious land beyond the Passes of the North. 

Kim had had many dealings with Mahbub in his little life, especiallybetween his tenth and his thirteenth year--and the big burly Afghan, his beard dyed scarlet with lime (for he was elderly and did not wishhis grey hairs to show), knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimeshe would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do withhorses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul withwhom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, andMahbub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of somekind, Kim knew; but its worth lay in saying nothing whatever to anyoneexcept Mahbub, who gave him beautiful meals all hot from the cookshopat the head of the serai, and once as much as eight annas in money. 

'He is here, ' said Kim, hitting a bad-tempered camel on the nose. 'Ohe. Mahbub Ali!' He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind thebewildered lama. 

The horse-trader, his deep, embroidered Bokhariot belt unloosed, waslying on a pair of silk carpet saddle-bags, pulling lazily at animmense silver hookah. He turned his head very slightly at the cry;and seeing only the tall silent figure, chuckled in his deep chest. 

'Allah! A lama! A Red Lama! It is far from Lahore to the Passes. What dost thou do here?'

The lama held out the begging-bowl mechanically. 

'God's curse on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub. 'I do not give to alousy Tibetan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. Theymay value your blessings. Oh, horseboys, here is a countryman ofyours. See if he be hungry. '

A shaven, crouching Balti, who had come down with the horses, and whowas nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest, and in thick gutturals besought the Holy One to sit at the horseboys'fire. 

'Go!' said Kim, pushing him lightly, and the lama strode away, leavingKim at the edge of the cloister. 

'Go!' said Mahbub Ali, returning to his hookah. 'Little Hindu, runaway. God's curse on all unbelievers! Beg from those of my tail whoare of thy faith. '

'Maharaj, ' whined Kim, using the Hindu form of address, and thoroughlyenjoying the situation; 'my father is dead--my mother is dead--mystomach is empty. '

'Beg from my men among the horses, I say. There must be some Hindus inmy tail. '

'Oh, Mahbub Ali, but am I a Hindu?' said Kim in English. 

The trader gave no sign of astonishment, but looked under shaggyeyebrows. 

'Little Friend of all the World, ' said he, 'what is this?'

'Nothing. I am now that holy man's disciple; and we go a pilgrimagetogether--to Benares, he says. He is quite mad, and I am tired ofLahore city. I wish new air and water. '

'But for whom dost thou work? Why come to me?' The voice was harshwith suspicion. 

'To whom else should I come? I have no money. It is not good to goabout without money. Thou wilt sell many horses to the officers. Theyare very fine horses, these new ones: I have seen them. Give me arupee, Mahbub Ali, and when I come to my wealth I will give thee a bondand pay. '

'Um!' said Mahbub Ali, thinking swiftly. 'Thou hast never before liedto me. Call that lama--stand back in the dark. '

'Oh, our tales will agree, ' said Kim, laughing. 

'We go to Benares, ' said the lama, as soon as he understood the driftof Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certainRiver. '

'Maybe--but the boy?'

'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River. Sitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things havebefallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remembernow, he said he was of this world--a Hindu. '

'And his name?'

'That I did not ask. Is he not my disciple?'

'His country--his race--his village? Mussalman--Sikh Hindu--Jain--lowcaste or high?'

'Why should I ask? There is neither high nor low in the Middle Way. If he is my chela--does--will--can anyone take him from me? for, lookyou, without him I shall not find my River. ' He wagged his headsolemnly. 

'None shall take him from thee. Go, sit among my Baltis, ' said MahbubAli, and the lama drifted off, soothed by the promise. 

'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again. 'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'

Mahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there. '

'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know. '

'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as Umballa, I will givethee money. It concerns a horse--a white stallion which I have sold toan officer upon the last time I returned from the Passes. Butthen--stand nearer and hold up hands as begging--the pedigree of thewhite stallion was not fully established, and that officer, who is nowat Umballa, bade me make it clear. ' (Mahbub here described the horseand the appearance of the officer. ) 'So the message to that officerwill be: "The pedigree of the white stallion is fully established. "By this will he know that thou comest from me. He will then say "Whatproof hast thou?" and thou wilt answer: "Mahbub Ali has given me theproof. "'

'And all for the sake of a white stallion, ' said Kim, with a giggle, his eyes aflame. 

'That pedigree I will give thee now--in my own fashion and some hardwords as well. ' A shadow passed behind Kim, and a feeding camel. Mahbub Ali raised his voice. 

'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thyfather is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'

He turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft, greasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horseboysfor tonight--thou and the lama. Tomorrow I may give thee service. '

Kim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and, as he expected, he found asmall wad of folded tissue-paper wrapped in oilskin, with three silverrupees--enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money and paper intohis leather amulet-case. The lama, sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis, was already asleep in a corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay downbeside him and laughed. He knew he had rendered a service to MahbubAli, and not for one little minute did he believe the tale of thestallion's pedigree. 

But Kim did not suspect that Mahbub Ali, known as one of the besthorse-dealers in the Punjab, a wealthy and enterprising trader, whosecaravans penetrated far and far into the Back of Beyond, was registeredin one of the locked books of the Indian Survey Department as C25 IB. Twice or thrice yearly C25 would send in a little story, baldly toldbut most interesting, and generally--it was checked by the statementsof R17 and M4--quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-waymountain principalities, explorers of nationalities other than English, and the guntrade--was, in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of'information received' on which the Indian Government acts. But, recently, five confederated Kings, who had no business to confederate, had been informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakageof news from their territories into British India. So those Kings'Prime Ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps, after theOriental fashion. They suspected, among many others, the bullying, red-bearded horsedealer whose caravans ploughed through theirfastnesses belly-deep in snow. At least, his caravan that season hadbeen ambushed and shot at twice on the way down, when Mahbub's menaccounted for three strange ruffians who might, or might not, have beenhired for the job. Therefore Mahbub had avoided halting at theinsalubrious city of Peshawur, and had come through without stop toLahore, where, knowing his country-people, he anticipated curiousdevelopments. 

And there was that on Mahbub Ali which he did not wish to keep an hourlonger than was necessary--a wad of closely folded tissue-paper, wrapped in oilskin--an impersonal, unaddressed statement, with fivemicroscopic pin-holes in one corner, that most scandalously betrayedthe five confederated Kings, the sympathetic Northern Power, a Hindubanker in Peshawur, a firm of gun-makers in Belgium, and an important, semi-independent Mohammedan ruler to the south. This last was R17'swork, which Mahbub had picked up beyond the Dora Pass and was carryingin for R17, who, owing to circumstances over which he had no control, could not leave his post of observation. Dynamite was milky andinnocuous beside that report of C25; and even an Oriental, with anOriental's views of the value of time, could see that the sooner it wasin the proper hands the better. Mahbub had no particular desire to dieby violence, because two or three family blood-feuds across the Borderhung unfinished on his hands, and when these scores were cleared heintended to settle down as a more or less virtuous citizen. He hadnever passed the serai gate since his arrival two days ago, but hadbeen ostentatious in sending telegrams to Bombay, where he banked someof his money; to Delhi, where a sub-partner of his own clan was sellinghorses to the agent of a Rajputana state; and to Umballa, where anEnglishman was excitedly demanding the pedigree of a white stallion. The public letter-writer, who knew English, composed excellenttelegrams, such as: 'Creighton, Laurel Bank, Umballa. Horse is Arabianas already advised. Sorrowful delayed pedigree which am translating. 'And later to the same address: 'Much sorrowful delay. Will forwardpedigree. ' To his sub-partner at Delhi he wired: 'Lutuf Ullah. Havewired two thousand rupees your credit Luchman Narain's bank--' This wasentirely in the way of trade, but every one of those telegrams wasdiscussed and rediscussed, by parties who conceived themselves to beinterested, before they went over to the railway station in charge of afoolish Balti, who allowed all sorts of people to read them on the road. 

When, in Mahbub's own picturesque language, he had muddied the wells ofinquiry with the stick of precaution, Kim had dropped on him, sent fromHeaven; and, being as prompt as he was unscrupulous, Mahbub Ali used totaking all sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on the spot. 

A wandering lama with a low-caste boy-servant might attract a moment'sinterest as they wandered about India, the land of pilgrims; but no onewould suspect them or, what was more to the point, rob. 

He called for a new light-ball to his hookah, and considered the case. If the worst came to the worst, and the boy came to harm, the paperwould incriminate nobody. And he would go up to Umballa leisurelyand--at a certain risk of exciting fresh suspicion--repeat his tale byword of mouth to the people concerned. 

But R17's report was the kernel of the whole affair, and it would bedistinctly inconvenient if that failed to come to hand. However, Godwas great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the timebeing. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie. That would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had notknown that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim couldlie like an Oriental. 

Then Mahbub Ali rolled across the serai to the Gate of the Harpies whopaint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to callon the one girl who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friendof a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit who had waylaid his simple Balti inthe matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do;because they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of theProphet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of his mouthwere loosened, and he pursued the Flower of Delight with the feet ofintoxication till he fell flat among the cushions, where the Flower ofDelight, aided by a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit, searched him fromhead to foot most thoroughly. 

About the same hour Kim heard soft feet in Mahbub's deserted stall. The horse-trader, curiously enough, had left his door unlocked, and hismen were busy celebrating their return to India with a whole sheep ofMahbub's bounty. A sleek young gentleman from Delhi, armed with abunch of keys which the Flower had unshackled from the senseless one'sbelt, went through every single box, bundle, mat, and saddle-bag inMahbub's possession even more systematically than the Flower and thepundit were searching the owner. 

'And I think. ' said the Flower scornfully an hour later, one roundedelbow on the snoring carcass, 'that he is no more than a pig of anAfghan horse-dealer, with no thought except women and horses. Moreover, he may have sent it away by now--if ever there were such athing. '

'Nay--in a matter touching Five Kings it would be next his blackheart, ' said the pundit. 'Was there nothing?'

The Delhi man laughed and resettled his turban as he entered. 'Isearched between the soles of his slippers as the Flower searched hisclothes. This is not the man but another. I leave little unseen. '

'They did not say he was the very man, ' said the pundit thoughtfully. 'They said, "Look if he be the man, since our counsels are troubled. "'

'That North country is full of horse-dealers as an old coat of lice. There is Sikandar Khan, Nur Ali Beg, and Farrukh Shah all heads ofkafilas [caravans]--who deal there, ' said the Flower. 

'They have not yet come in, ' said the pundit. 'Thou must ensnare themlater. '

Phew!' said the Flower with deep disgust, rolling Mahbub's head fromher lap. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg aswashbuckler, and old Sikandar Khan--yaie! Go! I sleep now. Thisswine will not stir till dawn. '

When Mahbub woke, the Flower talked to him severely on the sin ofdrunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they have outmanoeuvred anenemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tightened his belt, andstaggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it. 

'What a colt's trick!' said he to himself. 'As if every girl inPeshawur did not use it! But 'twas prettily done. Now God He knowshow many more there be upon the Road who have orders to testme--perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go toUmballa--and by rail--for the writing is something urgent. I abidehere, following the Flower and drinking wine as an Afghan coper should. '

He halted at the stall next but one to his own. His men lay thereheavy with sleep. There was no sign of Kim or the lama. 

'Up!' He stirred a sleeper. 'Whither went those who lay here lasteven--the lama and the boy? Is aught missing?'

'Nay, ' grunted the man, 'the old madman rose at second cockcrow sayinghe would go to Benares, and the young one led him away. '

'The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!' said Mahbub heartily, andclimbed into his own stall, growling in his beard. 

But it was Kim who had wakened the lama--Kim with one eye laid againsta knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's searchthrough the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters, bills, and saddles--no mere burglar who ran a little knife sidewaysinto the soles of Mahbub's slippers, or picked the seams of thesaddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had been minded to give thealarm--the long-drawn choor--choor! [thief! thief!] that sets theserai ablaze of nights; but he looked more carefully, and, hand onamulet, drew his own conclusions. 

'It must be the pedigree of that made-up horse-lie, ' said he, 'thething that I carry to Umballa. Better that we go now. Those whosearch bags with knives may presently search bellies with knives. Surely there is a woman behind this. Hai! Hai! in a whisper to thelight-sleeping old man. 'Come. It is time--time to go to Benares. '

The lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the serai like shadows. 

Chapter 2

 And whoso will, from Pride released; Contemning neither creed nor priest, May feel the Soul of all the East. About him at Kamakura. 

 Buddha at Kamakura. 

They entered the fort-like railway station, black in the end of night;the electrics sizzling over the goods-yard where they handle the heavyNorthern grain-traffic. 

'This is the work of devils!' said the lama, recoiling from the hollowechoing darkness, the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms, and the maze of girders above. He stood in a gigantic stone hallpaved, it seemed, with the sheeted dead third-class passengers who hadtaken their tickets overnight and were sleeping in the waiting-rooms. All hours of the twenty-four are alike to Orientals, and theirpassenger traffic is regulated accordingly. 

'This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind thathole'--Kim pointed to the ticket-office--'who will give thee a paper totake thee to Umballa. '

'But we go to Benares, ' he replied petulantly. 

'All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!'

'Take thou the purse. '

The lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended, started asthe 3. 25 a. M. South-bound roared in. The sleepers sprang to life, andthe station filled with clamour and shoutings, cries of water andsweetmeat vendors, shouts of native policemen, and shrill yells ofwomen gathering up their baskets, their families, and their husbands. 

'It is the train--only the te-rain. It will not come here. Wait!'Amazed at the lama's immense simplicity (he had handed him a small bagfull of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a ticket to Umballa. A sleepyclerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station, just sixmiles distant. 

'Nay, ' said Kim, scanning it with a grin. 'This may serve for farmers, but I live in the city of Lahore. It was cleverly done, Babu. Nowgive the ticket to Umballa. '

The Babu scowled and dealt the proper ticket. 

'Now another to Amritzar, ' said Kim, who had no notion of spendingMahbub Ali's money on anything so crude as a paid ride to Umballa. 'The price is so much. The small money in return is just so much. Iknow the ways of the te-rain . .. Never did yogi need chela as thoudost, ' he went on merrily to the bewildered lama. 'They would haveflung thee out at Mian Mir but for me. This way! Come!' He returnedthe money, keeping only one anna in each rupee of the price of theUmballa ticket as his commission--the immemorial commission of Asia. 

The lama jibbed at the open door of a crowded third-class carriage. 'Were it not better to walk?' said he weakly. 

A burly Sikh artisan thrust forth his bearded head. 'Is he afraid? Donot be afraid. I remember the time when I was afraid of the te-rain. Enter! This thing is the work of the Government. '

'I do not fear, ' said the lama. 'Have ye room within for two?'

'There is no room even for a mouse, ' shrilled the wife of a well-to-docultivator--a Hindu Jat from the rich Jullundur, district. Our nighttrains are not as well looked after as the day ones, where the sexesare very strictly kept to separate carriages. 

'Oh, mother of my son, we can make space, ' said the blueturbanedhusband. 'Pick up the child. It is a holy man, see'st thou?'

'And my lap full of seventy times seven bundles! Why not bid him siton my knee, Shameless? But men are ever thus!' She looked round forapproval. An Amritzar courtesan near the window sniffed behind herhead drapery. 

'Enter! Enter!' cried a fat Hindu money-lender, his foldedaccount-book in a cloth under his arm. With an oily smirk: 'It iswell to be kind to the poor. '

'Ay, at seven per cent a month with a mortgage on the unborn calf, 'said a young Dogra soldier going south on leave; and they all laughed. 

'Will it travel to Benares?' said the lama. 

'Assuredly. Else why should we come? Enter, or we are left, ' criedKim. 

'See!' shrilled the Amritzar girl. 'He has never entered a train. Oh, see!'

'Nay, help, ' said the cultivator, putting out a large brown hand andhauling him in. 'Thus is it done, father. '

'But--but--I sit on the floor. It is against the Rule to sit on abench, ' said the lama. 'Moreover, it cramps me. '

'I say, ' began the money-lender, pursing his lips, 'that there is notone rule of right living which these te-rains do not cause us to break. We sit, for example, side by side with all castes and peoples. '

'Yea, and with most outrageously shameless ones, ' said the wife, scowling at the Amritzar girl making eyes at the young sepoy. 

'I said we might have gone by cart along the road, ' said the husband, 'and thus have saved some money. '

'Yes--and spent twice over what we saved on food by the way. That wastalked out ten thousand times. '

'Ay, by ten thousand tongues, ' grunted he. 

'The Gods help us poor women if we may not speak. Oho! He is of thatsort which may not look at or reply to a woman. ' For the lama, constrained by his Rule, took not the faintest notice of her. 'And hisdisciple is like him?'

'Nay, mother, ' said Kim most promptly. 'Not when the woman iswell-looking and above all charitable to the hungry. '

'A beggar's answer, ' said the Sikh, laughing. 'Thou hast brought it onthyself, sister!' Kim's hands were crooked in supplication. 

'And whither goest thou?' said the woman, handing him the half of acake from a greasy package. 

'Even to Benares. '

'Jugglers belike?' the young soldier suggested. 'Have ye any tricksto pass the time? Why does not that yellow man answer?'

'Because, ' said Kim stoutly, 'he is holy, and thinks upon mattershidden from thee. '

'That may be well. We of the Ludhiana Sikhs'--he rolled it outsonorously--'do not trouble our heads with doctrine. We fight. '

'My sister's brother's son is naik [corporal] in that regiment, ' saidthe Sikh craftsman quietly. 'There are also some Dogra companiesthere. ' The soldier glared, for a Dogra is of other caste than a Sikh, and the banker tittered. 

'They are all one to me, ' said the Amritzar girl. 

'That we believe, ' snorted the cultivator's wife malignantly. 

'Nay, but all who serve the Sirkar with weapons in their hands are, asit were, one brotherhood. There is one brotherhood of the caste, butbeyond that again'--she looked round timidly--'the bond of thePulton--the Regiment--eh?'

'My brother is in a Jat regiment, ' said the cultivator. 'Dogras begood men. '

'Thy Sikhs at least were of that opinion, ' said the soldier, with ascowl at the placid old man in the corner. 'Thy Sikhs thought so whenour two companies came to help them at the Pirzai Kotal in the face ofeight Afridi standards on the ridge not three months gone. '

He told the story of a Border action in which the Dogra companies ofthe Ludhiana Sikhs had acquitted themselves well. The Amritzar girlsmiled; for she knew the talk was to win her approval. 

'Alas!' said the cultivator's wife at the end. 'So their villageswere burnt and their little children made homeless?'

'They had marked our dead. They paid a great payment after we of theSikhs had schooled them. So it was. Is this Amritzar?'

'Ay, and here they cut our tickets, ' said the banker, fumbling at hisbelt. 

The lamps were paling in the dawn when the half-caste guard came round. Ticket-collecting is a slow business in the East, where people secretetheir tickets in all sorts of curious places. Kim produced his and wastold to get out. 

'But I go to Umballa, ' he protested. 'I go with this holy man. '

'Thou canst go to Jehannum for aught I care. This ticket is only--'

Kim burst into a flood of tears, protesting that the lama was hisfather and his mother, that he was the prop of the lama's decliningyears, and that the lama would die without his care. All the carriagebade the guard be merciful--the banker was specially eloquent here--butthe guard hauled Kim on to the platform. The lama blinked--he couldnot overtake the situation and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outsidethe carriage window. 

'I am very poor. My father is dead--my mother is dead. O charitableones, if I am left here, who shall tend that old man?'

'What--what is this?' the lama repeated. 'He must go to Benares. Hemust come with me. He is my chela. If there is money to be paid--'

'Oh, be silent, ' whispered Kim; 'are we Rajahs to throw away goodsilver when the world is so charitable?'

The Amritzar girl stepped out with her bundles, and it was on her thatKim kept his watchful eye. Ladies of that persuasion, he knew, weregenerous. 

'A ticket--a little tikkut to Umballa--O Breaker of Hearts!' Shelaughed. 'Hast thou no charity?'

'Does the holy man come from the North?'

'From far and far in the North he comes, ' cried Kim. 'From among thehills. '

'There is snow among the pine-trees in the North--in the hills there issnow. My mother was from Kulu. Get thee a ticket. Ask him for ablessing. '

'Ten thousand blessings, ' shrilled Kim. 'O Holy One, a woman has givenus in charity so that I can come with thee--a woman with a goldenheart. I run for the tikkut. '

The girl looked up at the lama, who had mechanically followed Kim tothe platform. He bowed his head that he might not see her, andmuttered in Tibetan as she passed on with the crowd. 

'Light come--light go, ' said the cultivator's wife viciously. 

'She has acquired merit, ' returned the lama. 'Beyond doubt it was anun. '

'There be ten thousand such nuns in Amritzar alone. Return, old man, or the te-rain may depart without thee, ' cried the banker. 

'Not only was it sufficient for the ticket, but for a little foodalso, ' said Kim, leaping to his place. 'Now eat, Holy One. Look. Daycomes!'

Golden, rose, saffron, and pink, the morning mists smoked away acrossthe flat green levels. All the rich Punjab lay out in the splendour ofthe keen sun. The lama flinched a little as the telegraph-posts swungby. 

'Great is the speed of the te-rain, ' said the banker, with apatronizing grin. 'We have gone farther since Lahore than thou couldstwalk in two days: at even, we shall enter Umballa. '

'And that is still far from Benares, ' said the lama wearily, mumblingover the cakes that Kim offered. They all unloosed their bundles andmade their morning meal. Then the banker, the cultivator, and thesoldier prepared their pipes and wrapped the compartment in choking, acrid smoke, spitting and coughing and enjoying themselves. The Sikhand the cultivator's wife chewed pan; the lama took snuff and told hisbeads, while Kim, cross-legged, smiled over the comfort of a fullstomach. 

'What rivers have ye by Benares?' said the lama of a sudden to thecarriage at large. 

'We have Gunga, ' returned the banker, when the little titter hadsubsided. 

'What others?'

'What other than Gunga?'

'Nay, but in my mind was the thought of a certain River of healing. '

'That is Gunga. Who bathes in her is made clean and goes to the Gods. Thrice have I made pilgrimage to Gunga. ' He looked round proudly. 

'There was need, ' said the young sepoy drily, and the travellers' laughturned against the banker. 

'Clean--to return again to the Gods, ' the lama muttered. 'And to goforth on the round of lives anew--still tied to the Wheel. ' He shookhis head testily. 'But maybe there is a mistake. Who, then, madeGunga in the beginning?'

'The Gods. Of what known faith art thou?' the banker said, appalled. 

'I follow the Law--the Most Excellent Law. So it was the Gods thatmade Gunga. What like of Gods were they?'

The carriage looked at him in amazement. It was inconceivable thatanyone should be ignorant of Gunga. 

'What--what is thy God?' said the money-lender at last. 

'Hear!' said the lama, shifting the rosary to his hand. 'Hear: for Ispeak of Him now! O people of Hind, listen!'

He began in Urdu the tale of the Lord Buddha, but, borne by his ownthoughts, slid into Tibetan and long-droned texts from a Chinese bookof the Buddha's life. The gentle, tolerant folk looked on reverently. All India is full of holy men stammering gospels in strange tongues;shaken and consumed in the fires of their own zeal; dreamers, babblers, and visionaries: as it has been from the beginning and will continueto the end. 

'Um!' said the soldier of the Ludhiana Sikhs. 'There was a Mohammedanregiment lay next to us at the Pirzai Kotal, and a priest of theirs--hewas, as I remember, a naik--when the fit was on him, spake prophecies. But the mad all are in God's keeping. His officers overlooked much inthat man. '

The lama fell back on Urdu, remembering that he was in a strange land. 'Hear the tale of the Arrow which our Lord loosed from the bow, ' hesaid. 

This was much more to their taste, and they listened curiously while hetold it. 'Now, O people of Hind, I go to seek that River. Know yeaught that may guide me, for we be all men and women in evil case. '

'There is Gunga--and Gunga alone--who washes away sin. ' ran the murmurround the carriage. 

'Though past question we have good Gods Jullundur-way, ' said thecultivator's wife, looking out of the window. 'See how they haveblessed the crops. '

'To search every river in the Punjab is no small matter, ' said herhusband. 'For me, a stream that leaves good silt on my land suffices, and I thank Bhumia, the God of the Home-stead. ' He shrugged oneknotted, bronzed shoulder. 

'Think you our Lord came so far North?' said the lama, turning to Kim. 

'It may be, ' Kim replied soothingly, as he spat red pan-juice on thefloor. 

'The last of the Great Ones, ' said the Sikh with authority, 'wasSikander Julkarn [Alexander the Great]. He paved the streets ofJullundur and built a great tank near Umballa. That pavement holds tothis day; and the tank is there also. I never heard of thy God. '

'Let thy hair grow long and talk Punjabi, ' said the young soldierjestingly to Kim, quoting a Northern proverb. 'That is all that makesa Sikh. ' But he did not say this very loud. 

The lama sighed and shrank into himself, a dingy, shapeless mass. Inthe pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning 'Om mane pudmehum! Om mane pudme hum!'--and the thick click of the wooden rosarybeads. 

'It irks me, ' he said at last. 'The speed and the clatter irk me. Moreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have over-passed that River. '

'Peace, peace, ' said Kim. 'Was not the River near Benares? We are yetfar from the place. '

'But--if our Lord came North, it may be any one of these little onesthat we have run across. '

'I do not know. '

'But thou wast sent to me--wast thou sent to me?--for the merit I hadacquired over yonder at Such-zen. From beside the cannon didst thoucome--bearing two faces--and two garbs. '

'Peace. One must not speak of these things here, ' whispered Kim. 'There was but one of me. Think again and thou wilt remember. Aboy--a Hindu boy--by the great green cannon. '

'But was there not also an Englishman with a white beard holy amongimages--who himself made more sure my assurance of the River of theArrow?'

'He--we--went to the Ajaib-Gher in Lahore to pray before the Godsthere, ' Kim explained to the openly listening company. 'And the Sahibof the Wonder House talked to him--yes, this is truth as a brother. Heis a very holy man, from far beyond the Hills. Rest, thou. In time wecome to Umballa. '

'But my River--the River of my healing?'

'And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that River onfoot. So that we miss nothing--not even a little rivulet in afield-side. '

'But thou hast a Search of thine own?' The lama--very pleased that heremembered so well--sat bolt upright. 

'Ay, ' said Kim, humouring him. The boy was entirely happy to be outchewing pan and seeing new people in the great good-tempered world. 

'It was a bull--a Red Bull that shall come and help thee and carrythee--whither? I have forgotten. A Red Bull on a green field, was itnot?'

'Nay, it will carry me nowhere, ' said Kim. 'It is but a tale I toldthee. '

'What is this?' The cultivator's wife leaned forward, her braceletsclinking on her arm. 'Do ye both dream dreams? A Red Bull on a greenfield, that shall carry thee to the heavens or what? Was it a vision?Did one make a prophecy? We have a Red Bull in our village behindJullundur city, and he grazes by choice in the very greenest of ourfields!'

'Give a woman an old wife's tale and a weaver-bird a leaf and athread', they will weave wonderful things, ' said the Sikh. 'All holymen dream dreams, and by following holy men their disciples attain thatpower. '

'A Red Bull on a green field, was it?' the lama repeated. 'In aformer life it may be thou hast acquired merit, and the Bull will cometo reward thee. '

'Nay--nay--it was but a tale one told to me--for a jest belike. But Iwill seek the Bull about Umballa, and thou canst look for thy River andrest from the clatter of the train. '

'It may be that the Bull knows--that he is sent to guide us both. 'said the lama, hopefully as a child. Then to the company, indicatingKim: 'This one was sent to me but yesterday. He is not, I think, ofthis world. '

'Beggars aplenty have I met, and holy men to boot, but never such ayogi nor such a disciple, ' said the woman. 

Her husband touched his forehead lightly with one finger and smiled. But the next time the lama would eat they took care to give him oftheir best. 

And at last--tired, sleepy, and dusty--they reached Umballa CityStation. 

'We abide here upon a law-suit, ' said the cultivator's wife to Kim. 'We lodge with my man's cousin's younger brother. There is room alsoin the courtyard for thy yogi and for thee. Will--will he give me ablessing?'

'O holy man! A woman with a heart of gold gives us lodging for thenight. It is a kindly land, this land of the South. See how we havebeen helped since the dawn!'

The lama bowed his head in benediction. 

'To fill my cousin's younger brother's house with wastrels--' thehusband began, as he shouldered his heavy bamboo staff. 

'Thy cousin's younger brother owes my father's cousin something yet onhis daughter's marriage-feast, ' said the woman crisply. 'Let him puttheir food to that account. The yogi will beg, I doubt not. '

'Ay, I beg for him, ' said Kim, anxious only to get the lama undershelter for the night, that he might seek Mahbub Ali's Englishman anddeliver himself of the white stallion's pedigree. 

'Now, ' said he, when the lama had come to an anchor in the innercourtyard of a decent Hindu house behind the cantonments, 'I go awayfor a while--to--to buy us victual in the bazar. Do not stray abroadtill I return. '

'Thou wilt return? Thou wilt surely return?' The old man caught athis wrist. 'And thou wilt return in this very same shape? Is it toolate to look tonight for the River?'

'Too late and too dark. Be comforted. Think how far thou art on theroad--an hundred miles from Lahore already. '

'Yea--and farther from my monastery. Alas! It is a great and terribleworld. '

Kim stole out and away, as unremarkable a figure as ever carried hisown and a few score thousand other folk's fate slung round his neck. Mahbub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which hisEnglishman lived; and a groom, bringing a dog-cart home from the Club, made him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kimslipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grassclose to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants movedabout tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forthcame an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It wastoo dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment. 

'Protector of the Poor!'

The man backed towards the voice. 

'Mahbub Ali says--'

'Hah! What says Mahbub Ali?' He made no attempt to look for thespeaker, and that showed Kim that he knew. 

'The pedigree of the white stallion is fully established. '

'What proof is there?' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge inthe side of the drive. 

'Mahbub Ali has given me this proof. ' Kim flipped the wad of foldedpaper into the air, and it fell in the path beside the man, who put hisfoot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passedhe picked it up, dropped a rupee--Kim could hear the clink--and strodeinto the house, never turning round. Swiftly Kim took up the money;but for all his training, he was Irish enough by birth to reckon silverthe least part of any game. What he desired was the visible effect ofaction; so, instead of slinking away, he lay close in the grass andwormed nearer to the house. 

He saw--Indian bungalows are open through and through--the Englishmanreturn to a small dressing-room, in a comer of the veranda, that washalf office, littered with papers and despatch-boxes, and sit down tostudy Mahbub Ali's message. His face, by the full ray of the kerosenelamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as every beggar must be towatching countenances, took good note. 

'Will! Will, dear!' called a woman's voice. 'You ought to be in thedrawing-room. They'll be here in a minute. '

The man still read intently. 

'Will!' said the voice, five minutes later. 'He's come. I can hearthe troopers in the drive. '

The man dashed out bareheaded as a big landau with four native troopersbehind it halted at the veranda, and a tall, black haired man, erect asan arrow, swung out, preceded by a young officer who laughed pleasantly. 

Flat on his belly lay Kim, almost touching the high wheels. His manand the black stranger exchanged two sentences. 

'Certainly, sir, ' said the young officer promptly. 'Everything waitswhile a horse is concerned. '

'We shan't be more than twenty minutes, ' said Kim's man. 'You can dothe honours--keep 'em amused, and all that. '

'Tell one of the troopers to wait, ' said the tall man, and they bothpassed into the dressing-room together as the landau rolled away. Kimsaw their heads bent over Mahbub Ali's message, and heard thevoices--one low and deferential, the other sharp and decisive. 

'It isn't a question of weeks. It is a question of days--hoursalmost, ' said the elder. 'I'd been expecting it for some time, butthis'--he tapped Mahbub Ali's paper--'clinches it. Grogan's dininghere to-night, isn't he?'

'Yes, sir, and Macklin too. '

'Very good. I'll speak to them myself. The matter will be referred tothe Council, of course, but this is a case where one is justified inassuming that we take action at once. Warn the Pined and Peshawarbrigades. It will disorganize all the summer reliefs, but we can'thelp that. This comes of not smashing them thoroughly the first time. Eight thousand should be enough. '

'What about artillery, sir?'

'I must consult Macklin. '

'Then it means war?'

'No. Punishment. When a man is bound by the action of hispredecessor--'

'But C25 may have lied. '

'He bears out the other's information. Practically, they showed theirhand six months back. But Devenish would have it there was a chance ofpeace. Of course they used it to make themselves stronger. Send offthose telegrams at once--the new code, not the old--mine and Wharton's. I don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any longer. We cansettle the rest over the cigars. I thought it was coming. It'spunishment--not war. '

As the trooper cantered off, Kim crawled round to the back of thehouse, where, going on his Lahore experiences, he judged there would befood--and information. The kitchen was crowded with excited scullions, one of whom kicked him. 

'Aie, ' said Kim, feigning tears. 'I came only to wash dishes in returnfor a bellyful. '

'All Umballa is on the same errand. Get hence. They go in now withthe soup. Think you that we who serve Creighton Sahib need strangescullions to help us through a big dinner?'

'It is a very big dinner, ' said Kim, looking at the plates. 

'Small wonder. The guest of honour is none other than the Jang-i-LatSahib [the Commander-in-Chief]. '

'Ho!' said Kim, with the correct guttural note of wonder. He hadlearned what he wanted, and when the scullion turned he was gone. 

'And all that trouble, ' said he to himself, thinking as usual inHindustani, 'for a horse's pedigree! Mahbub Ali should have come to meto learn a little lying. Every time before that I have borne a messageit concerned a woman. Now it is men. Better. The tall man said thatthey will loose a great army to punish someone--somewhere--the newsgoes to Pindi and Peshawur. There are also guns. Would I had creptnearer. It is big news!'

He returned to find the cultivator's cousin's younger brotherdiscussing the family law-suit in all its bearings with the cultivatorand his wife and a few friends, while the lama dozed. After the eveningmeal some one passed him a water-pipe; and Kim felt very much of a manas he pulled at the smooth coconut-shell, his legs spread abroad in themoonlight, his tongue clicking in remarks from time to time. His hostswere most polite; for the cultivator's wife had told them of his visionof the Red Bull, and of his probable descent from another world. Moreover, the lama was a great and venerable curiosity. 

The family priest, an old, tolerant Sarsut Brahmin, dropped in later, and naturally started a theological argument to impress the family. Bycreed, of course, they were all on their priest's side, but the lamawas the guest and the novelty. His gentle kindliness, and hisimpressive Chinese quotations, that sounded like spells, delighted themhugely; and in this sympathetic, simple air, he expanded like theBodhisat's own lotus, speaking of his life in the great hills ofSuch-zen, before, as he said, 'I rose up to seek enlightenment. '

Then it came out that in those worldly days he had been a master-handat casting horoscopes and nativities; and the family priest led him onto describe his methods; each giving the planets names that the othercould not understand, and pointing upwards as the big stars sailedacross the dark. The children of the house tugged unrebuked at hisrosary; and he clean forgot the Rule which forbids looking at women ashe talked of enduring snows, landslips, blocked passes, the remotecliffs where men find sapphires and turquoise, and that wonderfulupland road that leads at last into Great China itself. 

'How thinkest thou of this one?' said the cultivator aside to thepriest. 

'A holy man--a holy man indeed. His Gods are not the Gods, but hisfeet are upon the Way, ' was the answer. 'And his methods ofnativities, though that is beyond thee, are wise and sure. '

'Tell me, ' said Kim lazily, 'whether I find my Red Bull on a greenfield, as was promised me. '

'What knowledge hast thou of thy birth-hour?' the priest asked, swelling with importance. 

'Between first and second cockcrow of the first night in May. '

'Of what year?'

'I do not know; but upon the hour that I cried first fell the greatearthquake in Srinagar which is in Kashmir. ' This Kim had from thewoman who took care of him, and she again from Kimball O'Hara. Theearthquake had been felt in India, and for long stood a leading date inthe Punjab. 

'Ai!' said a woman excitedly. This seemed to make Kim's supernaturalorigin more certain. 'Was not such an one's daughter born then--'

'And her mother bore her husband four sons in four years all likelyboys, ' cried the cultivator's wife, sitting outside the circle in theshadow. 

'None reared in the knowledge, ' said the family priest, 'forget how theplanets stood in their Houses upon that night. ' He began to draw inthe dust of the courtyard. 'At least thou hast good claim to a half ofthe House of the Bull. How runs thy prophecy?'

'Upon a day, ' said Kim, delighted at the sensation he was creating, 'Ishall be made great by means of a Red Bull on a green field, but firstthere will enter two men making all things ready. '

'Yes: thus ever at the opening of a vision. A thick darkness thatclears slowly; anon one enters with a broom making ready the place. Then begins the Sight. Two men--thou sayest? Ay, ay. The Sun, leaving the House of the Bull, enters that of the Twins. Hence the twomen of the prophecy. Let us now consider. Fetch me a twig, littleone. '

He knitted his brows, scratched, smoothed out, and scratched again inthe dust mysterious signs--to the wonder of all save the lama, who, with fine instinct, forbore to interfere. 

At the end of half an hour, he tossed the twig from him with a grunt. 

'Hm! Thus say the stars. Within three days come the two men to makeall things ready. After them follows the Bull; but the sign overagainst him is the sign of War and armed men. '

'There was indeed a man of the Ludhiana Sikhs in the carriage fromLahore, ' said the cultivator's wife hopefully. 

'Tck! Armed men--many hundreds. What concern hast thou with war?'said the priest to Kim. 'Thine is a red and an angry sign of War to beloosed very soon. '

'None--none. ' said the lama earnestly. 'We seek only peace and ourRiver. '

Kim smiled, remembering what he had overheard in the dressing-room. Decidedly he was a favourite of the stars. 

The priest brushed his foot over the rude horoscope. 'More than this Icannot see. In three days comes the Bull to thee, boy. '

'And my River, my River, ' pleaded the lama. 'I had hoped his Bullwould lead us both to the River. '

'Alas, for that wondrous River, my brother, ' the priest replied. 'Suchthings are not common. '

Next morning, though they were pressed to stay, the lama insisted ondeparture. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly threeannas in copper money for the needs of the road, and with manyblessings watched the two go southward in the dawn. 

'Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from--'

'Nay, then would only evil people be left on the earth, and who wouldgive us meat and shelter?' quoth Kim, stepping merrily under hisburden. 

'Yonder is a small stream. Let us look, ' said the lama, and he ledfrom the white road across the fields; walking into a very hornets'nest of pariah dogs. 

Chapter 3

 Yea, voice of every Soul that clung To life that strove from rung to rung When Devadatta's rule was young, The warm wind brings Kamakura. 

 Buddha at Kamakura. 

Behind them an angry farmer brandished a bamboo pole. He was amarket-gardener, Arain by caste, growing vegetables and flowers forUmballa city, and well Kim knew the breed. 

'Such an one, ' said the lama, disregarding the dogs, 'is impolite tostrangers, intemperate of speech and uncharitable. Be warned by hisdemeanour, my disciple. '

'Ho, shameless beggars!' shouted the farmer. 'Begone! Get hence!'

'We go, ' the lama returned, with quiet dignity. 'We go from theseunblessed fields. '

'Ah, ' said Kim, sucking in his breath. 'If the next crops fail, thoucanst only blame thine own tongue. '

The man shuffled uneasily in his slippers. 'The land is full ofbeggars, ' he began, half apologetically. 

'And by what sign didst thou know that we would beg from thee, O Mali?'said Kim tartly, using the name that a market-gardener least likes. 'All we sought was to look at that river beyond the field there. '

'River, forsooth!' the man snorted. 'What city do ye hail from not toknow a canal-cut? It runs as straight as an arrow, and I pay for thewater as though it were molten silver. There is a branch of a riverbeyond. But if ye need water I can give that--and milk. '

'Nay, we will go to the river, ' said the lama, striding out. 

'Milk and a meal. ' the man stammered, as he looked at the strange tallfigure. 'I--I would not draw evil upon myself--or my crops. Butbeggars are so many in these hard days. '

'Take notice. ' The lama turned to Kim. 'He was led to speak harshlyby the Red Mist of anger. That clearing from his eyes, he becomescourteous and of an affable heart. May his fields be blessed! Bewarenot to judge men too hastily, O farmer. '

'I have met holy ones who would have cursed thee from hearthstone tobyre, ' said Kim to the abashed man. 'Is he not wise and holy? I am hisdisciple. '

He cocked his nose in the air loftily and stepped across the narrowfield-borders with great dignity. 

'There is no pride, ' said the lama, after a pause, 'there is no prideamong such as follow the Middle Way. '

'But thou hast said he was low-caste and discourteous. '

'Low-caste I did not say, for how can that be which is not? Afterwardshe amended his discourtesy, and I forgot the offence. Moreover, he isas we are, bound upon the Wheel of Things; but he does not tread theway of deliverance. ' He halted at a little runlet among the fields, and considered the hoof-pitted bank. 

'Now, how wilt thou know thy River?' said Kim, squatting in the shadeof some tall sugar-cane. 

'When I find it, an enlightenment will surely be given. This, I feel, is not the place. O littlest among the waters, if only thou couldsttell me where runs my River! But be thou blessed to make the fieldsbear!'

'Look! Look!' Kim sprang to his side and dragged him back. Ayellow-and-brown streak glided from the purple rustling stems to thebank, stretched its neck to the water, drank, and lay still--a bigcobra with fixed, lidless eyes. 

'I have no stick--I have no stick, ' said Kim. 'I will get me one andbreak his back. '

'Why? He is upon the Wheel as we are--a life ascending ordescending--very far from deliverance. Great evil must the soul havedone that is cast into this shape. '

'I hate all snakes, ' said Kim. No native training can quench the whiteman's horror of the Serpent. 

'Let him live out his life. ' The coiled thing hissed and half openedits hood. 'May thy release come soon, brother!' the lama continuedplacidly. 'Hast thou knowledge, by chance, of my River?'

'Never have I seen such a man as thou art, ' Kim whispered, overwhelmed. 'Do the very snakes understand thy talk?'

'Who knows?' He passed within a foot of the cobra's poised head. Itflattened itself among the dusty coils. 

'Come, thou!' he called over his shoulder. 

'Not I, ' said Kim'. 'I go round. '

'Come. He does no hurt. '

Kim hesitated for a moment. The lama backed his order by some dronedChinese quotation which Kim took for a charm. He obeyed and boundedacross the rivulet, and the snake, indeed, made no sign. 

'Never have I seen such a man. ' Kim wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'And now, whither go we?'

'That is for thee to say. I am old, and a stranger--far from my ownplace. But that the rail-carriage fills my head with noises ofdevil-drums I would go in it to Benares now . .. Yet by so going we maymiss the River. Let us find another river. '

Where the hard-worked soil gives three and even four crops a yearthrough patches of sugar-cane, tobacco, long white radishes, andnol-kol, all that day they strolled on, turning aside to every glimpseof water; rousing village dogs and sleeping villages at noonday; thelama replying to the volleyed questions with an unswerving simplicity. They sought a River: a River of miraculous healing. Had any oneknowledge of such a stream?

Sometimes men laughed, but more often heard the story out to the endand offered them a place in the shade, a drink of milk, and a meal. The women were always kind, and the little children as children are theworld over, alternately shy and venturesome. 

Evening found them at rest under the village tree of a mud-walled, mud-roofed hamlet, talking to the headman as the cattle came in fromthe grazing-grounds and the women prepared the day's last meal. Theyhad passed beyond the belt of market-gardens round hungry Umballa, andwere among the mile-wide green of the staple crops. 

He was a white-bearded and affable elder, used to entertainingstrangers. He dragged out a string bedstead for the lama, set warmcooked food before him, prepared him a pipe, and, the eveningceremonies being finished in the village temple, sent for the villagepriest. 

Kim told the older children tales of the size and beauty of Lahore, ofrailway travel, and such-like city things, while the men talked, slowlyas their cattle chew the cud. 

'I cannot fathom it, ' said the headman at last to the priest. 'Howreadest thou this talk?' The lama, his tale told, was silently tellinghis beads. 

'He is a Seeker. ' the priest answered. 'The land is full of such. Remember him who came only last, month--the fakir with the tortoise?'

'Ay, but that man had right and reason, for Krishna Himself appeared ina vision promising him Paradise without the burning-pyre if hejourneyed to Prayag. This man seeks no God who is within my knowledge. '

'Peace, he is old: he comes from far off, and he is mad, ' thesmooth-shaven priest replied. 'Hear me. ' He turned to the lama. 'Three koss [six miles] to the westward runs the great road toCalcutta. '

'But I would go to Benares--to Benares. '

'And to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of Hind. Now my word to thee, Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. Then takethe road' (it was the Grand Trunk Road he meant) 'and test each streamthat it overpasses; for, as I understand, the virtue of thy River liesneither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then, if thyGods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom. '

'That is well said. ' The lama was much impressed by the plan. 'Wewill begin tomorrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such anear road. ' A deep, sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence. Even the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell:but none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long. 

'Seest thou my chela?' he said, diving into his snuff-gourd with animportant sniff. It was his duty to repay courtesy with courtesy. 

'I see--and hear. ' The headman rolled his eye where Kim was chattingto a girl in blue as she laid crackling thorns on a fire. 

'He also has a Search of his own. No river, but a Bull. Yea, a RedBull on a green field will some day raise him to honour. He is, Ithink, not altogether of this world. He was sent of a sudden to aid mein this search, and his name is Friend of all the World. '

The priest smiled. 'Ho, there, Friend of all the World, ' he criedacross the sharp-smelling smoke, 'what art thou?'

'This Holy One's disciple, ' said Kim. 

'He says thou are a but [a spirit]. '

'Can buts eat?' said Kim, with a twinkle. 'For I am hungry. '

'It is no jest, ' cried the lama. 'A certain astrologer of that citywhose name I have forgotten--'

'That is no more than the city of Umballa where we slept last night, 'Kim whispered to the priest. 

'Ay, Umballa was it? He cast a horoscope and declared that my chelashould find his desire within two days. But what said he of themeaning of the stars, Friend of all the World?'

Kim cleared his throat and looked around at the village greybeards. 

'The meaning of my Star is War, ' he replied pompously. 

Somebody laughed at the little tattered figure strutting on thebrickwork plinth under the great tree. Where a native would have laindown, Kim's white blood set him upon his feet. 

'Ay, War, ' he answered. 

'That is a sure prophecy, ' rumbled a deep voice. 'For there is alwayswar along the Border--as I know. '

It was an old, withered man, who had served the Government in the daysof the Mutiny as a native officer in a newly raised cavalry regiment. The Government had given him a good holding in the village, and thoughthe demands of his sons, now grey-bearded officers on their ownaccount, had impoverished him, he was still a person of consequence. English officials--Deputy Commissioners even--turned aside from themain road to visit him, and on those occasions he dressed himself inthe uniform of ancient days, and stood up like a ramrod. 

'But this shall be a great war--a war of eight thousand. ' Kim's voiceshrilled across the quick-gathering crowd, astonishing himself. 

'Redcoats or our own regiments?' the old man snapped, as though hewere asking an equal. His tone made men respect Kim. 

'Redcoats, ' said Kim at a venture. 'Redcoats and guns. '

'But--but the astrologer said no word of this, ' cried the lama, snuffing prodigiously in his excitement. 

'But I know. The word has come to me, who am this Holy One's disciple. There will rise a war--a war of eight thousand redcoats. From Pindi andPeshawur they will be drawn. This is sure. '

'The boy has heard bazar-talk, ' said the priest. 

'But he was always by my side, ' said the lama. 'How should he know? Idid not know. '

'He will make a clever juggler when the old man is dead, ' muttered thepriest to the headman. 'What new trick is this?'

'A sign. Give me a sign, ' thundered the old soldier suddenly. 'Ifthere were war my sons would have told me. '

'When all is ready, thy sons, doubt not, will be told. But it is along road from thy sons to the man in whose hands these things lie. 'Kim warmed to the game, for it reminded him of experiences in theletter-carrying line, when, for the sake of a few pice, he pretended toknow more than he knew. But now he was playing for larger things--thesheer excitement and the sense of power. He drew a new breath and wenton. 

'Old man, give me a sign. Do underlings order the goings of eightthousand redcoats--with guns?'

'No. ' Still the old man answered as though Kim were an equal. 

'Dost thou know who He is, then, that gives the order?'

'I have seen Him. '

'To know again?'

'I have known Him since he was a lieutenant in the topkhana (theArtillery). '

'A tall man. A tall man with black hair, walking thus?' Kim took afew paces in a stiff, wooden style. 

'Ay. But that anyone may have seen. ' The crowd were breathless--stillthrough all this talk. 

'That is true, ' said Kim. 'But I will say more. Look now. First thegreat man walks thus. Then He thinks thus. ' (Kim drew a forefingerover his forehead and downwards till it came to rest by the angle ofthe jaw. ) 'Anon He twitches his fingers thus. Anon He thrusts his hatunder his left armpit. ' Kim illustrated the motion and stood like astork. 

The old man groaned, inarticulate with amazement; and the crowdshivered. 

'So--so--so. But what does He when He is about to give an order?'

'He rubs the skin at the back of his neck--thus. Then falls one fingeron the table and He makes a small sniffing noise through his nose. Then He speaks, saying: "Loose such and such a regiment. Call out suchguns. "'

The old man rose stiffly and saluted. 

'"For"'--Kim translated into the vernacular the clinching sentences hehad heard in the dressing-room at Umballa--'"For, " says He, "we shouldhave done this long ago. It is not war--it is a chastisement. Snff!"'

'Enough. I believe. I have seen Him thus in the smoke of battles. Seen and heard. It is He!'

'I saw no smoke'--Kim's voice shifted to the rapt sing-song of thewayside fortune-teller. 'I saw this in darkness. First came a man tomake things clear. Then came horsemen. Then came He standing in aring of light. The rest followed as I have said. Old man, have Ispoken truth?'

'It is He. Past all doubt it is He. '

The crowd drew a long, quavering breath, staring alternately at the oldman, still at attention, and ragged Kim against the purple twilight. 

'Said I not--said I not he was from the other world?' cried the lamaproudly. 'He is the Friend of all the World. He is the Friend of theStars!'

'At least it does not concern us, ' a man cried. 'O thou youngsoothsayer, if the gift abides with thee at all seasons, I have ared-spotted cow. She may be sister to thy Bull for aught I know--'

'Or I care, ' said Kim. 'My Stars do not concern themselves with thycattle. '

'Nay, but she is very sick, ' a woman struck in. 'My man is a buffalo, or he would have chosen his words better. Tell me if she recover?'

Had Kim been at all an ordinary boy, he would have carried on the play;but one does not know Lahore city, and least of all the fakirs by theTaksali Gate, for thirteen years without also knowing human nature. 

The priest looked at him sideways, something bitterly--a dry andblighting smile. 

'Is there no priest, then, in the village? I thought I had seen agreat one even now, ' cried Kim. 

'Ay--but--' the woman began. 

'But thou and thy husband hoped to get the cow cured for a handful ofthanks. ' The shot told: they were notoriously the closest-fistedcouple in the village. 'It is not well to cheat the temples. Give ayoung calf to thine own priest, and, unless thy Gods are angry pastrecall, she will give milk within a month. '

'A master-beggar art thou, ' purred the priest approvingly. 'Not thecunning of forty years could have done better. Surely thou hast madethe old man rich?'

'A little flour, a little butter and a mouthful of cardamoms, ' Kimretorted, flushed with the praise, but still cautious--'Does one growrich on that? And, as thou canst see, he is mad. But it serves mewhile I learn the road at least. '

He knew what the fakirs of the Taksali Gate were like when they talkedamong themselves, and copied the very inflection of their lewddisciples. 

'Is his Search, then, truth or a cloak to other ends? It may betreasure. '

'He is mad--many times mad. There is nothing else. '

Here the old soldier bobbled up and asked if Kim would accept hishospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, butinsisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to thetemple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from oneface to the other, and drew his own conclusions. 

'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into thedarkness. 

'In my bosom. Where else?'

'Give it me. Quietly and swiftly give it me. '

'But why? Here is no ticket to buy. '

'Am I thy chela, or am I not? Do I not safeguard thy old feet aboutthe ways? Give me the money and at dawn I will return it. ' He slippedhis hand above the lama's girdle and brought away the purse. 

'Be it so--be it so. ' The old man nodded his head. 'This is a greatand terrible world. I never knew there were so many men alive in it. '

Next morning the priest was in a very bad temper, but the lama wasquite happy; and Kim had enjoyed a most interesting evening with theold man, who brought out his cavalry sabre and, balancing it on his dryknees, told tales of the Mutiny and young captains thirty years intheir graves, till Kim dropped off to sleep. 

'Certainly the air of this country is good, ' said the lama. 'I sleeplightly, as do all old men; but last night I slept unwaking till broadday. Even now I am heavy. '

'Drink a draught of hot milk, ' said Kim, who had carried not a few suchremedies to opium-smokers of his acquaintance. 'It is time to take theRoad again. '

'The long Road that overpasses all the rivers of Hind, ' said the lamagaily. 'Let us go. But how thinkest thou, chela, to recompense thesepeople, and especially the priest, for their great kindness? Truly theyare but parast, but in other lives, maybe, they will receiveenlightenment. A rupee to the temple? The thing within is no morethan stone and red paint, but the heart of man we must acknowledge whenand where it is good. '

'Holy One, hast thou ever taken the Road alone?' Kim looked upsharply, like the Indian crows so busy about the fields. 

'Surely, child: from Kulu to Pathankot--from Kulu, where my firstchela died. When men were kind to us we made offerings, and all menwere well-disposed throughout all the Hills. '

'It is otherwise in Hind, ' said Kim drily. 'Their Gods are many-armedand malignant. Let them alone. '

'I would set thee on thy road for a little, Friend of all the World, thou and thy yellow man. ' The old soldier ambled up the villagestreet, all shadowy in the dawn, on a punt, scissor-hocked pony. 'Lastnight broke up the fountains of remembrance in my so-dried heart, andit was as a blessing to me. Truly there is war abroad in the air. Ismell it. See! I have brought my sword. '

He sat long-legged on the little beast, with the big sword at hisside--hand dropped on the pommel--staring fiercely over the flat landstowards the North. 'Tell me again how He showed in thy vision. Comeup and sit behind me. The beast will carry two. '

'I am this Holy One's disciple, ' said Kim, as they cleared thevillage-gate. The villagers seemed almost sorry to be rid of them, butthe priest's farewell was cold and distant. He had wasted some opiumon a man who carried no money. 

'That is well spoken. I am not much used to holy men, but respect isalways good. There is no respect in these days--not even when aCommissioner Sahib comes to see me. But why should one whose Starleads him to war follow a holy man?'

'But he is a holy man, ' said Kim earnestly. 'In truth, and in talk andin act, holy. He is not like the others. I have never seen such anone. We be not fortune-tellers, or jugglers, or beggars. '

'Thou art not. That I can see. But I do not know that other. Hemarches well, though. '

The first freshness of the day carried the lama forward with long, easy, camel-like strides. He was deep in meditation, mechanicallyclicking his rosary. 

They followed the rutted and worn country road that wound across theflat between the great dark-green mango-groves, the line of thesnowcapped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All India was at work inthe fields, to the creaking of well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmenbehind their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even the pony feltthe good influence and almost broke into a trot as Kim laid a hand onthe stirrup-leather. 

'It repents me that I did not give a rupee to the shrine, ' said thelama on the last bead of his eighty-one. 

The old soldier growled in his beard, so that the lama for the firsttime was aware of him. 

'Seekest thou the River also?' said he, turning. 

'The day is new, ' was the reply. 'What need of a river save to waterat before sundown? I come to show thee a short lane to the Big Road. '

'That is a courtesy to be remembered, O man of good will. But why thesword?'

The old soldier looked as abashed as a child interrupted in his game ofmake-believe. 

'The sword, ' he said, fumbling it. 'Oh, that was a fancy of mine anold man's fancy. Truly the police orders are that no man must bearweapons throughout Hind, but'--he cheered up and slapped the hilt--'allthe constabeels hereabout know me. '

'It is not a good fancy, ' said the lama. 'What profit to kill men?'

'Very little--as I know; but if evil men were not now and then slain itwould not be a good world for weaponless dreamers. I do not speakwithout knowledge who have seen the land from Delhi south awash withblood. '

'What madness was that, then?'

'The Gods, who sent it for a plague, alone know. A madness ate intoall the Army, and they turned against their officers. That was thefirst evil, but not past remedy if they had then held their hands. Butthey chose to kill the Sahibs' wives and children. Then came theSahibs from over the sea and called them to most strict account. '

'Some such rumour, I believe, reached me once long ago. They called itthe Black Year, as I remember. '

'What manner of life hast thou led, not to know The Year? A rumourindeed! All earth knew, and trembled!'

'Our earth never shook but once--upon the day that the Excellent Onereceived Enlightenment. '

'Umph! I saw Delhi shake at least--and Delhi is the navel of theworld. '

'So they turned against women and children? That was a bad deed, forwhich the punishment cannot be avoided. '

'Many strove to do so, but with very small profit. I was then in aregiment of cavalry. It broke. Of six hundred and eighty sabres stoodfast to their salt--how many, think you? Three. Of whom I was one. '

'The greater merit. '

'Merit! We did not consider it merit in those days. My people, myfriends, my brothers fell from me. They said: "The time of theEnglish is accomplished. Let each strike out a little holding forhimself. " But I had talked with the men of Sobraon, of Chilianwallah, of Moodkee and Ferozeshah. I said: "Abide a little and the windturns. There is no blessing in this work. " In those days I rodeseventy miles with an English Memsahib and her babe on my saddle-bow. (Wow! That was a horse fit for a man!) I placed them in safety, andback came I to my officer--the one that was not killed of our five. "Give me work, " said I, "for I am an outcast among my own kind, and mycousin's blood is wet on my sabre. " "Be content, " said he. "There isgreat work forward. When this madness is over there is a recompense. "'

'Ay, there is a recompense when the madness is over, surely?' the lamamuttered half to himself. 

'They did not hang medals in those days on all who by accident hadheard a gun fired. No! In nineteen pitched battles was I; insix-and-forty skirmishes of horse; and in small affairs without number. Nine wounds I bear; a medal and four clasps and the medal of an Order, for my captains, who are now generals, remembered me when theKaisar-i-Hind had accomplished fifty years of her reign, and all theland rejoiced. They said: "Give him the Order of Berittish India. " Icarry it upon my neck now. I have also my jaghir [holding] from thehands of the State--a free gift to me and mine. The men of the olddays--they are now Commissioners--come riding to me through thecrops--high upon horses so that all the village sees--and we talk outthe old skirmishes, one dead man's name leading to another. '

'And after?' said the lama. 

'Oh, afterwards they go away, but not before my village has seen. '

'And at the last what wilt thou do?'

'At the last I shall die. '

'And after?'

'Let the Gods order it. I have never pestered Them with prayers. I donot think They will pester me. Look you, I have noticed in my longlife that those who eternally break in upon Those Above with complaintsand reports and bellowings and weepings are presently sent for inhaste, as our Colonel used to send for slack-jawed down-country men whotalked too much. No, I have never wearied the Gods. They willremember this, and give me a quiet place where I can drive my lance inthe shade, and wait to welcome my sons: I have no less than threeRissaldar--majors all--in the regiments. '

'And they likewise, bound upon the Wheel, go forth from life tolife--from despair to despair, ' said the lama below his breath, 'hot, uneasy, snatching. '

'Ay, ' the old soldier chuckled. 'Three Rissaldar--majors in threeregiments. Gamblers a little, but so am I. They must be well mounted;and one cannot take the horses as in the old days one took women. Well, well, my holding can pay for all. How thinkest thou? It is awell-watered strip, but my men cheat me. I do not know how to ask saveat the lance's point. Ugh! I grow angry and I curse them, and theyfeign penitence, but behind my back I know they call me a toothless oldape. '

'Hast thou never desired any other thing?'

'Yes--yes--a thousand times! A straight back and a close-clinging kneeonce more; a quick wrist and a keen eye; and the marrow that makes aman. Oh, the old days--the good days of my strength!'

'That strength is weakness. '

'It has turned so; but fifty years since I could have proved itotherwise, ' the old soldier retorted, driving his stirrup-edge into thepony's lean flank. 

'But I know a River of great healing. '

'I have drank Gunga-water to the edge of dropsy. All she gave me was aflux, and no sort of strength. '

'It is not Gunga. The River that I know washes from all taint of sin. Ascending the far bank one is assured of Freedom. I do not know thylife, but thy face is the face of the honourable and courteous. Thouhast clung to thy Way, rendering fidelity when it was hard to give, inthat Black Year of which I now remember other tales. Enter now uponthe Middle Way which is the path to Freedom. Hear the Most ExcellentLaw, and do not follow dreams. '

'Speak, then, old man, ' the soldier smiled, half saluting. 'We be allbabblers at our age. '

The lama squatted under the shade of a mango, whose shadow playedcheckerwise over his face; the soldier sat stiffly on the pony; andKim, making sure that there were no snakes, lay down in the crotch ofthe twisted roots. 

There was a drowsy buzz of small life in hot sunshine, a cooing ofdoves, and a sleepy drone of well-wheels across the fields. Slowly andimpressively the lama began. At the end of ten minutes the old soldierslid from his pony, to hear better as he said, and sat with the reinsround his wrist. The lama's voice faltered, the periods lengthened. Kim was busy watching a grey squirrel. When the little scolding bunchof fur, close pressed to the branch, disappeared, preacher and audiencewere fast asleep, the old officer's strong-cut head pillowed on hisarm, the lama's thrown back against the tree-bole, where it showed likeyellow ivory. A naked child toddled up, stared, and, moved by somequick impulse of reverence, made a solemn little obeisance before thelama--only the child was so short and fat that it toppled oversideways, and Kim laughed at the sprawling, chubby legs. The child, scared and indignant, yelled aloud. 

'Hai! Hai!' said the soldier, leaping to his feet. 'What is it? Whatorders? . .. It is . .. A child! I dreamed it was an alarm. Littleone--little one--do not cry. Have I slept? That was discourteousindeed!'

'I fear! I am afraid!' roared the child. 

'What is it to fear? Two old men and a boy? How wilt thou ever make asoldier, Princeling?'

The lama had waked too, but, taking no direct notice of the child, clicked his rosary. 

'What is that?' said the child, stopping a yell midway. 'I have neverseen such things. Give them me. '

'Aha. ' said the lama, smiling, and trailing a loop of it on the grass:

This is a handful of cardamoms, This is a lump of ghi: This is milletand chillies and rice, A supper for thee and me!

The child shrieked with joy, and snatched at the dark, glancing beads. 

'Oho!' said the old soldier. 'Whence hadst thou that song, despiserof this world?'

'I learned it in Pathankot--sitting on a doorstep, ' said the lamashyly. 'It is good to be kind to babes. '

'As I remember, before the sleep came on us, thou hadst told me thatmarriage and bearing were darkeners of the true light, stumbling-blocksupon the Way. Do children drop from Heaven in thy country? Is it theWay to sing them songs?'

'No man is all perfect, ' said the lama gravely, recoiling the rosary. 'Run now to thy mother, little one. '

'Hear him!' said the soldier to Kim. 'He is ashamed for that he hasmade a child happy. There was a very good householder lost in thee, mybrother. Hai, child!' He threw it a pice. 'Sweetmeats are alwayssweet. ' And as the little figure capered away into the sunshine: 'Theygrow up and become men. Holy One, I grieve that I slept in the midstof thy preaching. Forgive me. '

'We be two old men, ' said the lama. 'The fault is mine. I listened tothy talk of the world and its madness, and one fault led to the next. '

'Hear him! What harm do thy Gods suffer from play with a babe? Andthat song was very well sung. Let us go on and I will sing thee thesong of Nikal Seyn before Delhi--the old song. '

And they fared out from the gloom of the mango tope, the old man'shigh, shrill voice ringing across the field, as wail by long-drawn wailhe unfolded the story of Nikal Seyn [Nicholson]--the song that men singin the Punjab to this day. Kim was delighted, and the lama listenedwith deep interest. 

'Ahi! Nikal Seyn is dead--he died before Delhi! Lances of the North, take vengeance for Nikal Seyn. ' He quavered it out to the end, markingthe trills with the flat of his sword on the pony's rump. 

'And now we come to the Big Road, ' said he, after receiving thecompliments of Kim; for the lama was markedly silent. 'It is longsince I have ridden this way, but thy boy's talk stirred me. See, HolyOne--the Great Road which is the backbone of all Hind. For the mostpart it is shaded, as here, with four lines of trees; the middleroad--all hard--takes the quick traffic. In the days beforerail-carriages the Sahibs travelled up and down here in hundreds. Nowthere are only country-carts and such like. Left and right is therougher road for the heavy carts--grain and cotton and timber, fodder, lime and hides. A man goes in safety here for at every few koss is apolice-station. The police are thieves and extortioners (I myselfwould patrol it with cavalry--young recruits under a strong captain), but at least they do not suffer any rivals. All castes and kinds ofmen move here. 

'Look! Brahmins and chumars, bankers and tinkers, barbers and bunnias, pilgrims and potters--all the world going and coming. It is to me as ariver from which I am withdrawn like a log after a flood. '

And truly the Grand Trunk Road is a wonderful spectacle. It runsstraight, bearing without crowding India's traffic for fifteen hundredmiles--such a river of life as nowhere else exists in the world. Theylooked at the green-arched, shade-flecked length of it, the whitebreadth speckled with slow-pacing folk; and the two-roomedpolice-station opposite. 

'Who bears arms against the law?' a constable called out laughingly, as he caught sight of the soldier's sword. 'Are not the police enoughto destroy evil-doers?'

'It was because of the police I bought it, ' was the answer. 'Does allgo well in Hind?'

'Rissaldar Sahib, all goes well. '

'I am like an old tortoise, look you, who puts his head out from thebank and draws it in again. Ay, this is the Road of Hindustan. All mencome by this way. .. '

'Son of a swine, is the soft part of the road meant for thee to scratchthy back upon? Father of all the daughters of shame and husband of tenthousand virtueless ones, thy mother was devoted to a devil, being ledthereto by her mother. Thy aunts have never had a nose for sevengenerations! Thy sister--What Owl's folly told thee to draw thy cartsacross the road? A broken wheel? Then take a broken head and put thetwo together at leisure!'

The voice and a venomous whip-cracking came out of a pillar of dustfifty yards away, where a cart had broken down. A thin, high Kathiawarmare, with eyes and nostrils aflame, rocketed out of the jam, snortingand wincing as her rider bent her across the road in chase of ashouting man. He was tall and grey-bearded, sitting the almost madbeast as a piece of her, and scientifically lashing his victim betweenplunges. 

The old man's face lit with pride. 'My child!' said he briefly, andstrove to rein the pony's neck to a fitting arch. 

'Am I to be beaten before the police?' cried the carter. 'Justice! Iwill have Justice--'

'Am I to be blocked by a shouting ape who upsets ten thousand sacksunder a young horse's nose? That is the way to ruin a mare. '

'He speaks truth. He speaks truth. But she follows her man close, 'said the old man. The carter ran under the wheels of his cart andthence threatened all sorts of vengeance. 

'They are strong men, thy sons, ' said the policeman serenely, pickinghis teeth. 

The horseman delivered one last vicious cut with his whip and came onat a canter. 

'My father!' He reigned back ten yards and dismounted. 

The old man was off his pony in an instant, and they embraced as dofather and son in the East. 

Chapter 4

 Good Luck, she is never a lady, But the cursedest quean alive, Tricksy, wincing, and jady-- Kittle to lead or drive. Greet her--she's hailing a stranger! Meet her--she's busking to leave! Let her alone for a shrew to the bone And the hussy comes plucking your sleeve! Largesse! Largesse, O Fortune! Give or hold at your will. If I've no care for Fortune, Fortune must follow me still!

 The Wishing-Caps. 

Then, lowering their voices, they spoke together. Kim came to restunder a tree, but the lama tugged impatiently at his elbow. 

'Let us go on. The River is not here. '

'Hai mai! Have we not walked enough for a little? Our River will notrun away. Patience, and he will give us a dole. '

'This. ' said the old soldier suddenly, 'is the Friend of the Stars. Hebrought me the news yesterday. Having seen the very man Himself, in avision, giving orders for the war. '

'Hm!' said his son, all deep in his broad chest. 'He came by abazar-rumour and made profit of it. '

His father laughed. 'At least he did not ride to me begging for a newcharger, and the Gods know how many rupees. Are thy brothers'regiments also under orders?'

'I do not know. I took leave and came swiftly to thee in case--'

'In case they ran before thee to beg. O gamblers and spendthrifts all!But thou hast never yet ridden in a charge. A good horse is neededthere, truly. A good follower and a good pony also for the marching. Let us see--let us see. ' He thrummed on the pommel. 

'This is no place to cast accounts in, my father. Let us go to thyhouse. '

'At least pay the boy, then: I have no pice with me, and he broughtauspicious news. Ho! Friend of all the World, a war is toward as thouhast said. '

'Nay, as I know, the war, ' returned Kim composedly. 

'Eh?' said the lama, fingering his beads, all eager for the road. 

'My master does not trouble the Stars for hire. We brought the newsbear witness, we brought the news, and now we go. ' Kim half-crookedhis hand at his side. 

The son tossed a silver coin through the sunlight, grumbling somethingabout beggars and jugglers. It was a four-anna piece, and would feedthem well for days. The lama, seeing the flash of the metal, droned ablessing. 

'Go thy way, Friend of all the World, ' piped the old soldier, wheelinghis scrawny mount. 'For once in all my days I have met a trueprophet--who was not in the Army. '

Father and son swung round together: the old man sitting as erect asthe younger. 

A Punjabi constable in yellow linen trousers slouched across the road. He had seen the money pass. 

'Halt!' he cried in impressive English. 'Know ye not that there is atakkus of two annas a head, which is four annas, on those who enter theRoad from this side-road? It is the order of the Sirkar, and the moneyis spent for the planting of trees and the beautification of the ways. '

'And the bellies of the police, ' said Kim, slipping out of arm's reach. 'Consider for a while, man with a mud head. Think you we came from thenearest pond like the frog, thy father-in-law? Hast thou ever heardthe name of thy brother?'

'And who was he? Leave the boy alone, ' cried a senior constable, immensely delighted, as he squatted down to smoke his pipe in theveranda. 

'He took a label from a bottle of belaitee-pani [soda-water], and, affixing it to a bridge, collected taxes for a month from those whopassed, saying that it was the Sirkar's order. Then came an Englishmanand broke his head. Ah, brother, I am a town-crow, not a village-crow!'

The policeman drew back abashed, and Kim hooted at him all down theroad. 

'Was there ever such a disciple as I?' he cried merrily to the lama. 'All earth would have picked thy bones within ten mile of Lahore cityif I had not guarded thee. '

'I consider in my own mind whether thou art a spirit, sometimes, orsometimes an evil imp, ' said the lama, smiling slowly. 

'I am thy chela. ' Kim dropped into step at his side--thatindescribable gait of the long-distance tramp all the world over. 

'Now let us walk, ' muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosarythey walked in silence mile upon mile. The lama as usual, was deep inmeditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide. This broad, smilingriver of life, he considered, was a vast improvement on the cramped andcrowded Lahore streets. There were new people and new sights at everystride--castes he knew and castes that were altogether out of hisexperience. 

They met a troop of long-haired, strong-scented Sansis with baskets oflizards and other unclean food on their backs, their lean dogs sniffingat their heels. These people kept their own side of the road', movingat a quick, furtive jog-trot, and all other castes gave them ampleroom; for the Sansi is deep pollution. Behind them, walking wide andstiffly across the strong shadows, the memory of his leg-irons still onhim, strode one newly released from the jail; his full stomach andshiny skin to prove that the Government fed its prisoners better thanmost honest men could feed themselves. Kim knew that walk well, andmade broad jest of it as they passed. Then an Akali, a wild-eyed, wild-haired Sikh devotee in the blue-checked clothes of his faith, withpolished-steel quoits glistening on the cone of his tall blue turban, stalked past, returning from a visit to one of the independent SikhStates, where he had been singing the ancient glories of the Khalsa toCollege-trained princelings in top-boots and white-cord breeches. Kimwas careful not to irritate that man; for the Akali's temper is shortand his arm quick. Here and there they met or were overtaken by thegaily dressed crowds of whole villages turning out to some local fair;the women, with their babes on their hips, walking behind the men, theolder boys prancing on sticks of sugar-cane, dragging rude brass modelsof locomotives such as they sell for a halfpenny, or flashing the suninto the eyes of their betters from cheap toy mirrors. One could seeat a glance what each had bought; and if there were any doubt it neededonly to watch the wives comparing, brown arm against brown arm, thenewly purchased dull glass bracelets that come from the North-West. These merry-makers stepped slowly, calling one to the other andstopping to haggle with sweetmeat-sellers, or to make a prayer beforeone of the wayside shrines--sometimes Hindu, sometimes Mussalman--whichthe low-caste of both creeds share with beautiful impartiality. Asolid line of blue, rising and falling like the back of a caterpillarin haste, would swing up through the quivering dust and trot past to achorus of quick cackling. That was a gang of changars--the women whohave taken all the embankments of all the Northern railways under theircharge--a flat-footed, big-bosomed, strong-limbed, blue-petticoatedclan of earth-carriers, hurrying north on news of a job, and wasting notime by the road. They belong to the caste whose men do not count, andthey walked with squared elbows, swinging hips, and heads on high, assuits women who carry heavy weights. A little later a marriageprocession would strike into the Grand Trunk with music and shoutings, and a smell of marigold and jasmine stronger even than the reek of thedust. One could see the bride's litter, a blur of red and tinsel, staggering through the haze, while the bridegroom's bewreathed ponyturned aside to snatch a mouthful from a passing fodder-cart. Then Kimwould join the Kentish-fire of good wishes and bad jokes, wishing thecouple a hundred sons and no daughters, as the saying is. Still moreinteresting and more to be shouted over it was when a strolling jugglerwith some half-trained monkeys, or a panting, feeble bear, or a womanwho tied goats' horns to her feet, and with these danced on aslack-rope, set the horses to shying and the women to shrill, long-drawn quavers of amazement. 

The lama never raised his eyes. He did not note the money-lender onhis goose-rumped pony, hastening along to collect the cruel interest;or the long-shouting, deep-voiced little mob--still in militaryformation--of native soldiers on leave, rejoicing to be rid of theirbreeches and puttees, and saying the most outrageous things to the mostrespectable women in sight. Even the seller of Ganges-water he did notsee, and Kim expected that he would at least buy a bottle of thatprecious stuff. He looked steadily at the ground, and strode assteadily hour after hour, his soul busied elsewhere. But Kim was inthe seventh heaven of joy. The Grand Trunk at this point was built onan embankment to guard against winter floods from the foothills, sothat one walked, as it were, a little above the country, along astately corridor, seeing all India spread out to left and right. Itwas beautiful to behold the many-yoked grain and cotton wagons crawlingover the country roads: one could hear their axles, complaining a mileaway, coming nearer, till with shouts and yells and bad words theyclimbed up the steep incline and plunged on to the hard main road, carter reviling carter. It was equally beautiful to watch the people, little clumps of red and blue and pink and white and saffron, turningaside to go to their own villages, dispersing and growing small by twosand threes across the level plain. Kim felt these things, though hecould not give tongue to his feelings, and so contented himself withbuying peeled sugar-cane and spitting the pith generously about hispath. From time to time the lama took snuff, and at last Kim couldendure the silence no longer. 

'This is a good land--the land of the South!' said he. 'The air isgood; the water is good. Eh?'

'And they are all bound upon the Wheel, ' said the lama. 'Bound fromlife after life. To none of these has the Way been shown. ' He shookhimself back to this world. 

'And now we have walked a weary way, ' said Kim. 'Surely we shall sooncome to a parao [a resting-place]. Shall we stay there? Look, the sunis sloping. '

'Who will receive us this evening?'

'That is all one. This country is full of good folk. Besides' he sunkhis voice beneath a whisper--'we have money. '

The crowd thickened as they neared the resting-place which marked theend of their day's journey. A line of stalls selling very simple foodand tobacco, a stack of firewood, a police-station, a well, ahorse-trough, a few trees, and, under them, some trampled ground dottedwith the black ashes of old fires, are all that mark a parao on theGrand Trunk; if you except the beggars and the crows--both hungry. 

By this time the sun was driving broad golden spokes through the lowerbranches of the mango-trees; the parakeets and doves were coming homein their hundreds; the chattering, grey-backed Seven Sisters, talkingover the day's adventures, walked back and forth in twos and threesalmost under the feet of the travellers; and shufflings and scufflingsin the branches showed that the bats were ready to go out on thenight-picket. Swiftly the light gathered itself together, painted foran instant the faces and the cartwheels and the bullocks' horns as redas blood. Then the night fell, changing the touch of the air, drawinga low, even haze, like a gossamer veil of blue, across the face of thecountry, and bringing out, keen and distinct, the smell of wood-smokeand cattle and the good scent of wheaten cakes cooked on ashes. Theevening patrol hurried out of the police-station with importantcoughings and reiterated orders; and a live charcoal ball in the cup ofa wayside carter's hookah glowed red while Kim's eye mechanicallywatched the last flicker of the sun on the brass tweezers. 

The life of the parao was very like that of the Kashmir Serai on asmall scale. Kim dived into the happy Asiatic disorder which, if youonly allow time, will bring you everything that a simple man needs. 

His wants were few, because, since the lama had no caste scruples, cooked food from the nearest stall would serve; but, for luxury's sake, Kim bought a handful of dung-cakes to build a fire. All about, comingand going round the little flames, men cried for oil, or grain, orsweetmeats, or tobacco, jostling one another while they waited theirturn at the well; and under the men's voices you heard from halted, shuttered carts the high squeals and giggles of women whose facesshould not be seen in public. 

Nowadays, well-educated natives are of opinion that when theirwomenfolk travel--and they visit a good deal--it is better to take themquickly by rail in a properly screened compartment; and that custom isspreading. But there are always those of the old rock who hold by theuse of their forefathers; and, above all, there are always the oldwomen--more conservative than the men--who toward the end of their daysgo on a pilgrimage. They, being withered and undesirable, do not, under certain circumstances, object to unveiling. After their longseclusion, during which they have always been in business touch with athousand outside interests, they love the bustle and stir of the openroad, the gatherings at the shrines, and the infinite possibilities ofgossip with like-minded dowagers. Very often it suits a longsufferingfamily that a strong-tongued, iron-willed old lady should disportherself about India in this fashion; for certainly pilgrimage isgrateful to the Gods. So all about India, in the most remote places, as in the most public, you find some knot of grizzled servitors innominal charge of an old lady who is more or less curtained and hidaway in a bullock-cart. Such men are staid and discreet, and when aEuropean or a high-caste native is near will net their charge with mostelaborate precautions; but in the ordinary haphazard chances ofpilgrimage the precautions are not taken. The old lady is, after all, intensely human, and lives to look upon life. 

Kim marked down a gaily ornamented ruth or family bullock-cart, with abroidered canopy of two domes, like a double-humped camel, which hadjust been drawn into the par. Eight men made its retinue, and two ofthe eight were armed with rusty sabres--sure signs that they followed aperson of distinction, for the common folk do not bear arms. Anincreasing cackle of complaints, orders, and jests, and what to aEuropean would have been bad language, came from behind the curtains. Here was evidently a woman used to command. 

Kim looked over the retinue critically. Half of them were thin-legged, grey-bearded Ooryas from down country. The other half wereduffle-clad, felt-hatted hillmen of the North; and that mixture toldits own tale, even if he had not overheard the incessant sparringbetween the two divisions. The old lady was going south on avisit--probably to a rich relative, most probably to a son-in-law, whohad sent up an escort as a mark of respect. The hillmen would be ofher own people--Kulu or Kangra folk. It was quite clear that she wasnot taking her daughter down to be wedded, or the curtains would havebeen laced home and the guard would have allowed no one near the car. A merry and a high-spirited dame, thought Kim, balancing the dung-cakein one hand, the cooked food in the other, and piloting the lama with anudging shoulder. Something might be made out of the meeting. The lamawould give him no help, but, as a conscientious chela, Kim wasdelighted to beg for two. 

He built his fire as close to the cart as he dared, waiting for one ofthe escort to order him away. The lama dropped wearily to the ground, much as a heavy fruit-eating bat cowers, and returned to his rosary. 

'Stand farther off, beggar!' The order was shouted in brokenHindustani by one of the hillmen. 

'Huh! It is only a pahari [a hillman]', said Kim over his shoulder. 'Since when have the hill-asses owned all Hindustan?'

The retort was a swift and brilliant sketch of Kim's pedigree for threegenerations. 

'Ah!' Kim's voice was sweeter than ever, as he broke the dung-cakeinto fit pieces. 'In my country we call that the beginning oflove-talk. '

A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the hillman on his mettlefor a second shot. 

'Not so bad--not so bad, ' said Kim with calm. 'But have a care, mybrother, lest we--we, I say--be minded to give a curse or so in return. And our curses have the knack of biting home. '

The Ooryas laughed; the hillman sprang forward threateningly. The lamasuddenly raised his head, bringing his huge tam-o'-shanter hat into thefull light of Kim's new-started fire. 

'What is it?' said he. 

The man halted as though struck to stone. 'I--I--am saved from a greatsin, ' he stammered. 

'The foreigner has found him a priest at last, ' whispered one of theOoryas. 

'Hai! Why is that beggar-brat not well beaten?' the old woman cried. 

The hillman drew back to the cart and whispered something to thecurtain. There was dead silence, then a muttering. 

'This goes well, ' thought Kim, pretending neither to see nor hear. 

'When--when--he has eaten'--the hillman fawned on Kim--'it--it isrequested that the Holy One will do the honour to talk to one who wouldspeak to him. '

'After he has eaten he will sleep, ' Kim returned loftily. He could notquite see what new turn the game had taken, but stood resolute toprofit by it. 'Now I will get him his food. ' The last sentence, spoken loudly, ended with a sigh as of faintness. 

'I--I myself and the others of my people will look to that--if it ispermitted. '

'It is permitted, ' said Kim, more loftily than ever. 'Holy One, thesepeople will bring us food. '

'The land is good. All the country of the South is good--a great and aterrible world, ' mumbled the lama drowsily. 

'Let him sleep, ' said Kim, 'but look to it that we are well fed when hewakes. He is a very holy man. '

Again one of the Ooryas said something contemptuously. 

'He is not a fakir. He is not a down-country beggar, ' Kim went onseverely, addressing the stars. 'He is the most holy of holy men. Heis above all castes. I am his chela. '

'Come here!' said the flat thin voice behind the curtain; and Kimcame, conscious that eyes he could not see were staring at him. Oneskinny brown finger heavy with rings lay on the edge of the cart, andthe talk went this way:

'Who is that one?'

'An exceedingly holy one. He comes from far off. He comes from Tibet. '

'Where in Tibet?'

'From behind the snows--from a very far place. He knows the stars; hemakes horoscopes; he reads nativities. But he does not do this formoney. He does it for kindness and great charity. I am his disciple. I am called also the Friend of the Stars. '

'Thou art no hillman. '

'Ask him. He will tell thee I was sent to him from the Stars to showhim an end to his pilgrimage. '

'Humph! Consider, brat, that I am an old woman and not altogether afool. Lamas I know, and to these I give reverence, but thou art nomore a lawful chela than this my finger is the pole of this wagon. Thouart a casteless Hindu--a bold and unblushing beggar, attached, belike, to the Holy One for the sake of gain. '

'Do we not all work for gain?' Kim changed his tone promptly to matchthat altered voice. 'I have heard'--this was a bow drawn at aventure--'I have heard--'

'What hast thou heard?' she snapped, rapping with the finger. 

'Nothing that I well remember, but some talk in the bazars, which isdoubtless a lie, that even Rajahs--small Hill Rajahs--'

'But none the less of good Rajput blood. '

'Assuredly of good blood. That these even sell the more comely oftheir womenfolk for gain. Down south they sell them--to zemindars andsuch--all of Oudh. '

If there be one thing in the world that the small Hill Rajahs deny itis just this charge; but it happens to be one thing that the bazarsbelieve, when they discuss the mysterious slave-traffics of India. Theold lady explained to Kim, in a tense, indignant whisper, preciselywhat manner and fashion of malignant liar he was. Had Kim hinted thiswhen she was a girl, he would have been pommelled to death that sameevening by an elephant. This was perfectly true. 

'Ahai! I am only a beggar's brat, as the Eye of Beauty has said, ' hewailed in extravagant terror. 

'Eye of Beauty, forsooth! Who am I that thou shouldst flingbeggar-endearments at me?' And yet she laughed at the long-forgottenword. 'Forty years ago that might have been said, and not withouttruth. Ay. Thirty years ago. But it is the fault of this gadding upand down Hind that a king's widow must jostle all the scum of the land, and be made a mock by beggars. '

'Great Queen, ' said Kim promptly, for he heard her shaking withindignation, 'I am even what the Great Queen says I am; but none theless is my master holy. He has not yet heard the Great Queen's orderthat--'

'Order? I order a Holy One--a Teacher of the Law--to come and speak toa woman? Never!'

'Pity my stupidity. I thought it was given as an order--'

'It was not. It was a petition. Does this make all clear?'

A silver coin clicked on the edge of the cart. Kim took it andsalaamed profoundly. The old lady recognized that, as the eyes and theears of the lama, he was to be propitiated. 

'I am but the Holy One's disciple. When he has eaten perhaps he willcome. '

'Oh, villain and shameless rogue!' The jewelled forefinger shookitself at him reprovingly; but he could hear the old lady's chuckle. 

'Nay, what is it?' he said, dropping into his most caressing andconfidential tone--the one, he well knew, that few could resist. 'Is--is there any need of a son in thy family? Speak freely, for wepriests--' That last was a direct plagiarism from a fakir by theTaksali Gate. 

'We priests! Thou art not yet old enough to--' She checked the jokewith another laugh. 'Believe me, now and again, we women, O priest, think of other matters than sons. Moreover, my daughter has borne herman-child. '

'Two arrows in the quiver are better than one; and three are betterstill. ' Kim quoted the proverb with a meditative cough, lookingdiscreetly earthward. 

'True--oh, true. But perhaps that will come. Certainly thosedown-country Brahmins are utterly useless. I sent gifts and monies andgifts again to them, and they prophesied. '

'Ah, ' drawled Kim, with infinite contempt, 'they prophesied!' Aprofessional could have done no better. 

'And it was not till I remembered my own Gods that my prayers wereheard. I chose an auspicious hour, and--perhaps thy Holy One has heardof the Abbot of the Lung-Cho lamassery. It was to him I put thematter, and behold in the due time all came about as I desired. TheBrahmin in the house of the father of my daughter's son has since saidthat it was through his prayers--which is a little error that I willexplain to him when we reach our journey's end. And so afterwards I goto Buddh Gaya, to make shraddha for the father of my children. '

'Thither go we. '

'Doubly auspicious, ' chirruped the old lady. 'A second son at least!'

'O Friend of all the World!' The lama had waked, and, simply as achild bewildered in a strange bed, called for Kim. 

'I come! I come, Holy One!' He dashed to the fire, where he found thelama already surrounded by dishes of food, the hillmen visibly adoringhim and the Southerners looking sourly. 

'Go back! Withdraw!' Kim cried. 'Do we eat publicly like dogs?' Theyfinished the meal in silence, each turned a little from the other, andKim topped it with a native-made cigarette. 

'Have I not said an hundred times that the South is a good land? Hereis a virtuous and high-born widow of a Hill Rajah on pilgrimage, shesays, to Buddha Gay. She it is sends us those dishes; and when thouart well rested she would speak to thee. '

'Is this also thy work?' The lama dipped deep into his snuff-gourd. 

'Who else watched over thee since our wonderful journey began?' Kim'seyes danced in his head as he blew the rank smoke through his nostrilsand stretched him on the dusty ground. 'Have I failed to oversee thycomforts, Holy One?'

'A blessing on thee. ' The lama inclined his solemn head. 'I haveknown many men in my so long life, and disciples not a few. But tonone among men, if so be thou art woman-born, has my heart gone out asit has to thee--thoughtful, wise, and courteous; but something of asmall imp. '

'And I have never seen such a priest as thou. ' Kim considered thebenevolent yellow face wrinkle by wrinkle. 'It is less than three dayssince we took the road together, and it is as though it were a hundredyears. '

'Perhaps in a former life it was permitted that I should have renderedthee some service. Maybe'--he smiled--'I freed thee from a trap; or, having caught thee on a hook in the days when I was not enlightened, cast thee back into the river. '

'Maybe, ' said Kim quietly. He had heard this sort of speculation againand again, from the mouths of many whom the English would not considerimaginative. 'Now, as regards that woman in the bullock-cart. I thinkshe needs a second son for her daughter. '

'That is no part of the Way, ' sighed the lama. 'But at least she isfrom the Hills. Ah, the Hills, and the snow of the Hills!'

He rose and stalked to the cart. Kim would have given his ears to cometoo, but the lama did not invite him; and the few words he caught werein an unknown tongue, for they spoke some common speech of themountains. The woman seemed to ask questions which the lama turnedover in his mind before answering. Now and again he heard the singsongcadence of a Chinese quotation. It was a strange picture that Kimwatched between drooped eyelids. The lama, very straight and erect, the deep folds of his yellow clothing slashed with black in the lightof the parao fires precisely as a knotted tree-trunk is slashed withthe shadows of the low sun, addressed a tinsel and lacquered ruth whichburned like a many-coloured jewel in the same uncertain light. Thepatterns on the gold-worked curtains ran up and down, melting andreforming as the folds shook and quivered to the night wind; and whenthe talk grew more earnest the jewelled forefinger snapped out littlesparks of light between the embroideries. Behind the cart was a wallof uncertain darkness speckled with little flames and alive withhalf-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early eveninghad settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steadychumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highestwas the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eatenand pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in fullblast sound like bull-frogs. 

At last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a waddedcotton-quilt and spread it carefully by the fire. 

'She deserves ten thousand grandchildren, ' thought Kim. 'None theless, but for me, those gifts would not have come. '

'A virtuous woman--and a wise one. ' The lama slackened off, joint byjoint, like a slow camel. 'The world is full of charity to those whofollow the Way. ' He flung a fair half of the quilt over Kim. 

'And what said she?' Kim rolled up in his share of it. 

'She asked me many questions and propounded many problems--the most ofwhich were idle tales which she had heard from devil-serving priestswho pretend to follow the Way. Some I answered, and some I said werefoolish. Many wear the Robe, but few keep the Way. '

'True. That is true. ' Kim used the thoughtful, conciliatory tone ofthose who wish to draw confidences. 

'But by her lights she is most right-minded. She desires greatly thatwe should go with her to Buddh Gaya; her road being ours, as Iunderstand, for many days' journey to the southward. '

'And?'

'Patience a little. To this I said that my Search came before allthings. She had heard many foolish legends, but this great truth of myRiver she had never heard. Such are the priests of the lower hills!She knew the Abbot of Lung-Cho, but she did not know of my River--northe tale of the Arrow. '

'And?'

'I spoke therefore of the Search, and of the Way, and of matters thatwere profitable; she desiring only that I should accompany her and makeprayer for a second son. '

'Aha! "We women" do not think of anything save children, ' said Kimsleepily. 

'Now, since our roads run together for a while, I do not see that we inany way depart from our Search if so be we accompany her--at least asfar as--I have forgotten the name of the city. '

'Ohe!' said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to one of theOoryas a few yards away. 'Where is your master's house?'

'A little behind Saharunpore, among the fruit gardens. ' He named thevillage. 

'That was the place, ' said the lama. 'So far, at least, we can go withher. '

'Flies go to carrion, ' said the Oorya, in an abstracted voice. 

'For the sick cow a crow; for the sick man a Brahmin. ' Kim breathedthe proverb impersonally to the shadow-tops of the trees overhead. 

The Oorya grunted and held his peace. 

'So then we go with her, Holy One?'

'Is there any reason against? I can still step aside and try all therivers that the road overpasses. She desires that I should come. Shevery greatly desires it. '

Kim stifled a laugh in the quilt. When once that imperious old ladyhad recovered from her natural awe of a lama he thought it probablethat she would be worth listening to. 

He was nearly asleep when the lama suddenly quoted a proverb: 'Thehusbands of the talkative have a great reward hereafter. ' Then Kimheard him snuff thrice, and dozed off, still laughing. 

The diamond-bright dawn woke men and crows and bullocks together. Kimsat up and yawned, shook himself, and thrilled with delight. This wasseeing the world in real truth; this was life as he would haveit--bustling and shouting, the buckling of belts, and beating ofbullocks and creaking of wheels, lighting of fires and cooking of food, and new sights at every turn of the approving eye. The morning mistswept off in a whorl of silver, the parrots shot away to some distantriver in shrieking green hosts: all the well-wheels within ear-shotwent to work. India was awake, and Kim was in the middle of it, moreawake and more excited than anyone, chewing on a twig that he wouldpresently use as a toothbrush; for he borrowed right- and left-handedlyfrom all the customs of the country he knew and loved. There was noneed to worry about food--no need to spend a cowrie at the crowdedstalls. He was the disciple of a holy man annexed by a strong-willedold lady. All things would be prepared for them, and when they wererespectfully invited so to do they would sit and eat. For therest--Kim giggled here as he cleaned his teeth--his hostess wouldrather heighten the enjoyment of the road. He inspected her bullockscritically, as they came up grunting and blowing under the yokes. Ifthey went too fast--it was not likely--there would be a pleasant seatfor himself along the pole; the lama would sit beside the driver. Theescort, of course, would walk. The old lady, equally of course, wouldtalk a great deal, and by what he had heard that conversation would notlack salt. She was already ordering, haranguing, rebuking, and, itmust be said, cursing her servants for delays. 

'Get her her pipe. In the name of the Gods, get her her pipe and stopher ill-omened mouth, ' cried an Oorya, tying up his shapeless bundlesof bedding. 'She and the parrots are alike. They screech in the dawn. '

'The lead-bullocks! Hai! Look to the lead-bullocks!' They werebacking and wheeling as a grain-cart's axle caught them by the horns. 'Son of an owl, where dost thou go?' This to the grinning carter. 

'Ai! Yai! Yai! That within there is the Queen of Delhi going to prayfor a son, ' the man called back over his high load. 'Room for theQueen of Delhi and her Prime Minister the grey monkey climbing up hisown sword!' Another cart loaded with bark for a down-country tanneryfollowed close behind, and its driver added a few compliments as theruth-bullocks backed and backed again. 

From behind the shaking curtains came one volley of invective. It didnot last long, but in kind and quality, in blistering, bitingappropriateness, it was beyond anything that even Kim had heard. Hecould see the carter's bare chest collapse with amazement, as the mansalaamed reverently to the voice, leaped from the pole, and helped theescort haul their volcano on to the main road. Here the voice told himtruthfully what sort of wife he had wedded, and what she was doing inhis absence. 

'Oh, shabash!' murmured Kim, unable to contain himself, as the manslunk away. 

'Well done, indeed? It is a shame and a scandal that a poor woman maynot go to make prayer to her Gods except she be jostled and insulted byall the refuse of Hindustan--that she must eat gali [abuse] as men eatghi. But I have yet a wag left to my tongue--a word or two well spokenthat serves the occasion. And still am I without my tobacco! Who isthe one-eyed and luckless son of shame that has not yet prepared mypipe?'

It was hastily thrust in by a hillman, and a trickle of thick smokefrom each corner of the curtains showed that peace was restored. 

If Kim had walked proudly the day before, disciple of a holy man, todayhe paced with tenfold pride in the train of a semi-royal procession, with a recognized place under the patronage of an old lady of charmingmanners and infinite resource. The escort, their heads tied upnative-fashion, fell in on either side the cart, shuffling enormousclouds of dust. 

The lama and Kim walked a little to one side; Kim chewing his stick ofsugarcane, and making way for no one under the status of a priest. They could hear the old lady's tongue clack as steadily as arice-husker. She bade the escort tell her what was going on on theroad; and so soon as they were clear of the parao she flung back thecurtains and peered out, her veil a third across her face. Her men didnot eye her directly when she addressed them, and thus the proprietieswere more or less observed. 

A dark, sallowish District Superintendent of Police, faultlesslyuniformed, an Englishman, trotted by on a tired horse, and, seeing fromher retinue what manner of person she was, chaffed her. 

'O mother, ' he cried, 'do they do this in the zenanas? Suppose anEnglishman came by and saw that thou hast no nose?'

'What?' she shrilled back. 'Thine own mother has no nose? Why sayso, then, on the open road?'

It was a fair counter. The Englishman threw up his hand with thegesture of a man hit at sword-play. She laughed and nodded. 

'Is this a face to tempt virtue aside?' She withdrew all her veil andstared at him. 

It was by no means lovely, but as the man gathered up his reins hecalled it a Moon of Paradise, a Disturber of Integrity, and a few otherfantastic epithets which doubled her up with mirth. 

'That is a nut-cut [rogue], ' she said. 'All police-constables arenut-cuts; but the police-wallahs are the worst. Hai, my son, thou hastnever learned all that since thou camest from Belait [Europe]. Whosuckled thee?'

'A pahareen--a hillwoman of Dalhousie, my mother. Keep thy beautyunder a shade--O Dispenser of Delights, ' and he was gone. 

'These be the sort'--she took a fine judicial tone, and stuffed hermouth with pan--'These be the sort to oversee justice. They know theland and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe, suckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worsethan the pestilence. They do harm to Kings. ' Then she told a long, long tale to the world at large, of an ignorant young policeman who haddisturbed some small Hill Rajah, a ninth cousin of her own, in thematter of a trivial land-case, winding up with a quotation from a workby no means devotional. 

Then her mood changed, and she bade one of the escort ask whether thelama would walk alongside and discuss matters of religion. So Kimdropped back into the dust and returned to his sugar-cane. For an houror more the lama's tam-o'shanter showed like a moon through the haze;and, from all he heard, Kim gathered that the old woman wept. One ofthe Ooryas half apologized for his rudeness overnight, saying that hehad never known his mistress of so bland a temper, and he ascribed itto the presence of the strange priest. Personally, he believed inBrahmins, though, like all natives, he was acutely aware of theircunning and their greed. Still, when Brahmins but irritated withbegging demands the mother of his master's wife, and when she sent themaway so angry that they cursed the whole retinue (which was the realreason of the second off-side bullock going lame, and of the polebreaking the night before), he was prepared to accept any priest of anyother denomination in or out of India. To this Kim assented with wisenods, and bade the Oorya observe that the lama took no money, and thatthe cost of his and Kim's food would be repaid a hundred times in thegood luck that would attend the caravan henceforward. He also toldstories of Lahore city, and sang a song or two which made the escortlaugh. As a town-mouse well acquainted with the latest songs by themost fashionable composers--they are women for the most part--Kim had adistinct advantage over men from a little fruit-village behindSaharunpore, but he let that advantage be inferred. 

At noon they turned aside to eat, and the meal was good, plentiful, andwell-served on plates of clean leaves, in decency, out of drift of thedust. They gave the scraps to certain beggars, that all requirementsmight be fulfilled, and sat down to a long, luxurious smoke. The oldlady had retreated behind her curtains, but mixed most freely in thetalk, her servants arguing with and contradicting her as servants dothroughout the East. She compared the cool and the pines of the Kangraand Kulu hills with the dust and the mangoes of the South; she told atale of some old local Gods at the edge of her husband's territory; sheroundly abused the tobacco which she was then smoking, reviled allBrahmins, and speculated without reserve on the coming of manygrandsons. 

Chapter 5

 Here come I to my own again Fed, forgiven, and known again Claimed by bone of my bone again, And sib to flesh of my flesh! The fatted calf is dressed for me, But the husks have greater zest for me . .. I think my pigs will be best for me, So I'm off to the styes afresh. 

 The Prodigal Son. 

Once more the lazy, string-tied, shuffling procession got under way, and she slept till they reached the next halting-stage. It was a veryshort march, and time lacked an hour to sundown, so Kim cast about formeans of amusement. 

'But why not sit and rest?' said one of the escort. 'Only the devilsand the English walk to and fro without reason. '

'Never make friends with the Devil, a Monkey, or a Boy. No man knowswhat they will do next, ' said his fellow. 

Kim turned a scornful back--he did not want to hear the old story howthe Devil played with the boys and repented of it and walked idlyacross country. 

The lama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed astream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had hereceived any warning that he had found his River. Insensibly, too, thecomfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of beingproperly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by awell-born woman, had weaned his thoughts a little from the Search. Andfurther, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest; havingnothing of the white man's impatience, but a great faith. 

'Where goest thou?' he called after Kim. 

'Nowhither--it was a small march, and all this'--Kim waved his handsabroad--'is new to me. '

'She is beyond question a wise and a discerning woman. But it is hardto meditate when--'

'All women are thus. ' Kim spoke as might have Solomon. 

'Before the lamassery was a broad platform, ' the lama muttered, loopingup the well-worn rosary, 'of stone. On that I have left the marks ofmy feet--pacing to and fro with these. '

He clicked the beads, and began the 'Om mane pudme hum's of hisdevotion; grateful for the cool, the quiet, and the absence of dust. 

One thing after another drew Kim's idle eye across the plain. Therewas no purpose in his wanderings, except that the build of the hutsnear by seemed new, and he wished to investigate. 

They came out on a broad tract of grazing-ground, brown and purple inthe afternoon light, with a heavy clump of mangoes in the centre. Itstruck Kim as curious that no shrine stood in so eligible a spot: theboy was observing as any priest for these things. Far across the plainwalked side by side four men, made small by the distance. He lookedintently under his curved palms and caught the sheen of brass. 

'Soldiers. White soldiers!' said he. 'Let us see. '

'It is always soldiers when thou and I go out alone together. But Ihave never seen the white soldiers. '

'They do no harm except when they are drunk. Keep behind this tree. '

They stepped behind the thick trunks in the cool dark of themango-tope. Two little figures halted; the other two came forwarduncertainly. They were the advance-party of a regiment on the march, sent out, as usual, to mark the camp. They bore five-foot sticks withfluttering flags, and called to each other as they spread over the flatearth. 

At last they entered the mango-grove, walking heavily. 

'It's here or hereabouts--officers' tents under the trees, I take it, an' the rest of us can stay outside. Have they marked out for thebaggage-wagons behind?'

They cried again to their comrades in the distance, and the roughanswer came back faint and mellowed. 

'Shove the flag in here, then, ' said one. 

'What do they prepare?' said the lama, wonderstruck. 'This is a greatand terrible world. What is the device on the flag?'

A soldier thrust a stave within a few feet of them, grunteddiscontentedly, pulled it up again, conferred with his companion, wholooked up and down the shaded cave of greenery, and returned it. 

Kim stared with all his eyes, his breath coming short and sharp betweenhis teeth. The soldiers stamped off into the sunshine. 

'O Holy One!' he gasped. 'My horoscope! The drawing in the dust bythe priest at Umballa! Remember what he said. First cometwo--ferashes--to make all things ready--in a dark place, as it isalways at the beginning of a vision. '

'But this is not vision, ' said the lama. 'It is the world's Illusion, and no more. '

'And after them comes the Bull--the Red Bull on the green field. Look!It is he!'

He pointed to the flag that was snap snapping in the evening breeze notten feet away. It was no more than an ordinary camp marking-flag; butthe regiment, always punctilious in matters of millinery, had chargedit with the regimental device, the Red Bull, which is the crest of theMavericks--the great Red Bull on a background of Irish green. 

'I see, and now I remember. ' said the lama. 'Certainly it is thyBull. Certainly, also, the two men came to make all ready. '

'They are soldiers--white soldiers. What said the priest? "The signover against the Bull is the sign of War and armed men. " Holy One, this thing touches my Search. '

'True. It is true. ' The lama stared fixedly at the device that flamedlike a ruby in the dusk. 'The priest at Umballa said that thine wasthe sign of War. '

'What is to do now?'

'Wait. Let us wait. '

'Even now the darkness clears, ' said Kim. It was only natural that thedescending sun should at last strike through the tree-trunks, acrossthe grove, filling it with mealy gold light for a few minutes; but toKim it was the crown of the Umballa Brahmin's prophecy. 

'Hark!' said the lama. 'One beats a drum--far off!'

At first the sound, carrying diluted through the still air, resembledthe beating of an artery in the head. Soon a sharpness was added. 

'Ah! The music, ' Kim explained. He knew the sound of a regimentalband, but it amazed the lama. 

At the far end of the plain a heavy, dusty column crawled in sight. Then the wind brought the tune:

 We crave your condescension To tell you what we know Of marching in the Mulligan Guards To Sligo Port below!

Here broke in the shrill-tongued fifes:

 We shouldered arms, We marched--we marched away. From Phoenix Park We marched to Dublin Bay. The drums and the fifes, Oh, sweetly they did play, As we marched--marched--marched--with the Mulligan Guards!

It was the band of the Mavericks playing the regiment to camp; for themen were route-marching with their baggage. The rippling column swunginto the level--carts behind it divided left and right, ran about likean ant-hill, and . .. 

'But this is sorcery!' said the lama. 

The plain dotted itself with tents that seemed to rise, all spread, from the carts. Another rush of men invaded the grove, pitched a hugetent in silence, ran up yet eight or nine more by the side of it, unearthed cooking-pots, pans, and bundles, which were taken possessionof by a crowd of native servants; and behold the mango-tope turned intoan orderly town as they watched!

'Let us go, ' said the lama, sinking back afraid, as the fires twinkledand white officers with jingling swords stalked into the Mess-tent. 

'Stand back in the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of a fire, 'said Kim, his eyes still on the flag. He had never before watched theroutine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty minutes. 

'Look! look! look!' clucked the lama. 'Yonder comes a priest. ' Itwas Bennett, the Church of England Chaplain of the regiment, limping industy black. One of his flock had made some rude remarks about theChaplain's mettle; and to abash him Bennett had marched step by stepwith the men that day. The black dress, gold cross on the watch-chain, the hairless face, and the soft, black wideawake hat would have markedhim as a holy man anywhere in all India. He dropped into a camp-chairby the door of the Mess-tent and slid off his boots. Three or fourofficers gathered round him, laughing and joking over his exploit. 

'The talk of white men is wholly lacking in dignity, ' said the lama, who judged only by tone. 'But I considered the countenance of thatpriest and I think he is learned. Is it likely that he will understandour talk? I would talk to him of my Search. '

'Never speak to a white man till he is fed, ' said Kim, quoting awell-known proverb. 'They will eat now, and--and I do not think theyare good to beg from. Let us go back to the resting-place. After wehave eaten we will come again. It certainly was a Red Bull--my RedBull. '

They were both noticeably absent-minded when the old lady's retinue settheir meal before them; so none broke their reserve, for it is notlucky to annoy guests. 

'Now, ' said Kim, picking his teeth, 'we will return to that place; butthou, O Holy One, must wait a little way off, because thy feet areheavier than mine and I am anxious to see more of that Red Bull. '

'But how canst thou understand the talk? Walk slowly. The road isdark, ' the lama replied uneasily. 

Kim put the question aside. 'I marked a place near to the trees, ' saidhe, 'where thou canst sit till I call. Nay, ' as the lama made somesort of protest, 'remember this is my Search--the Search for my RedBull. The sign in the Stars was not for thee. I know a little of thecustoms of white soldiers, and I always desire to see some new things. '

'What dost thou not know of this world?' The lama squatted obedientlyin a little hollow of the ground not a hundred yards from the hump ofthe mango-trees dark against the star-powdered sky. 

'Stay till I call. ' Kim flitted into the dusk. He knew that in allprobability there would be sentries round the camp, and smiled tohimself as he heard the thick boots of one. A boy who can dodge overthe roofs of Lahore city on a moonlight night, using every little patchand corner of darkness to discomfit his pursuer, is not likely to bechecked by a line of well-trained soldiers. He paid them thecompliment of crawling between a couple, and, running and halting, crouching and dropping flat, worked his way toward the lightedMess-tent where, close pressed behind the mango-tree, he waited tillsome chance word should give him a returnable lead. 

The one thing now in his mind was further information as to the RedBull. For aught he knew, and Kim's limitations were as curious andsudden as his expansions, the men, the nine hundred thorough devils ofhis father's prophecy, might pray to the beast after dark, as Hinduspray to the Holy Cow. That at least would be entirely right andlogical, and the padre with the gold cross would be therefore the manto consult in the matter. On the other hand, remembering sober-facedpadres whom he had avoided in Lahore city, the priest might be aninquisitive nuisance who would bid him learn. But had it not beenproven at Umballa that his sign in the high heavens portended War andarmed men? Was he not the Friend of the Stars as well as of all theWorld, crammed to the teeth with dreadful secrets? Lastly--and firstlyas the undercurrent of all his quick thoughts--this adventure, thoughhe did not know the English word, was a stupendous lark--a delightfulcontinuation of his old flights across the housetops, as well as thefulfilment of sublime prophecy. He lay belly-flat and wriggled towardsthe Mess-tent door, a hand on the amulet round his neck. 

It was as he suspected. The Sahibs prayed to their God; for in thecentre of the Mess-table--its sole ornament when they were on the lineof march--stood a golden bull fashioned from old-time loot of theSummer Palace at Pekin--a red-gold bull with lowered head, ramping upona field of Irish green. To him the Sahibs held out their glasses andcried aloud confusedly. 

Now the Reverend Arthur Bennett always left Mess after that toast, andbeing rather tired by his march his movements were more abrupt thanusual. Kim, with slightly raised head, was still staring at his totemon the table, when the Chaplain stepped on his right shoulder-blade. Kim flinched under the leather, and, rolling sideways, brought down theChaplain, who, ever a man of action, caught him by the throat andnearly choked the life out of him. Kim then kicked him desperately inthe stomach. Mr Bennett gasped and doubled up, but without relaxinghis grip, rolled over again, and silently hauled Kim to his own tent. The Mavericks were incurable practical jokers; and it occurred to theEnglishman that silence was best till he had made complete inquiry. 

'Why, it's a boy!' he said, as he drew his prize under the light ofthe tent-pole lantern, then shaking him severely cried: 'What were youdoing? You're a thief. Choor? Mallum?' His Hindustani was verylimited, and the ruffled and disgusted Kim intended to keep to thecharacter laid down for him. As he recovered his breath he wasinventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to somescullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little underthe Chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came; he ducked for thedoorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping theamulet-string and closing on the amulet. 

'Give it me. O, give it me. Is it lost? Give me the papers. '

The words were in English--the tinny, saw-cut English of thenative-bred, and the Chaplain jumped. 

'A scapular, ' said he, opening his hand. 'No, some sort of heathencharm. Why--why, do you speak English? Little boys who steal arebeaten. You know that?'

'I do not--I did not steal. ' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at alifted stick. 'Oh, give it me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it fromme. '

The Chaplain took no heed, but, going to the tent door, called aloud. A fattish, clean-shaven man appeared. 

'I want your advice, Father Victor, ' said Bennett. 'I found this boyin the dark outside the Mess-tent. Ordinarily, I should have chastisedhim and let him go, because I believe him to be a thief. But it seemshe talks English, and he attaches some sort of value to a charm roundhis neck. I thought perhaps you might help me. '

Between himself and the Roman Catholic Chaplain of the Irish contingentlay, as Bennett believed, an unbridgeable gulf, but it was noticeablethat whenever the Church of England dealt with a human problem she wasvery likely to call in the Church of Rome. Bennett's officialabhorrence of the Scarlet Woman and all her ways was only equalled byhis private respect for Father Victor. 

'A thief talking English, is it? Let's look at his charm. No, it'snot a scapular, Bennett. ' He held out his hand. 

'But have we any right to open it? A sound whipping--'

'I did not thieve, ' protested Kim. 'You have hit me kicks all over mybody. Now give me my charm and I will go away. '

'Not quite so fast. We'll look first, ' said Father Victor, leisurelyrolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's 'ne varietur' parchment, hisclearance-certificate, and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this lastO'Hara--with some confused idea that he was doing wonders for hisson--had scrawled scores of times: 'Look after the boy. Please lookafter the boy'--signing his name and regimental number in full. 

'Powers of Darkness below!' said Father Victor, passing all over to MrBennett. 'Do you know what these things are?'

'Yes. ' said Kim. 'They are mine, and I want to go away. '

'I do not quite understand, ' said Mr Bennett. 'He probably broughtthem on purpose. It may be a begging trick of some kind. '

'I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with his company, then. There's the makings of a gay mystery here. Ye believe in Providence, Bennett?'

'I hope so. '

'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the same thing. Powers ofDarkness! Kimball O'Hara! And his son! But then he's a native, and Isaw Kimball married myself to Annie Shott. How long have you had thesethings, boy?'

'Ever since I was a little baby. '

Father Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim'supper garment. 'You see, Bennett, he's not very black. What's yourname?'

'Kim. '

'Or Kimball?'

'Perhaps. Will you let me go away?'

'What else?'

'They call me Kim Rishti ke. That is Kim of the Rishti. '

'What is that--"Rishti"?'

'Eye-rishti--that was the Regiment--my father's. '

'Irish--oh, I see. '

'Yess. That was how my father told me. My father, he has lived. '

'Has lived where?'

'Has lived. Of course he is dead--gone-out. '

'Oh! That's your abrupt way of putting it, is it?'

Bennett interrupted. 'It is possible I have done the boy an injustice. He is certainly white, though evidently neglected. I am sure I musthave bruised him. I do not think spirits--'

'Get him a glass of sherry, then, and let him squat on the cot. Now, Kim, ' continued Father Victor, 'no one is going to hurt you. Drink thatdown and tell us about yourself. The truth, if you've no objection. '

Kim coughed a little as he put down the empty glass, and considered. This seemed a time for caution and fancy. Small boys who prowl aboutcamps are generally turned out after a whipping. But he had received nostripes; the amulet was evidently working in his favour, and it lookedas though the Umballa horoscope and the few words that he couldremember of his father's maunderings fitted in most miraculously. Elsewhy did the fat padre seem so impressed, and why the glass of hotyellow drink from the lean one?

'My father, he is dead in Lahore city since I was very little. Thewoman, she kept kabarri shop near where the hire-carriages are. ' Kimbegan with a plunge, not quite sure how far the truth would serve him. 

'Your mother?'

'No!'--with a gesture of disgust. 'She went out when I was born. Myfather, he got these papers from the Jadoo-Gher what do you call that?'(Bennett nodded) 'because he was in good-standing. What do you callthat?' (again Bennett nodded). 'My father told me that. He said, too, and also the Brahmin who made the drawing in the dust at Umballatwo days ago, he said, that I shall find a Red Bull on a green fieldand that the Bull shall help me. '

'A phenomenal little liar, ' muttered Bennett. 

'Powers of Darkness below, what a country!' murmured Father Victor. 'Go on, Kim. '

'I did not thieve. Besides, I am just now disciple of a very holy man. He is sitting outside. We saw two men come with flags, making theplace ready. That is always so in a dream, or on account ofa--a--prophecy. So I knew it was come true. I saw the Red Bull on thegreen field, and my father he said: "Nine hundred pukka devils and theColonel riding on a horse will look after you when you find the RedBull!" I did not know what to do when I saw the Bull, but I went awayand I came again when it was dark. I wanted to see the Bull again, andI saw the Bull again with the--the Sahibs praying to it. I think theBull shall help me. The holy man said so too. He is sitting outside. Will you hurt him, if I call him a shout now? He is very holy. He canwitness to all the things I say, and he knows I am not a thief. '

'"Sahibs praying to a bull!" What in the world do you make of that?'said Bennett. "'Disciple of a holy man!" Is the boy mad?'

'It's O'Hara's boy, sure enough. O'Hara's boy leagued with all thePowers of Darkness. It's very much what his father would have done ifhe was drunk. We'd better invite the holy man. He may know something. '

'He does not know anything, ' said Kim. 'I will show you him if youcome. He is my master. Then afterwards we can go. '

'Powers of Darkness!' was all that Father Victor could say, as Bennettmarched off, with a firm hand on Kim's shoulder. 

They found the lama where he had dropped. 

'The Search is at an end for me, ' shouted Kim in the vernacular. 'Ihave found the Bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurtyou. Come to the fat priest's tent with this thin man and see the end. It is all new, and they cannot talk Hindi. They are only uncurrieddonkeys. '

'Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance, ' the lamareturned. 'I am glad if thou art rejoiced, chela. '

Dignified and unsuspicious, he strode into the little tent, saluted theChurches as a Churchman, and sat down by the open charcoal brazier. The yellow lining of the tent reflected in the lamplight made his facered-gold. 

Bennett looked at him with the triple-ringed uninterest of the creedthat lumps nine-tenths of the world under the title of 'heathen'. 

'And what was the end of the Search? What gift has the Red Bullbrought?' The lama addressed himself to Kim. 

'He says, "What are you going to do?"' Bennett was staring uneasily atFather Victor, and Kim, for his own ends, took upon himself the officeof interpreter. 

'I do not see what concern this fakir has with the boy, who is probablyhis dupe or his confederate, ' Bennett began. 'We cannot allow anEnglish boy--Assuming that he is the son of a Mason, the sooner he goesto the Masonic Orphanage the better. '

'Ah! That's your opinion as Secretary to the Regimental Lodge, ' saidFather Victor; 'but we might as well tell the old man what we are goingto do. He doesn't look like a villain. '

'My experience is that one can never fathom the Oriental mind. Now, Kimball, I wish you to tell this man what I say word for word. '

Kim gathered the import of the next few sentences and began thus:

'Holy One, the thin fool who looks like a camel says that I am the sonof a Sahib. '

'But how?'

'Oh, it is true. I knew it since my birth, but he could only find itout by rending the amulet from my neck and reading all the papers. Hethinks that once a Sahib is always a Sahib, and between the two of themthey purpose to keep me in this Regiment or to send me to a madrissah[a school]. It has happened before. I have always avoided it. Thefat fool is of one mind and the camel-like one of another. But that isno odds. I may spend one night here and perhaps the next. It hashappened before. Then I will run away and return to thee. '

'But tell them that thou art my chela. Tell them how thou didst cometo me when I was faint and bewildered. Tell them of our Search, andthey will surely let thee go now. '

'I have already told them. They laugh, and they talk of the police. '

'What are you saying?' asked Mr Bennett. 

'Oah. He only says that if you do not let me go it will stop him inhis business--his ur-gent private af-fairs. ' This last was areminiscence of some talk with a Eurasian clerk in the CanalDepartment, but it only drew a smile, which nettled him. 'And if youdid know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurryto interfere. '

'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling, as hewatched the lama's face. 

'There is a River in this country which he wishes to find so verreemuch. It was put out by an Arrow which--' Kim tapped his footimpatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to hisclumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by our Lord God Buddha, you know, and if you wash there you are washed away from all your sins and madeas white as cotton-wool. ' (Kim had heard mission-talk in his time. ) 'Iam his disciple, and we must find that River. It is so verree valuableto us. '

'Say that again, ' said Bennett. Kim obeyed, with amplifications. 

'But this is gross blasphemy!' cried the Church of England. 

'Tck! Tck!' said Father Victor sympathetically. 'I'd give a gooddeal to be able to talk the vernacular. A river that washes away sin!And how long have you two been looking for it?'

'Oh, many days. Now we wish to go away and look for it again. It isnot here, you see. '

'I see, ' said Father Victor gravely. 'But he can't go on in that oldman's company. It would be different, Kim, if you were not a soldier'sson. Tell him that the Regiment will take care of you and make you asgood a man as your--as good a man as can be. Tell him that if hebelieves in miracles he must believe that--'

'There is no need to play on his credulity, ' Bennett interrupted. 

'I'm doing no such thing. He must believe that the boy's cominghere--to his own Regiment--in search of his Red Bull is in the natureof a miracle. Consider the chances against it, Bennett. This one boyin all India, and our Regiment of all others on the line o' march forhim to meet with! It's predestined on the face of it. Yes, tell himit's Kismet. Kismet, mallum? [Do you understand?]'

He turned towards the lama, to whom he might as well have talked ofMesopotamia. 

'They say, '--the old man's eye lighted at Kim's speech 'they say thatthe meaning of my horoscope is now accomplished, and that being ledback--though as thou knowest I went out of curiosity--to these peopleand their Red Bull I must needs go to a madrissah and be turned into aSahib. Now I make pretence of agreement, for at the worst it will bebut a few meals eaten away from thee. Then I will slip away and followdown the road to Saharunpore. Therefore, Holy One, keep with that Kuluwoman--on no account stray far from her cart till I come again. Pastquestion, my sign is of War and of armed men. See how they have givenme wine to drink and set me upon a bed of honour! My father must havebeen some great person. So if they raise me to honour among them, good. If not, good again. However it goes, I will run back to theewhen I am tired. But stay with the Rajputni, or I shall miss thy feet. .. Oah yess, ' said the boy, 'I have told him everything you tell me tosay. '

'And I cannot see any need why he should wait, ' said Bennett, feelingin his trouser-pocket. 'We can investigate the details later--and Iwill give him a ru--'

'Give him time. Maybe he's fond of the lad, ' said Father Victor, halfarresting the clergyman's motion. 

The lama dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over hiseyes. 

'What can he want now?'

'He says'--Kim put up one hand. 'He says: "Be quiet. " He wants tospeak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word ofwhat he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very badcurses. When he takes those beads like that, you see, he always wantsto be quiet. '

The two Englishmen sat overwhelmed, but there was a look in Bennett'seye that promised ill for Kim when he should be relaxed to thereligious arm. 

'A Sahib and the son of a Sahib--' The lama's voice was harsh withpain. 'But no white man knows the land and the customs of the land asthou knowest. How comes it this is true?'

'What matter, Holy One?--but remember it is only for a night or two. Remember, I can change swiftly. It will all be as it was when I firstspoke to thee under Zam-Zammah the great gun--'

'As a boy in the dress of white men--when I first went to the WonderHouse. And a second time thou wast a Hindu. What shall the thirdincarnation be?' He chuckled drearily. 'Ah, chela, thou has done awrong to an old man because my heart went out to thee. '

'And mine to thee. But how could I know that the Red Bull would bringme to this business?'

The lama covered his face afresh, and nervously rattled the rosary. Kimsquatted beside him and laid hold upon a fold of his clothing. 

'Now it is understood that the boy is a Sahib?' he went on in amuffled tone. 'Such a Sahib as was he who kept the images in theWonder House. ' The lama's experience of white men was limited. Heseemed to be repeating a lesson. 'So then it is not seemly that heshould do other than as the Sahibs do. He must go back to his ownpeople. '

'For a day and a night and a day, ' Kim pleaded. 

'No, ye don't!' Father Victor saw Kim edging towards the door, andinterposed a strong leg. 

'I do not understand the customs of white men. The Priest of theImages in the Wonder House in Lahore was more courteous than the thinone here. This boy will be taken from me. They will make a Sahib ofmy disciple? Woe to me! How shall I find my River? Have they nodisciples? Ask. '

'He says he is very sorree that he cannot find the River now any more. He says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him? He wants tobe washed of his sins. '

Neither Bennett nor Father Victor found any answer ready. 

Said Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if youwill let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We willlook for that River like before I was caught. I wish I did not comehere to find the Red Bull and all that sort of thing. I do not wantit. '

'It's the very best day's work you ever did for yourself, young man, 'said Bennett. 

'Good heavens, I don't know how to console him, ' said Father Victor, watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, andyet he's a good man--I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give himthat rupee he'll curse you root and branch!'

They listened to each other's breathing--three--five full minutes. Then the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into spaceand emptiness. 

'And I am a Follower of the Way, ' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mineand the punishment is mine. I made believe to myself for now I see itwas but make-belief--that thou wast sent to me to aid in the Search. So my heart went out to thee for thy charity and thy courtesy and thewisdom of thy little years. But those who follow the Way must permitnot the fire of any desire or attachment, for that is all Illusion. Assays . .. ' He quoted an old, old Chinese text, backed it with another, and reinforced these with a third. 'I stepped aside from the Way, mychela. It was no fault of thine. I delighted in the sight of life, the new people upon the roads, and in thy joy at seeing these things. I was pleased with thee who should have considered my Search and mySearch alone. Now I am sorrowful because thou art taken away and myRiver is far from me. It is the Law which I have broken!'

'Powers of Darkness below!' said Father Victor, who, wise in theconfessional, heard the pain in every sentence. 

'I see now that the sign of the Red Bull was a sign for me as well asfor thee. All Desire is red--and evil. I will do penance and find myRiver alone. '

'At least go back to the Kulu woman, ' said Kim, 'otherwise thou wilt belost upon the roads. She will feed thee till I run back to thee. '

The lama waved a hand to show that the matter was finally settled inhis mind. 

'Now, '--his tone altered as he turned to Kim, --'what will they do withthee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill. '

'Make me a Sahib--so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Donot grieve. '

'Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?' He pointed to FatherVictor. 'Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing swordsand stamping heavily?'

'Maybe. '

'That is not well. These men follow desire and come to emptiness. Thoumust not be of their sort. '

'The Umballa priest said that my Star was War, ' Kim interjected. 'Iwill ask these fools--but there is truly no need. I will run away thisnight, for all I wanted to see the new things. '

Kim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translatingthe replies to the lama. 

Then: 'He says, "You take him from me and you cannot say what you willmake him. " He says, "Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thingto make a child. "'

'You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see. Kimball, Isuppose you'd like to be a soldier?'

'Gorah-log [white-folk]. No-ah! No-ah!' Kim shook his headviolently. There was nothing in his composition to which drill androutine appealed. 'I will not be a soldier. '

'You will be what you're told to be, ' said Bennett; 'and you should begrateful that we're going to help you. '

Kim smiled compassionately. If these men lay under the delusion thathe would do anything that he did not fancy, so much the better. 

Another long silence followed. Bennett fidgeted with impatience, andsuggested calling a sentry to evict the fakir. 

'Do they give or sell learning among the Sahibs? Ask them, ' said thelama, and Kim interpreted. 

'They say that money is paid to the teacher--but that money theRegiment will give . .. What need? It is only for a night. '

'And--the more money is paid the better learning is given?' The lamadisregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to payfor learning. To help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit. ' Therosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors. 

'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?And in what city is that teaching given?'

'Well, ' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'thatdepends. The Regiment would pay for you all the time you are at theMilitary Orphanage; or you might go on the Punjab Masonic Orphanage'slist (not that he or you 'ud understand what that means); but the bestschooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St Xavier's inPartibus at Lucknow. ' This took some time to interpret, for Bennettwished to cut it short. 

'He wants to know how much?' said Kim placidly. 

'Two or three hundred rupees a year. ' Father Victor was long past anysense of amazement. Bennett, impatient, did not understand. 

'He says: "Write that name and the money upon a paper and give ithim. " And he says you must write your name below, because he is goingto write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. Hesays the other man is a fool. He is going away. '

The lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search, ' he cried, and was gone. 

'He'll run slap into the sentries, ' cried Father Victor, jumping up asthe lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy. ' Kim made swiftmotion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challengeoutside. The lama had disappeared. 

Kim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least thelama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu, and the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that thetwo padres were so evidently excited. They talked long in undertones, Father Victor urging some scheme on Mr Bennett, who seemed incredulous. All this was very new and fascinating, but Kim felt sleepy. Theycalled men into the tent--one of them certainly was the Colonel, as hisfather had prophesied--and they asked him an infinity of questions, chiefly about the woman who looked after him, all of which Kim answeredtruthfully. They did not seem to think the woman a good guardian. 

After all, this was the newest of his experiences. Sooner or later, ifhe chose, he could escape into great, grey, formless India, beyondtents and padres and colonels. Meantime, if the Sahibs were to beimpressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a whiteman. 

After much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to asergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him escape. TheRegiment would go on to Umballa, and Kim would be sent up, partly atthe expense of the Lodge and in part by subscription, to a place calledSanawar. 

'It's miraculous past all whooping, Colonel, ' said Father Victor, whenhe had talked without a break for ten minutes. 'His Buddhist friendhas levanted after taking my name and address. I can't quite make outwhether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he is preparingsome sort of witchcraft on his own account. ' Then to Kim: 'You'll liveto be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man ofyou at Sanawar--even at the price o' making you a Protestant. '

'Certainly--most certainly, ' said Bennett. 

'But you will not go to Sanawar, ' said Kim. 

'But we will go to Sanawar, little man. That's the order of theCommander-in-Chief, who's a trifle more important than O'Hara's son. '

'You will not go to Sanawar. You will go to thee War. '

There was a shout of laughter from the full tent. 

'When you know your own Regiment a trifle better you won't confuse theline of march with line of battle, Kim. We hope to go to "thee War"sometime. '

'Oah, I know all thatt. ' Kim drew his bow again at a venture. If theywere not going to the war, at least they did not know what he knew ofthe talk in the veranda at Umballa. 

'I know you are not at thee war now; but I tell you that as soon as youget to Umballa you will be sent to the war--the new war. It is a warof eight thousand men, besides the guns. '

'That's explicit. D'you add prophecy to your other gifts? Take himalong, sergeant. Take up a suit for him from the Drums, an' take carehe doesn't slip through your fingers. Who says the age of miracles isgone by? I think I'll go to bed. My poor mind's weakening. '

At the far end of the camp, silent as a wild animal, an hour later satKim, newly washed all over, in a horrible stiff suit that rasped hisarms and legs. 

'A most amazin' young bird, ' said the sergeant. 'He turns up in chargeof a yellow-headed buck-Brahmin priest, with his father's Lodgecertificates round his neck, talkin' God knows what all of a red bull. The buck-Brahmin evaporates without explanations, an' the bhoy setscross-legged on the Chaplain's bed prophesyin' bloody war to the men atlarge. Injia's a wild land for a God-fearin' man. I'll just tie hisleg to the tent-pole in case he'll go through the roof. What did yesay about the war?'

'Eight thousand men, besides guns, ' said Kim. 'Very soon you will see. '

'You're a consolin' little imp. Lie down between the Drums an' go tobye-bye. Those two boys will watch your slumbers. '

Chapter 6

 Now I remember comrades-- Old playmates on new seas-- Whenas we traded orpiment Among the savages. Ten thousand leagues to southward, And thirty years removed-- They knew not noble Valdez, But me they knew and loved. 

 Song of Diego Valdez. 

Very early in the morning the white tents came down and disappeared asthe Mavericks took a side-road to Umballa. It did not skirt theresting-place, and Kim, trudging beside a baggage-cart under fire ofcomments from soldiers' wives, was not so confident as overnight. Hediscovered that he was closely watched--Father Victor on the one side, and Mr Bennett on the other. 

In the forenoon the column checked. A camel-orderly handed the Colonela letter. He read it, and spoke to a Major. Half a mile in the rear, Kim heard a hoarse and joyful clamour rolling down on him through thethick dust. Then someone beat him on the back, crying: 'Tell us how yeknew, ye little limb of Satan? Father dear, see if ye can make himtell. '

A pony ranged alongside, and he was hauled on to the priest's saddlebow. 

'Now, my son, your prophecy of last night has come true. Our ordersare to entrain at Umballa for the Front tomorrow. '

'What is thatt?' said Kim, for 'front' and 'entrain' were newish wordsto him. 

'We are going to "thee War, " as you called it. '

'Of course you are going to thee War. I said last night. '

'Ye did; but, Powers o' Darkness, how did ye know?'

Kim's eyes sparkled. He shut his lips, nodded his head, and lookedunspeakable things. The Chaplain moved on through the dust, andprivates, sergeants, and subalterns called one another's attention tothe boy. The Colonel, at the head of the column, stared at himcuriously. 'It was probably some bazar rumour. ' he said; 'but eventhen--' He referred to the paper in his hand. 'Hang it all, the thingwas only decided within the last forty-eight hours. '

'Are there many more like you in India?' said Father Victor, 'or areyou by way o' being a lusus naturae?'

'Now I have told you, ' said the boy, 'will you let me go back to my oldman? If he has not stayed with that woman from Kulu, I am afraid hewill die. '

'By what I saw of him he's as well able to take care of himself as you. No. Ye've brought us luck, an' we're goin' to make a man of you. I'lltake ye back to your baggage-cart and ye'll come to me this evening. '

For the rest of the day Kim found himself an object of distinguishedconsideration among a few hundred white men. The story of hisappearance in camp, the discovery of his parentage, and his prophecy, had lost nothing in the telling. A big, shapeless white woman on apile of bedding asked him mysteriously whether he thought her husbandwould come back from the war. Kim reflected gravely, and said that hewould, and the woman gave him food. In many respects, this bigprocession that played music at intervals--this crowd that talked andlaughed so easily--resembled a festival in Lahore city. So far, therewas no sign of hard work, and he resolved to lend the spectacle hispatronage. At evening there came out to meet them bands of music, andplayed the Mavericks into camp near Umballa railway station. That wasan interesting night. Men of other regiments came to visit theMavericks. The Mavericks went visiting on their own account. Theirpickets hurried forth to bring them back, met pickets of strangeregiments on the same duty; and, after a while, the bugles blew madlyfor more pickets with officers to control the tumult. The Maverickshad a reputation for liveliness to live up to. But they fell in on theplatform next morning in perfect shape and condition; and Kim, leftbehind with the sick, women, and boys, found himself shouting farewellsexcitedly as the trains drew away. Life as a Sahib was amusing so far;but he touched it with a cautious hand. Then they marched him back incharge of a drummer-boy to empty, lime-washed barracks, whose floorswere covered with rubbish and string and paper, and whose ceilings gaveback his lonely footfall. Native-fashion, he curled himself up on astripped cot and went to sleep. An angry man stumped down the veranda, woke him up, and said he was a schoolmaster. This was enough for Kim, and he retired into his shell. He could just puzzle out the variousEnglish Police notices in Lahore city, because they affected hiscomfort; and among the many guests of the woman who looked after himhad been a queer German who painted scenery for the Parsee travellingtheatre. He told Kim that he had been 'on the barricades in'Forty-eight, ' and therefore--at least that was how it struck Kim--hewould teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kickedas far as single letters, but did not think well of them. 

'I do not know anything. Go away!' said Kim, scenting evil. Hereuponthe man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wingwhere a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to bestill if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully. The man explained something or other with white lines on a black boardfor at least half an hour, and Kim continued his interrupted nap. Hemuch disapproved of the present aspect of affairs, for this was thevery school and discipline he had spent two-thirds of his young life inavoiding. Suddenly a beautiful idea occurred to him, and he wonderedthat he had not thought of it before. 

The man dismissed them, and first to spring through the veranda intothe open sunshine was Kim. 

''Ere, you! 'Alt! Stop!' said a high voice at his heels. 'I've gotto look after you. My orders are not to let you out of my sight. Whereare you goin'?'

It was the drummer-boy who had been hanging round him all theforenoon--a fat and freckled person of about fourteen, and Kim loathedhim from the soles of his boots to his cap-ribbons. 

'To the bazar--to get sweets--for you, ' said Kim, after thought. 

'Well, the bazar's out o' bounds. If we go there we'll get adressing-down. You come back. '

'How near can we go?' Kim did not know what bounds meant, but hewished to be polite--for the present. 

''Ow near? 'Ow far, you mean! We can go as far as that tree down theroad. '

'Then I will go there. '

'All right. I ain't goin'. It's too 'ot. I can watch you from 'ere. It's no good your runnin' away. If you did, they'd spot you by yourclothes. That's regimental stuff you're wearin'. There ain't a picketin Umballa wouldn't 'ead you back quicker than you started out. '

This did not impress Kim as much as the knowledge that his raimentwould tire him out if he tried to run. He slouched to the tree at thecorner of a bare road leading towards the bazar, and eyed the nativespassing. Most of them were barrack-servants of the lowest caste. Kimhailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a piece of unnecessaryinsolence, in the natural belief that the European boy could not followit. The low, quick answer undeceived him. Kim put his fettered soulinto it, thankful for the late chance to abuse somebody in the tonguehe knew best. 'And now, go to the nearest letter-writer in the bazarand tell him to come here. I would write a letter. '

'But--but what manner of white man's son art thou to need a bazarletter-writer? Is there not a schoolmaster in the barracks?'

'Ay; and Hell is full of the same sort. Do my order, you--you Od! Thymother was married under a basket! Servant of Lal Beg' (Kim knew theGod of the sweepers), 'run on my business or we will talk again. '

The sweeper shuffled off in haste. 'There is a white boy by thebarracks waiting under a tree who is not a white boy, ' he stammered tothe first bazar letter-writer he came across. 'He needs thee. '

'Will he pay?' said the spruce scribe, gathering up his desk and pensand sealing-wax all in order. 

'I do not know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is wellworth. '

Kim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight. As soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly. 

'First I will take my pay, ' the letter-writer said. 'Bad words havemade the price higher. But who art thou, dressed in that fashion, tospeak in this fashion?'

'Aha! That is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such atale. But I am in no haste. Another writer will serve me. Umballacity is as full of them as is Lahore. '

'Four annas, ' said the writer, sitting down and spreading his cloth inthe shade of a deserted barrack-wing. 

Mechanically Kim squatted beside him--squatted as only the nativescan--in spite of the abominable clinging trousers. 

The writer regarded him sideways. 

'That is the price to ask of Sahibs, ' said Kim. 'Now fix me a trueone. '

'An anna and a half. How do I know, having written the letter, thatthou wilt not run away?'

I must not go beyond this tree, and there is also the stamp to beconsidered. '

'I get no commission on the price of the stamp. Once more, what mannerof white boy art thou?'

'That shall be said in the letter, which is to Mahbub Ali, thehorse-dealer in the Kashmir Serai, at Lahore. He is my friend. '

'Wonder on wonder!' murmured the letter-writer, dipping a reed in theinkstand. 'To be written in Hindi?'

'Assuredly. To Mahbub Ali then. Begin! I have come down with the oldman as far as Umballa in the train. At Umballa I carried the news ofthe bay mare's pedigree. ' After what he had seen in the garden, he wasnot going to write of white stallions. 

'Slower a little. What has a bay mare to do . .. Is it Mahbub Ali, thegreat dealer?'

'Who else? I have been in his service. Take more ink. Again. As theorder was, so I did it. We then went on foot towards Benares, but onthe third day we found a certain regiment. Is that down?'

'Ay, pulton, ' murmured the writer, all ears. 

'I went into their camp and was caught, and by means of the charm aboutmy neck, which thou knowest, it was established that I was the son ofsome man in the regiment: according to the prophecy of the Red Bull, which thou knowest was common talk of our bazar. ' Kim waited for thisshaft to sink into the letter-writer's heart, cleared his throat, andcontinued: 'A priest clothed me and gave me a new name . .. Onepriest, however, was a fool. The clothes are very heavy, but I am aSahib and my heart is heavy too. They send me to a school and beat me. I do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, MahbubAli, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writerwho writes this. '

'"Who writes this. " It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou artas clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao. But what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?'

'It does not profit to tell lies to Mahbub Ali. It is better to helphis friends by lending them a stamp. When the money comes I willrepay. '

The writer grunted doubtfully, but took a stamp out of his desk, sealedthe letter, handed it over to Kim, and departed. Mahbub Ali's was aname of power in Umballa. 

'That is the way to win a good account with the Gods, ' Kim shoutedafter him. 

'Pay me twice over when the money comes, ' the man cried over hisshoulder. 

'What was you bukkin' to that nigger about?' said the drummer-boy whenKim returned to the veranda. 'I was watch-in' you. '

'I was only talkin' to him. '

'You talk the same as a nigger, don't you?'

'No-ah! No-ah! I onlee speak a little. What shall we do now?'

'The bugles'll go for dinner in arf a minute. My Gawd! I wish I'dgone up to the Front with the Regiment. It's awful doin' nothin' butschool down 'ere. Don't you 'ate it?'

'Oah yess!'

I'd run away if I knew where to go to, but, as the men say, in thisbloomin' Injia you're only a prisoner at large. You can't desertwithout bein' took back at once. I'm fair sick of it. '

'You have been in Be--England?'

'W'y, I only come out last troopin' season with my mother. I shouldthink I 'ave been in England. What a ignorant little beggar you are!You was brought up in the gutter, wasn't you?'

'Oah yess. Tell me something about England. My father he came fromthere. '

Though he would not say so, Kim of course disbelieved every word thedrummer-boy spoke about the Liverpool suburb which was his England. Itpassed the heavy time till dinner--a most unappetizing meal served tothe boys and a few invalids in a corner of a barrack-room. But that hehad written to Mahbub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. Theindifference of native crowds he was used to; but this strongloneliness among white men preyed on him. He was grateful when, in thecourse of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor, who lived in another wing across another dusty parade-ground. Thepriest was reading an English letter written in purple ink. He lookedat Kim more curiously than ever. 

'An' how do you like it, my son, as far as you've gone? Not much, eh?It must be hard--very hard on a wild animal. Listen now. I've anamazin' epistle from your friend. '

'Where is he? Is he well? Oah! If he knows to write me letters, itis all right. '

'You're fond of him then?'

'Of course I am fond of him. He was fond of me. '

'It seems so by the look of this. He can't write English, can he?'

'Oah no. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter-writer whocan write English verree well, and so he wrote. I do hope youunderstand. '

'That accounts for it. D'you know anything about his money affairs?'Kim's face showed that he did not. 

'How can I tell?'

'That's what I'm askin'. Now listen if you can make head or tail o'this. We'll skip the first part . .. It's written from Jagadhir Road. .. "Sitting on wayside in grave meditation, trusting to be favouredwith your Honour's applause of present step, which recommend yourHonour to execute for Almighty God's sake. Education is greatestblessing if of best sorts. Otherwise no earthly use. " Faith, the oldman's hit the bull's-eye that time! "If your Honour condescendinggiving my boy best educations Xavier" (I suppose that's St Xavier's inPartibus) "in terms of our conversation dated in your tent 15thinstant" (a business-like touch there!) "then Almighty God blessingyour Honour's succeedings to third an' fourth generation and"--nowlisten!--"confide in your Honour's humble servant for adequateremuneration per hoondi per annum three hundred rupees a year to oneexpensive education St Xavier, Lucknow, and allow small time to forwardsame per hoondi sent to any part of India as your Honour shall addressyourself. This servant of your Honour has presently no place to laycrown of his head, but going to Benares by train on account ofpersecution of old woman talking so much and unanxious residingSaharunpore in any domestic capacity. " Now what in the world does thatmean?'

'She has asked him to be her puro--her clergyman--at Saharunpore, Ithink. He would not do that on account of his River. She did talk. '

'It's clear to you, is it? It beats me altogether. "So going toBenares, where will find address and forward rupees for boy who isapple of eye, and for Almighty God's sake execute this education, andyour petitioner as in duty bound shall ever awfully pray. Written bySobrao Satai, Failed Entrance Allahabad University, for VenerableTeshoo Lama the priest of Such-zen looking for a River, address care ofTirthankars' Temple, Benares. P. M. --Please note boy is apple of eye, and rupees shall be sent per hoondi three hundred per annum. For GodAlmighty's sake. " Now, is that ravin' lunacy or a businessproposition? I ask you, because I'm fairly at my wits' end. '

'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will giveme them. '

'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'

'Of course. If he says so!'

The priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal. 'I don'tbelieve it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the MilitaryOrphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you till you wereold enough to enlist. Ye'd be brought up to the Church of England. Bennett arranged for that. On the other hand, if ye go to St Xavier'sye'll get a better education an--an can have the religion. D'ye see mydilemma? Kim saw nothing save a vision of the lama going south in atrain with none to beg for him. 

'Like most people, I'm going to temporize. If your friend sends themoney from Benares--Powers of Darkness below, where's a street-beggarto raise three hundred rupees?--ye'll go down to Lucknow and I'll payyour fare, because I can't touch the subscription-money if I intend, asI do, to make ye a Catholic. If he doesn't, ye'll go to the MilitaryOrphanage at the Regiment's expense. I'll allow him three days' grace, though I don't believe it at all. Even then, if he fails in hispayments later on . .. But it's beyond me. We can only walk one stepat a time in this world, praise God! An' they sent Bennett to the Frontan' left me behind. Bennett can't expect everything. '

'Oah yess, ' said Kim vaguely. 

The priest leaned forward. 'I'd give a month's pay to find what'sgoin' on inside that little round head of yours. '

'There is nothing, ' said Kim, and scratched it. He was wonderingwhether Mahbub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then hecould pay the letter-writer and write letters to the lama at Benares. Perhaps Mahbub Ali would visit him next time he came south with horses. Surely he must know that Kim's delivery of the letter to the officer atUmballa had caused the great war which the men and boys had discussedso loudly over the barrack dinner-tables. But if Mahbub Ali did notknow this, it would be very unsafe to tell him so. Mahbub Ali was hardupon boys who knew, or thought they knew, too much. 

'Well, till I get further news'--Father Victor's voice interrupted thereverie. 'Ye can run along now and play with the other boys. They'llteach ye something--but I don't think ye'll like it. '

The day dragged to its weary end. When he wished to sleep he wasinstructed how to fold up his clothes and set out his boots; the otherboys deriding. Bugles waked him in the dawn; the schoolmaster caughthim after breakfast, thrust a page of meaningless characters under hisnose, gave them senseless names and whacked him without reason. Kimmeditated poisoning him with opium borrowed from a barrack-sweeper, butreflected that, as they all ate at one table in public (this waspeculiarly revolting to Kim, who preferred to turn his back on theworld at meals), the stroke might be dangerous. Then he attemptedrunning off to the village where the priest had tried to drug thelama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing sentriesat every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers andjacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project andfell back, Oriental-fashion, on time and chance. Three days of tormentpassed in the big, echoing white rooms. He walked out of afternoonsunder escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companionswere the few useless words which seemed to make two-thirds of the whiteman's abuse. Kim knew and despised them all long ago. The boyresented his silence and lack of interest by beating him, as was onlynatural. He did not care for any of the bazars which were in bounds. He styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers called himabominable names to his face, and, misled by their deferentialattitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for thebeatings. 

On the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer. They had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returnedalone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doingnothing in particular, had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger onhorseback; that the nigger had then and there laid into him with apeculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young O'Hara, and borne him off atfull gallop. These tidings came to Father Victor, and he drew down hislong upper lip. He was already sufficiently startled by a letter fromthe Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares, enclosing a native banker'snote of hand for three hundred rupees, and an amazing prayer to'Almighty God'. The lama would have been more annoyed than the priesthad he known how the bazar letter-writer had translated his phrase 'toacquire merit. '

'Powers of Darkness below!' Father Victor fumbled with the note. 'An'now he's off with another of his peep-o'-day friends. I don't knowwhether it will be a greater relief to me to get him back or to havehim lost. He's beyond my comprehension. How the Divil--yes, he's theman I mean--can a street-beggar raise money to educate white boys?'

Three miles off, on Umballa racecourse, Mahbub Ali, reining a greyKabuli stallion with Kim in front of him, was saying:

'But, Little Friend of all the World, there is my honour and reputationto be considered. All the officer-Sahibs in all the regiments, and allUmballa, know Mahbub Ali. Men saw me pick thee up and chastise thatboy. We are seen now from far across this plain. How can I take theeaway, or account for thy disappearing if I set thee down and let theerun off into the crops? They would put me in jail. Be patient. Oncea Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art a man--who knows?--thou wilt begrateful to Mahbub Ali. '

'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give memoney and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do notwant to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message. '

The stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven homethe sharp-edged stirrup. (He was not the new sort of fluenthorse-dealer who wears English boots and spurs. ) Kim drew his ownconclusions from that betrayal. 

'That was a small matter. It lay on the straight road to Benares. Iand the Sahib have by this time forgotten it. I send so many lettersand messages to men who ask questions about horses, I cannot wellremember one from the other. Was it some matter of a bay mare thatPeters Sahib wished the pedigree of?'

Kim saw the trap at once. If he had said 'bay mare' Mahbub would haveknown by his very readiness to fall in with the amendment that the boysuspected something. Kim replied therefore:

'Bay mare. No. I do not forget my messages thus. It was a whitestallion. '

'Ay, so it was. A white Arab stallion. But thou didst write "baymare" to me. '

'Who cares to tell truth to a letter-writer?' Kim answered, feelingMahbub's palm on his heart. 

'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and anEnglishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been chasingyou half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For sale, Isuppose?'

'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate anddifficult polo-game. He has no equal. He--'

'Plays polo and waits at table. Yes. We know all that. What thedeuce have you got there?'

'A. Boy, ' said Mahbub gravely. 'He was being beaten by another boy. His father was once a white soldier in the big war. The boy was achild in Lahore city. He played with my horses when he was a babe. NowI think they will make him a soldier. He has been newly caught by hisfather's Regiment that went up to the war last week. But I do notthink he wants to be a soldier. I take him for a ride. Tell me wherethy barracks are and I will set thee there. '

'Let me go. I can find the barracks alone. '

'And if thou runnest away who will say it is not my fault?'

'He'll run back to his dinner. Where has he to run to?' theEnglishman asked. 

'He was born in the land. He has friends. He goes where he chooses. He is a chabuk sawai [a sharp chap]. It needs only to change hisclothing, and in a twinkling he would be a low-caste Hindu boy. '

'The deuce he would!' The Englishman looked critically at the boy asMahbub headed towards the barracks. Kim ground his teeth. Mahbub wasmocking him, as faithless Afghans will; for he went on:

'They will send him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet andswaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows. Now, which of the barracks is thine?'

Kim pointed--he could not speak--to Father Victor's wing, all staringwhite near by. 

'Perhaps he will make a good soldier, ' said Mahbub reflectively. 

'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a messageonce from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a whitestallion. '

Here was deadly insult on deadlier injury--and the Sahib to whom he hadso craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim beheldMahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he sawone long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazedimploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was no glimmer ofrecognition; but even at this extremity it never occurred to him tothrow himself on the white man's mercy or to denounce the Afghan. AndMahbub stared deliberately at the Englishman, who stared asdeliberately at Kim, quivering and tongue-tied. 

'My horse is well trained, ' said the dealer. 'Others would havekicked, Sahib. '

'Ah, ' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his pony's damp withers withhis whip-butt. 'Who makes the boy a soldier?'

'He says the Regiment that found him, and especially the Padre-sahib ofthat regiment. 

'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor saileddown upon them from the veranda. 

'Powers O' Darkness below, O'Hara! How many more mixed friends do youkeep in Asia?' he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly beforehim. 

'Good morning, Padre, ' the Englishman said cheerily. 'I know you byreputation well enough. Meant to have come over and called beforethis. I'm Creighton. '

'Of the Ethnological Survey?' said Father Victor. The Englishmannodded. 'Faith, I'm glad to meet ye then; an' I owe you some thanksfor bringing back the boy. '

'No thanks to me, Padre. Besides, the boy wasn't going away. Youdon't know old Mahbub Ali. ' The horse-dealer sat impassive in thesunlight. 'You will when you have been in the station a month. Hesells us all our crocks. That boy is rather a curiosity. Can you tellme anything about him?'

'Can I tell you?' puffed Father Victor. 'You'll be the one man thatcould help me in my quandaries. Tell you! Powers o' Darkness, I'mbursting to tell someone who knows something o' the native!'

A groom came round the corner. Colonel Creighton raised his voice, speaking in Urdu. 'Very good, Mahbub Ali, but what is the use oftelling me all those stories about the pony? Not one pice more thanthree hundred and fifty rupees will I give. '

'The Sahib is a little hot and angry after riding, ' the horse-dealerreturned, with the leer of a privileged jester. 'Presently, he willsee my horse's points more clearly. I will wait till he has finishedhis talk with the Padre. I will wait under that tree. '

'Confound you!' The Colonel laughed. 'That comes of looking at one ofMahbub's horses. He's a regular old leech, Padre. Wait, then, if thouhast so much time to spare, Mahbub. Now I'm at your service, Padre. Where is the boy? Oh, he's gone off to collogue with Mahbub. Queersort of boy. Might I ask you to send my mare round under cover?'

He dropped into a chair which commanded a clear view of Kim and MahbubAli in conference beneath the tree. The Padre went indoors forcheroots. 

Creighton heard Kim say bitterly: 'Trust a Brahmin before a snake, anda snake before an harlot, and an harlot before a Pathan, Mahbub Ali. '

'That is all one. ' The great red beard wagged solemnly. 'Childrenshould not see a carpet on the loom till the pattern is made plain. Believe me, Friend of all the World, I do thee great service. Theywill not make a soldier of thee. '

'You crafty old sinner!' thought Creighton. 'But you're not farwrong. That boy mustn't be wasted if he is as advertised. '

'Excuse me half a minute, ' cried the Padre from within, 'but I'mgettin' the documents in the case. '

'If through me the favour of this bold and wise Colonel Sahib comes tothee, and thou art raised to honour, what thanks wilt thou give MahbubAli when thou art a man?'

'Nay, nay! I begged thee to let me take the Road again, where I shouldhave been safe; and thou hast sold me back to the English. What willthey give thee for blood-money?'

'A cheerful young demon!' The Colonel bit his cigar, and turnedpolitely to Father Victor. 

'What are the letters that the fat priest is waving before the Colonel?Stand behind the stallion as though looking at my bridle!' said MahbubAli. 

'A letter from my lama which he wrote from Jagadhir Road, saying thathe will pay three hundred rupees by the year for my schooling. '

'Oho! Is old Red Hat of that sort? At which school?'

'God knows. I think in Nucklao. '

'Yes. There is a big school there for the sons of Sahibs--andhalf-Sahibs. I have seen it when I sell horses there. So the lamaalso loved the Friend of all the World?'

'Ay; and he did not tell lies, or return me to captivity. '

'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread. Howfast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'the keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent whatto me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings inhoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it. '

'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt go away, and they will return me to those empty rooms where there is no goodplace to sleep and where the boys beat me. '

'I do not think that. Have patience, child. All Pathans are notfaithless--except in horseflesh. '

Five--ten--fifteen minutes passed, Father Victor talking energeticallyor asking questions which the Colonel answered. 

'Now I've told you everything that I know about the boy from beginninto end; and it's a blessed relief to me. Did ye ever hear the like?'

'At any rate, the old man has sent the money. Gobind Sahai's notes ofhand are good from here to China, ' said the Colonel. 'The more oneknows about natives the less can one say what they will or won't do. '

'That's consolin'--from the head of the Ethnological Survey. It's thismixture of Red Bulls and Rivers of Healing (poor heathen, God helphim!) an' notes of hand and Masonic certificates. Are you a Mason, byany chance?'

'By Jove, I am, now I come to think of it. That's an additionalreason, ' said the Colonel absently. 

'I'm glad ye see a reason in it. But as I said, it's the mixture o'things that's beyond me. An' his prophesyin' to our Colonel, sittingon my bed with his little shimmy torn open showing his white skin; an'the prophecy comin' true! They'll cure all that nonsense at StXavier's, eh?'

'Sprinkle him with holy water, ' the Colonel laughed. 

'On my word, I fancy I ought to sometimes. But I'm hoping he'll bebrought up as a good Catholic. All that troubles me is what'll happenif the old beggar-man--'

'Lama, lama, my dear sir; and some of them are gentlemen in their owncountry. '

'The lama, then, fails to pay next year. He's a fine business head toplan on the spur of the moment, but he's bound to die some day. An'takin' a heathen's money to give a child a Christian education--'

'But he said explicitly what he wanted. As soon as he knew the boy waswhite he seems to have made his arrangements accordingly. I'd give amonth's pay to hear how he explained it all at the Tirthankars' Templeat Benares. Look here, Padre, I don't pretend to know much aboutnatives, but if he says he'll pay, he'll pay--dead or alive. I mean, his heirs will assume the debt. My advice to you is, send the boy downto Lucknow. If your Anglican Chaplain thinks you've stolen a march onhim--'

'Bad luck to Bennett! He was sent to the Front instead o' me. Doughtycertified me medically unfit. I'll excommunicate Doughty if he comesback alive! Surely Bennett ought to be content with--'

'Glory, leaving you the religion. Quite so! As a matter of fact Idon't think Bennett will mind. Put the blame on me. I--er--stronglyrecommend sending the boy to St Xavier's. He can go down on pass as asoldier's orphan, so the railway fare will be saved. You can buy him anoutfit from the Regimental subscription. The Lodge will be saved theexpense of his education, and that will put the Lodge in a good temper. It's perfectly easy. I've got to go down to Lucknow next week. I'lllook after the boy on the way--give him in charge of my servants, andso on. '

'You're a good man. '

'Not in the least. Don't make that mistake. The lama has sent usmoney for a definite end. We can't very well return it. We shall haveto do as he says. Well, that's settled, isn't it? Shall we say that, Tuesday next, you'll hand him over to me at the night train south?That's only three days. He can't do much harm in three days. '

'It's a weight off my mind, but--this thing here?'--he waved the noteof hand--'I don't know Gobind Sahai: or his bank, which may be a holein a wall. '

'You've never been a subaltern in debt. I'll cash it if you like, andsend you the vouchers in proper order. '

'But with all your own work too! It's askin'--'

'It's not the least trouble indeed. You see, as an ethnologist, thething's very interesting to me. I'd like to make a note of it for someGovernment work that I'm doing. The transformation of a regimentalbadge like your Red Bull into a sort of fetish that the boy follows isvery interesting. '

'But I can't thank you enough. '

'There's one thing you can do. All we Ethnological men are as jealousas jackdaws of one another's discoveries. They're of no interest toanyone but ourselves, of course, but you know what book-collectors arelike. Well, don't say a word, directly or indirectly, about theAsiatic side of the boy's character--his adventures and his prophecy, and so on. I'll worm them out of the boy later on and--you see?'

'I do. Ye'll make a wonderful account of it. Never a word will I sayto anyone till I see it in print. '

'Thank you. That goes straight to an ethnologist's heart. Well, Imust be getting back to my breakfast. Good Heavens! Old Mahbub herestill?' He raised his voice, and the horse-dealer came out from underthe shadow of the tree, 'Well, what is it?'

'As regards that young horse, ' said Mahbub, 'I say that when a colt isborn to be a polo-pony, closely following the ball withoutteaching--when such a colt knows the game by divination--then I say itis a great wrong to break that colt to a heavy cart, Sahib!'

'So say I also, Mahbub. The colt will be entered for polo only. (Thesefellows think of nothing in the world but horses, Padre. ) I'll see youtomorrow, Mahbub, if you've anything likely for sale. '

The dealer saluted, horseman-fashion, with a sweep of the off hand. 'Bepatient a little, Friend of all the World, ' he whispered to theagonized Kim. 'Thy fortune is made. In a little while thou goest toNucklao, and--here is something to pay the letter-writer. I shall seethee again, I think, many times, ' and he cantered off down the road. 

'Listen to me, ' said the Colonel from the veranda, speaking in thevernacular. 'In three days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing andhearing new things all the while. Therefore sit still for three daysand do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow. '

'Shall I meet my Holy One there?' Kim whimpered. 

'At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than Umballa. It may be thouwilt go under my protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will beangry if thou returnest to the Road now. Remember--much has been toldme which I do not forget. '

'I will wait, ' said Kim, 'but the boys will beat me. '

Then the bugles blew for dinner. 

Chapter 7

 Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised With idiot moons and stars retracing stars? Creep thou betweene--thy coming's all unnoised. Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars. Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fraye (By Adam's, fathers', own, sin bound alway); Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say Which planet mends thy threadbare fate or mars?

 Sir John Christie. 

In the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had been'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him till he wasordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found theyoung letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp. 

'Now I pay, ' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to bewritten. '

'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa, ' said the writer jauntily. He was, byvirtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation. 

'This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take thy pen and writequickly. To Teshoo Lama, the Holy One from Bhotiyal seeking for aRiver, who is now in the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. Takemore ink! In three days I am to go down to Nucklao to the school atNucklao. The name of the school is Xavier. I do not know where thatschool is, but it is at Nucklao. '

'But I know Nucklao, ' the writer interrupted. 'I know the school. '

'Tell him where it is, and I give half an anna. '

The reed pen scratched busily. 'He cannot mistake. ' The man liftedhis head. 'Who watches us across the street?'

Kim looked up hurriedly and saw Colonel Creighton in tennis-flannels. 

'Oh, that is some Sahib who knows the fat priest in the barracks. He isbeckoning me. '

'What dost thou?' said the Colonel, when Kim trotted up. 

'I--I am not running away. I send a letter to my Holy One at Benares. '

'I had not thought of that. Hast thou said that I take thee toLucknow?'

'Nay, I have not. Read the letter, if there be a doubt. '

'Then why hast thou left out my name in writing to that Holy One?' TheColonel smiled a queer smile. Kim took his courage in both hands. 

'It was said once to me that it is inexpedient to write the names ofstrangers concerned in any matter, because by the naming of names manygood plans are brought to confusion. '

'Thou hast been well taught, ' the Colonel replied, and Kim flushed. 'Ihave left my cheroot-case in the Padre's veranda. Bring it to my housethis even. '

'Where is the house?' said Kim. His quick wit told him that he wasbeing tested in some fashion or another, and he stood on guard. 

'Ask anyone in the big bazar. ' The Colonel walked on. 

'He has forgotten his cheroot-case, ' said Kim, returning. 'I mustbring it to him this evening. That is all my letter except, thriceover, Come to me! Come to me! Come to me! Now I will pay for a stampand put it in the post. He rose to go, and as an afterthought asked:'Who is that angry-faced Sahib who lost the cheroot-case?'

'Oh, he is only Creighton Sahib--a very foolish Sahib, who is a ColonelSahib without a regiment. '

'What is his business?'

'God knows. He is always buying horses which he cannot ride, andasking riddles about the works of God--such as plants and stones andthe customs of people. The dealers call him the father of fools, because he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he ismadder than most other Sahibs. '

'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some smallknowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not giveninformation which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns. The Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard himtalk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it didevery time he mentioned the Colonel's name, if the Colonel had been afool. Consequently--and this set Kim to skipping--there was a mysterysomewhere, and Mahbub Ali probably spied for the Colonel much as Kimhad spied for Mahbub. And, like the horse-dealer, the Colonelevidently respected people who did not show themselves to be too clever. 

He rejoiced that he had not betrayed his knowledge of the Colonel'shouse; and when, on his return to barracks, he discovered that nocheroot-case had been left behind, he beamed with delight. Here was aman after his own heart--a tortuous and indirect person playing ahidden game. Well, if he could be a fool, so could Kim. 

He showed nothing of his mind when Father Victor, for three longmornings, discoursed to him of an entirely new set of Gods andGodlings--notably of a Goddess called Mary, who, he gathered, was onewith Bibi Miriam of Mahbub Ali's theology. He betrayed no emotionwhen, after the lecture, Father Victor dragged him from shop to shopbuying articles of outfit, nor when envious drummer-boys kicked himbecause he was going to a superior school did he complain, but awaitedthe play of circumstances with an interested soul. Father Victor, goodman, took him to the station, put him into an empty second-class nextto Colonel Creighton's first, and bade him farewell with genuinefeeling. 

'They'll make a man o' you, O'Hara, at St Xavier's--a white man, an', Ihope, a good man. They know all about your comin', an' the Colonelwill see that ye're not lost or mislaid anywhere on the road. I'vegiven you a notion of religious matters, --at least I hope so, --andyou'll remember, when they ask you your religion, that you're aCath'lic. Better say Roman Cath'lic, tho' I'm not fond of the word. '

Kim lit a rank cigarette--he had been careful to buy a stock in thebazar--and lay down to think. This solitary passage was very differentfrom that joyful down-journey in the third-class with the lama. 'Sahibs get little pleasure of travel, ' he reflected. 

'Hai mai! I go from one place to another as it might be a kickball. Itis my Kismet. No man can escape his Kismet. But I am to pray to BibiMiriam, and I am a Sahib. ' He looked at his boots ruefully. 'No; I amKim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim?' Heconsidered his own identity, a thing he had never done before, till hishead swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirlof India, going southward to he knew not what fate. 

Presently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So faras Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the Survey ofIndia as a chain-man. If he were very good, and passed the properexaminations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeenyears old, and Colonel Creighton would see that he found suitableemployment. 

Kim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of thistalk. Then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to fluent andpicturesque Urdu and Kim was contented. No man could be a fool whoknew the language so intimately, who moved so gently and silently, andwhose eyes were so different from the dull fat eyes of other Sahibs. 

'Yes, and thou must learn how to make pictures of roads and mountainsand rivers, to carry these pictures in thine eye till a suitable timecomes to set them upon paper. Perhaps some day, when thou art achain-man, I may say to thee when we are working together: "Go acrossthose hills and see what lies beyond. " Then one will say: "There arebad people living in those hills who will slay the chain-man if he beseen to look like a Sahib. " What then?'

Kim thought. Would it be safe to return the Colonel's lead?

'I would tell what that other man had said. '

'But if I answered: "I will give thee a hundred rupees for knowledgeof what is behind those hills--for a picture of a river and a littlenews of what the people say in the villages there"?'

'How can I tell? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man. ' Then, seeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on: 'But I think I shouldin a few days earn the hundred rupees. '

'By what road?'

Kim shook his head resolutely. 'If I said how I would earn them, another man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sellknowledge for nothing. '

'Tell now. ' The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim's hand half reachedtowards it, and dropped. 

'Nay, Sahib; nay. I know the price that will be paid for the answer, but I do not know why the question is asked. '

'Take it for a gift, then, ' said Creighton, tossing it over. 'There isa good spirit in thee. Do not let it be blunted at St Xavier's. Thereare many boys there who despise the black men. '

'Their mothers were bazar-women, ' said Kim. He knew well there is nohatred like that of the half-caste for his brother-in-law. 

'True; but thou art a Sahib and the son of a Sahib. Therefore, do notat any time be led to contemn the black men. I have known boys newlyentered into the service of the Government who feigned not tounderstand the talk or the customs of black men. Their pay was cut forignorance. There is no sin so great as ignorance. Remember this. '

Several times in the course of the long twenty-four hours' run southdid the Colonel send for Kim, always developing this latter text. 

'We be all on one lead-rope, then, ' said Kim at last, 'the Colonel, Mahbub Ali, and I--when I become a chain-man. He will use me as MahbubAli employed me, I think. That is good, if it allows me to return tothe Road again. This clothing grows no easier by wear. '

When they came to the crowded Lucknow station there was no sign of thelama. He swallowed his disappointment, while the Colonel bundled himinto a ticca-gharri with his neat belongings and despatched him aloneto St Xavier's. 

'I do not say farewell, because we shall meet again, ' he cried. 'Again, and many times, if thou art one of good spirit. But thou art not yettried. '

'Not when I brought thee'--Kim actually dared to use the turn ofequals--'a white stallion's pedigree that night?'

'Much is gained by forgetting, little brother, ' said the Colonel, witha look that pierced through Kim's shoulder-blades as he scuttled intothe carriage. 

It took him nearly five minutes to recover. Then he sniffed the newair appreciatively. 'A rich city, ' he said. 'Richer than Lahore. Howgood the bazars must be! Coachman, drive me a little through thebazars here. '

'My order is to take thee to the school. ' The driver used the 'thou', which is rudeness when applied to a white man. In the clearest andmost fluent vernacular Kim pointed out his error, climbed on to thebox-seat, and, perfect understanding established, drove for a couple ofhours up and down, estimating, comparing, and enjoying. There is nocity--except Bombay, the queen of all--more beautiful in her garishstyle than Lucknow, whether you see her from the bridge over the river, or from the top of the Imambara looking down on the gilt umbrellas ofthe Chutter Munzil, and the trees in which the town is bedded. Kingshave adorned her with fantastic buildings, endowed her with charities, crammed her with pensioners, and drenched her with blood. She is thecentre of all idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares with Delhi theclaim to talk the only pure Urdu. 

'A fair city--a beautiful city. ' The driver, as a Lucknow man, waspleased with the compliment, and told Kim many astounding things wherean English guide would have talked of the Mutiny. 

'Now we will go to the school, ' said Kim at last. The great old schoolof St Xavier's in Partibus, block on block of low white buildings, stands in vast grounds over against the Gumti River, at some distancefrom the city. 

'What like of folk are they within?' said Kim. 

'Young Sahibs--all devils. But to speak truth, and I drive many ofthem to and fro from the railway station, I have never seen one thathad in him the making of a more perfect devil than thou--this youngSahib whom I am now driving. '

Naturally, for he was never trained to consider them in any wayimproper, Kim had passed the time of day with one or two frivolousladies at upper windows in a certain street, and naturally, in theexchange of compliments, had acquitted himself well. He was about toacknowledge the driver's last insolence, when his eye--it was growingdusk--caught a figure sitting by one of the white plaster gate-pillarsin the long sweep of wall. 

'Stop!' he cried. 'Stay here. I do not go to the school at once. '

'But what is to pay me for this coming and re-coming?' said the driverpetulantly. 'Is the boy mad? Last time it was a dancing-girl. Thistime it is a priest. '

Kim was in the road headlong, patting the dusty feet beneath the dirtyyellow robe. 

'I have waited here a day and a half, ' the lama's level voice began. 'Nay, I had a disciple with me. He that was my friend at the Temple ofthe Tirthankars gave me a guide for this journey. I came from Benaresin the te-rain, when thy letter was given me. Yes, I am well fed. Ineed nothing. '

'But why didst thou not stay with the Kulu woman, O Holy One? In whatway didst thou get to Benares? My heart has been heavy since weparted. '

'The woman wearied me by constant flux of talk and requiring charms forchildren. I separated myself from that company, permitting her toacquire merit by gifts. She is at least a woman of open hands, and Imade a promise to return to her house if need arose. Then, perceivingmyself alone in this great and terrible world, I bethought me of thete-rain to Benares, where I knew one abode in the Tirthankars' Templewho was a Seeker, even as I. '

'Ah! Thy River, ' said Kim. 'I had forgotten the River. '

'So soon, my chela? I have never forgotten it. But when I had leftthee it seemed better that I should go to the Temple and take counsel, for, look you, India is very large, and it may be that wise men beforeus, some two or three, have left a record of the place of our River. There is debate in the Temple of the Tirthankars on this matter; somesaying one thing, and some another. They are courteous folk. '

'So be it; but what dost thou do now?'

'I acquire merit in that I help thee, my chela, to wisdom. The priestof that body of men who serve the Red Bull wrote me that all should beas I desired for thee. I sent the money to suffice for one year, andthen I came, as thou seest me, to watch for thee going up into theGates of Learning. A day and a half have I waited, not because I wasled by any affection towards thee--that is no part of the Way--but, asthey said at the Tirthankars' Temple, because, money having been paidfor learning, it was right that I should oversee the end of the matter. They resolved my doubts most clearly. I had a fear that, perhaps, Icame because I wished to see thee--misguided by the Red Mist ofaffection. It is not so . .. Moreover, I am troubled by a dream. '

'But surely, Holy One, thou hast not forgotten the Road and all thatbefell on it. Surely it was a little to see me that thou didst come?'

'The horses are cold, and it is past their feeding-time, ' whined thedriver. 

'Go to Jehannum and abide there with thy reputationless aunt!' Kimsnarled over his shoulder. 'I am all alone in this land; I know notwhere I go nor what shall befall me. My heart was in that letter Isent thee. Except for Mahbub Ali, and he is a Pathan, I have no friendsave thee, Holy One. Do not altogether go away. '

'I have considered that also, ' the lama replied, in a shaking voice. 'It is manifest that from time to time I shall acquire merit if beforethat I have not found my River--by assuring myself that thy feet areset on wisdom. What they will teach thee I do not know, but the priestwrote me that no son of a Sahib in all India will be better taught thanthou. So from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thouwilt be such a Sahib as he who gave me these spectacles'--the lamawiped them elaborately--'in the Wonder House at Lahore. That is myhope, for he was a Fountain of Wisdom--wiser than many abbots . .. . Again, maybe thou wilt forget me and our meetings. '

'If I eat thy bread, ' cried Kim passionately, 'how shall I ever forgetthee?'

'No--no. ' He put the boy aside. 'I must go back to Benares. Fromtime to time, now that I know the customs of letter-writers in thisland, I will send thee a letter, and from time to time I will come andsee thee. '

'But whither shall I send my letters?' wailed Kim, clutching at therobe, all forgetful that he was a Sahib. 

'To the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. That is the place I havechosen till I find my River. Do not weep; for, look you, all Desire isIllusion and a new binding upon the Wheel. Go up to the Gates ofLearning. Let me see thee go . .. Dost thou love me? Then go, or myheart cracks . .. I will come again. Surely I will come again. 

The lama watched the ticca-gharri rumble into the compound, and strodeoff, snuffing between each long stride. 

'The Gates of Learning' shut with a clang. 

The country born and bred boy has his own manners and customs, which donot resemble those of any other land; and his teachers approach him byroads which an English master would not understand. Therefore, youwould scarcely be interested in Kim's experiences as a St Xavier's boyamong two or three hundred precocious youths, most of whom had neverseen the sea. He suffered the usual penalties for breaking out ofbounds when there was cholera in the city. This was before he hadlearned to write fair English, and so was obliged to find a bazarletter-writer. He was, of course, indicted for smoking and for the useof abuse more full-flavoured than even St Xavier's had ever heard. Helearned to wash himself with the Levitical scrupulosity of thenative-born, who in his heart considers the Englishman rather dirty. He played the usual tricks on the patient coolies pulling the punkahsin the sleeping-rooms where the boys threshed through the hot nightstelling tales till the dawn; and quietly he measured himself againsthis self-reliant mates. 

They were sons of subordinate officials in the Railway, Telegraph, andCanal Services; of warrant-officers, sometimes retired and sometimesacting as commanders-in-chief to a feudatory Rajah's army; of captainsof the Indian Marine Government pensioners, planters, Presidencyshopkeepers, and missionaries. A few were cadets of the old Eurasianhouses that have taken strong root in Dhurrumtollah--Pereiras, DeSouzas, and D'Silvas. Their parents could well have educated them inEngland, but they loved the school that had served their own youth, andgeneration followed sallow-hued generation at St Xavier's. Their homesranged from Howrah of the railway people to abandoned cantonments likeMonghyr and Chunar; lost tea-gardens Shillong-way; villages where theirfathers were large landholders in Oudh or the Deccan; Mission-stationsa week from the nearest railway line; seaports a thousand miles south, facing the brazen Indian surf; and cinchona-plantations south of all. The mere story of their adventures, which to them were no adventures, on their road to and from school would have crisped a Western boy'shair. They were used to jogging off alone through a hundred miles ofjungle, where there was always the delightful chance of being delayedby tigers; but they would no more have bathed in the English Channel inan English August than their brothers across the world would have lainstill while a leopard snuffed at their palanquin. There were boys offifteen who had spent a day and a half on an islet in the middle of aflooded river, taking charge, as by right, of a camp of franticpilgrims returning from a shrine. There were seniors who hadrequisitioned a chance-met Rajah's elephant, in the name of St FrancisXavier, when the Rains once blotted out the cart-track that led totheir father's estate, and had all but lost the huge beast in aquicksand. There was a boy who, he said, and none doubted, had helpedhis father to beat off with rifles from the veranda a rush of Akas inthe days when those head-hunters were bold against lonely plantations. 

And every tale was told in the even, passionless voice of thenative-born, mixed with quaint reflections, borrowed unconsciously fromnative foster-mothers, and turns of speech that showed they had beenthat instant translated from the vernacular. Kim watched, listened, and approved. This was not insipid, single-word talk of drummer-boys. It dealt with a life he knew and in part understood. The atmospheresuited him, and he throve by inches. They gave him a white drill suitas the weather warmed, and he rejoiced in the new-found bodily comfortsas he rejoiced to use his sharpened mind over the tasks they set him. His quickness would have delighted an English master; but at StXavier's they know the first rush of minds developed by sun andsurroundings, as they know the half-collapse that sets in at twenty-twoor twenty-three. 

None the less he remembered to hold himself lowly. When tales weretold of hot nights, Kim did not sweep the board with his reminiscences;for St Xavier's looks down on boys who 'go native all-together. ' Onemust never forget that one is a Sahib, and that some day, whenexaminations are passed, one will command natives. Kim made a note ofthis, for he began to understand where examinations led. 

Then came the holidays from August to October--the long holidaysimposed by the heat and the Rains. Kim was informed that he would gonorth to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victorwould arrange for him. 

'A barrack-school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions and thoughtmore. 

'Yes, I suppose so, ' said the master. 'It will not do you any harm tokeep you out of mischief. You can go up with young De Castro as far asDelhi. '

Kim considered it in every possible light. He had been diligent, evenas the Colonel advised. A boy's holiday was his own property--of somuch the talk of his companions had advised him, --and a barrack-schoolwould be torment after St Xavier's. Moreover--this was magic worthanything else--he could write. In three months he had discovered howmen can speak to each other without a third party, at the cost of halfan anna and a little knowledge. No word had come from the lama, butthere remained the Road. Kim yearned for the caress of soft mudsquishing up between the toes, as his mouth watered for mutton stewedwith butter and cabbages, for rice speckled with strong scentedcardamoms, for the saffron-tinted rice, garlic and onions, and theforbidden greasy sweetmeats of the bazars. They would feed him rawbeef on a platter at the barrack-school, and he must smoke by stealth. But again, he was a Sahib and was at St Xavier's, and that pig MahbubAli . .. No, he would not test Mahbub's hospitality--and yet . .. Hethought it out alone in the dormitory, and came to the conclusion hehad been unjust to Mahbub. 

The school was empty; nearly all the masters had gone away; ColonelCreighton's railway pass lay in his hand, and Kim puffed himself thathe had not spent Colonel Creighton's or Mahbub's money in riotousliving. He was still lord of two rupees seven annas. His newbullock-trunk, marked 'K. O'H. ', and bedding-roll lay in the emptysleeping-room. 

'Sahibs are always tied to their baggage, ' said Kim, nodding at them. 'You will stay here' He went out into the warm rain, smiling sinfully, and sought a certain house whose outside he had noted down some timebefore. .. 

'Arre'! Dost thou know what manner of women we be in this quarter? Oh, shame!'

'Was I born yesterday?' Kim squatted native-fashion on the cushions ofthat upper room. 'A little dyestuff and three yards of cloth to helpout a jest. Is it much to ask?'

'Who is she? Thou art full young, as Sahibs go, for this devilry. '

'Oh, she? She is the daughter of a certain schoolmaster of a regimentin the cantonments. He has beaten me twice because I went over theirwall in these clothes. Now I would go as a gardener's boy. Old menare very jealous. '

'That is true. Hold thy face still while I dab on the juice. '

'Not too black, Naikan. I would not appear to her as a hubshi(nigger). '

'Oh, love makes nought of these things. And how old is she?'

'Twelve years, I think, ' said the shameless Kim. 'Spread it also onthe breast. It may be her father will tear my clothes off me, and if Iam piebald--' he laughed. 

The girl worked busily, dabbing a twist of cloth into a little saucerof brown dye that holds longer than any walnut-juice. 

'Now send out and get me a cloth for the turban. Woe is me, my head isall unshaved! And he will surely knock off my turban. '

'I am not a barber, but I will make shift. Thou wast born to be abreaker of hearts! All this disguise for one evening? Remember, thestuff does not wash away. ' She shook with laughter till her braceletsand anklets jingled. 'But who is to pay me for this? Huneefa herselfcould not have given thee better stuff. '

'Trust in the Gods, my sister, ' said Kim gravely, screwing his faceround as the stain dried. 'Besides, hast thou ever helped to paint aSahib thus before?'

'Never indeed. But a jest is not money. '

'It is worth much more. '

'Child, thou art beyond all dispute the most shameless son of Shaitanthat I have ever known to take up a poor girl's time with this play, and then to say: "Is not the jest enough?" Thou wilt go very far inthis world. ' She gave the dancing-girls' salutation in mockery. 

'All one. Make haste and rough-cut my head. ' Kim shifted from foot tofoot, his eyes ablaze with mirth as he thought of the fat days beforehim. He gave the girl four annas, and ran down the stairs in thelikeness of a low-caste Hindu boy--perfect in every detail. A cookshopwas his next point of call, where he feasted in extravagance and greasyluxury. 

On Lucknow station platform he watched young De Castro, all coveredwith prickly-heat, get into a second-class compartment. Kim patronizeda third, and was the life and soul of it. He explained to the companythat he was assistant to a juggler who had left him behind sick withfever, and that he would pick up his master at Umballa. As theoccupants of the carriage changed, he varied this tale, or adorned itwith all the shoots of a budding fancy, the more rampant for being heldoff native speech so long. In all India that night was no human beingso joyful as Kim. At Umballa he got out and headed eastward, plashingover the sodden fields to the village where the old soldier lived. 

About this time Colonel Creighton at Simla was advised from Lucknow bywire that young O'Hara had disappeared. Mahbub Ali was in town sellinghorses, and to him the Colonel confided the affair one morningcantering round Annandale racecourse. 

'Oh, that is nothing, ' said the horse-dealer. 'Men are like horses. Atcertain times they need salt, and if that salt is not in the mangersthey will lick it up from the earth. He has gone back to the Roadagain for a while. The madrissak wearied him. I knew it would. Another time, I will take him upon the Road myself. Do not betroubled, Creighton Sahib. It is as though a polo-pony, breakingloose, ran out to learn the game alone. '

'Then he is not dead, think you?'

'Fever might kill him. I do not fear for the boy otherwise. A monkeydoes not fall among trees. '

Next morning, on the same course, Mahbub's stallion ranged alongsidethe Colonel. 

'It is as I had thought, ' said the horse-dealer. 'He has come throughUmballa at least, and there he has written a letter to me, havinglearned in the bazar that I was here. '

'Read, ' said the Colonel, with a sigh of relief. It was absurd that aman of his position should take an interest in a little country-bredvagabond; but the Colonel remembered the conversation in the train, andoften in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer, silent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height ofinsolence, but it argued some resource and nerve. 

Mahbub's eyes twinkled as he reined out into the centre of the crampedlittle plain, where none could come near unseen. 

'"The Friend of the Stars, who is the Friend of all the World--"'

'What is this?'

'A name we give him in Lahore city. "The Friend of all the World takesleave to go to his own places. He will come back upon the appointedday. Let the box and the bedding-roll be sent for; and if there hasbeen a fault, let the Hand of Friendship turn aside the Whip ofCalamity. " There is yet a little more, but--'

'No matter, read. '

'"Certain things are not known to those who eat with forks. It isbetter to eat with both hands for a while. Speak soft words to thosewho do not understand this that the return may be propitious. " Now themanner in which that was cast is, of course, the work of theletter-writer, but see how wisely the boy has devised the matter of itso that no hint is given except to those who know!'

'Is this the Hand of Friendship to avert the Whip of Calamity?' laughedthe Colonel. 

'See how wise is the boy. He would go back to the Road again, as Isaid. Not knowing yet thy trade--'

'I am not at all sure of that, ' the Colonel muttered. 

'He turns to me to make a peace between you. Is he not wise? He sayshe will return. He is but perfecting his knowledge. Think, Sahib! Hehas been three months at the school. And he is not mouthed to thatbit. For my part, I rejoice. The pony learns the game. '

'Ay, but another time he must not go alone. '

'Why? He went alone before he came under the Colonel Sahib'sprotection. When he comes to the Great Game he must go alone--alone, and at peril of his head. Then, if he spits, or sneezes, or sits downother than as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Whyhinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that livesin the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds ofMazanderan. '

'True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do notdesire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part. '

'He does not tell me, even, whither he goes, ' said Mahbub. 'He is nofool. When his time is accomplished he will come to me. It is timethe healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly--asSahibs reckon. '

This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mahbub hadgone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kimmet him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him, was sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshotto hear Mahbub's gasp of amazement. 

'Oho! And where hast thou been?'

'Up and down--down and up. '

'Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell. '

'I stayed for a while with an old man near Umballa; anon with ahousehold of my acquaintance in Umballa. With one of these I went asfar as Delhi to the southward. That is a wondrous city. Then I drovea bullock for a teli [an oilman] coming north; but I heard of a greatfeast forward in Patiala, and thither went I in the company of afirework-maker. It was a great feast' (Kim rubbed his stomach). 'Isaw Rajahs, and elephants with gold and silver trappings; and they litall the fireworks at once, whereby eleven men were killed, myfire-work-maker among them, and I was blown across a tent but took noharm. Then I came back to the rel with a Sikh horseman, to whom I wasgroom for my bread; and so here. '

'Shabash!' said Mahbub Ali. 

'But what does the Colonel Sahib say? I do not wish to be beaten. '

'The Hand of Friendship has averted the Whip of Calamity; but anothertime, when thou takest the Road it will be with me. This is too early. '

'Late enough for me. I have learned to read and to write English alittle at the madrissah. I shall soon be altogether a Sahib. '

'Hear him!' laughed Mahbub, looking at the little drenched figuredancing in the wet. 'Salaam--Sahib, ' and he saluted ironically. 

'Well, art tired of the Road, or wilt thou come on to Umballa with meand work back with the horses?'

'I come with thee, Mahbub Ali. '

Chapter 8

 Something I owe to the soil that grew-- More to the life that fed-- But most to Allah Who gave me two Separate sides to my head. 

 I would go without shirts or shoes, Friends, tobacco or bread Sooner than for an instant lose Either side of my head. '

 The Two-Sided Man. 

'Then in God's name take blue for red, ' said Mahbub, alluding to theHindu colour of Kim's disreputable turban. 

Kim countered with the old proverb, 'I will change my faith and mybedding, but thou must pay for it. '

The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his horse. At a shop onthe outskirts of the city the change was made, and Kim stood up, externally at least, a Mohammedan. 

Mahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cookedmeal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we callit] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco. 

'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh, ' saidKim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victualsat my madrissah. '

'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah. ' Mahbub stuffedhimself with great boluses of spiced mutton fried in fat with cabbageand golden-brown onions. 'But tell me first, altogether andtruthfully, the manner of thy escape. For, O Friend of all theWorld, '--he loosed his cracking belt--'I do not think it is often thata Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there. '

'How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing, ' saidKim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and theinterview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali's gravity went fromhim. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh. 

'Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healerof turquoises say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befellafterwards--step by step, omitting nothing. '

Step by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as thefull-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs. 

'I said, ' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the ponybreaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already--except that hemust learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and hiscompasses. Listen now. I have turned aside the Colonel's whip fromthy skin, and that is no small service. '

'True. ' Kim pulled serenely. 'That is true. '

'But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any waygood. '

'It was my holiday, Hajji. I was a slave for many weeks. Why should Inot run away when the school was shut? Look, too, how I, living uponmy friends or working for my bread, as I did with the Sikh, have savedthe Colonel Sahib a great expense. '

Mahbub's lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache. 

'What are a few rupees'--the Pathan threw out his open handcarelessly--'to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, notin any way for love of thee. '

'That, ' said Kim slowly, 'I knew a very long time ago. '

'Who told?'

'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words, but plainlyenough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me inthe te-rain when we went down to Lucknow. '

'Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, thoughin the telling I lend thee my head. '

'It was forfeit to me, ' said Kim, with deep relish, 'in Umballa, whenthou didst pick me up on the horse after the drummer-boy beat me. '

'Speak a little plainer. All the world may tell lies save thou and I. For equally is thy life forfeit to me if I chose to raise my fingerhere. '

'And this is known to me also, ' said Kim, readjusting the livecharcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed, thy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten todeath, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most peoplehere and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on theother hand, say: "What has come to Mahbub Ali?" if he were found deadamong his horses. Surely, too, the Colonel Sahib would make inquiries. But again, '--Kim's face puckered with cunning, --'he would not makeoverlong inquiry, lest people should ask: "What has this Colonel Sahibto do with that horse-dealer?" But I--if I lived--'

'As thou wouldst surely die--'

'Maybe; but I say, if I lived, I, and I alone, would know that one hadcome by night, as a common thief perhaps, to Mahbub Ali's bulkhead inthe serai, and there had slain him, either before or after that thiefhad made a full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of hisslippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say tome--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that hehad not left behind him)--"What is Mahbub Ali to me?"?'

Up went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then MahbubAli spoke in admiration: 'And with these things on thy mind, dost thoulie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at themadrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'

'It is an order, ' said Kim blandly. 'Who am I to dispute an order?'

'A most finished Son of Eblis, ' said Mahbub Ali. 'But what is thistale of the thief and the search?'

'That which I saw, ' said Kim, 'the night that my lama and I lay nextthy place in the Kashmir Seral. The door was left unlocked, which Ithink is not thy custom, Mahbub. He came in as one assured that thouwouldst not soon return. My eye was against a knot-hole in the plank. He searched as it were for something--not a rug, not stirrups, nor abridle, nor brass pots--something little and most carefully hid. Elsewhy did he prick with an iron between the soles of thy slippers?'

'Ha!' Mahbub Ali smiled gently. 'And seeing these things, what taledidst thou fashion to thyself, Well of the Truth?'

'None. I put my hand upon my amulet, which lies always next to myskin, and, remembering the pedigree of a white stallion that I hadbitten out of a piece of Mussalmani bread, I went away to Umballaperceiving that a heavy trust was laid upon me. At that hour, had Ichosen, thy head was forfeit. It needed only to say to that man, "Ihave here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read. " And then?'Kim peered at Mahbub under his eyebrows. 

'Then thou wouldst have drunk water twice--perhaps thrice, afterwards. I do not think more than thrice, ' said Mahbub simply. 

'It is true. I thought of that a little, but most I thought that Iloved thee, Mahbub. Therefore I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but(and this thou dost not know) I lay hid in the garden-grass to see whatColonel Creighton Sahib might do upon reading the white stallion'spedigree. '

'And what did he?' for Kim had bitten off the conversation. 

'Dost thou give news for love, or dost thou sell it?' Kim asked. 

'I sell and--I buy. ' Mahbub took a four-anna piece out of his belt andheld it up. 

'Eight!' said Kim, mechanically following the huckster instinct of theEast. 

Mahbub laughed, and put away the coin. 'It is too easy to deal in thatmarket, Friend of all the World. Tell me for love. Our lives lie ineach other's hand. '

'Very good. I saw the Jang-i-Lat Sahib [the Commander-in-Chief] cometo a big dinner. I saw him in Creighton Sahib's office. I saw the tworead the white stallion's pedigree. I heard the very orders given forthe opening of a great war. '

'Hah!' Mahbub nodded with deepest eyes afire. 'The game is wellplayed. That war is done now, and the evil, we hope, nipped before theflower--thanks to me--and thee. What didst thou later?'

'I made the news as it were a hook to catch me victual and honour amongthe villagers in a village whose priest drugged my lama. But I boreaway the old man's purse, and the Brahmin found nothing. So nextmorning he was angry. Ho! Ho! And I also used the news when I fellinto the hands of that white Regiment with their Bull!'

'That was foolishness. ' Mahbub scowled. 'News is not meant to bethrown about like dung-cakes, but used sparingly--like bhang. '

'So I think now, and moreover, it did me no sort of good. But that wasvery long ago, ' he made as to brush it all away with a thin brownhand--'and since then, and especially in the nights under the punkah atthe madrissah, I have thought very greatly. '

'Is it permitted to ask whither the Heaven-born's thought might haveled?' said Mahbub, with an elaborate sarcasm, smoothing his scarletbeard. 

'It is permitted, ' said Kim, and threw back the very tone. 'They sayat Nucklao that no Sahib must tell a black man that he has made afault. '

Mahbub's hand shot into his bosom, for to call a Pathan a 'black man'[kala admi] is a blood-insult. Then he remembered and laughed. 'Speak, Sahib. Thy black man hears. '

'But, ' said Kim, 'I am not a Sahib, and I say I made a fault to cursethee, Mahbub Ali, on that day at Umballa when I thought I was betrayedby a Pathan. I was senseless; for I was but newly caught, and I wishedto kill that low-caste drummer-boy. I say now, Hajji, that it was welldone; and I see my road all clear before me to a good service. I willstay in the madrissah till I am ripe. '

'Well said. Especially are distances and numbers and the manner ofusing compasses to be learned in that game. One waits in the Hillsabove to show thee. '

'I will learn their teaching upon a condition--that my time is given tome without question when the madrissah is shut. Ask that for me of theColonel. '

'But why not ask the Colonel in the Sahibs' tongue?'

'The Colonel is the servant of the Government. He is sent hither andyon at a word, and must consider his own advancement. (See how much Ihave already learned at Nucklao!) Moreover, the Colonel I know sincethree months only. I have known one Mahbub Ali for six years. So! Tothe madrissah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In themadrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then mustI be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!'

'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'

'This great and beautiful land, ' said Kim, waving his paw round thelittle clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavilythrough the tobacco-smoke. 'And, further, I would see my lama again. And, further, I need money. '

'That is the need of everyone, ' said Mahbub ruefully. 'I will givethee eight annas, for much money is not picked out of horses' hooves, and it must suffice for many days. As to all the rest, I am wellpleased, and no further talk is needed. Make haste to learn, and inthree years, or it may be less, thou wilt be an aid--even to me. '

'Have I been such a hindrance till now?' said Kim, with a boy's giggle. 

'Do not give answers, ' Mahbub grunted. 'Thou art my new horse-boy. Goand bed among my men. They are near the north end of the station, withthe horses. '

'They will beat me to the south end of the station if I come withoutauthority. '

Mahbub felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a cake of Chinese ink, anddabbed the impression on a piece of soft native paper. From Balkh toBombay men know that rough-ridged print with the old scar runningdiagonally across it. 

'That is enough to show my headman. I come in the morning. '

'By which road?' said Kim. 

'By the road from the city. There is but one, and then we return toCreighton Sahib. I have saved thee a beating. '

'Allah! What is a beating when the very head is loose on theshoulders?'

Kim slid out quietly into the night, walked half round the house, keeping close to the walls, and headed away from the station for a mileor so. Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, forhe needed time to invent a story if any of Mahbub's retainers askedquestions. 

They were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and, being natives, had not, of course, unloaded the two trucks in whichMahbub's animals stood among a consignment of country-breds bought bythe Bombay tram-company. The headman, a broken-down, consumptive-looking Mohammedan, promptly challenged Kim, but waspacified at sight of Mahbub's sign-manual. 

'The Hajji has of his favour given me service, ' said Kim testily. 'Ifthis be doubted, wait till he comes in the morning. Meantime, a placeby the fire. '

Followed the usual aimless babble that every low-caste native mustraise on every occasion. It died down, and Kim lay out behind thelittle knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of ahorse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed amongbrickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowdedhorses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; butKim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings werethe breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cotsof St Xavier's all arow under the punkah gave him joy as keen as therepetition of the multiplication-table in English. 

'I am very old, ' he thought sleepily. 'Every month I become a yearmore old. I was very young, and a fool to boot, when I took Mahbub'smessage to Umballa. Even when I was with that white Regiment I wasvery young and small and had no wisdom. But now I learn every day, andin three years the Colonel will take me out of the madrissah and let mego upon the Road with Mahbub hunting for horses' pedigrees, or maybe Ishall go by myself; or maybe I shall find the lama and go with him. Yes; that is best. To walk again as a chela with my lama when he comesback to Benares. '

The thoughts came more slowly and disconnectedly. He was plunging intoa beautiful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper, thin and sharp, above the monotonous babble round the fire. It came from behind theiron-skinned horse-truck. 

'He is not here, then?'

'Where should he be but roystering in the city. Who looks for a rat ina frog-pond? Come away. He is not our man. '

'He must not go back beyond the Passes a second time. It is the order. '

'Hire some woman to drug him. It is a few rupees only, and there is noevidence. '

'Except the woman. It must be more certain; and remember the priceupon his head. '

'Ay, but the police have a long arm, and we are far from the Border. If it were in Peshawur, now!'

'Yes--in Peshawur, ' the second voice sneered. 'Peshawur, full of hisblood-kin--full of bolt-holes and women behind whose clothes he willhide. Yes, Peshawur or Jehannum would suit us equally well. '

'Then what is the plan?'

'O fool, have I not told it a hundred times? Wait till he comes to liedown, and then one sure shot. The trucks are between us and pursuit. We have but to run back over the lines and go our way. They will notsee whence the shot came. Wait here at least till the dawn. Whatmanner of fakir art thou, to shiver at a little watching?'

'Oho!' thought Kim, behind close-shut eyes. 'Once again it is Mahbub. Indeed a white stallion's pedigree is not a good thing to peddle toSahibs! Or maybe Mahbub has been selling other news. Now what is todo, Kim? I know not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here beforethe dawn they will shoot him. That would be no profit for thee, Kim. And this is not a matter for the police. That would be no profit forMahbub; and'--he giggled almost aloud--'I do not remember any lesson atNucklao which will help me. Allah! Here is Kim and yonder are they. First, then, Kim must wake and go away, so that they shall not suspect. A bad dream wakes a man--thus--'

He threw the blanket off his face, and raised himself suddenly with theterrible, bubbling, meaningless yell of the Asiatic roused by nightmare. 

'Urr-urr-urr-urr! Ya-la-la-la-la! Narain! The churel! The churel!'

A churel is the peculiarly malignant ghost of a woman who has died inchild-bed. She haunts lonely roads, her feet are turned backwards onthe ankles, and she leads men to torment. 

Louder rose Kim's quavering howl, till at last he leaped to his feetand staggered off sleepily, while the camp cursed him for waking them. Some twenty yards farther up the line he lay down again, taking carethat the whisperers should hear his grunts and groans as he recomposedhimself. After a few minutes he rolled towards the road and stole awayinto the thick darkness. 

He paddled along swiftly till he came to a culvert, and dropped behindit, his chin on a level with the coping-stone. Here he could commandall the night-traffic, himself unseen. 

Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the suburbs; a coughingpoliceman and a hurrying foot-passenger or two who sang to keep offevil spirits. Then rapped the shod feet of a horse. 

'Ah! This is more like Mahbub, ' thought Kim, as the beast shied at thelittle head above the culvert. 

'Ohe', Mahbub Ali, ' he whispered, 'have a care!'

The horse was reined back almost on its haunches, and forced towardsthe culvert. 

'Never again, ' said Mahbub, 'will I take a shod horse for night-work. They pick up all the bones and nails in the city. ' He stooped to liftits forefoot, and that brought his head within a foot of Kim's. 

'Down--keep down, ' he muttered. 'The night is full of eyes. '

'Two men wait thy coming behind the horse-trucks. They will shoot theeat thy lying down, because there is a price on thy head. I heard, sleeping near the horses. '

'Didst thou see them? . .. Hold still, Sire of Devils!' Thisfuriously to the horse. 

'No. '

'Was one dressed belike as a fakir?'

'One said to the other, "What manner of fakir art thou, to shiver at alittle watching?"'

'Good. Go back to the camp and lie down. I do not die tonight. '

Mahbub wheeled his horse and vanished. Kim tore back down the ditchtill he reached a point opposite his second resting-place, slippedacross the road like a weasel, and re-coiled himself in the blanket. 

'At least Mahbub knows, ' he thought contentedly. 'And certainly hespoke as one expecting it. I do not think those two men will profit bytonight's watch. '

An hour passed, and, with the best will in the world to keep awake allnight, he slept deeply. Now and again a night train roared along themetals within twenty feet of him; but he had all the Oriental'sindifference to mere noise, and it did not even weave a dream throughhis slumber. 

Mahbub was anything but asleep. It annoyed him vehemently that peopleoutside his tribe and unaffected by his casual amours should pursue himfor the life. His first and natural impulse was to cross the linelower down, work up again, and, catching his well-wishers from behind, summarily slay them. Here, he reflected with sorrow, another branch ofthe Government, totally unconnected with Colonel Creighton, mightdemand explanations which would be hard to supply; and he knew thatsouth of the Border a perfectly ridiculous fuss is made about a corpseor so. He had not been troubled in this way since he sent Kim toUmballa with the message, and hoped that suspicion had been finallydiverted. 

Then a most brilliant notion struck him. 

'The English do eternally tell the truth, ' he said, 'therefore we ofthis country are eternally made foolish. By Allah, I will tell thetruth to an Englishman! Of what use is the Government police if a poorKabuli be robbed of his horses in their very trucks. This is as bad asPeshawur! I should lay a complaint at the station. Better still, someyoung Sahib on the Railway! They are zealous, and if they catchthieves it is remembered to their honour. '

He tied up his horse outside the station, and strode on to the platform. 

'Hullo, Mahbub Ali' said a young Assistant District TrafficSuperintendent who was waiting to go down the line--a tall, tow-haired, horsey youth in dingy white linen. 'What are you doing here? Sellingweeds--eh?'

'No; I am not troubled for my horses. I come to look for Lutuf Ullah. I have a truck-load up the line. Could anyone take them out withoutthe Railway's knowledge?'

'Shouldn't think so, Mahbub. You can claim against us if they do. '

'I have seen two men crouching under the wheels of one of the trucksnearly all night. Fakirs do not steal horses, so I gave them no morethought. I would find Lutuf Ullah, my partner. '

'The deuce you did? And you didn't bother your head about it? 'Pon myword, it's just almost as well that I met you. What were they like, eh?'

'They were only fakirs. They will no more than take a little grain, perhaps, from one of the trucks. There are many up the line. TheState will never miss the dole. I came here seeking for my partner, Lutuf Ullah. '

'Never mind your partner. Where are your horse-trucks?'

'A little to this side of the farthest place where they make lamps forthe trains. '--

'The signal-box! Yes. '

'And upon the rail nearest to the road upon the right-handside--looking up the line thus. But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall manwith a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'

The boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;for, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in thegoods-yard. Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard. 

'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they willwonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys--BartonSahib and Young Sahib. '

He waited idly for a few minutes, expecting to see them hurry up theline girt for action. A light engine slid through the station, and hecaught a glimpse of young Barton in the cab. 

'I did that child an injustice. He is not altogether a fool, ' saidMahbub Ali. 'To take a fire-carriage for a thief is a new game!'

When Mahbub Ali came to his camp in the dawn, no one thought it worthwhile to tell him any news of the night. No one, at least, but onesmall horseboy, newly advanced to the great man's service, whom Mahbubcalled to his tiny tent to assist in some packing. 

'It is all known to me, ' whispered Kim, bending above saddlebags. 'TwoSahibs came up on a te-train. I was running to and fro in the dark onthis side of the trucks as the te-train moved up and down slowly. Theyfell upon two men sitting under this truck--Hajji, what shall I do withthis lump of tobacco? Wrap it in paper and put it under the salt-bag?Yes--and struck them down. But one man struck at a Sahib with afakir's buck's horn' (Kim meant the conjoined black-buck horns, whichare a fakir's sole temporal weapon)--'the blood came. So the otherSahib, first smiting his own man senseless, smote the stabber with ashort gun which had rolled from the first man's hand. They all ragedas though mad together. '

Mahbub smiled with heavenly resignation. 'No! That is not so muchdewanee [madness, or a case for the civil court--the word can be punnedupon both ways] as nizamut [a criminal case]. A gun, sayest thou? Tengood years in jail. '

'Then they both lay still, but I think they were nearly dead when theywere put on the te-train. Their heads moved thus. And there is muchblood on the line. Come and see?'

'I have seen blood before. Jail is the sure place--and assuredly theywill give false names, and assuredly no man will find them for a longtime. They were unfriends of mine. Thy fate and mine seem on onestring. What a tale for the healer of pearls! Now swiftly with thesaddle-bags and the cooking-platter. We will take out the horses andaway to Simla. '

Swiftly--as Orientals understand speed--with long explanations, withabuse and windy talk, carelessly, amid a hundred checks for littlethings forgotten, the untidy camp broke up and led the half-dozen stiffand fretful horses along the Kalka road in the fresh of the rain-sweptdawn. Kim, regarded as Mahbub Ali's favourite by all who wished tostand well with the Pathan, was not called upon to work. They strolledon by the easiest of stages, halting every few hours at a waysideshelter. Very many Sahibs travel along the Kalka road; and, as MahbubAli says, every young Sahib must needs esteem himself a judge of ahorse, and, though he be over head in debt to the money-lender, mustmake as if to buy. That was the reason that Sahib after Sahib, rollingalong in a stage-carriage, would stop and open talk. Some would evendescend from their vehicles and feel the horses' legs; asking inanequestions, or, through sheer ignorance of the vernacular, grosslyinsulting the imperturbable trader. 

'When first I dealt with Sahibs, and that was when Colonel Soady Sahibwas Governor of Fort Abazai and flooded the Commissioner'scamping-ground for spite, ' Mahbub confided to Kim as the boy filled hispipe under a tree, 'I did not know how greatly they were fools, andthis made me wroth. As thus--, ' and he told Kim a tale of anexpression, misused in all innocence, that doubled Kim up with mirth. 'Now I see, however, '--he exhaled smoke slowly--'that it is with themas with all men--in certain matters they are wise, and in others mostfoolish. Very foolish it is to use the wrong word to a stranger; forthough the heart may be clean of offence, how is the stranger to knowthat? He is more like to search truth with a dagger. '

'True. True talk, ' said Kim solemnly. 'Fools speak of a cat when awoman is brought to bed, for instance. I have heard them. '

'Therefore, in one situate as thou art, it particularly behoves thee toremember this with both kinds of faces. Among Sahibs, never forgettingthou art a Sahib; among the folk of Hind, always remembering thouart--' He paused, with a puzzled smile. 

'What am I? Mussalman, Hindu, Jain, or Buddhist? That is a hard knot. '

'Thou art beyond question an unbeliever, and therefore thou wilt bedamned. So says my Law--or I think it does. But thou art also myLittle Friend of all the World, and I love thee. So says my heart. This matter of creeds is like horseflesh. The wise man knows horsesare good--that there is a profit to be made from all; and formyself--but that I am a good Sunni and hate the men of Tirah--I couldbelieve the same of all the Faiths. Now manifestly a Kathiawar maretaken from the sands of her birthplace and removed to the west ofBengal founders--nor is even a Balkh stallion (and there are no betterhorses than those of Balkh, were they not so heavy in the shoulder) ofany account in the great Northern deserts beside the snow-camels I haveseen. Therefore I say in my heart the Faiths are like the horses. Each has merit in its own country. '

'But my lama said altogether a different thing. '

'Oh, he is an old dreamer of dreams from Bhotiyal. My heart is alittle angry, Friend of all the World, that thou shouldst see suchworth in a man so little known. '

'It is true, Hajji; but that worth do I see, and to him my heart isdrawn. '

'And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and theygo against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in thatbay stallion's pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight atevery resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in alittle . .. Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heartto see that lama?'

'It is one part of my bond, ' said Kim. 'If I do not see him, and if heis taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and, and--once gone, who is to find me again?'

'It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou. 'Mahbub nodded his head. 

'Do not be afraid. ' Kim spoke as though he could have vanished on themoment. 'My lama has said that he will come to see me at themadrissah--'

'A beggar and his bowl in the presence of those young Sa--'

'Not all!' Kim cut in with a snort. 'Their eyes are blued and theirnails are blackened with low-caste blood, many of them. Sons ofmehteranees--brothers-in-law to the bhungi [sweeper]. '

We need not follow the rest of the pedigree; but Kim made his littlepoint clearly and without heat, chewing a piece of sugar-cane the while. 

'Friend of all the World, ' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for theboy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a fewSahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art. '

'And why? When I always tell thee the truth. '

'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men. 'Mahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and wentover to the horses. 

'Or sell it?'

There was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. 'What newdevilry?'

'Eight annas, and I will tell, ' said Kim, grinning. 'It touches thypeace. '

'O Shaitan!' Mahbub gave the money. 

'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, downyonder at Umballa?'

'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?'

'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'

'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib. '

'No need--Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beatsenseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lahore. Isaw his face as they helped him on the engine. The very same man. '

'Why didst thou not tell before?'

'Oh, he will go to jail, and be safe for some years. There is no needto tell more than is necessary at any one time. Besides, I did notthen need money for sweetmeats. '

'Allah kerim!' said Mahbub Ah. 'Wilt thou some day sell my head for afew sweetmeats if the fit takes thee?'

Kim will remember till he dies that long, lazy journey from Umballa, through Kalka and the Pinjore Gardens near by, up to Simla. A suddenspate in the Gugger River swept down one horse (the most valuable, besure), and nearly drowned Kim among the dancing boulders. Farther upthe road the horses were stampeded by a Government elephant, and beingin high condition of grass food, it cost a day and a half to get themtogether again. Then they met Sikandar Khan coming down with a fewunsaleable screws--remnants of his string--and Mahbub, who has more ofhorse-coping in his little fingernail than Sikandar Khan in all histents, must needs buy two of the worst, and that meant eight hours'laborious diplomacy and untold tobacco. But it was all puredelight--the wandering road, climbing, dipping, and sweeping about thegrowing spurs; the flush of the morning laid along the distant snows;the branched cacti, tier upon tier on the stony hillsides; the voicesof a thousand water-channels; the chatter of the monkeys; the solemndeodars, climbing one after another with down-drooped branches; thevista of the Plains rolled out far beneath them; the incessant twangingof the tonga-horns and the wild rush of the led horses when a tongaswung round a curve; the halts for prayers (Mahbub was very religiousin dry-washings and bellowings when time did not press); the eveningconferences by the halting-places, when camels and bullocks chewedsolemnly together and the stolid drivers told the news of the Road--allthese things lifted Kim's heart to song within him. 

'But, when the singing and dancing is done, ' said Mahbub Ali, 'comesthe Colonel Sahib's, and that is not so sweet. '

'A fair land--a most beautiful land is this of Hind--and the land ofthe Five Rivers is fairer than all, ' Kim half chanted. 'Into it I willgo again if Mahbub Ali or the Colonel lift hand or foot against me. Once gone, who shall find me? Look, Hajji, is yonder the city ofSimla? Allah, what a city!'

'My father's brother, and he was an old man when Mackerson Sahib's wellwas new at Peshawur, could recall when there were but two houses in it. '

He led the horses below the main road into the lower Simla bazar--thecrowded rabbit-warren that climbs up from the valley to the Town Hallat an angle of forty-five. A man who knows his way there can defy allthe police of India's summer capital, so cunningly does verandacommunicate with veranda, alley-way with alley-way, and bolt-hole withbolt-hole. Here live those who minister to the wants of the gladcity--jhampanis who pull the pretty ladies' 'rickshaws by night andgamble till the dawn; grocers, oil-sellers, curio-vendors, firewood-dealers, priests, pickpockets, and native employees of theGovernment. Here are discussed by courtesans the things which aresupposed to be profoundest secrets of the India Council; and heregather all the sub-sub-agents of half the Native States. Here, too, Mahbub Ali rented a room, much more securely locked than his bulkheadat Lahore, in the house of a Mohammedan cattle-dealer. It was a placeof miracles, too, for there went in at twilight a Mohammedan horseboy, and there came out an hour later a Eurasian lad--the Lucknow girl's dyewas of the best--in badly-fitting shop-clothes. 

'I have spoken with Creighton Sahib, ' quoth Mahbub Ali, 'and a secondtime has the Hand of Friendship averted the Whip of Calamity. He saysthat thou hast altogether wasted sixty days upon the Road, and it istoo late, therefore, to send thee to any Hill-school. '

'I have said that my holidays are my own. I do not go to school twiceover. That is one part of my bond. '

'The Colonel Sahib is not yet aware of that contract. Thou art tolodge in Lurgan Sahib's house till it is time to go again to Nucklao. '

'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub. '

'Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee. Thou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou mustforget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, MahbubAli, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know. Remember this order. '

Kim nodded. 'Good, ' said he, 'and who is Lurgan Sahib? Nay'--hecaught Mahbub's sword-keen glance--'indeed I have never heard his name. Is he by chance--he lowered his voice--'one of us?'

'What talk is this of us, Sahib?' Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone heused towards Europeans. 'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the sonof a Sahib. Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. AllSimla knows it. Ask there . .. And, Friend of all the World, he is oneto be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes. Men say he does magic, but that should not touch thee. Go up the hill and ask. Here beginsthe Great Game. '

Chapter 9

 S' doaks was son of Yelth the wise-- Chief of the Raven clan. Itswoot the Bear had him in care To make him a medicine-man. 

 He was quick and quicker to learn-- Bold and bolder to dare: He danced the dread Kloo-Kwallie Dance To tickle Itswoot the Bear!

 Oregon Legend

Kim flung himself whole-heartedly upon the next turn of the wheel. Hewould be a Sahib again for a while. In that idea, so soon as he hadreached the broad road under Simla Town Hall, he cast about for one toimpress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamp-post. 

'Where is Mr Lurgan's house?' demanded Kim. 

'I do not understand English, ' was the answer, and Kim shifted hisspeech accordingly. 

'I will show. '

Together they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noisesof a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind indeodar-crowned Jakko, shouldering the stars. The house-lights, scattered on every level, made, as it were, a double firmament. Somewere fixed, others belonged to the 'rickshaws of the careless, open-spoken English folk, going out to dinner. 

'It is here, ' said Kim's guide, and halted in a veranda flush with themain road. No door stayed them, but a curtain of beaded reeds thatsplit up the lamplight beyond. 

'He is come, ' said the boy, in a voice little louder than a sigh, andvanished. Kim felt sure that the boy had been posted to guide him fromthe first, but, putting a bold face on it, parted the curtain. Ablack-bearded man, with a green shade over his eyes, sat at a table, and, one by one, with short, white hands, picked up globules of lightfrom a tray before him, threaded them on a glancing silken string, andhummed to himself the while. Kim was conscious that beyond the circleof light the room was full of things that smelt like all the temples ofall the East. A whiff of musk, a puff of sandal-wood, and a breath ofsickly jessamine-oil caught his opened nostrils. 

'I am here, ' said Kim at last, speaking in the vernacular: the smellsmade him forget that he was to be a Sahib. 

'Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one, ' the man counted to himself, stringing pearl after pearl so quickly that Kim could scarcely followhis fingers. He slid off the green shade and looked fixedly at Kim fora full half-minute. The pupils of the eye dilated and closed topin-pricks, as if at will. There was a fakir by the Taksali Gate whohad just this gift and made money by it, especially when cursing sillywomen. Kim stared with interest. His disreputable friend couldfurther twitch his ears, almost like a goat, and Kim was disappointedthat this new man could not imitate him. 

'Do not be afraid, ' said Lurgan Sahib suddenly. 

'Why should I fear?'

'Thou wilt sleep here tonight, and stay with me till it is time to goagain to Nucklao. It is an order. '

'It is an order, ' Kim repeated. 'But where shall I sleep?'

'Here, in this room. ' Lurgan Sahib waved his hand towards the darknessbehind him. 

'So be it, ' said Kim composedly. 'Now?'

He nodded and held the lamp above his head. As the light swept them, there leaped out from the walls a collection of Tibetan devil-dancemasks, hanging above the fiend-embroidered draperies of those ghastlyfunctions--horned masks, scowling masks, and masks of idiotic terror. In a corner, a Japanese warrior, mailed and plumed, menaced him with ahalberd, and a score of lances and khandas and kuttars gave back theunsteady gleam. But what interested Kim more than all these things--hehad seen devil-dance masks at the Lahore Museum--was a glimpse of thesoft-eyed Hindu child who had left him in the doorway, sittingcross-legged under the table of pearls with a little smile on hisscarlet lips. 

'I think that Lurgan Sahib wishes to make me afraid. And I am surethat that devil's brat below the table wishes to see me afraid. 

'This place, ' he said aloud, 'is like a Wonder House. Where is my bed?'

Lurgan Sahib pointed to a native quilt in a corner by the loathsomemasks, picked up the lamp, and left the room black. 

'Was that Lurgan Sahib?' Kim asked as he cuddled down. No answer. Hecould hear the Hindu boy breathing, however, and, guided by the sound, crawled across the floor, and cuffed into the darkness, crying: 'Giveanswer, devil! Is this the way to lie to a Sahib?'

From the darkness he fancied he could hear the echo of a chuckle. Itcould not be his soft-fleshed companion, because he was weeping. So Kimlifted up his voice and called aloud:

'Lurgan Sahib! O Lurgan Sahib! Is it an order that thy servant doesnot speak to me?'

'It is an order. ' The voice came from behind him and he started. 

'Very good. But remember, ' he muttered, as he resought the quilt, 'Iwill beat thee in the morning. I do not love Hindus. '

That was no cheerful night; the room being overfull of voices andmusic. Kim was waked twice by someone calling his name. The secondtime he set out in search, and ended by bruising his nose against a boxthat certainly spoke with a human tongue, but in no sort of humanaccent. It seemed to end in a tin trumpet and to be joined by wires toa smaller box on the floor--so far, at least, as he could judge bytouch. And the voice, very hard and whirring, came out of the trumpet. Kim rubbed his nose and grew furious, thinking, as usual, in Hindi. 

'This with a beggar from the bazar might be good, but--I am a Sahib andthe son of a Sahib and, which is twice as much more beside, a studentof Nucklao. Yess' (here he turned to English), 'a boy of St Xavier's. Damn Mr Lurgan's eyes!--It is some sort of machinery like asewing-machine. Oh, it is a great cheek of him--we are not frightenedthat way at Lucknow--No!' Then in Hindi: 'But what does he gain? Heis only a trader--I am in his shop. But Creighton Sahib is aColonel--and I think Creighton Sahib gave orders that it should bedone. How I will beat that Hindu in the morning! What is this?'

The trumpet-box was pouring out a string of the most elaborate abusethat even Kim had ever heard, in a high uninterested voice, that for amoment lifted the short hairs of his neck. When the vile thing drewbreath, Kim was reassured by the soft, sewing-machine-like whirr. 

'Chup! [Be still]' he cried, and again he heard a chuckle that decidedhim. 'Chup--or I break your head. '

The box took no heed. Kim wrenched at the tin trumpet and somethinglifted with a click. He had evidently raised a lid. If there were adevil inside, now was its time, for--he sniffed--thus did thesewing-machines of the bazar smell. He would clean that shaitan. Heslipped off his jacket, and plunged it into the box's mouth. Somethinglong and round bent under the pressure, there was a whirr and the voicestopped--as voices must if you ram a thrice-doubled coat on to the waxcylinder and into the works of an expensive phonograph. Kim finishedhis slumbers with a serene mind. 

In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him. 

'Oah!' said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom. 'Therewas a box in the night that gave me bad talk. So I stopped it. Was ityour box?'

The man held out his hand. 

'Shake hands, O'Hara, ' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep suchthings because my friends the Rajahs like them. That one is broken, but it was cheap at the price. Yes, my friends, the Kings, are veryfond of toys--and so am I sometimes. '

Kim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes. He was a Sahib inthat he wore Sahib's clothes; the accent of his Urdu, the intonation ofhis English, showed that he was anything but a Sahib. He seemed tounderstand what moved in Kim's mind ere the boy opened his mouth, andhe took no pains to explain himself as did Father Victor or the Lucknowmasters. Sweetest of all--he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiaticside. 

'I am sorry you cannot beat my boy this morning. He says he will killyou with a knife or poison. He is jealous, so I have put him in thecorner and I shall not speak to him today. He has just tried to killme. You must help me with the breakfast. He is almost too jealous totrust, just now. '

Now a genuine imported Sahib from England would have made a great to-doover this tale. Lurgan Sahib stated it as simply as Mahbub Ali wasused to record his little affairs in the North. 

The back veranda of the shop was built out over the sheer hillside, andthey looked down into their neighbours' chimney-pots, as is the customof Simla. But even more than the purely Persian meal cooked by LurganSahib with his own hands, the shop fascinated Kim. The Lahore Museumwas larger, but here were more wonders--ghost-daggers and prayer-wheelsfrom Tibet; turquoise and raw amber necklaces; green jade bangles;curiously packed incense-sticks in jars crusted over with raw garnets;the devil-masks of overnight and a wall full of peacock-blue draperies;gilt figures of Buddha, and little portable lacquer altars; Russiansamovars with turquoises on the lid; egg-shell china sets in quaintoctagonal cane boxes; yellow ivory crucifixes--from Japan of all placesin the world, so Lurgan Sahib said; carpets in dusty bales, smellingatrociously, pushed back behind torn and rotten screens of geometricalwork; Persian water-jugs for the hands after meals; dull copperincense-burners neither Chinese nor Persian, with friezes of fantasticdevils running round them; tarnished silver belts that knotted like rawhide; hairpins of jade, ivory, and plasma; arms of all sorts and kinds, and a thousand other oddments were cased, or piled, or merely throwninto the room, leaving a clear space only round the rickety deal table, where Lurgan Sahib worked. 

'Those things are nothing, ' said his host, following Kim's glance. 'Ibuy them because they are pretty, and sometimes I sell--if I like thebuyer's look. My work is on the table--some of it. '

It blazed in the morning light--all red and blue and green flashes, picked out with the vicious blue-white spurt of a diamond here andthere. Kim opened his eyes. 

'Oh, they are quite well, those stones. It will not hurt them to takethe sun. Besides, they are cheap. But with sick stones it is verydifferent. ' He piled Kim's plate anew. 'There is no one but me candoctor a sick pearl and re-blue turquoises. I grant you opals--anyfool can cure an opal--but for a sick pearl there is only me. Suppose Iwere to die! Then there would be no one . .. Oh no! You cannot doanything with jewels. It will be quite enough if you understand alittle about the Turquoise--some day. '

He moved to the end of the veranda to refill the heavy, porous claywater-jug from the filter. 

'Do you want drink?'

Kim nodded. Lurgan Sahib, fifteen feet off, laid one hand on the jar. Next instant, it stood at Kim's elbow, full to within half an inch ofthe brim--the white cloth only showing, by a small wrinkle, where ithad slid into place. 

'Wah!' said Kim in most utter amazement. 'That is magic. ' LurganSahib's smile showed that the compliment had gone home. 

'Throw it back. '

'It will break. '

'I say, throw it back. '

Kim pitched it at random. It fell short and crashed into fifty pieces, while the water dripped through the rough veranda boarding. 

'I said it would break. '

'All one. Look at it. Look at the largest piece. '

That lay with a sparkle of water in its curve, as it were a star on thefloor. Kim looked intently. Lurgan Sahib laid one hand gently on thenape of his neck, stroked it twice or thrice, and whispered: 'Look! Itshall come to life again, piece by piece. First the big piece shalljoin itself to two others on the right and the left--on the right andthe left. Look!'

To save his life, Kim could not have turned his head. The light touchheld him as in a vice, and his blood tingled pleasantly through him. There was one large piece of the jar where there had been three, andabove them the shadowy outline of the entire vessel. He could see theveranda through it, but it was thickening and darkening with each beatof his pulse. Yet the jar--how slowly the thoughts came!--the jar hadbeen smashed before his eyes. Another wave of prickling fire raced downhis neck, as Lurgan Sahib moved his hand. 

'Look! It is coming into shape, ' said Lurgan Sahib. 

So far Kim had been thinking in Hindi, but a tremor came on him, andwith an effort like that of a swimmer before sharks, who hurls himselfhalf out of the water, his mind leaped up from a darkness that wasswallowing it and took refuge in--the multiplication-table in English!

'Look! It is coming into shape, ' whispered Lurgan Sahib. 

The jar had been smashed--yess, smashed--not the native word, he wouldnot think of that--but smashed--into fifty pieces, and twice three wassix, and thrice three was nine, and four times three was twelve. Heclung desperately to the repetition. The shadow-outline of the jarcleared like a mist after rubbing eyes. There were the broken shards;there was the spilt water drying in the sun, and through the cracks ofthe veranda showed, all ribbed, the white house-wall below--and thricetwelve was thirty-six!

'Look! Is it coming into shape?' asked Lurgan Sahib. 

'But it is smashed--smashed, ' he gasped--Lurgan Sahib had beenmuttering softly for the last half-minute. Kim wrenched his headaside. 'Look! Dekho! It is there as it was there. '

'It is there as it was there, ' said Lurgan, watching Kim closely whilethe boy rubbed his neck. 'But you are the first of many who has everseen it so. ' He wiped his broad forehead. 

'Was that more magic?' Kim asked suspiciously. The tingle had gonefrom his veins; he felt unusually wide awake. 

'No, that was not magic. It was only to see if there was--a flaw in ajewel. Sometimes very fine jewels will fly all to pieces if a manholds them in his hand, and knows the proper way. That is why one mustbe careful before one sets them. Tell me, did you see the shape of thepot?'

'For a little time. It began to grow like a flower from the ground. '

'And then what did you do? I mean, how did you think?'

'Oah! I knew it was broken, and so, I think, that was what Ithought--and it was broken. '

'Hm! Has anyone ever done that same sort of magic to you before?'

'If it was, ' said Kim 'do you think I should let it again? I shouldrun away. '

'And now you are not afraid--eh?'

'Not now. '

Lurgan Sahib looked at him more closely than ever. 'I shall ask MahbubAli--not now, but some day later, ' he muttered. 'I am pleased withyou--yes; and I am pleased with you--no. You are the first that eversaved himself. I wish I knew what it was that . .. But you are right. You should not tell that--not even to me. '

He turned into the dusky gloom of the shop, and sat down at the table, rubbing his hands softly. A small, husky sob came from behind a pileof carpets. It was the Hindu child obediently facing towards the wall. His thin shoulders worked with grief. 

'Ah! He is jealous, so jealous. I wonder if he will try to poison meagain in my breakfast, and make me cook it twice. 

'Kubbee--kubbee nahin [Never--never. No!]', came the broken answer. 

'And whether he will kill this other boy?'

'Kubbee--kubbee nahin. '

'What do you think he will do?' He turned suddenly on Kim. 

'Oah! I do not know. Let him go, perhaps. Why did he want to poisonyou?'

'Because he is so fond of me. Suppose you were fond of someone, andyou saw someone come, and the man you were fond of was more pleasedwith him than he was with you, what would you do?'

Kim thought. Lurgan repeated the sentence slowly in the vernacular. 'Ishould not poison that man, ' said Kim reflectively, 'but I should beatthat boy--if that boy was fond of my man. But first, I would ask thatboy if it were true. '

'Ah! He thinks everyone must be fond of me. '

'Then I think he is a fool. '

'Hearest thou?' said Lurgan Sahib to the shaking shoulders. 'TheSahib's son thinks thou art a little fool. Come out, and next time thyheart is troubled, do not try white arsenic quite so openly. Surely theDevil Dasim was lord of our table-cloth that day! It might have mademe ill, child, and then a stranger would have guarded the jewels. Come!'

The child, heavy-eyed with much weeping, crept out from behind the baleand flung himself passionately at Lurgan Sahib's feet, with anextravagance of remorse that impressed even Kim. 

'I will look into the ink-pools--I will faithfully guard the jewels!Oh, my Father and my Mother, send him away!' He indicated Kim with abackward jerk of his bare heel. 

'Not yet--not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But nowhe is at school--at a new madrissah--and thou shalt be his teacher. Play the Play of the Jewels against him. I will keep tally. '

The child dried his tears at once, and dashed to the back of the shop, whence he returned with a copper tray. 

'Give me!' he said to Lurgan Sahib. 'Let them come from thy hand, forhe may say that I knew them before. '

'Gently--gently, ' the man replied, and from a drawer under the tabledealt a half-handful of clattering trifles into the tray. 

'Now, ' said the child, waving an old newspaper. 'Look on them as longas thou wilt, stranger. Count and, if need be, handle. One look isenough for me. ' He turned his back proudly. 

'But what is the game?'

'When thou hast counted and handled and art sure that thou canstremember them all, I cover them with this paper, and thou must tellover the tally to Lurgan Sahib. I will write mine. '

'Oah!' The instinct of competition waked in his breast. He bent overthe tray. There were but fifteen stones on it. 'That is easy, ' hesaid after a minute. The child slipped the paper over the winkingjewels and scribbled in a native account-book. 

'There are under that paper five blue stones--one big, one smaller, andthree small, ' said Kim, all in haste. 'There are four green stones, and one with a hole in it; there is one yellow stone that I can seethrough, and one like a pipe-stem. There are two red stones, and--and--I made the count fifteen, but two I have forgotten. No!Give me time. One was of ivory, little and brownish; and--and--give metime. .. '

'One--two'--Lurgan Sahib counted him out up to ten. Kim shook his head. 

'Hear my count!' the child burst in, trilling with laughter. 'First, are two flawed sapphires--one of two ruttees and one of four as Ishould judge. The four-ruttee sapphire is chipped at the edge. Thereis one Turkestan turquoise, plain with black veins, and there are twoinscribed--one with a Name of God in gilt, and the other being crackedacross, for it came out of an old ring, I cannot read. We have now allfive blue stones. Four flawed emeralds there are, but one is drilledin two places, and one is a little carven-'

'Their weights?' said Lurgan Sahib impassively. 

'Three--five--five--and four ruttees as I judge it. There is one pieceof old greenish pipe amber, and a cut topaz from Europe. There is oneruby of Burma, of two ruttees, without a flaw, and there is abalas-ruby, flawed, of two ruttees. There is a carved ivory from Chinarepresenting a rat sucking an egg; and there is last--ah ha!--a ball ofcrystal as big as a bean set on a gold leaf. '

He clapped his hands at the close. 

'He is thy master, ' said Lurgan Sahib, smiling. 

'Huh! He knew the names of the stones, ' said Kim, flushing. 'Tryagain! With common things such as he and I both know. '

They heaped the tray again with odds and ends gathered from the shop, and even the kitchen, and every time the child won, till Kim marvelled. 

'Bind my eyes--let me feel once with my fingers, and even then I willleave thee opened-eyed behind, ' he challenged. 

Kim stamped with vexation when the lad made his boast good. 

'If it were men--or horses, ' he said, 'I could do better. This playingwith tweezers and knives and scissors is too little. '

'Learn first--teach later, ' said Lurgan Sahib. 'Is he thy master?'

'Truly. But how is it done?'

'By doing it many times over till it is done perfectly--for it is worthdoing. '

The Hindu boy, in highest feather, actually patted Kim on the back. 

'Do not despair, ' he said. 'I myself will teach thee. '

'And I will see that thou art well taught, ' said Lurgan Sahib, stillspeaking in the vernacular, 'for except my boy here--it was foolish ofhim to buy so much white arsenic when, if he had asked, I could havegiven it--except my boy here I have not in a long time met with onebetter worth teaching. And there are ten days more ere thou canstreturn to Lucknao where they teach nothing--at the long price. Weshall, I think, be friends. '

They were a most mad ten days, but Kim enjoyed himself too much toreflect on their craziness. In the morning they played the JewelGame--sometimes with veritable stones, sometimes with piles of swordsand daggers, sometimes with photo-graphs of natives. Through theafternoons he and the Hindu boy would mount guard in the shop, sittingdumb behind a carpet-bale or a screen and watching Mr Lurgan's many andvery curious visitors. There were small Rajahs, escorts coughing inthe veranda, who came to buy curiosities--such as phonographs andmechanical toys. There were ladies in search of necklaces, and men, itseemed to Kim--but his mind may have been vitiated by earlytraining--in search of the ladies; natives from independent andfeudatory Courts whose ostensible business was the repair of brokennecklaces--rivers of light poured out upon the table--but whose trueend seemed to be to raise money for angry Maharanees or young Rajahs. There were Babus to whom Lurgan Sahib talked with austerity andauthority, but at the end of each interview he gave them money incoined silver and currency notes. There were occasional gatherings oflong-coated theatrical natives who discussed metaphysics in English andBengali, to Mr Lurgan's great edification. He was always interested inreligions. At the end of the day, Kim and the Hindu boy--whose namevaried at Lurgan's pleasure--were expected to give a detailed accountof all that they had seen and heard--their view of each man'scharacter, as shown in his face, talk, and manner, and their notions ofhis real errand. After dinner, Lurgan Sahib's fancy turned more towhat might be called dressing-up, in which game he took a mostinforming interest. He could paint faces to a marvel; with a brush-dabhere and a line there changing them past recognition. The shop wasfull of all manner of dresses and turbans, and Kim was apparelledvariously as a young Mohammedan of good family, an oilman, andonce--which was a joyous evening--as the son of an Oudh landholder inthe fullest of full dress. Lurgan Sahib had a hawk's eye to detect theleast flaw in the make-up; and lying on a worn teak-wood couch, wouldexplain by the half-hour together how such and such a caste talked, orwalked, or coughed, or spat, or sneezed, and, since 'hows' matterlittle in this world, the 'why' of everything. The Hindu child playedthis game clumsily. That little mind, keen as an icicle where tally ofjewels was concerned, could not temper itself to enter another's soul;but a demon in Kim woke up and sang with joy as he put on the changingdresses, and changed speech and gesture therewith. 

Carried away by enthusiasm, he volunteered to show Lurgan Sahib oneevening how the disciples of a certain caste of fakir, old Lahoreacquaintances, begged doles by the roadside; and what sort of languagehe would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair, andto a woman without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely, and beggedKim to stay as he was, immobile for half an hour--cross-legged, ash-smeared, and wild-eyed, in the back room. At the end of that timeentered a hulking, obese Babu whose stockinged legs shook with fat, andKim opened on him with a shower of wayside chaff. Lurgan Sahib--thisannoyed Kim--watched the Babu and not the play. 

'I think, ' said the Babu heavily, lighting a cigarette, 'I am ofopeenion that it is most extraordinary and effeecient performance. Except that you had told me I should have opined that--that--that youwere pulling my legs. How soon can he become approximately effeecientchain-man? Because then I shall indent for him. '

'That is what he must learn at Lucknow. '

'Then order him to be jolly-dam'-quick. Good-night, Lurgan. ' The Babuswung out with the gait of a bogged cow. 

When they were telling over the day's list of visitors, Lurgan Sahibasked Kim who he thought the man might be. 

'God knows!' said Kim cheerily. The tone might almost have deceivedMahbub Ali, but it failed entirely with the healer of sick pearls. 

'That is true. God, He knows; but I wish to know what you think. '

Kim glanced sideways at his companion, whose eye had a way ofcompelling truth. 

'I--I think he will want me when I come from the school, but'--confidentially, as Lurgan Sahib nodded approval--'I do notunderstand how he can wear many dresses and talk many tongues. '

'Thou wilt understand many things later. He is a writer of tales for acertain Colonel. His honour is great only in Simla, and it isnoticeable that he has no name, but only a number and a letter--that isa custom among us. '

'And is there a price upon his head too--as upon Mah--all the others?'

'Not yet; but if a boy rose up who is now sitting here and went--look, the door is open!--as far as a certain house with a red-paintedveranda, behind that which was the old theatre in the Lower Bazar, andwhispered through the shutters: "Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the badnews of last month", that boy might take away a belt full of rupees. '

'How many?' said Kim promptly. 

'Five hundred--a thousand--as many as he might ask for. '

'Good. And for how long might such a boy live after the news wastold?' He smiled merrily at Lurgan's Sahib's very beard. 

'Ah! That is to be well thought of. Perhaps if he were very clever, he might live out the day--but not the night. By no means the night. '

'Then what is the Babu's pay if so much is put upon his head?'

'Eighty--perhaps a hundred--perhaps a hundred and fifty rupees; but thepay is the least part of the work. From time to time, God causes mento be born--and thou art one of them--who have a lust to go abroad atthe risk of their lives and discover news--today it may be of far-offthings, tomorrow of some hidden mountain, and the next day of somenear-by men who have done a foolishness against the State. These soulsare very few; and of these few, not more than ten are of the best. Among these ten I count the Babu, and that is curious. How great, therefore, and desirable must be a business that brazens the heart of aBengali!'

'True. But the days go slowly for me. I am yet a boy, and it is onlywithin two months I learned to write Angrezi. Even now I cannot readit well. And there are yet years and years and long years before I canbe even a chain-man. '

'Have patience, Friend of all the World'--Kim started at the title. 'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved theein several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make myreport to the Colonel Sahib. ' Then, changing suddenly into Englishwith a deep laugh:

'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you mustnot become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknowand be a good little boy and mind your book, as the English say, andperhaps, next holidays if you care, you can come back to me!' Kim'sface fell. 'Oh, I mean if you like. I know where you want to go. '

Four days later a seat was booked for Kim and his small trunk at therear of a Kalka tonga. His companion was the whale-like Babu, who, with a fringed shawl wrapped round his head, and his fatopenwork-stockinged left leg tucked under him, shivered and grunted inthe morning chill. 

'How comes it that this man is one of us?' thought Kim considering thejelly back as they jolted down the road; and the reflection threw himinto most pleasant day-dreams. Lurgan Sahib had given him fiverupees--a splendid sum--as well as the assurance of his protection ifhe worked. Unlike Mahbub, Lurgan Sahib had spoken most explicitly ofthe reward that would follow obedience, and Kim was content. If only, like the Babu, he could enjoy the dignity of a letter and a number--anda price upon his head! Some day he would be all that and more. Someday he might be almost as great as Mahbub Ali! The housetops of hissearch should be half India; he would follow Kings and Ministers, as inthe old days he had followed vakils and lawyers' touts across Lahorecity for Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not atall unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. Therewould be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holidayadventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur, had boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against thehead-hunters. 

That might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown halfacross the forecourt of a Patiala palace by an explosion of fireworks;nor had he. .. Kim fell to telling himself the story of his ownadventures through the last three months. He could paralyse StXavier's--even the biggest boys who shaved--with the recital, were thatpermitted. But it was, of course, out of the question. There would bea price upon his head in good time, as Lurgan Sahib had assured him;and if he talked foolishly now, not only would that price never be set, but Colonel Creighton would cast him off--and he would be left to thewrath of Lurgan Sahib and Mahbub Ali--for the short space of life thatwould remain to him. 

'So I should lose Delhi for the sake of a fish, ' was his proverbialphilosophy. It behoved him to forget his holidays (there would alwaysremain the fun of inventing imaginary adventures) and, as Lurgan Sahibhad said, to work. Of all the boys hurrying back to St Xavier's, fromSukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled withvirtue as Kimball O'Hara, jiggeting down to Umballa behind HurreeChunder Mookerjee, whose name on the books of one section of theEthnological Survey was R. 17. 

And if additional spur were needed, the Babu supplied it. After a hugemeal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school?Then he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages ofeducation. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin andWordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too wasvital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few milesfrom Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, bystrict attention to plays called Lear and Julius Caesar, both much indemand by examiners. Lear was not so full of historical allusions asJulius Caesar; the book cost four annas, but could be boughtsecond-hand in Bow Bazar for two. Still more important thanWordsworth, or the eminent authors, Burke and Hare, was the art andscience of mensuration. A boy who had passed his examination in thesebranches--for which, by the way, there were no cram-books--could, bymerely marching over a country with a compass and a level and astraight eye, carry away a picture of that country which might be soldfor large sums in coined silver. But as it was occasionallyinexpedient to carry about measuring-chains a boy would do well to knowthe precise length of his own foot-pace, so that when he was deprivedof what Hurree Chunder called adventitious aids' he might still treadhis distances. To keep count of thousands of paces, Hurree Chunder'sexperience had shown him nothing more valuable than a rosary ofeighty-one or a hundred and eight beads, for 'it was divisible andsub-divisible into many multiples and sub-multiples'. Through thevolleying drifts of English, Kim caught the general trend of the talk, and it interested him very much. Here was a new craft that a man couldtuck away in his head and by the look of the large wide world unfoldingitself before him, it seemed that the more a man knew the better forhim. 

Said the Babu when he had talked for an hour and a half 'I hope someday to enjoy your offeecial acquaintance. Ad interim, if I may bepardoned that expression, I shall give you this betel-box, which ishighly valuable article and cost me two rupees only four years ago. ' Itwas a cheap, heart-shaped brass thing with three compartments forcarrying the eternal betel-nut, lime and pan-leaf; but it was filledwith little tabloid-bottles. 

'That is reward of merit for your performance in character of that holyman. You see, you are so young you think you will last for ever andnot take care of your body. It is great nuisance to go sick in themiddle of business. I am fond of drugs myself, and they are handy tocure poor people too. These are good Departmental drugs--quinine andso on. I give it you for souvenir. Now good-bye. I have urgentprivate business here by the roadside. '

He slipped out noiselessly as a cat, on the Umballa road, hailed apassing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled thebrass betel-box in his hands. 

The record of a boy's education interests few save his parents, and, asyou know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St Xavier'sin Partibus that a report of Kim's progress was forwarded at the end ofeach term to Colonel Creighton and to Father Victor, from whose handsduly came the money for his schooling. It is further recorded in thesame books that he showed a great aptitude for mathematical studies aswell as map-making, and carried away a prize (The Life of LordLawrence, tree-calf, two vols. , nine rupees, eight annas) forproficiency therein; and the same term played in St Xavier's elevenagainst the Alighur Mohammedan College, his age being fourteen yearsand ten months. He was also re-vaccinated (from which we may assumethat there had been another epidemic of smallpox at Lucknow) about thesame time. Pencil notes on the edge of an old muster-roll record thathe was punished several times for 'conversing with improper persons', and it seems that he was once sentenced to heavy pains for 'absentinghimself for a day in the company of a street beggar'. That was when hegot over the gate and pleaded with the lama through a whole day downthe banks of the Gumti to accompany him on the Road next holidays--forone month--for a little week; and the lama set his face as a flintagainst it, averring that the time had not yet come. Kim's business, said the old man as they ate cakes together, was to get all the wisdomof the Sahibs and then he would see. The Hand of Friendship must insome way have averted the Whip of Calamity, for six weeks later Kimseems to have passed an examination in elementary surveying 'with greatcredit', his age being fifteen years and eight months. From this datethe record is silent. His name does not appear in the year's batch ofthose who entered for the subordinate Survey of India, but against itstand the words 'removed on appointment. '

Several times in those three years, cast up at the Temple of theTirthankars in Benares the lama, a little thinner and a shade yellower, if that were possible, but gentle and untainted as ever. Sometimes itwas from the South that he came--from south of Tuticorin, whence thewonderful fire-boats go to Ceylon where are priests who know Pali;sometimes it was from the wet green West and the thousandcotton-factory chimneys that ring Bombay; and once from the North, where he had doubled back eight hundred miles to talk for a day withthe Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House. He would stride to hiscell in the cool, cut marble--the priests of the Temple were good tothe old man, --wash off the dust of travel, make prayer, and depart forLucknow, well accustomed now to the way of the rail, in a third-classcarriage. Returning, it was noticeable, as his friend the Seekerpointed out to the head-priest, that he ceased for a while to mourn theloss of his River, or to draw wondrous pictures of the Wheel of Life, but preferred to talk of the beauty and wisdom of a certain mysteriouschela whom no man of the Temple had ever seen. Yes, he had followedthe traces of the Blessed Feet throughout all India. (The Curator hasstill in his possession a most marvellous account of his wanderings andmeditations. ) There remained nothing more in life but to find the Riverof the Arrow. Yet it was shown to him in dreams that it was a matternot to be undertaken with any hope of success unless that seeker hadwith him the one chela appointed to bring the event to a happy issue, and versed in great wisdom--such wisdom as white-haired Keepers ofImages possess. For example (here came out the snuff-gourd, and thekindly Jain priests made haste to be silent):

'Long and long ago, when Devadatta was King of Benares--let all listento the Tataka!--an elephant was captured for a time by the king'shunters and ere he broke free, beringed with a grievous legiron. Thishe strove to remove with hate and frenzy in his heart, and hurrying upand down the forests, besought his brother-elephants to wrench itasunder. One by one, with their strong trunks, they tried and failed. At the last they gave it as their opinion that the ring was not to bebroken by any bestial power. And in a thicket, new-born, wet withmoisture of birth, lay a day-old calf of the herd whose mother haddied. The fettered elephant, forgetting his own agony, said: "If I donot help this suckling it will perish under our feet. " So he stoodabove the young thing, making his legs buttresses against the uneasilymoving herd; and he begged milk of a virtuous cow, and the calf throve, and the ringed elephant was the calf's guide and defence. Now the daysof an elephant--let all listen to the Tataka!--are thirty-five years tohis full strength, and through thirty-five Rains the ringed elephantbefriended the younger, and all the while the fetter ate into the flesh. 

'Then one day the young elephant saw the half-buried iron, and turningto the elder said: "What is this?" "It is even my sorrow, " said hewho had befriended him. Then that other put out his trunk and in thetwinkling of an eyelash abolished the ring, saying: "The appointedtime has come. " So the virtuous elephant who had waited temperatelyand done kind acts was relieved, at the appointed time, by the verycalf whom he had turned aside to cherish--let all listen to the Tataka!for the Elephant was Ananda, and the Calf that broke the ring was noneother than The Lord Himself. .. '

Then he would shake his head benignly, and over the ever-clickingrosary point out how free that elephant-calf was from the sin of pride. He was as humble as a chela who, seeing his master sitting in the dustoutside the Gates of Learning, over-leapt the gates (though they werelocked) and took his master to his heart in the presence of theproud-stomached city. Rich would be the reward of such a master andsuch a chela when the time came for them to seek freedom together!

So did the lama speak, coming and going across India as softly as abat. A sharp-tongued old woman in a house among the fruit-trees behindSaharunpore honoured him as the woman honoured the prophet, but hischamber was by no means upon the wall. In an apartment of theforecourt overlooked by cooing doves he would sit, while she laid asideher useless veil and chattered of spirits and fiends of Kulu, ofgrandchildren unborn, and of the free-tongued brat who had talked toher in the resting-place. Once, too, he strayed alone from the GrandTrunk Road below Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried todrug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilightthrough the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar's door. Here was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the oldsoldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way onlysix days before. 

'That may not be, ' said the lama. 'He has gone back to his own people. '

'He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales five nights ago, 'his host insisted. 'True, he vanished somewhat suddenly in the dawnafter foolish talk with my granddaughter. He grows apace, but he isthe same Friend of the Stars as brought me true word of the war. Haveye parted?'

'Yes--and no, ' the lama replied. 'We--we have not altogether parted, but the time is not ripe that we should take the Road together. Heacquires wisdom in another place. We must wait. '

'All one--but if it were not the boy how did he come to speak socontinually of thee?'

'And what said he?' asked the lama eagerly. 

'Sweet words--an hundred thousand--that thou art his father and motherand such all. Pity that he does not take the Qpeen's service. He isfearless. '

This news amazed the lama, who did not then know how religiously Kimkept to the contract made with Mahbub Ali, and perforce ratified byColonel Creighton. .. 

'There is no holding the young pony from the game, ' said thehorse-dealer when the Colonel pointed out that vagabonding over Indiain holiday time was absurd. 'If permission be refused to go and comeas he chooses, he will make light of the refusal. Then who is to catchhim? Colonel Sahib, only once in a thousand years is a horse born sowell fitted for the game as this our colt. And we need men. '

Chapter 10

 Your tiercel's too long at hack, Sire. He's no eyass But a passage-hawk that footed ere we caught him, Dangerously free o' the air. Faith! were he mine (As mine's the glove he binds to for his tirings) I'd fly him with a make-hawk. He's in yarak Plumed to the very point--so manned, so weathered. .. Give him the firmament God made him for, And what shall take the air of him?

 Gow's Watch

Lurgan Sahib did not use as direct speech, but his advice tallied withMahbub's; and the upshot was good for Kim. He knew better now than toleave Lucknow city in native garb, and if Mahbub were anywhere withinreach of a letter, it was to Mahbub's camp he headed, and made hischange under the Pathan's wary eye. Could the little Survey paint-boxthat he used for map-tinting in term-time have found a tongue to tellof holiday doings, he might have been expelled. Once Mahbub and hewent together as far as the beautiful city of Bombay, with threetruckloads of tram-horses, and Mahbub nearly melted when Kim proposed asail in a dhow across the Indian Ocean to buy Gulf Arabs, which, heunderstood from a hanger-on of the dealer Abdul Rahman, fetched betterprices than mere Kabulis. 

He dipped his hand into the dish with that great trader when Mahbub anda few co-religionists were invited to a big Haj dinner. They came backby way of Karachi by sea, when Kim took his first experience ofsea-sickness sitting on the fore-hatch of a coasting-steamer, wellpersuaded he had been poisoned. The Babu's famous drug-box proveduseless, though Kim had restocked it at Bombay. Mahbub had business atQuetta, and there Kim, as Mahbub admitted, earned his keep, and perhapsa little over, by spending four curious days as scullion in the houseof a fat Commissariat sergeant, from whose office-box, in an auspiciousmoment, he removed a little vellum ledger which he copied out--itseemed to deal entirely with cattle and camel sales--by moonlight, lying behind an outhouse, all through one hot night. Then he returnedthe ledger to its place, and, at Mahbub's word, left that serviceunpaid, rejoining him six miles down the road, the clean copy in hisbosom. 

'That soldier is a small fish, ' Mahbub Ali explained, 'but in time weshall catch the larger one. He only sells oxen at two prices--one forhimself and one for the Government--which I do not think is a sin. '

'Why could not I take away the little book and be done with it?'

'Then he would have been frightened, and he would have told his master. Then we should miss, perhaps, a great number of new rifles which seektheir way up from Quetta to the North. The Game is so large that onesees but a little at a time. '

'Oho!' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoonholidays, after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmasholidays he spent--deducting ten days for private amusements--withLurgan Sahib, where he sat for the most part in front of a roaringwood-fire--Jakko road was four feet deep in snow that year--and--thesmall Hindu had gone away to be married--helped Lurgan to threadpearls. He made Kim learn whole chapters of the Koran by heart, tillhe could deliver them with the very roll and cadence of a mullah. Moreover, he told Kim the names and properties of many native drugs, aswell as the runes proper to recite when you administer them. And inthe evenings he wrote charms on parchment--elaborate pentagrams crownedwith the names of devils--Murra, and Awan the Companion of Kings--allfantastically written in the corners. More to the point, he advisedKim as to the care of his own body, the cure of fever-fits, and simpleremedies of the Road. A week before it was time to go down, ColonelCreighton Sahib--this was unfair--sent Kim a written examination paperthat concerned itself solely with rods and chains and links and angles. 

Next holidays he was out with Mahbub, and here, by the way, he nearlydied of thirst, plodding through the sand on a camel to the mysteriouscity of Bikanir, where the wells are four hundred feet deep, and linedthroughout with camel-bone. It was not an amusing trip from Kim'spoint of view, because--in defiance of the contract--the Colonelordered him to make a map of that wild, walled city; and sinceMohammedan horse-boys and pipe-tenders are not expected to dragSurvey-chains round the capital of an independent Native State, Kim wasforced to pace all his distances by means of a bead rosary. He used thecompass for bearings as occasion served--after dark chiefly, when thecamels had been fed--and by the help of his little Survey paint-box ofsix colour-cakes and three brushes, he achieved something not remotelyunlike the city of Jeysulmir. Mahbub laughed a great deal, and advisedhim to make up a written report as well; and in the back of the bigaccount-book that lay under the flap of Mahbub's pet saddle Kim fell towork. . 

'It must hold everything that thou hast seen or touched or considered. Write as though the Jung-i-Lat Sahib himself had come by stealth with avast army outsetting to war. '

'How great an army?'

'Oh, half a lakh of men. '

'Folly! Remember how few and bad were the wells in the sand. Not athousand thirsty men could come near by here. '

'Then write that down--also all the old breaches in the walls andwhence the firewood is cut--and what is the temper and disposition ofthe King. I stay here till all my horses are sold. I will hire a roomby the gateway, and thou shalt be my accountant. There is a good lockto the door. '

The report in its unmistakable St Xavier's running script, and thebrown, yellow, and lake-daubed map, was on hand a few years ago (acareless clerk filed it with the rough notes of E's second Seistansurvey), but by now the pencil characters must be almost illegible. Kimtranslated it, sweating under the light of an oil-lamp, to Mahbub, thesecond day of their return-journey. 

The Pathan rose and stooped over his dappled saddle-bags. 

'I knew it would be worthy a dress of honour, and so I made one ready, 'he said, smiling. 'Were I Amir of Afghanistan (and some day we may seehim), I would fill thy mouth with gold. ' He laid the garments formallyat Kim's feet. There was a gold-embroidered Peshawur turban-cap, rising to a cone, and a big turban-cloth ending in a broad fringe ofgold. There was a Delhi embroidered waistcoat to slip over a milkywhite shirt, fastening to the right, ample and flowing; green pyjamaswith twisted silk waist-string; and that nothing might be lacking, russia-leather slippers, smelling divinely, with arrogantly curled tips. 

'Upon a Wednesday, and in the morning, to put on new clothes isauspicious, ' said Mahbub solemnly. 'But we must not forget the wickedfolk in the world. So!'

He capped all the splendour, that was taking Kim's delighted breathaway, with a mother-of-pearl, nickel-plated, self-extracting . 450revolver. 

'I had thought of a smaller bore, but reflected that this takesGovernment bullets. A man can always come by those--especially acrossthe Border. Stand up and let me look. ' He clapped Kim on theshoulder. 'May you never be tired, Pathan! Oh, the hearts to bebroken! Oh, the eyes under the eyelashes, looking sideways!'

Kim turned about, pointed his toes, stretched, and felt mechanicallyfor the moustache that was just beginning. Then he stooped towardsMahbub's feet to make proper acknowledgment with fluttering, quick-patting hands; his heart too full for words. Mahbub forestalledand embraced him. 

'My son, said he, 'what need of words between us? But is not thelittle gun a delight? All six cartridges come out at one twist. It isborne in the bosom next the skin, which, as it were, keeps it oiled. Never put it elsewhere, and please God, thou shalt some day kill a manwith it. '

'Hai mai!' said Kim ruefully. 'If a Sahib kills a man he is hanged inthe jail. '

'True: but one pace beyond the Border, men are wiser. Put it away;but fill it first. Of what use is a gun unfed?'

'When I go back to the madrissah I must return it. They do not allowlittle guns. Thou wilt keep it for me?'

'Son, I am wearied of that madrissah, where they take the best years ofa man to teach him what he can only learn upon the Road. The folly ofthe Sahibs has neither top nor bottom. No matter. Maybe thy writtenreport shall save thee further bondage; and God He knows we need menmore and more in the Game. '

They marched, jaw-bound against blowing sand, across the salt desert toJodhpur, where Mahbub and his handsome nephew Habib Ullah did muchtrading; and then sorrowfully, in European clothes, which he was fastoutgrowing, Kim went second-class to St Xavier's. Three weeks later, Colonel Creighton, pricing Tibetan ghost-daggers at Lurgan's shop, faced Mahbub Ali openly mutinous. Lurgan Sahib operated as support inreserve. 

'The pony is made--finished--mouthed and paced, Sahib! From now on, day by day, he will lose his manners if he is kept at tricks. Drop therein on his back and let go, ' said the horse-dealer. 'We need him. '

'But he is so young, Mahbub--not more than sixteen--is he?'

'When I was fifteen, I had shot my man and begot my man, Sahib. '

'You impenitent old heathen!' Creighton turned to Lurgan. The blackbeard nodded assent to the wisdom of the Afghan's dyed scarlet. 

'I should have used him long ago, ' said Lurgan. 'The younger thebetter. That is why I always have my really valuable jewels watched bya child. You sent him to me to try. I tried him in every way: he isthe only boy I could not make to see things. '

'In the crystal--in the ink-pool?' demanded Mahbub. 

'No. Under my hand, as I told you. That has never happened before. Itmeans that he is strong enough--but you think it skittles, ColonelCreighton--to make anyone do anything he wants. And that is threeyears ago. I have taught him a good deal since, Colonel Creighton. Ithink you waste him now. '

'Hmm! Maybe you're right. But, as you know, there is no Survey workfor him at present. '

'Let him out let him go, ' Mahbub interrupted. 'Who expects any colt tocarry heavy weight at first? Let him run with the caravans--like ourwhite camel-colts--for luck. I would take him myself, but--'

'There is a little business where he would be most useful--in theSouth, ' said Lurgan, with peculiar suavity, dropping his heavy bluedeyelids. 

'E. 23 has that in hand, ' said Creighton quickly. 'He must not go downthere. Besides, he knows no Turki. '

'Only tell him the shape and the smell of the letters we want and hewill bring them back, ' Lurgan insisted. 

'No. That is a man's job, ' said Creighton. 

It was a wry-necked matter of unauthorized and incendiarycorrespondence between a person who claimed to be the ultimateauthority in all matters of the Mohammedan religion throughout theworld, and a younger member of a royal house who had been brought tobook for kidnapping women within British territory. The MoslemArchbishop had been emphatic and over-arrogant; the young prince wasmerely sulky at the curtailment of his privileges, but there was noneed he should continue a correspondence which might some daycompromise him. One letter indeed had been procured, but the finderwas later found dead by the roadside in the habit of an Arab trader, asE. 23, taking up the work, duly reported. 

These facts, and a few others not to be published, made both Mahbub andCreighton shake their heads. 

'Let him go out with his Red Lama, ' said the horse-dealer with visibleeffort. 'He is fond of the old man. He can learn his paces by therosary at least. '

'I have had some dealings with the old man--by letter, ' said ColonelCreighton, smiling to himself. 'Whither goes he?'

'Up and down the land, as he has these three years. He seeks a Riverof Healing. God's curse upon all--' Mahbub checked himself. 'He bedsdown at the Temple of the Tirthankars or at Buddh Gaya when he is infrom the Road. Then he goes to see the boy at the madrissah, as weknow for the boy was punished for it twice or thrice. He is quite mad, but a peaceful man. I have met him. The Babu also has had dealingswith him. We have watched him for three years. Red Lamas are not socommon in Hind that one loses track. '

'Babus are very curious, ' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know whatHurree Babu really wants? He wants to be made a member of the RoyalSociety by taking ethnological notes. I tell you, I tell him about thelama everything which Mahbub and the boy have told me. Hurree Babu goesdown to Benares--at his own expense, I think. '

'I don't, ' said Creighton briefly. He had paid Hurree's travellingexpenses, out of a most lively curiosity to learn what the lama mightbe. 

'And he applies to the lama for information on lamaism, anddevil-dances, and spells and charms, several times in these few years. Holy Virgin! I could have told him all that yeears ago. I thinkHurree Babu is getting too old for the Road. He likes better tocollect manners and customs information. Yes, he wants to be an FRS. 

'Hurree thinks well of the boy, doesn't he?'

'Oh, very indeed--we have had some pleasant evenings at my littleplace--but I think it would be waste to throw him away with Hurree onthe Ethnological side. '

'Not for a first experience. How does that strike you, Mahbub? Letthe boy run with the lama for six months. After that we can see. Hewill get experience. '

'He has it already, Sahib--as a fish controls the water he swims in. But for every reason it will be well to loose him from the school. '

'Very good, then, ' said Creighton, half to himself. 'He can go withthe lama, and if Hurree Babu cares to keep an eye on them so much thebetter. He won't lead the boy into any danger as Mahbub would. Curious--his wish to be an F R S. Very human, too. He is best on theEthnological side--Hurree. '

No money and no preferment would have drawn Creighton from his work onthe Indian Survey, but deep in his heart also lay the ambition to write'F R S' after his name. Honours of a sort he knew could be obtained byingenuity and the help of friends, but, to the best of his belief, nothing save work--papers representing a life of it--took a man intothe Society which he had bombarded for years with monographs on strangeAsiatic cults and unknown customs. Nine men out of ten would flee froma Royal Society soiree in extremity of boredom; but Creighton was thetenth, and at times his soul yearned for the crowded rooms in easyLondon where silver-haired, bald-headed gentlemen who know nothing ofthe Army move among spectroscopic experiments, the lesser plants of thefrozen tundras, electric flight-measuring machines, and apparatus forslicing into fractional millimetres the left eye of the femalemosquito. By all right and reason, it was the Royal Geographical thatshould have appealed to him, but men are as chancy as children in theirchoice of playthings. So Creighton smiled, and thought the better ofHurree Babu, moved by like desire. 

He dropped the ghost-dagger and looked up at Mahbub. 

'How soon can we get the colt from the stable?' said the horse-dealer, reading his eyes. 

'Hmm! If I withdraw him by order now--what will he do, think you? Ihave never before assisted at the teaching of such an one. '

'He will come to me, ' said Mahbub promptly. 'Lurgan Sahib and I willprepare him for the Road. '

'So be it, then. For six months he shall run at his choice. But whowill be his sponsor?'

Lurgan slightly inclined his head. 'He will not tell anything, if thatis what you are afraid of, Colonel Creighton. '

'It's only a boy, after all. '

'Ye-es; but first, he has nothing to tell; and secondly, he knows whatwould happen. Also, he is very fond of Mahbub, and of me a little. '

'Will he draw pay?' demanded the practical horse-dealer. 

'Food and water allowance only. Twenty rupees a month. '

One advantage of the Secret Service is that it has no worrying audit. That Service is ludicrously starved, of course, but the funds areadministered by a few men who do not call for vouchers or presentitemized accounts. Mahbub's eyes lighted with almost a Sikh's love ofmoney. Even Lurgan's impassive face changed. He considered the yearsto come when Kim would have been entered and made to the Great Gamethat never ceases day and night, throughout India. He foresaw honourand credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil. Lurgan Sahib had made E. 23 what E. 23 was, out of a bewildered, impertinent, lying, little North-West Province man. 

But the joy of these masters was pale and smoky beside the joy of Kimwhen St Xavier's Head called him aside, with word that ColonelCreighton had sent for him. 

'I understand, O'Hara, that he has found you a place as an assistantchain-man in the Canal Department: that comes of taking upmathematics. It is great luck for you, for you are only sixteen; butof course you understand that you do not become pukka [permanent] tillyou have passed the autumn examination. So you must not think you aregoing out into the world to enjoy yourself, or that your fortune ismade. There is a great deal of hard work before you. Only, if yousucceed in becoming pukka, you can rise, you know, to four hundred andfifty a month. ' Whereat the Principal gave him much good advice as tohis conduct, and his manners, and his morals; and others, his elders, who had not been wafted into billets, talked as only Anglo-Indian ladscan, of favouritism and corruption. Indeed, young Cazalet, whosefather was a pensioner at Chunar, hinted very broadly that ColonelCreighton's interest in Kim was directly paternal; and Kim, instead ofretaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immensefun to come, of Mahbub's letter of the day before, all neatly writtenin English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house the veryname of which would have crisped the Principal's hair with horror. .. 

Said Kim to Mahbub in Lucknow railway station that evening, above theluggage-scales: 'I feared lest at the last, the roof would fall uponme and cheat me. It is indeed all finished, O my father?'

Mahbub snapped his fingers to show the utterness of that end, and hiseyes blazed like red coals. 

'Then where is the pistol that I may wear it?'

'Softly! A half-year, to run without heel-ropes. I begged that muchfrom Colonel Creighton Sahib. At twenty rupees a month. Old Red Hatknows that thou art coming. '

'I will pay thee dustoorie [commission] on my pay for three months, 'said Kim gravely. 'Yea, two rupees a month. But first we must get ridof these. ' He plucked his thin linen trousers and dragged at hiscollar. 'I have brought with me all that I need on the Road. My trunkhas gone up to Lurgan Sahib's. '

'Who sends his salaams to thee--Sahib. '

'Lurgan Sahib is a very clever man. But what dost thou do?'

'I go North again, upon the Great Game. What else? Is thy mind stillset on following old Red Hat?'

'Do not forget he made me that I am--though he did not know it. Year byyear, he sent the money that taught me. '

'I would have done as much--had it struck my thick head, ' Mahbubgrowled. 'Come away. The lamps are lit now, and none will mark theein the bazar. We go to Huneefa's house. '

On the way thither, Mahbub gave him much the same sort of advice as hismother gave to Lemuel, and curiously enough, Mahbub was exact to pointout how Huneefa and her likes destroyed kings. 

'And I remember, ' he quoted maliciously, 'one who said, "Trust a snakebefore an harlot, and an harlot before a Pathan, Mahbub Ali. " Now, excepting as to Pathans, of whom I am one, all that is true. Most trueis it in the Great Game, for it is by means of women that all planscome to ruin and we lie out in the dawning with our throats cut. So ithappened to such a one. ' He gave the reddest particulars. 

'Then why--?' Kim paused before a filthy staircase that climbed to thewarm darkness of an upper chamber, in the ward that is behind AzimUllah's tobacco-shop. Those who know it call it The Birdcage--it is sofull of whisperings and whistlings and chirrupings. 

The room, with its dirty cushions and half-smoked hookahs, smeltabominably of stale tobacco. In one corner lay a huge and shapelesswoman clad in greenish gauzes, and decked, brow, nose, ear, neck, wrist, arm, waist, and ankle with heavy native jewellery. When sheturned it was like the clashing of copper pots. A lean cat in thebalcony outside the window mewed hungrily. Kim checked, bewildered, atthe door-curtain. 

'Is that the new stuff, Mahbub?' said Huneefa lazily, scarce troublingto remove the mouthpiece from her lips. 'O Buktanoos!'--like most ofher kind, she swore by the Djinns--'O Buktanoos! He is very good tolook upon. '

'That is part of the selling of the horse, ' Mahbub explained to Kim, who laughed. 

'I have heard that talk since my Sixth Day, ' he replied, squatting bythe light. 'Whither does it lead?'

'To protection. Tonight we change thy colour. This sleeping underroofs has blanched thee like an almond. But Huneefa has the secret ofa colour that catches. No painting of a day or two. Also, we fortifythee against the chances of the Road. That is my gift to thee, my son. Take out all metals on thee and lay them here. Make ready, Huneefa. '

Kim dragged forth his compass, Survey paint-box, and the new-filledmedicine-box. They had all accompanied his travels, and boylike hevalued them immensely. 

The woman rose slowly and moved with her hands a little spread beforeher. Then Kim saw that she was blind. 'No, no, ' she muttered, 'thePathan speaks truth--my colour does not go in a week or a month, andthose whom I protect are under strong guard. '

'When one is far off and alone, it would not be well to grow blotchedand leprous of a sudden, ' said Mahbub. 'When thou wast with me I couldoversee the matter. Besides, a Pathan is a fair-skin. Strip to thewaist now and look how thou art whitened. ' Huneefa felt her way backfrom an inner room. 'It is no matter, she cannot see. ' He took apewter bowl from her ringed hand. 

The dye-stuff showed blue and gummy. Kim experimented on the back ofhis wrist, with a dab of cotton-wool; but Huneefa heard him. 

'No, no, ' she cried, 'the thing is not done thus, but with the properceremonies. The colouring is the least part. I give thee the fullprotection of the Road. '

'Tadoo? [magic], 'said Kim, with a half start. He did not like thewhite, sightless eyes. Mahbub's hand on his neck bowed him to thefloor, nose within an inch of the boards. 

'Be still. No harm comes to thee, my son. I am thy sacrifice!'

He could not see what the woman was about, but heard the dish-clash ofher jewellery for many minutes. A match lit up the darkness; he caughtthe well-known purr and fizzle of grains of incense. Then the roomfilled with smoke--heavy aromatic, and stupefying. Through growingdrowse he heard the names of devils--of Zulbazan, Son of Eblis, wholives in bazars and paraos, making all the sudden lewd wickedness ofwayside halts; of Dulhan, invisible about mosques, the dweller amongthe slippers of the faithful, who hinders folk from their prayers; andMusboot, Lord of lies and panic. Huneefa, now whispering in his ear, now talking as from an immense distance, touched him with horrible softfingers, but Mahbub's grip never shifted from his neck till, relaxingwith a sigh, the boy lost his senses. 

'Allah! How he fought! We should never have done it but for thedrugs. That was his white blood, I take it, ' said Mahbub testily. 'Goon with the dawut [invocation]. Give him full Protection. '

'O Hearer! Thou that hearest with ears, be present. Listen, OHearer!' Huneefa moaned, her dead eyes turned to the west. The darkroom filled with moanings and snortings. 

From the outer balcony, a ponderous figure raised a round bullet headand coughed nervously. 

'Do not interrupt this ventriloquial necromanciss, my friend, ' it saidin English. 'I opine that it is very disturbing to you, but noenlightened observer is jolly-well upset. '

'. .. .. .. .. . I will lay a plot for their ruin! O Prophet, bear with theunbelievers. Let them alone awhile!' Huneefa's face, turned to thenorthward, worked horribly, and it was as though voices from theceiling answered her. 

Hurree Babu returned to his note-book, balanced on the window-sill, buthis hand shook. Huneefa, in some sort of drugged ecstasy, wrenchedherself to and fro as she sat cross-legged by Kim's still head, andcalled upon devil after devil, in the ancient order of the ritual, binding them to avoid the boy's every action. 

'With Him are the keys of the Secret Things! None knoweth them besidesHimself He knoweth that which is in the dry land and in the sea!'Again broke out the unearthly whistling responses. 

'I--I apprehend it is not at all malignant in its operation?' said theBabu, watching the throat-muscles quiver and jerk as Huneefa spoke withtongues. 'It--it is not likely that she has killed the boy? If so, Idecline to be witness at the trial . .. .. What was the last hypotheticaldevil mentioned?'

'Babuji, ' said Mahbub in the vernacular. 'I have no regard for thedevils of Hind, but the Sons of Eblis are far otherwise, and whetherthey be jumalee [well-affected] or jullalee [terrible] they love notKafirs. '

'Then you think I had better go?' said Hurree Babu, half rising. 'Theyare, of course, dematerialized phenomena. Spencer says. '

Huneefa's crisis passed, as these things must, in a paroxysm ofhowling, with a touch of froth at the lips. She lay spent andmotionless beside Kim, and the crazy voices ceased. 

'Wah! That work is done. May the boy be better for it; and Huneefa issurely a mistress of dawut. Help haul her aside, Babu. Do not beafraid. '

'How am I to fear the absolutely non-existent?' said Hurree Babu, talking English to reassure himself. It is an awful thing still todread the magic that you contemptuously investigate--to collectfolk-lore for the Royal Society with a lively belief in all Powers ofDarkness. 

Mahbub chuckled. He had been out with Hurree on the Road ere now. 'Letus finish the colouring, ' said he. 'The boy is well protected if--ifthe Lords of the Air have ears to hear. I am a Sufi [free-thinker], but when one can get blind-sides of a woman, a stallion, or a devil, why go round to invite a kick? Set him upon the way, Babu, and seethat old Red Hat does not lead him beyond our reach. I must get backto my horses. '

'All raight, ' said Hurree Babu. 'He is at present curious spectacle. '

About third cockcrow, Kim woke after a sleep of thousands of years. Huneefa, in her corner, snored heavily, but Mahbub was gone. 

'I hope you were not frightened, ' said an oily voice at his elbow. 'Isuperintended entire operation, which was most interesting fromethnological point of view. It was high-class dawut. '

'Huh!' said Kim, recognizing Hurree Babu, who smiled ingratiatingly. 

'And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume. I am not in the habit offeecially of carrying such gauds tosubordinates, but'--he giggled--'your case is noted as exceptional onthe books. I hope Mr Lurgan will note my action. '

Kim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist withinloose clothes once again. 

'What is this?' He looked curiously at the heavy duffle-stuff loadedwith the scents of the far North. 

'Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service oflamaistic lama. Complete in every particular, ' said Hurree Babu, rolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. 'I am ofopeenion it is not your old gentleman's precise releegion, but rathersub-variant of same. I have contributed rejected notes To Whom It MayConcern: Asiatic Quarterly Review on these subjects. Now it iscurious that the old gentleman himself is totally devoid ofreleegiosity. He is not a dam' particular. '

'Do you know him?'

Hurree Babu held up his hand to show he was engaged in the prescribedrites that accompany tooth-cleaning and such things among decently bredBengalis. Then he recited in English an Arya-Somaj prayer of atheistical nature, and stuffed his mouth with pan and betel. 

'Oah yes. I have met him several times at Benares, and also at BuddhGaya, to interrogate him on releegious points and devil-worship. He ispure agnostic--same as me. '

Huneefa stirred in her sleep, and Hurree Babu jumped nervously to thecopper incense-burner, all black and discoloured in morning-light, rubbed a finger in the accumulated lamp-black, and drew it diagonallyacross his face. 

'Who has died in thy house?' asked Kim in the vernacular. 

'None. But she may have the Evil Eye--that sorceress, ' the Babureplied. 

'What dost thou do now, then?'

'I will set thee on thy way to Benares, if thou goest thither, and tellthee what must be known by Us. '

'I go. At what hour runs the te-rain?' He rose to his feet, lookedround the desolate chamber and at the yellow-wax face of Huneefa as thelow sun stole across the floor. 'Is there money to be paid that witch?'

'No. She has charmed thee against all devils and all dangers in thename of her devils. It was Mahbub's desire. ' In English: 'He ishighly obsolete, I think, to indulge in such supersteetion. Why, it isall ventriloquy. Belly-speak--eh?'

Kim snapped his fingers mechanically to avert whatever evil--Mahbub, heknew, meditated none--might have crept in through Huneefa'sministrations; and Hurree giggled once more. But as he crossed theroom he was careful not to step in Huneefa's blotched, squat shadow onthe boards. Witches--when their time is on them--can lay hold of theheels of a man's soul if he does that. 

'Now you must well listen, ' said the Babu when they were in the freshair. 'Part of these ceremonies which we witnessed they include supplyof effeecient amulet to those of our Department. If you feel in yourneck you will find one small silver amulet, verree cheap. That is ours. Do you understand?'

'Oah yes, hawa-dilli [a heart-lifter], ' said Kim, feeling at his neck. 

'Huneefa she makes them for two rupees twelve annas with--oh, all sortsof exorcisms. They are quite common, except they are partially blackenamel, and there is a paper inside each one full of names of localsaints and such things. Thatt is Huneefa's look-out, you see? Huneefamakes them onlee for us, but in case she does not, when we get them weput in, before issue, one small piece of turquoise. Mr Lurgan he givesthem. There is no other source of supply; but it was me invented allthis. It is strictly unoffeecial of course, but convenient forsubordinates. Colonel Creighton he does not know. He is European. The turquoise is wrapped in the paper . .. Yes, that is road to railwaystation . .. Now suppose you go with the lama, or with me, I hope, someday, or with Mahbub. Suppose we get into a dam'-tight place. I am afearful man--most fearful--but I tell you I have been in dam'-tightplaces more than hairs on my head. You say: "I am Son of the Charm. "Verree good. '

'I do not understand quite. We must not be heard talking English here. '

'That is all raight. I am only Babu showing off my English to you. Allwe Babus talk English to show off;' said Hurree, flinging hisshoulder-cloth jauntily. 'As I was about to say, "Son of the Charm"means that you may be member of the Sat Bhai--the Seven Brothers, whichis Hindi and Tantric. It is popularly supposed to be extinct Society, but I have written notes to show it is still extant. You see, it isall my invention. Verree good. Sat Bhai has many members, and perhapsbefore they jolly-well-cut-your-throat they may give you just a chanceof life. That is useful, anyhow. And moreover, these foolishnatives--if they are not too excited--they always stop to think beforethey kill a man who says he belongs to any speecific organization. Yousee? You say then when you are in tight place, "I am Son of theCharm", and you get--perhaps--ah--your second wind. That is only inextreme instances, or to open negotiations with a stranger. Can youquite see? Verree good. But suppose now, I, or any one of theDepartment, come to you dressed quite different. You would not know meat all unless I choose, I bet you. Some day I will prove it. I comeas Ladakhi trader--oh, anything--and I say to you: "You want to buyprecious stones?" You say: "Do I look like a man who buys preciousstones?" Then I say: "Even verree poor man can buy a turquoise ortarkeean. "'

'That is kichree--vegetable curry, ' said Kim. 

'Of course it is. You say: "Let me see the tarkeean. " Then I say:"It was cooked by a woman, and perhaps it is bad for your caste. " Thenyou say: "There is no caste when men go to--look for tarkeean. " Youstop a little between those words, "to--look". That is thee wholesecret. The little stop before the words. '

Kim repeated the test-sentence. 

'That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there istime, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views anddocuments and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us. We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean, butalways with that little stop in the words. It is verree easy. First, "Son of the Charm", if you are in a tight place. Perhaps that may helpyou--perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean, if youwant to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, atpresent, you have no offeecial business. You are--ahha!--supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you wereAsiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year ofleave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you, because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all yourexaminations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! Youare on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to helpSons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, mydear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight. '

Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entranceof Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and huggedhimself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in thebosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck;begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger (Mr Lurgan had forgottennothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paint-box, and compass, andin a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns laya month's pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in aleaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till apoliceman ordered him off the steps. 

Chapter 11

 Give the man who is not made To his trade Swords to fling and catch again, Coins to ring and snatch again, Men to harm and cure again, Snakes to charm and lure again-- He'll be hurt by his own blade, By his serpents disobeyed, By his clumsiness bewrayed, ' By the people mocked to scorn-- So 'tis not with juggler born! Pinch of dust or withered flower, Chance-flung fruit or borrowed staff, Serve his need and shore his power, Bind the spell, or loose the laugh! But a man who, etc. 

 The Juggler's Song, op. 15

Followed a sudden natural reaction. 

'Now am I alone--all alone, ' he thought. 'In all India is no one soalone as I! If I die today, who shall bring the news--and to whom? If Ilive and God is good, there will be a price upon my head, for I am aSon of the Charm--I, Kim. '

A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into amazement as it were by repeating their own names over and over again tothemselves, letting the mind go free upon speculation as to what iscalled personal identity. When one grows older, the power, usually, departs, but while it lasts it may descend upon a man at any moment. 

'Who is Kim--Kim--Kim?'

He squatted in a corner of the clanging waiting-room, rapt from allother thoughts; hands folded in lap, and pupils contracted topin-points. In a minute--in another half-second--he felt he wouldarrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here, as alwayshappens, his mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of awounded bird, and passing his hand before his eyes, he shook his head. 

A long-haired Hindu bairagi [holy man], who had just bought a ticket, halted before him at that moment and stared intently. 

'I also have lost it, ' he said sadly. 'It is one of the Gates to theWay, but for me it has been shut many years. '

'What is the talk?' said Kim, abashed. 

'Thou wast wondering there in thy spirit what manner of thing thy soulmight be. The seizure came of a sudden. I know. Who should know butI? Whither goest thou?'

'Toward Kashi [Benares]. '

'There are no Gods there. I have proved them. I go to Prayag[Allahabad] for the fifth time--seeking the Road to Enlightenment. Ofwhat faith art thou?'

'I too am a Seeker, ' said Kim, using one of the lama's pet words. 'Though'--he forgot his Northern dress for the moment--'though Allahalone knoweth what I seek. '

The old fellow slipped the bairagi's crutch under his armpit and satdown on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for theBenares train. 

'Go in hope, little brother, ' he said. 'It is a long road to the feetof the One; but thither do we all travel. '

Kim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twentymiles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with astring of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magicalgifts. 

Benares struck him as a peculiarly filthy city, though it was pleasantto find how his cloth was respected. At least one-third of thepopulation prays eternally to some group or other of the many milliondeities, and so reveres every sort of holy man. Kim was guided to theTemple of the Tirthankars, about a mile outside the city, near Sarnath, by a chance-met Punjabi farmer--a Kamboh from Jullundur-way who hadappealed in vain to every God of his homestead to cure his small son, and was trying Benares as a last resort. 

'Thou art from the North?' he asked, shouldering through the press ofthe narrow, stinking streets much like his own pet bull at home. 

'Ay, I know the Punjab. My mother was a pahareen, but my father camefrom Amritzar--by Jandiala, ' said Kim, oiling his ready tongue for theneeds of the Road. 

'Jandiala--Jullundur? Oho! Then we be neighbours in some sort, as itwere. ' He nodded tenderly to the wailing child in his arms. 'Whomdost thou serve?'

'A most holy man at the Temple of the Tirthankers. '

'They are all most holy and--most greedy, ' said the Jat withbitterness. 'I have walked the pillars and trodden the temples till myfeet are flayed, and the child is no whit better. And the mother beingsick too . .. Hush, then, little one . .. We changed his name when thefever came. We put him into girl's clothes. There was nothing we didnot do, except--I said to his mother when she bundled me off toBenares--she should have come with me--I said Sakhi Sarwar Sultan wouldserve us best. We know His generosity, but these down-country Gods arestrangers. '

The child turned on the cushion of the huge corded arms and looked atKim through heavy eyelids. 

'And was it all worthless?' Kim asked, with easy interest. 

'All worthless--all worthless, ' said the child, lips cracking withfever. 

'The Gods have given him a good mind, at least' said the fatherproudly. 'To think he should have listened so cleverly. Yonder is thyTemple. Now I am a poor man--many priests have dealt with me--but myson is my son, and if a gift to thy master can cure him--I am at myvery wits' end. '

Kim considered for a while, tingling with pride. Three years ago hewould have made prompt profit on the situation and gone his way withouta thought; but now, the very respect the Jat paid him proved that hewas a man. Moreover, he had tasted fever once or twice already, andknew enough to recognize starvation when he saw it. 

'Call him forth and I will give him a bond on my best yoke, so that thechild is cured. '

Kim halted at the carved outer door of the temple. A white-clad Oswalbanker from Ajmir, his sins of usury new wiped out, asked him what hedid. 

'I am chela to Teshoo Lama, an Holy One from Bhotiyal--within there. Hebade me come. I wait. Tell him. '

'Do not forget the child, ' cried the importunate Jat over his shoulder, and then bellowed in Punjabi; 'O Holy One--O disciple of the HolyOne--O Gods above all the Worlds--behold affliction sitting at thegate!' That cry is so common in Benares that the passers never turnedtheir heads. 

The Oswal, at peace with mankind, carried the message into the darknessbehind him, and the easy, uncounted Eastern minutes slid by; for thelama was asleep in his cell, and no priest would wake him. When theclick of his rosary again broke the hush of the inner court where thecalm images of the Arhats stand, a novice whispered, 'Thy chela ishere, ' and the old man strode forth, forgetting the end of that prayer. 

Hardly had the tall figure shown in the doorway than the Jat ran beforehim, and, lifting up the child, cried: 'Look upon this, Holy One; andif the Gods will, he lives--he lives!'

He fumbled in his waist-belt and drew out a small silver coin. 

'What is now?' The lama's eyes turned to Kim. It was noticeable hespoke far clearer Urdu than long ago, under ZamZammah; but father wouldallow no private talk. 

'It is no more than a fever, ' said Kim. 'The child is not well fed. '

'He sickens at everything, and his mother is not here. '

'If it be permitted, I may cure, Holy One. '

'What! Have they made thee a healer? Wait here, ' said the lama, andhe sat down by the Jat upon the lowest step of the temple, while Kim, looking out of the corner of his eyes, slowly opened the littlebetel-box. He had dreamed dreams at school of returning to the lama asa Sahib--of chaffing the old man before he revealed himself--boy'sdreams all. There was more drama in this abstracted, brow-puckeredsearch through the tabloid-bottles, with a pause here and there forthought and a muttered invocation between whiles. Quinine he had intablets, and dark brown meat-lozenges--beef most probably, but that wasnot his business. The little thing would not eat, but it sucked at alozenge greedily, and said it liked the salt taste. 

'Take then these six. ' Kim handed them to the man. 'Praise the Gods, and boil three in milk; other three in water. After he has drunk themilk give him this' (it was the half of a quinine pill), 'and wrap himwarm. Give him the water of the other three, and the other half ofthis white pill when he wakes. Meantime, here is another brownmedicine that he may suck at on the way home. '

'Gods, what wisdom!' said the Kamboh, snatching. 

It was as much as Kim could remember of his own treatment in a bout ofautumn malaria--if you except the patter that he added to impress thelama. 

'Now go! Come again in the morning. '

'But the price--the price, ' said the Jat, and threw back his sturdyshoulders. 'My son is my son. Now that he will be whole again, howshall I go back to his mother and say I took help by the wayside anddid not even give a bowl of curds in return?'

'They are alike, these Jats, ' said Kim softly. 'The Jat stood on hisdunghill and the King's elephants went by. "O driver, " said he, "whatwill you sell those little donkeys for?"'

The Jat burst into a roar of laughter, stifled with apologies to thelama. 'It is the saying of my own country the very talk of it. So arewe Jats all. I will come tomorrow with the child; and the blessing ofthe Gods of the Homesteads--who are good little Gods--be on you both. .. Now, son, we grow strong again. Do not spit it out, littlePrinceling! King of my Heart, do not spit it out, and we shall bestrong men, wrestlers and club-wielders, by morning. '

He moved away, crooning and mumbling. The lama turned to Kim, and allthe loving old soul of him looked out through his narrow eyes. 

'To heal the sick is to acquire merit; but first one gets knowledge. That was wisely done, O Friend of all the World. '

'I was made wise by thee, Holy One, ' said Kim, forgetting the littleplay just ended; forgetting St Xavier's; forgetting his white blood;forgetting even the Great Game as he stooped, Mohammedan-fashion, totouch his master's feet in the dust of the Jain temple. 'My teaching Iowe to thee. I have eaten thy bread three years. My time is finished. I am loosed from the schools. I come to thee. '

'Herein is my reward. Enter! Enter! And is all well?' They passedto the inner court, where the afternoon sun sloped golden across. 'Stand that I may see. So!' He peered critically. 'It is no longer achild, but a man, ripened in wisdom, walking as a physician. I didwell--I did well when I gave thee up to the armed men on that blacknight. Dost thou remember our first day under Zam-Zammah?'

'Ay, ' said Kim. 'Dost thou remember when I leapt off the carriage thefirst day I went to--'

'The Gates of Learning? Truly. And the day that we ate the cakestogether at the back of the river by Nucklao. Aha! Many times hastthou begged for me, but that day I begged for thee. '

'Good reason, ' quoth Kim. 'I was then a scholar in the Gates ofLearning, and attired as a Sahib. Do not forget, Holy One, ' he went onplayfully. 'I am still a Sahib--by thy favour. '

'True. And a Sahib in most high esteem. Come to my cell, chela. '

'How is that known to thee?'

The lama smiled. 'First by means of letters from the kindly priestwhom we met in the camp of armed men; but he is now gone to his owncountry, and I sent the money to his brother. ' Colonel Creighton, whohad succeeded to the trusteeship when Father Victor went to Englandwith the Mavericks, was hardly the Chaplain's brother. 'But I do notwell understand Sahibs' letters. They must be interpreted to me. Ichose a surer way. Many times when I returned from my Search to thisTemple, which has always been a nest to me, there came one seekingEnlightenment--a man from Leh--that had been, he said, a Hindu, butwearied of all those Gods. ' The lama pointed to the Arhats. 

'A fat man?' said Kim, a twinkle in his eye. 

'Very fat; but I perceived in a little his mind was wholly given up touseless things--such as devils and charms and the form and fashion ofour tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road we initiated thenovices. A man abounding in questions; but he was a friend of thine, chela. He told me that thou wast on the road to much honour as ascribe. And I see thou art a physician. '

'Yes, that am I--a scribe, when I am a Sahib, but it is set aside whenI come as thy disciple. I have accomplished the years appointed for aSahib. '

'As it were a novice?' said the lama, nodding his head. 'Art thoufreed from the schools? I would not have thee unripe. '

'I am all free. In due time I take service under the Government as ascribe--'

'Not as a warrior. That is well. '

'But first I come to wander with thee. Therefore I am here. Who begsfor thee, these days?' he went on quickly. The ice was thin. 

'Very often I beg myself; but, as thou knowest, I am seldom here, except when I come to look again at my disciple. From one end toanother of Hind have I travelled afoot and in the te-rain. A great anda wonderful land! But here, when I put in, is as though I were in myown Bhotiyal. '

He looked round the little clean cell complacently. A low cushion gavehim a seat, on which he had disposed himself in the cross-leggedattitude of the Bodhisat emerging from meditation; a black teak-woodtable, not twenty inches high, set with copper tea-cups, was beforehim. In one corner stood a tiny altar, also of heavily carved teak, bearing a copper-gilt image of the seated Buddha and fronted by a lamp, an incense-holder, and a pair of copper flower-pots. 

'The Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House acquired merit by givingme these a year since, ' he said, following Kim's eye. 'When one is farfrom one's own land such things carry remembrance; and we mustreverence the Lord for that He showed the Way. See!' He pointed to acuriously-built mound of coloured rice crowned with a fantastic metalornament. 'When I was Abbot in my own place--before I came to betterknowledge I made that offering daily. It is the Sacrifice of theUniverse to the Lord. Thus do we of Bhotiyal offer all the world dailyto the Excellent Law. And I do it even now, though I know that theExcellent One is beyond all pinchings and pattings. ' He snuffed fromhis gourd. 

'It is well done, Holy One, ' Kim murmured, sinking at ease on thecushions, very happy and rather tired. 

'And also, ' the old man chuckled, 'I write pictures of the Wheel ofLife. Three days to a picture. I was busied on it--or it may be Ishut my eyes a little--when they brought word of thee. It is good tohave thee here: I will show thee my art--not for pride's sake, butbecause thou must learn. The Sahibs have not all this world's wisdom. '

He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellowChinese paper, the brushes, and slab of Indian ink. In cleanest, severest outline he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes, whose centre is the conjoined Hog, Snake, and Dove (Ignorance, Anger, and Lust), and whose compartments are all the Heavens and Hells, andall the chances of human life. Men say that the Bodhisat Himself firstdrew it with grains of rice upon dust, to teach His disciples the causeof things. Many ages have crystallized it into a most wonderfulconvention crowded with hundreds of little figures whose every linecarries a meaning. Few can translate the picture-parable; there arenot twenty in all the world who can draw it surely without a copy: ofthose who can both draw and expound are but three. 

'I have a little learned to draw, ' said Kim. 'But this is a marvelbeyond marvels. '

'I have written it for many years, ' said the lama. 'Time was when Icould write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next. I willteach thee the art--after due preparation; and I will show thee themeaning of the Wheel. '

'We take the Road, then?'

'The Road and our Search. I was but waiting for thee. It was madeplain to me in a hundred dreams--notably one that came upon the nightof the day that the Gates of Learning first shut that without thee Ishould never find my River. Again and again, as thou knowest, I putthis from me, fearing an illusion. Therefore I would not take theewith me that day at Lucknow, when we ate the cakes. I would not takethee till the time was ripe and auspicious. From the Hills to the Sea, from the Sea to the Hills have I gone, but it was vain. Then Iremembered the Tataka. '

He told Kim the story of the elephant with the leg-iron, as he had toldit so often to the Jam priests. 

'Further testimony is not needed, ' he ended serenely. 'Thou wast sentfor an aid. That aid removed, my Search came to naught. Therefore wewill go out again together, and our Search sure. '

'Whither go we?'

'What matters, Friend of all the World? The Search, I say, is sure. Ifneed be, the River will break from the ground before us. I acquiredmerit when I sent thee to the Gates of Learning, and gave thee thejewel that is Wisdom. Thou didst return, I saw even now, a follower ofSakyamuni, the Physician, whose altars are many in Bhotiyal. It issufficient. We are together, and all things are as they were--Friendof all the World--Friend of the Stars--my chela!'

Then they talked of matters secular; but it was noticeable that thelama never demanded any details of life at St Xavier's, nor showed thefaintest curiosity as to the manners and customs of Sahibs. His mindmoved all in the past, and he revived every step of their wonderfulfirst journey together, rubbing his hands and chuckling, till itpleased him to curl himself up into the sudden sleep of old age. 

Kim watched the last dusty sunshine fade out of the court, and playedwith his ghost-dagger and rosary. The clamour of Benares, oldest ofall earth's cities awake before the Gods, day and night, beat round thewalls as the sea's roar round a breakwater. Now and again, a Jainpriest crossed the court, with some small offering to the images, andswept the path about him lest by chance he should take the life of aliving thing. A lamp twinkled, and there followed the sound of aprayer. Kim watched the stars as they rose one after another in thestill, sticky dark, till he fell asleep at the foot of the altar. Thatnight he dreamed in Hindustani, with never an English word. .. 

'Holy One, there is the child to whom we gave the medicine, ' he said, about three o'clock in the morning, when the lama, also waking fromdreams, would have fared forth on pilgrimage. 'The Jat will be here atthe light. '

'I am well answered. In my haste I would have done a wrong. ' He satdown on the cushions and returned to his rosary. 'Surely old folk areas children, ' he said pathetically. 'They desire a matter--behold, itmust be done at once, or they fret and weep! Many times when I wasupon the Road I have been ready to stamp with my feet at the hindranceof an ox-cart in the way, or a mere cloud of dust. It was not so when Iwas a man--a long time ago. None the less it is wrongful--'

'But thou art indeed old, Holy One. '

'The thing was done. A Cause was put out into the world, and, old oryoung, sick or sound, knowing or unknowing, who can rein in the effectof that Cause? Does the Wheel hang still if a child spin it--or adrunkard? Chela, this is a great and a terrible world. '

'I think it good, ' Kim yawned. 'What is there to eat? I have noteaten since yesterday even. '

'I had forgotten thy need. Yonder is good Bhotiyal tea and cold rice. '

'We cannot walk far on such stuff. ' Kim felt all the European's lustfor flesh-meat, which is not accessible in a Jain temple. Yet, insteadof going out at once with the begging-bowl, he stayed his stomach onslabs of cold rice till the full dawn. It brought the farmer, voluble, stuttering with gratitude. 

'In the night the fever broke and the sweat came, ' he cried. 'Feelhere--his skin is fresh and new! He esteemed the salt lozenges, andtook milk with greed. ' He drew the cloth from the child's face, and itsmiled sleepily at Kim. A little knot of Jain priests, silent butall-observant, gathered by the temple door. They knew, and Kim knewthat they knew, how the old lama had met his disciple. Being courteousfolk, they had not obtruded themselves overnight by presence, word, orgesture. Wherefore Kim repaid them as the sun rose. 

'Thank the Gods of the Jains, brother, ' he said, not knowing how thoseGods were named. 'The fever is indeed broken. '

'Look! See!' The lama beamed in the background upon his hosts ofthree years. 'Was there ever such a chela? He follows our Lord theHealer. '

Now the Jains officially recognize all the Gods of the Hindu creed, aswell as the Lingam and the Snake. They wear the Brahminical thread;they adhere to every claim of Hindu caste-law. But, because they knewand loved the lama, because he was an old man, because he sought theWay, because he was their guest, and because he collogued long ofnights with the head-priest--as free-thinking a metaphysician as eversplit one hair into seventy--they murmured assent. 

'Remember, '--Kim bent over the child--. 'this trouble may come again. '

'Not if thou hast the proper spell, ' said the father. 

'But in a little while we go away. '

'True, ' said the lama to all the Jains. 'We go now together upon theSearch whereof I have often spoken. I waited till my chela was ripe. Behold him! We go North. Never again shall I look upon this place ofmy rest, O people of good will. '

'But I am not a beggar. ' The cultivator rose to his feet, clutchingthe child. 

'Be still. Do not trouble the Holy One, ' a priest cried. 

'Go, ' Kim whispered. 'Meet us again under the big railway bridge, andfor the sake of all the Gods of our Punjab, bring food--curry, pulse, cakes fried in fat, and sweetmeats. Specially sweetmeats. Be swift!'

The pallor of hunger suited Kim very well as he stood, tall and slim, in his sand-coloured, sweeping robes, one hand on his rosary and theother in the attitude of benediction, faithfully copied from the lama. An English observer might have said that he looked rather like theyoung saint of a stained-glass window, whereas he was but a growing ladfaint with emptiness. 

Long and formal were the farewells, thrice ended and thrice renewed. The Seeker--he who had invited the lama to that haven from far-awayTibet, a silver-faced, hairless ascetic--took no part in it, butmeditated, as always, alone among the images. The others were veryhuman; pressing small comforts upon the old man--a betel-box, a finenew iron pencase, a food-bag, and such-like--warning him against thedangers of the world without, and prophesying a happy end to theSearch. Meantime Kim, lonelier than ever, squatted on the steps, andswore to himself in the language of St Xavier's. 

'But it is my own fault, ' he concluded. 'With Mahbub, I ate Mahbub'sbread, or Lurgan Sahib's. At St Xavier's, three meals a day. Here Imust jolly-well look out for myself. Besides, I am not in goodtraining. How I could eat a plate of beef now! . .. Is it finished, Holy One?'

The lama, both hands raised, intoned a final blessing in ornateChinese. 'I must lean on thy shoulder, ' said he, as the temple gatesclosed. 'We grow stiff, I think. '

The weight of a six-foot man is not light to steady through miles ofcrowded streets, and Kim, loaded down with bundles and packages for theway, was glad to reach the shadow of the railway bridge. 

'Here we eat, ' he said resolutely, as the Kamboh, blue-robed andsmiling, hove in sight, a basket in one hand and the child in the other. 

'Fall to, Holy Ones!' he cried from fifty yards. (They were by theshoal under the first bridge-span, out of sight of hungry priests. )'Rice and good curry, cakes all warm and well scented with hing[asafoetida], curds and sugar. King of my fields, '--this to the smallson--'let us show these holy men that we Jats of Jullundur can pay aservice . .. I had heard the Jains would eat nothing that they had notcooked, but truly'--he looked away politely over the broadriver--'where there is no eye there is no caste. '

'And we, ' said Kim, turning his back and heaping a leafplatter for thelama, 'are beyond all castes. '

They gorged themselves on the good food in silence. Nor till he hadlicked the last of the sticky sweetstuff from his little finger did Kimnote that the Kamboh too was girt for travel. 

'If our roads lie together, ' he said roughly, 'I go with thee. Onedoes not often find a worker of miracles, and the child is still weak. But I am not altogether a reed. ' He picked up his lathi--a five-footmale-bamboo ringed with bands of polished iron--and flourished it inthe air. 'The Jats are called quarrel-some, but that is not true. Except when we are crossed, we are like our own buffaloes. '

'So be it, ' said Kim. 'A good stick is a good reason. '

The lama gazed placidly up-stream, where in long, smudged perspectivethe ceaseless columns of smoke go up from the burning-ghats by theriver. Now and again, despite all municipal regulations, the fragmentof a half-burned body bobbed by on the full current. 

'But for thee, ' said the Kamboh to Kim, drawing the child into hishairy breast, 'I might today have gone thither--with this one. Thepriests tell us that Benares is holy--which none doubt--and desirableto die in. But I do not know their Gods, and they ask for money; andwhen one has done one worship a shaved-head vows it is of none effectexcept one do another. Wash here! Wash there! Pour, drink, lave, andscatter flowers--but always pay the priests. No, the Punjab for me, and the soil of the Jullundur-doab for the best soil in it. '

'I have said many times--in the Temple, I think--that if need be, theRiver will open at our feet. We will therefore go North, ' said thelama, rising. 'I remember a pleasant place, set about withfruit-trees, where one can walk in meditation--and the air is coolerthere. It comes from the Hills and the snow of the Hills. '

'What is the name?' said Kim. 

'How should I know? Didst thou not--no, that was after the Army roseout of the earth and took thee away. I abode there in meditation in aroom against the dovecot--except when she talked eternally. '

'Oho! the woman from Kulu. That is by Saharunpore. ' Kim laughed. 

'How does the spirit move thy master? Does he go afoot, for the sakeof past sins?' the Jat demanded cautiously. 'It is a far cry toDelhi. '

'No, ' said Kim. 'I will beg a tikkut for the te-rain. ' One does notown to the possession of money in India. 

'Then, in the name of the Gods, let us take the fire-carriage. My sonis best in his mother's arms. The Government has brought on us manytaxes, but it gives us one good thing--the te-rain that joins friendsand unites the anxious. A wonderful matter is the te-rain. '

They all piled into it a couple of hours later, and slept through theheat of the day. The Kamboh plied Kim with ten thousand questions asto the lama's walk and work in life, and received some curious answers. Kim was content to be where he was, to look out upon the flatNorth-Western landscape, and to talk to the changing mob offellow-passengers. Even today, tickets and ticket-clipping are darkoppression to Indian rustics. They do not understand why, when theyhave paid for a magic piece of paper, strangers should punch greatpieces out of the charm. So, long and furious are the debates betweentravellers and Eurasian ticket-collectors. Kim assisted at two orthree with grave advice, meant to darken counsel and to show off hiswisdom before the lama and the admiring Kamboh. But at Somna Road theFates sent him a matter to think upon. There tumbled into thecompartment, as the train was moving off, a mean, lean little person--aMahratta, so far as Kim could judge by the cock of the tight turban. His face was cut, his muslin upper-garment was badly torn, and one legwas bandaged. He told them that a country-cart had upset and nearlyslain him: he was going to Delhi, where his son lived. Kim watchedhim closely. If, as he asserted, he had been rolled over and over onthe earth, there should have been signs of gravel-rash on the skin. But all his injuries seemed clean cuts, and a mere fall from a cartcould not cast a man into such extremity of terror. As, with shakingfingers, he knotted up the torn cloth about his neck he laid bare anamulet of the kind called a keeper-up of the heart. Now, amulets arecommon enough, but they are not generally strung on square-plaitedcopper wire, and still fewer amulets bear black enamel on silver. There were none except the Kamboh and the lama in the compartment, which, luckily, was of an old type with solid ends. Kim made as toscratch in his bosom, and thereby lifted his own amulet. TheMahratta's face changed altogether at the sight, and he disposed theamulet fairly on his breast. 

'Yes, ' he went on to the Kamboh, 'I was in haste, and the cart, drivenby a bastard, bound its wheel in a water-cut, and besides the harm doneto me there was lost a full dish of tarkeean. I was not a Son of theCharm [a lucky man] that day. '

'That was a great loss, ' said the Kamboh, withdrawing interest. Hisexperience of Benares had made him suspicious. 

'Who cooked it?' said Kim. 

'A woman. ' The Mahratta raised his eyes. 

'But all women can cook tarkeean, ' said the Kamboh. 'It is a goodcurry, as I know. '

'Oh yes, it is a good curry, ' said the Mahratta. 

'And cheap, ' said Kim. 'But what about caste?'

'Oh, there is no caste where men go to--look for tarkeean, ' theMahratta replied, in the prescribed cadence. 'Of whose service artthou?'

'Of the service of this Holy One. ' Kim pointed to the happy, drowsylama, who woke with a jerk at the well-loved word. 

'Ah, he was sent from Heaven to aid me. He is called the Friend of allthe World. He is also called the Friend of the Stars. He walks as aphysician--his time being ripe. Great is his wisdom. '

'And a Son of the Charm, ' said Kim under his breath, as the Kamboh madehaste to prepare a pipe lest the Mahratta should beg. 

'And who is that?' the Mahratta asked, glancing sideways nervously. 

'One whose child I--we have cured, who lies under great debt to us. Sitby the window, man from Jullundur. Here is a sick one. '

'Humph! I have no desire to mix with chance-met wastrels. My ears arenot long. I am not a woman wishing to overhear secrets. ' The Jat slidhimself heavily into a far corner. 

'Art thou anything of a healer? I am ten leagues deep in calamity, 'cried the Mahratta, picking up the cue. 

'This man is cut and bruised all over. I go about to cure him, ' Kimretorted. 'None interfered between thy babe and me. '

'I am rebuked, ' said the Kamboh meekly. 'I am thy debtor for the lifeof my son. Thou art a miracle-worker--I know it. '

'Show me the cuts. ' Kim bent over the Mahratta's neck, his heartnearly choking him; for this was the Great Game with a vengeance. 'Now, tell thy tale swiftly, brother, while I say a charm. '

'I come from the South, where my work lay. One of us they slew by theroadside. Hast thou heard?' Kim shook his head. He, of course, knewnothing of E's predecessor, slain down South in the habit of an Arabtrader. 'Having found a certain letter which I was sent to seek, Icame away. I escaped from the city and ran to Mhow. So sure was Ithat none knew, I did not change my face. At Mhow a woman broughtcharge against me of theft of jewellery in that city which I had left. Then I saw the cry was out against me. I ran from Mhow by night, bribing the police, who had been bribed to hand me over withoutquestion to my enemies in the South. Then I lay in old Chitor city aweek, a penitent in a temple, but I could not get rid of the letterwhich was my charge. I buried it under the Queen's Stone, at Chitor, in the place known to us all. '

Kim did not know, but not for worlds would he have broken the thread. 

'At Chitor, look you, I was all in Kings' country; for Kotah to theeast is beyond the Queen's law, and east again lie Jaipur and Gwalior. Neither love spies, and there is no justice. I was hunted like a wetjackal; but I broke through at Bandakui, where I heard there was acharge against me of murder in the city I had left--of the murder of aboy. They have both the corpse and the witnesses waiting. '

'But cannot the Government protect?'

'We of the Game are beyond protection. If we die, we die. Our namesare blotted from the book. That is all. At Bandakui, where lives oneof Us, I thought to slip the scent by changing my face, and so made mea Mahratta. Then I came to Agra, and would have turned back to Chitorto recover the letter. So sure I was I had slipped them. Therefore Idid not send a tar [telegram] to any one saying where the letter lay. I wished the credit of it all. '

Kim nodded. He understood that feeling well. 

'But at Agra, walking in the streets, a man cried a debt against me, and approaching with many witnesses, would hale me to the courts thenand there. Oh, they are clever in the South! He recognized me as hisagent for cotton. May he burn in Hell for it!'

'And wast thou?'

'O fool! I was the man they sought for the matter of the letter! Iran into the Fleshers' Ward and came out by the House of the Jew, whofeared a riot and pushed me forth. I came afoot to Somna Road--I hadonly money for my tikkut to Delhi--and there, while I lay in a ditchwith a fever, one sprang out of the bushes and beat me and cut me andsearched me from head to foot. Within earshot of the terain it was!'

'Why did he not slay thee out of hand?'

'They are not so foolish. If I am taken in Delhi at the instance oflawyers, upon a proven charge of murder, my body is handed over to theState that desires it. I go back guarded, and then--I die slowly foran example to the rest of Us. The South is not my country. I run incircles--like a goat with one eye. I have not eaten for two days. Iam marked'--he touched the filthy bandage on his leg--'so that theywill know me at Delhi. '

'Thou art safe in the te-rain, at least. '

'Live a year at the Great Game and tell me that again! The wires willbe out against me at Delhi, describing every tear and rag upon me. Twenty--a hundred, if need be--will have seen me slay that boy. Andthou art useless!'

Kim knew enough of native methods of attack not to doubt that the casewould be deadly complete--even to the corpse. The Mahratta twitchedhis fingers with pain from time to time. The Kamboh in his cornerglared sullenly; the lama was busy over his beads; and Kim, fumblingdoctor-fashion at the man's neck, thought out his plan betweeninvocations. 

'Hast thou a charm to change my shape? Else I am dead. Five--tenminutes alone, if I had not been so pressed, and I might--'

'Is he cured yet, miracle-worker?' said the Kamboh jealously. 'Thouhast chanted long enough. '

'Nay. There is no cure for his hurts, as I see, except he sit forthree days in the habit of a bairagi. ' This is a common penance, oftenimposed on a fat trader by his spiritual teacher. 

'One priest always goes about to make another priest, ' was the retort. Like most grossly superstitious folk, the Kamboh could not keep histongue from deriding his Church. 

'Will thy son be a priest, then? It is time he took more of myquinine. '

'We Jats are all buffaloes, ' said the Kamboh, softening anew. 

Kim rubbed a finger-tip of bitterness on the child's trusting littlelips. 'I have asked for nothing, ' he said sternly to the father, 'except food. Dost thou grudge me that? I go to heal another man. Have I thy leave--Prince?'

Up flew the man's huge paws in supplication. 'Nay--nay. Do not mockme thus. '

'It pleases me to cure this sick one. Thou shalt acquire merit byaiding. What colour ash is there in thy pipe-bowl? White. That isauspicious. Was there raw turmeric among thy foodstuffs?'

'I--I--'

'Open thy bundle!'

It was the usual collection of small oddments: bits of cloth, quackmedicines, cheap fairings, a clothful of atta--greyish, rough-groundnative flour--twists of down-country tobacco, tawdry pipe-stems, and apacket of curry-stuff, all wrapped in a quilt. Kim turned it over withthe air of a wise warlock, muttering a Mohammedan invocation. 

'This is wisdom I learned from the Sahibs, ' he whispered to the lama;and here, when one thinks of his training at Lurgan's, he spoke no morethan the truth. 'There is a great evil in this man's fortune, as shownby the Stars, which--which troubles him. Shall I take it away?'

'Friend of the Stars, thou hast done well in all things. Let it be atthy pleasure. Is it another healing?'

'Quick! Be quick!' gasped the Mahratta. 'The train may stop. '

'A healing against the shadow of death, ' said Kim, mixing the Kamboh'sflour with the mingled charcoal and tobacco ash in the red-earth bowlof the pipe. E, without a word, slipped off his turban and shook downhis long black hair. 

'That is my food--priest, ' the jat growled. 

'A buffalo in the temple! Hast thou dared to look even thus far?' saidKim. 'I must do mysteries before fools; but have a care for thineeyes. Is there a film before them already? I save the babe, and forreturn thou--oh, shameless!' The man flinched at the direct gaze, forKim was wholly in earnest. 

'Shall I curse thee, or shall I--' He picked up the outer cloth of thebundle and threw it over the bowed head. 'Dare so much as to think awish to see, and--and--even I cannot save thee. Sit! Be dumb!'

'I am blind--dumb. Forbear to curse! Co--come, child; we will play agame of hiding. Do not, for my sake, look from under the cloth. '

'I see hope, ' said E23. 'What is thy scheme?'

'This comes next, ' said Kim, plucking the thin body-shirt. E23hesitated, with all a North-West man's dislike of baring his body. 

'What is caste to a cut throat?' said Kim, rending it to the waist. 'We must make thee a yellow Saddhu all over. Strip--strip swiftly, andshake thy hair over thine eyes while I scatter the ash. Now, acaste-mark on thy forehead. ' He drew from his bosom the little Surveypaint-box and a cake of crimson lake. 

'Art thou only a beginner?' said E23, labouring literally for the dearlife, as he slid out of his body-wrappings and stood clear in theloin-cloth while Kim splashed in a noble caste-mark on the ash-smearedbrow. 

'But two days entered to the Game, brother, ' Kim replied. 'Smear moreash on the bosom. '

'Hast thou met--a physician of sick pearls?' He switched out his long, tight-rolled turban-cloth and, with swiftest hands, rolled it over andunder about his loins into the intricate devices of a Saddhu's cincture. 

'Hah! Dost thou know his touch, then? He was my teacher for a while. We must bar thy legs. Ash cures wounds. Smear it again. '

'I was his pride once, but thou art almost better. The Gods are kindto us! Give me that. '

It was a tin box of opium pills among the rubbish of the Jat's bundle. E23 gulped down a half handful. 'They are good against hunger, fear, and chill. And they make the eyes red too, ' he explained. 'Now Ishall have heart to play the Game. We lack only a Saddhu's tongs. What of the old clothes?'

Kim rolled them small, and stuffed them into the slack folds of histunic. With a yellow-ochre paint cake he smeared the legs and thebreast, great streaks against the background of flour, ash, andturmeric. 

'The blood on them is enough to hang thee, brother. '

'Maybe; but no need to throw them out of the window . .. It isfinished. ' His voice thrilled with a boy's pure delight in the Game. 'Turn and look, O Jat!'

'The Gods protect us, ' said the hooded Kamboh, emerging like a buffalofrom the reeds. 'But--whither went the Mahratta? What hast thou done?'

Kim had been trained by Lurgan Sahib; E23, by virtue of his business, was no bad actor. In place of the tremulous, shrinking trader therelolled against the corner an all but naked, ash-smeared, ochre-barred, dusty-haired Saddhu, his swollen eyes--opium takes quick effect on anempty stomach--luminous with insolence and bestial lust, his legscrossed under him, Kim's brown rosary round his neck, and a scant yardof worn, flowered chintz on his shoulders. The child buried his facein his amazed father's arms. 

'Look up, Princeling! We travel with warlocks, but they will not hurtthee. Oh, do not cry . .. What is the sense of curing a child one dayand killing him with fright the next?'

'The child will be fortunate all his life. He has seen a greathealing. When I was a child I made clay men and horses. '

'I have made them too. Sir Banas, he comes in the night and makes themall alive at the back of our kitchen-midden, ' piped the child. 

'And so thou art not frightened at anything. Eh, Prince?'

'I was frightened because my father was frightened. I felt his armsshake. '

'Oh, chicken-man!' said Kim, and even the abashed Jat laughed. 'Ihave done a healing on this poor trader. He must forsake his gains andhis account-books, and sit by the wayside three nights to overcome themalignity of his enemies. The Stars are against him. '

'The fewer money-lenders the better, say I; but, Saddhu or no Saddhu, he should pay for my stuff on his shoulders. '

'So? But that is thy child on thy shoulder--given over to theburning-ghat not two days ago. There remains one thing more. I didthis charm in thy presence because need was great. I changed his shapeand his soul. None the less, if, by any chance, O man from Jullundur, thou rememberest what thou hast seen, either among the elders sittingunder the village tree, or in thine own house, or in company of thypriest when he blesses thy cattle, a murrain will come among thebuffaloes, and a fire in thy thatch, and rats in the corn-bins, and thecurse of our Gods upon thy fields that they may be barren before thyfeet and after thy ploughshare. ' This was part of an old curse pickedup from a fakir by the Taksali Gate in the days of Kim's innocence. Itlost nothing by repetition. 

'Cease, Holy One! In mercy, cease!' cried the Jat. 'Do not curse thehousehold. I saw nothing! I heard nothing! I am thy cow!' and hemade to grab at Kim's bare foot beating rhythmically on the carriagefloor. 'But since thou hast been permitted to aid me in the matter ofa pinch of flour and a little opium and such trifles as I have honouredby using in my art, so will the Gods return a blessing, ' and he gave itat length, to the man's immense relief. It was one that he had learnedfrom Lurgan Sahib. 

The lama stared through his spectacles as he had not stared at thebusiness of disguisement. 'Friend of the Stars, ' he said at last, 'thou hast acquired great wisdom. Beware that it do not give birth topride. No man having the Law before his eyes speaks hastily of anymatter which he has seen or encountered. '

'No--no--no, indeed, ' cried the farmer, fearful lest the master shouldbe minded to improve on the pupil. E23, with relaxed mouth, gavehimself up to the opium that is meat, tobacco, and medicine to thespent Asiatic. 

So, in a silence of awe and great miscomprehension, they slid intoDelhi about lamp-lighting time. 

Chapter 12

 Who hath desired the Sea--the sight of salt-water unbounded? The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded? The sleek-barrelled swell before storm--grey, foamless, enormous, and growing? Stark calm on the lap of the Line--or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing? His Sea in no showing the same--his Sea and the same 'neath all showing-- His Sea that his being fulfils? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hill-men desire their Hills!

 The Sea and the Hills. 

'I have found my heart again, ' said E23, under cover of the platform'stumult. 'Hunger and fear make men dazed, or I might have thought ofthis escape before. I was right. They come to hunt for me. Thou hastsaved my head. '

A group of yellow-trousered Punjab policemen, headed by a hot andperspiring young Englishman, parted the crowd about the carriages. Behind them, inconspicuous as a cat, ambled a small fat person wholooked like a lawyer's tout. 

'See the young Sahib reading from a paper. My description is in hishand, ' said E23. 'Thev go carriage by carriage, like fisher-folknetting a pool. '

When the procession reached their compartment, E23 was counting hisbeads with a steady jerk of the wrist; while Kim jeered at him forbeing so drugged as to have lost the ringed fire-tongs which are theSaddhu's distinguishing mark. The lama, deep in meditation, staredstraight before him; and the farmer, glancing furtively, gathered uphis belongings. 

'Nothing here but a parcel of holy-bolies, ' said the Englishman aloud, and passed on amid a ripple of uneasiness; for native police meanextortion to the native all India over. 

'The trouble now, ' whispered E23, 'lies in sending a wire as to theplace where I hid that letter I was sent to find. I cannot go to thetar-office in this guise. '

'Is it not enough I have saved thy neck?'

'Not if the work be left unfinished. Did never the healer of sickpearls tell thee so? Comes another Sahib! Ah!'

This was a tallish, sallowish District Superintendent of Police--belt, helmet, polished spurs and all--strutting and twirling his darkmoustache. 

'What fools are these Police Sahibs!' said Kim genially. 

E23 glanced up under his eyelids. 'It is well said, ' he muttered in achanged voice. 'I go to drink water. Keep my place. '

He blundered out almost into the Englishman's arms, and was bad-wordedin clumsy Urdu. 

'Tum mut? You drunk? You mustn't bang about as though Delhi stationbelonged to you, my friend. '

E23, not moving a muscle of his countenance, answered with a stream ofthe filthiest abuse, at which Kim naturally rejoiced. It reminded himof the drummer-boys and the barrack-sweepers at Umballa in the terribletime of his first schooling. 

'My good fool, ' the Englishman drawled. 'Nickle-jao! Go back to yourcarriage. '

Step by step, withdrawing deferentially and dropping his voice, theyellow Saddhu clomb back to the carriage, cursing the D. S. P. Toremotest posterity, by--here Kim almost jumped--by the curse of theQueen's Stone, by the writing under the Queen's Stone, and by anassortment of Gods with wholly, new names. 

'I don't know what you're saying, '--the Englishman flushedangrily--'but it's some piece of blasted impertinence. Come out ofthat!'

E23, affecting to misunderstand, gravely produced his ticket, which theEnglishman wrenched angrily from his hand. 

'Oh, zoolum! What oppression!' growled the Jat from his corner. 'Allfor the sake of a jest too. ' He had been grinning at the freedom ofthe Saddhu's tongue. 'Thy charms do not work well today, Holy One!'

The Saddhu followed the policeman, fawning and supplicating. The ruckof passengers, busy, with their babies and their bundles, had notnoticed the affair. Kim slipped out behind him; for it flashed throughhis head that he had heard this angry, stupid Sahib discoursing loudpersonalities to an old lady near Umballa three years ago. 

'It is well', the Saddhu whispered, jammed in the calling, shouting, bewildered press--a Persian greyhound between his feet and a cageful ofyelling hawks under charge of a Rajput falconer in the small of hisback. 'He has gone now to send word of the letter which I hid. Theytold me he was in Peshawur. I might have known that he is like thecrocodile--always at the other ford. He has saved me from presentcalamity, but I owe my life to thee. '

'Is he also one of Us?' Kim ducked under a Mewar camel-driver's greasyarmpit and cannoned off a covey of jabbering Sikh matrons. 

'Not less than the greatest. We are both fortunate! I will makereport to him of what thou hast done. I am safe under his protection. '

He bored through the edge of the crowd besieging the carriages, andsquatted by the bench near the telegraph-office. 

'Return, or they take thy place! Have no fear for the work, brother--or my life. Thou hast given me breathing-space, andStrickland Sahib has pulled me to land. We may work together at theGame yet. Farewell!'

Kim hurried to his carriage: elated, bewildered, but a little nettledin that he had no key to the secrets about him. 

'I am only a beginner at the Game, that is sure. I could not haveleaped into safety as did the Saddhu. He knew it was darkest under thelamp. I could not have thought to tell news under pretence of cursing. .. And how clever was the Sahib! No matter, I saved the life of one. .. Where is the Kamboh gone, Holy One?' he whispered, as he took hisseat in the now crowded compartment. 

'A fear gripped him, ' the lama replied, with a touch of tender malice. 'He saw thee change the Mahratta to a Saddhu in the twinkling of aneye, as a protection against evil. That shook him. Then he saw theSaddhu fall sheer into the hands of the polis--all the effect of thyart. Then he gathered up his son and fled; for he said that thou didstchange a quiet trader into an impudent bandier of words with theSahibs, and he feared a like fate. Where is the Saddhu?'

'With the polis, ' said Kim . .. 'Yet I saved the Kamboh's child. '

The lama snuffed blandly. 

'Ah, chela, see how thou art overtaken! Thou didst cure the Kamboh'schild solely to acquire merit. But thou didst put a spell on theMahratta with prideful workings--I watched thee--and with sidelongglances to bewilder an old old man and a foolish farmer: whencecalamity and suspicion. '

Kim controlled himself with an effort beyond his years. Not more thanany other youngster did he like to eat dirt or to be misjudged, but hesaw himself in a cleft stick. The train rolled out of Delhi into thenight. 

'It is true, ' he murmured. 'Where I have offended thee I have donewrong. '

'It is more, chela. Thou hast loosed an Act upon the world, and as astone thrown into a pool so spread the consequences thou canst not tellhow far. '

This ignorance was well both for Kim's vanity and for the lama's peaceof mind, when we think that there was then being handed in at Simla acode-wire reporting the arrival of E23 at Delhi, and, more important, the whereabouts of a letter he had been commissioned to--abstract. Incidentally, an over-zealous policeman had arrested, on charge ofmurder done in a far southern State, a horribly indignant Ajmircotton-broker, who was explaining himself to a Mr Strickland on Delhiplatform, while E23 was paddling through byways into the locked heartof Delhi city. In two hours several telegrams had reached the angryminister of a southern State reporting that all trace of a somewhatbruised Mahratta had been lost; and by the time the leisurely trainhalted at Saharunpore the last ripple of the stone Kim had helped toheave was lapping against the steps of a mosque in far-away Roum--whereit disturbed a pious man at prayers. 

The lama made his in ample form near the dewy bougainvillea-trellisnear the platform, cheered by the clear sunshine and the presence ofhis disciple. 'We will put these things behind us, ' he said, indicating the brazen engine and the gleaming track. 'The jolting ofthe te-rain--though a wonderful thing--has turned my bones to water. We will use clean air henceforward. '

'Let us go to the Kulu woman's house' said Kim, and stepped forthcheerily under the bundles. Early morning Saharunpore-way is clean andwell scented. He thought of the other mornings at St Xavier's, and ittopped his already thrice-heaped contentment. 

'Where is this new haste born from? Wise men do not run about likechickens in the sun. We have come hundreds upon hundreds of kossalready, and, till now, I have scarcely been alone with thee aninstant. How canst thou receive instruction all jostled of crowds? Howcan I, whelmed by a flux of talk, meditate upon the Way?'

'Her tongue grows no shorter with the years, then?' the disciplesmiled. 

'Nor her desire for charms. I remember once when I spoke of the Wheelof Life'--the lama fumbled in his bosom for his latest copy--'she wasonly curious about the devils that besiege children. She shall acquiremerit by entertaining us--in a little while--at anafter-occasion--softly, softly. Now we will wander loose-foot, waitingupon the Chain of Things. The Search is sure. '

So they travelled very easily across and among the broad bloomfulfruit-gardens--by way of Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, andlittle Phulesa--the line of the Siwaliks always to the north, andbehind them again the snows. After long, sweet sleep under the drystars came the lordly, leisurely passage through a wakingvillage--begging-bowl held forth in silence, but eyes roving indefiance of the Law from sky's edge to sky's edge. Then would Kimreturn soft-footed through the soft dust to his master under the shadowof a mango-tree or the thinner shade of a white Doon siris, to eat anddrink at ease. At mid-day, after talk and a little wayfaring, theyslept; meeting the world refreshed when the air was cooler. Nightfound them adventuring into new territory--some chosen village spiedthree hours before across the fat land, and much discussed upon theroad. 

There they told their tale--a new one each evening so far as Kim wasconcerned--and there were they made welcome, either by priest orheadman, after the custom of the kindly East. 

When the shadows shortened and the lama leaned more heavily upon Kim, there was always the Wheel of Life to draw forth, to hold flat underwiped stones, and with a long straw to expound cycle by cycle. Here satthe Gods on high--and they were dreams of dreams. Here was our Heavenand the world of the demi-Gods--horsemen fighting among the hills. Here were the agonies done upon the beasts, souls ascending ordescending the ladder and therefore not to be interfered with. Herewere the Hells, hot and cold, and the abodes of tormented ghosts. Letthe chela study the troubles that come from over-eating--bloatedstomach and burning bowels. Obediently, then, with bowed head andbrown finger alert to follow the pointer, did the chela study; but whenthey came to the Human World, busy and profitless, that is just abovethe Hells, his mind was distracted; for by the roadside trundled thevery Wheel itself, eating, drinking, trading, marrying, andquarrelling--all warmly alive. Often the lama made the living picturesthe matter of his text, bidding Kim--too ready--note how the fleshtakes a thousand shapes, desirable or detestable as men reckon, but intruth of no account either way; and how the stupid spirit, bond-slaveto the Hog, the Dove, and the Serpent--lusting after betel-nut, a newyoke of oxen, women, or the favour of kings--is bound to follow thebody through all the Heavens and all the Hells, and strictly roundagain. Sometimes a woman or a poor man, watching the ritual--it wasnothing less--when the great yellow chart was unfolded, would throw afew flowers or a handful of cowries upon its edge. It sufficed thesehumble ones that they had met a Holy One who might be moved to rememberthem in his prayers. 

'Cure them if they are sick, ' said the lama, when Kim's sportinginstincts woke. 'Cure them if they have fever, but by no means workcharms. Remember what befell the Mahratta. '

'Then all Doing is evil?' Kim replied, lying out under a big tree atthe fork of the Doon road, watching the little ants run over his hand. 

'To abstain from action is well--except to acquire merit. '

'At the Gates of Learning we were taught that to abstain from actionwas unbefitting a Sahib. And I am a Sahib. '

'Friend of all the World, '--the lama looked directly at Kim--'I am anold man--pleased with shows as are children. To those who follow theWay there is neither black nor white, Hind nor Bhotiyal. We be allsouls seeking escape. No matter what thy wisdom learned among Sahibs, when we come to my River thou wilt be freed from all illusion--at myside. Hai! My bones ache for that River, as they ached in thete-rain; but my spirit sits above my bones, waiting. The Search issure!'

'I am answered. Is it permitted to ask a question?'

The lama inclined his stately head. 

'I ate thy bread for three years--as thou knowest. Holy One, whencecame--?'

'There is much wealth, as men count it, in Bhotiyal, ' the lama returnedwith composure. 'In my own place I have the illusion of honour. I askfor that I need. I am not concerned with the account. That is for mymonastery. Ai! The black high seats in the monastery, and novices allin order!'

And he told stories, tracing with a finger in the dust, of the immenseand sumptuous ritual of avalanche-guarded cathedrals; of processionsand devil-dances; of the changing of monks and nuns into swine; of holycities fifteen thousand feet in the air; of intrigue between monasteryand monastery; of voices among the hills, and of that mysterious miragethat dances on dry snow. He spoke even of Lhassa and of the DalaiLama, whom he had seen and adored. 

Each long, perfect day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him offfrom his race and his mother-tongue. He slipped back to thinking anddreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the lama'sceremonial observances at eating, drinking, and the like. The oldman's mind turned more and more to his monastery as his eyes turned tothe steadfast snows. His River troubled him nothing. Now and again, indeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting, hesaid, the earth to cleave and deliver its blessing; but he was contentto be with his disciple, at ease in the temperate wind that comes downfrom the Doon. This was not Ceylon, nor Buddh Gaya, nor Bombay, norsome grass-tangled ruins that he seemed to have stumbled upon two yearsago. He spoke of those places as a scholar removed from vanity, as aSeeker walking in humility, as an old man, wise and temperate, illumining knowledge with brilliant insight. Bit by bit, disconnectedly, each tale called up by some wayside thing, he spoke ofall his wanderings up and down Hind; till Kim, who had loved himwithout reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyedthemselves in high felicity, abstaining, as the Rule demands, from evilwords, covetous desires; not over-eating, not lying on high beds, norwearing rich clothes. Their stomachs told them the time, and thepeople brought them their food, as the saying is. They were lords ofthe villages of Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of the Ford, and littlePhulesa, where Kim gave the soulless woman a blessing. 

But news travels fast in India, and too soon shuffled across thecrop-land, bearing a basket of fruits with a box of Kabul grapes andgilt oranges, a white-whiskered servitor--a lean, dry Oorya--beggingthem to bring the honour of their presence to his mistress, distressedin her mind that the lama had neglected her so long. 

'Now do I remember'--the lama spoke as though it were a wholly newproposition. 'She is virtuous, but an inordinate talker. '

Kim was sitting on the edge of a cow's manger, telling stories to avillage smith's children. 

'She will only ask for another son for her daughter. I have notforgotten her, ' he said. 'Let her acquire merit. Send word that wewill come. '

They covered eleven miles through the fields in two days, and wereoverwhelmed with attentions at the end; for the old lady held a finetradition of hospitality, to which she forced her son-in-law, who wasunder the thumb of his women-folk and bought peace by borrowing of themoney-lender. Age had not weakened her tongue or her memory, and froma discreetly barred upper window, in the hearing of not less than adozen servants, she paid Kim compliments that would have flung Europeanaudiences into unclean dismay. 

'But thou art still the shameless beggar-brat of the parao, ' sheshrilled. 'I have not forgotten thee. Wash ye and eat. The father ofmy daughter's son is gone away awhile. So we poor women are dumb anduseless. '

For proof, she harangued the entire household unsparingly till food anddrink were brought; and in the evening--the smoke-scented evening, copper-dun and turquoise across the fields--it pleased her to order herpalanquin to be set down in the untidy forecourt by smoky torchlight;and there, behind not too closely drawn curtains, she gossiped. 

'Had the Holy One come alone, I should have received him otherwise; butwith this rogue, who can be too careful?'

'Maharanee, ' said Kim, choosing as always the amplest title, 'is it myfault that none other than a Sahib--a polis-Sahib--called the Maharaneewhose face he--' 'Chutt! That was on the pilgrimage. When wetravel--thou knowest the proverb. '

'Called the Maharanee a Breaker of Hearts and a Dispenser of Delights?'

'To remember that! It was true. So he did. That was in the time ofthe bloom of my beauty. ' She chuckled like a contented parrot abovethe sugar lump. 'Now tell me of thy goings and comings--as much as maybe without shame. How many maids, and whose wives, hang upon thineeyelashes? Ye hail from Benares? I would have gone there again thisyear, but my daughter--we have only two sons. Phaii! Such is theeffect of these low plains. Now in Kulu men are elephants. But Iwould ask thy Holy One--stand aside, rogue--a charm against mostlamentable windy colics that in mango-time overtake my daughter'seldest. Two years back he gave me a powerful spell. '

'Oh, Holy One!' said Kim, bubbling with mirth at the lama's ruefulface. 

'It is true. I gave her one against wind. '

'Teeth--teeth--teeth, ' snapped the old woman. 

"'Cure them if they are sick, "' Kim quoted relishingly, "'but by nomeans work charms. Remember what befell the Mahratta. "'

'That was two Rains ago; she wearied me with her continualimportunity. ' The lama groaned as the Unjust Judge had groaned beforehim. 'Thus it comes--take note, my chela--that even those who wouldfollow the Way are thrust aside by idle women. Three days through, when the child was sick, she talked to me. '

'Arre! and to whom else should I talk? The boy's mother knew nothing, and the father--in the nights of the cold weather it was--"Pray to theGods, " said he, forsooth, and turning over, snored!'

'I gave her the charm. What is an old man to do?'

"'To abstain from action is well--except to acquire merit. "'

'Ah chela, if thou desertest me, I am all alone. '

'He found his milk-teeth easily at any rate, ' said the old lady. 'Butall priests are alike. '

Kim coughed severely. Being young, he did not approve of herflippancy. 'To importune the wise out of season is to invite calamity. '

'There is a talking mynah'--the thrust came back with thewell-remembered snap of the jewelled fore-finger--'over the stableswhich has picked up the very tone of the family priest. Maybe I forgethonour to my guests, but if ye had seen him double his fists into hisbelly, which was like a half-grown gourd, and cry: "Here is the pain!"ye would forgive. I am half minded to take the hakim's medicine. Hesells it cheap, and certainly it makes him fat as Shiv's own bull. Hedoes not deny remedies, but I doubted for the child because of thein-auspicious colour of the bottles. '

The lama, under cover of the monologue, had faded out into the darknesstowards the room prepared. 

'Thou hast angered him, belike, ' said Kim. 

'Not he. He is wearied, and I forgot, being a grandmother. (None buta grandmother should ever oversee a child. Mothers are only fit forbearing. ) Tomorrow, when he sees how my daughter's son is grown, hewill write the charm. Then, too, he can judge of the new hakim'sdrugs. '

'Who is the hakim, Maharanee?'

'A wanderer, as thou art, but a most sober Bengali from Dacca--a masterof medicine. He relieved me of an oppression after meat by means of asmall pill that wrought like a devil unchained. He travels about now, vending preparations of great value. He has even papers, printed inAngrezi, telling what things he has done for weak-backed men and slackwomen. He has been here four days; but hearing ye were coming (hakimsand priests are snake and tiger the world over) he has, as I take it, gone to cover. '

While she drew breath after this volley, the ancient servant, sittingunrebuked on the edge of the torchlight, muttered: 'This house is acattle-pound, as it were, for all charlatans and--priests. Let the boystop eating mangoes . .. But who can argue with a grandmother?' Heraised his voice respectfully: 'Sahiba, the hakim sleeps after hismeat. He is in the quarters behind the dovecote. '

Kim bristled like an expectant terrier. To outface and down-talk aCalcutta-taught Bengali, a voluble Dacca drug-vendor, would be a goodgame. It was not seemly that the lama, and incidentally himself, should be thrown aside for such an one. He knew those curious bastardEnglish advertisements at the backs of native newspapers. St Xavier'sboys sometimes brought them in by stealth to snigger over among theirmates; for the language of the grateful patient recounting his symptomsis most simple and revealing. The Oorya, not unanxious to play off oneparasite against the other, slunk away towards the dovecote. 

'Yes, ' said Kim, with measured scorn. 'Their stock-in-trade is alittle coloured water and a very great shamelessness. Their prey arebroken-down kings and overfed Bengalis. Their profit is inchildren--who are not born. ' The old lady chuckled. 'Do not beenvious. Charms are better, eh? I never gainsaid it. See that thyHoly One writes me a good amulet by the morning. '

'None but the ignorant deny'--a thick, heavy voice boomed through thedarkness, as a figure came to rest squatting--'None but the ignorantdeny the value of charms. None but the ignorant deny the value ofmedicines. '

'A rat found a piece of turmeric. Said he: "I will open a grocer'sshop, "' Kim retorted. 

Battle was fairly joined now, and they heard the old lady stiffen toattention. 

'The priest's son knows the names of his nurse and three Gods. Sayshe: "Hear me, or I will curse you by the three million Great Ones. "'Decidedly this invisible had an arrow or two in his quiver. He wenton: 'I am but a teacher of the alphabet. I have learned all thewisdom of the Sahibs. '

'The Sahibs never grow old. They dance and they play like childrenwhen they are grandfathers. A strong-backed breed, ' piped the voiceinside the palanquin. 

'I have, too, our drugs which loosen humours of the head in hot andangry men. Sina well compounded when the moon stands in the properHouse; yellow earths I have--arplan from China that makes a man renewhis youth and astonish his household; saffron from Kashmir, and thebest salep of Kabul. Many people have died before--'

'That I surely believe, ' said Kim. 

'They knew the value of my drugs. I do not give my sick the mere inkin which a charm is written, but hot and rending drugs which descendand wrestle with the evil. '

'Very mightily they do so, ' sighed the old lady. 

The voice launched into an immense tale of misfortune and bankruptcy, studded with plentiful petitions to the Government. 'But for my fate, which overrules all, I had been now in Government employ. I bear adegree from the great school at Calcutta--whither, maybe, the son ofthis House shall go. '

'He shall indeed. If our neighbour's brat can in a few years be madean F A' (First Arts--she used the English word, of which she had heardso often), 'how much more shall children clever as some that I knowbear away prizes at rich Calcutta. '

'Never, ' said the voice, 'have I seen such a child! Born in anauspicious hour, and--but for that colic which, alas! turning intoblack cholers, may carry him off like a pigeon--destined to many years, he is enviable. '

'Hai mai!' said the old lady. 'To praise children is inauspicious, orI could listen to this talk. But the back of the house is unguarded, and even in this soft air men think themselves to be men, and women weknow . .. The child's father is away too, and I must be chowkedar[watchman] in my old age. Up! Up! Take up the palanquin. Let thehakim and the young priest settle between them whether charms ormedicine most avail. Ho! worthless people, fetch tobacco for theguests, and--round the homestead go I!'

The palanquin reeled off, followed by straggling torches and a horde ofdogs. Twenty villages knew the Sahiba--her failings, her tongue, andher large charity. Twenty villages cheated her after immemorialcustom, but no man would have stolen or robbed within her jurisdictionfor any gift under heaven. None the less, she made great parade of herformal inspections, the riot of which could be heard half-way toMussoorie. 

Kim relaxed, as one augur must when he meets another. The hakim, stillsquatting, slid over his hookah with a friendly foot, and Kim pulled atthe good weed. The hangers-on expected grave professional debate, andperhaps a little free doctoring. 

'To discuss medicine before the ignorant is of one piece with teachingthe peacock to sing, ' said the hakim. 

'True courtesy, ' Kim echoed, 'is very often inattention. '

These, be it understood, were company-manners, designed to impress. 

'Hi! I have an ulcer on my leg, ' cried a scullion. 'Look at it!'

'Get hence! Remove!' said the hakim. 'Is it the habit of the placeto pester honoured guests? Ye crowd in like buffaloes. '

'If the Sahiba knew--' Kim began. 

'Ai! Ai! Come away. They are meat for our mistress. When her youngShaitan's colics are cured perhaps we poor people may be suffered to--'

'The mistress fed thy wife when thou wast in jail for breaking themoney-lender's head. Who speaks against her?' The old servitor curledhis white moustaches savagely in the young moonlight. 'I amresponsible for the honour of this house. Go!' and he drove theunderlings before him. 

Said the hakim, hardly more than shaping the words with his lips: 'Howdo you do, Mister O'Hara? I am jolly glad to see you again. '

Kim's hand clenched about the pipe-stem. Anywhere on the open road, perhaps, he would not have been astonished; but here, in this quietbackwater of life, he was not prepared for Hurree Babu. It annoyedhim, too, that he had been hoodwinked. 

'Ah ha! I told you at Lucknow--resurgam--I shall rise again and youshall not know me. How much did you bet--eh?'

He chewed leisurely upon a few cardamom seeds, but he breathed uneasily. 

'But why come here, Babuji?'

'Ah! Thatt is the question, as Shakespeare hath it. I come tocongratulate you on your extraordinary effeecient performance at Delhi. Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat andhandy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been insome dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; Itell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All theDepartment is pleased. '

For the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it canbe a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise--ensnaringpraise from an equal of work appreciated by fellow-workers. Earth hasnothing on the same plane to compare with it. But, cried the Orientalin him, Babus do not travel far to retail compliments. 

'Tell thy tale, Babu, ' he said authoritatively. 

'Oah, it is nothing. Onlee I was at Simla when the wire came in aboutwhat our mutual friend said he had hidden, and old Creighton--' Helooked to see how Kim would take this piece of audacity. 

'The Colonel Sahib, ' the boy from St Xavier's corrected. 'Of course. He found me at a loose string, and I had to go down to Chitor to findthat beastly letter. I do not like the South--too much railway travel;but I drew good travelling allowance. Ha! Ha! I meet our mutual atDelhi on the way back. He lies quiett just now, and saysSaddhu-disguise suits him to the ground. Well, there I hear what youhave done so well, so quickly, upon the instantaneous spur of themoment. I tell our mutual you take the bally bun, by Jove! It wassplendid. I come to tell you so. '

'Umm!'

The frogs were busy in the ditches, and the moon slid to her setting. Some happy servant had gone out to commune with the night and to beatupon a drum. Kim's next sentence was in the vernacular. 

'How didst thou follow us?'

'Oah. Thatt was nothing. I know from our mutual friend you go toSaharunpore. So I come on. Red Lamas are not inconspicuous persons. Ibuy myself my drug-box, and I am very good doctor really. I go toAkrola of the Ford, and hear all about you, and I talk here and talkthere. All the common people know what you do. I knew when thehospitable old lady sent the dooli. They have great recollections ofthe old lama's visits here. I know old ladies cannot keep their handsfrom medicines. So I am a doctor, and--you hear my talk? I think itis verree good. My word, Mister O'Hara, they know about you and thelama for fifty miles--the common people. So I come. Do you mind?'

'Babuji, ' said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face, 'I am aSahib. '

'My dear Mister O'Hara--'

'And I hope to play the Great Game. '

'You are subordinate to me departmentally at present. '

'Then why talk like an ape in a tree? Men do not come after one fromSimla and change their dress, for the sake of a few sweet words. I amnot a child. Talk Hindi and let us get to the yolk of the egg. Thouart here--speaking not one word of truth in ten. Why art thou here?Give a straight answer. '

'That is so verree disconcerting of the Europeans, Mister O'Hara. Youshould know a heap better at your time of life. '

'But I want to know, ' said Kim, laughing. 'If it is the Game, I mayhelp. How can I do anything if you bukh [babble] all round the shop?'

Hurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again. 

'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara . .. Itconcerns the pedigree of a white stallion. '

'Still? That was finished long ago. '

'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listento me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden warthree years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedigree by MahbubAli. Upon them, because of that news, and ere they were ready, fellour Army. '

'Ay--eight thousand men with guns. I remember that night. '

'But the war was not pushed. That is the Government custom. Thetroops were recalled because the Government believed the Five Kingswere cowed; and it is not cheap to feed men among the high Passes. Hilas and Bunar--Rajahs with guns--undertook for a price to guard thePasses against all coming from the North. They protested both fear andfriendship. ' He broke off with a giggle into English: 'Of course, Itell you this unoffeecially to elucidate political situation, MisterO'Hara. Offeecially, I am debarred from criticizing any action ofsuperiors. Now I go on. --This pleased the Government, anxious to avoidexpense, and a bond was made for so many rupees a month that Hilas andBunar should guard the Passes as soon as the State's troops werewithdrawn. At that time--it was after we two met--I, who had beenselling tea in Leh, became a clerk of accounts in the Army. When thetroops were withdrawn, I was left behind to pay the coolies who madenew roads in the Hills. This road-making was part of the bond betweenBunar, Hilas, and the Government. '

'So? And then?'

'I tell you, it was jolly-beastly cold up there too, after summer, 'said Hurree Babu confidentially. 'I was afraid these Bunar men wouldcut my throat every night for thee pay-chest. My native sepoy-guard, they laughed at me! By Jove! I was such a fearful man. Nevar mindthatt. I go on colloquially . .. I send word many times that these twoKings were sold to the North; and Mahbub Ali, who was yet fartherNorth, amply confirmed it. Nothing was done. Only my feet werefrozen, and a toe dropped off. I sent word that the roads for which Iwas paying money to the diggers were being made for the feet ofstrangers and enemies. '

'For?'

'For the Russians. The thing was an open jest among the coolies. ThenI was called down to tell what I knew by speech of tongue. Mahbub cameSouth too. See the end! Over the Passes this year aftersnow-melting'--he shivered afresh--'come two strangers under cover ofshooting wild goats. They bear guns, but they bear also chains andlevels and compasses. '

'Oho! The thing gets clearer. '

'They are well received by Hilas and Bunar. They make great promises;they speak as the mouthpiece of a Kaisar with gifts. Up the valleys, down the valleys go they, saying, "Here is a place to build abreastwork; here can ye pitch a fort. Here can ye hold the roadagainst an army"--the very roads for which I paid out the rupeesmonthly. The Government knows, but does nothing. The three otherKings, who were not paid for guarding the Passes, tell them by runnerof the bad faith of Bunar and Hilas. When all the evil is done, lookyou--when these two strangers with the levels and the compasses makethe Five Kings to believe that a great army will sweep the Passestomorrow or the next day--Hill-people are all fools--comes the order tome, Hurree Babu, "Go North and see what those strangers do. " I say toCreighton Sahib, "This is not a lawsuit, that we go about to collectevidence. "' Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: "'By Jove, " Isaid, "why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to somebrave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit theobservation, most reprehensible laxity on your part. " And ColonelCreighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride. You think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott. '

Kim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so far as he understood it, in his quick mind. 

'Then thou goest forth to follow the strangers?'

'No. To meet them. They are coming in to Simla to send down theirhorns and heads to be dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusivelysporting gentlemen, and they are allowed special faceelities by theGovernment. Of course, we always do that. It is our British pride. '

'Then what is to fear from them?'

'By Jove, they are not black people. I can do all sorts of things withblack people, of course. They are Russians, and highly unscrupulouspeople. I--I do not want to consort with them without a witness. '

'Will they kill thee?'

'Oah, thatt is nothing. I am good enough Herbert Spencerian, I trust, to meet little thing like death, which is all in my fate, you know. But--but they may beat me. '

'Why?'

Hurree Babu snapped his fingers with irritation. 'Of course I shallaffeeliate myself to their camp in supernumerary capacity as perhapsinterpreter, or person mentally impotent and hungree, or some suchthing. And then I must pick up what I can, I suppose. That is as easyfor me as playing Mister Doctor to the old lady. Onlee--onlee--yousee, Mister O'Hara, I am unfortunately Asiatic, which is seriousdetriment in some respects. And all-so I am Bengali--a fearful man. '

'God made the Hare and the Bengali. What shame?' said Kim, quotingthe proverb. 

'It was process of Evolution, I think, from Primal Necessity, but thefact remains in all the cui bono. I am, oh, awfully fearful!--Iremember once they wanted to cut off my head on the road to Lhassa. (No, I have never reached to Lhassa. ) I sat down and cried, MisterO'Hara, anticipating Chinese tortures. I do not suppose these twogentlemen will torture me, but I like to provide for possiblecontingency with European assistance in emergency. ' He coughed andspat out the cardamoms. 'It is purely unoffeecial indent, to which youcan say "No, Babu". If you have no pressing engagement with your oldman--perhaps you might divert him; perhaps I can seduce his fancies--Ishould like you to keep in Departmental touch with me till I find thosesporting coves. I have great opeenion of you since I met my friend atDelhi. And also I will embody your name in my offeecial report whenmatter is finally adjudicated. It will be a great feather in your cap. That is why I come really. '

'Humph! The end of the tale, I think, is true; but what of thefore-part?'

'About the Five Kings? Oah! there is ever so much truth in it. Alots more than you would suppose, ' said Hurree earnestly. 'Youcome--eh? I go from here straight into the Doon. It is verree verdantand painted meads. I shall go to Mussoorie to good old MunsooriePahar, as the gentlemen and ladies say. Then by Rampur into Chini. That is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold, but we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see, one Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I havefriends in Chandernagore. '

'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again, ' said Kimmeditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of littleelse. If we go together--'

'Oah! We can be quite strangers on the road, if your lama prefers. Ishall just be four or five miles ahead. There is no hurry forHurree--that is an Europe pun, ha! ha!--and you come after. There isplenty of time; they will plot and survey and map, of course. I shallgo tomorrow, and you the next day, if you choose. Eh? You go think onit till morning. By Jove, it is near morning now. ' He yawnedponderously, and with never a civil word lumbered off to hissleeping-place. But Kim slept little, and his thoughts ran inHindustani:

'Well is the Game called great! I was four days a scullion at Quetta, waiting on the wife of the man whose book I stole. And that was partof the Great Game! From the South--God knows how far--came up theMahratta, playing the Great Game in fear of his life. Now I shall gofar and far into the North playing the Great Game. Truly, it runs likea shuttle throughout all Hind. And my share and my joy'--he smiled tothe darkness--'I owe to the lama here. Also to Mahbub Ali--also toCreighton Sahib, but chiefly to the Holy One. He is right--a great anda wonderful world--and I am Kim--Kim--Kim--alone--one person--in themiddle of it all. But I will see these strangers with their levels andchains. .. '

'What was the upshot of last night's babble?' said the lama, after hisorisons. 

'There came a strolling seller of drugs--a hanger-on of the Sahiba's. Him I abolished by arguments and prayers, proving that our charms areworthier than his coloured waters. '

'Alas, my charms! Is the virtuous woman still bent upon a new one?'

'Very strictly. '

'Then it must be written, or she will deafen me with her clamour. ' Hefumbled at his pencase. 

'In the Plains, ' said Kim, 'are always too many people. In the Hills, as I understand, there are fewer. '

'Oh! the Hills, and the snows upon the Hills. ' The lami tore off atiny square of paper fit to go in an amulet. 'But what dost thou knowof the Hills?'

'They are very close. ' Kim thrust open the door and looked at thelong, peaceful line of the Himalayas flushed in morning-gold. 'Exceptin the dress of a Sahib, I have never set foot among them. '

The lama snuffed the wind wistfully. 

'If we go North, '--Kim put the question to the waking sunrise--'wouldnot much mid-day heat be avoided by walking among the lower hills atleast? . .. Is the charm made, Holy One?'

'I have written the names of seven silly devils--not one of whom isworth a grain of dust in the eye. Thus do foolish women drag us fromthe Way!'

Hurree Babu came out from behind the dovecote washing his teeth withostentatious ritual. Full-fleshed, heavy-haunched, bull-necked, anddeep-voiced, he did not look like 'a fearful man'. Kim signed almostimperceptibly that matters were in good train, and when the morningtoilet was over, Hurree Babu, in flowery speech, came to do honour tothe lama. They ate, of course, apart, and afterwards the old lady, more or less veiled behind a window, returned to the vital business ofgreen-mango colics in the young. The lama's knowledge of medicine was, of course, sympathetic only. He believed that the dung of a blackhorse, mixed with sulphur, and carried in a snake-skin, was a soundremedy for cholera; but the symbolism interested him far more than thescience. Hurree Babu deferred to these views with enchantingpoliteness, so that the lama called him a courteous physician. HurreeBabu replied that he was no more than an inexpert dabbler in themysteries; but at least--he thanked the Gods therefore--he knew when hesat in the presence of a master. He himself had been taught by theSahibs, who do not consider expense, in the lordly halls of Calcutta;but, as he was ever first to acknowledge, there lay a wisdom behindearthly wisdom--the high and lonely lore of meditation. Kim looked onwith envy. The Hurree Babu of his knowledge--oily, effusive, andnervous--was gone; gone, too, was the brazen drug-vendor of overnight. There remained--polished, polite, attentive--a sober, learned son ofexperience and adversity, gathering wisdom from the lama's lips. Theold lady confided to Kim that these rare levels were beyond her. Sheliked charms with plenty of ink that one could wash off in water, swallow, and be done with. Else what was the use of the Gods? Sheliked men and women, and she spoke of them--of kinglets she had knownin the past; of her own youth and beauty; of the depredations ofleopards and the eccentricities of love Asiatic; of the incidence oftaxation, rack-renting, funeral ceremonies, her son-in-law (this byallusion, easy to be followed), the care of the young, and the age'slack of decency. And Kim, as interested in the life of this world asshe soon to leave it, squatted with his feet under the hem of his robe, drinking all in, while the lama demolished one after another everytheory of body-curing put forward by Hurree Babu. 

At noon the Babu strapped up his brass-bound drug-box, took hispatent-leather shoes of ceremony in one hand, a gay blue-and-whiteumbrella in the other, and set off northwards to the Doon, where, hesaid, he was in demand among the lesser kings of those parts. 

'We will go in the cool of the evening, chela, ' said the lama. 'Thatdoctor, learned in physic and courtesy, affirms that the people amongthese lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need of a teacher. In a very short time--so says the hakim--we come to cool air and thesmell of pines. '

'Ye go to the Hills? And by Kulu road? Oh, thrice happy!' shrilledthe old lady. 'But that I am a little pressed with the care of thehomestead I would take palanquin . .. But that would be shameless, andmy reputation would be cracked. Ho! Ho! I know the road--every marchof the road I know. Ye will find charity throughout--it is not deniedto the well-looking. I will give orders for provision. A servant toset you forth upon your journey? No . .. Then I will at least cook yegood food. '

'What a woman is the Sahiba!' said the white-bearded Oorya, when atumult rose by the kitchen quarters. 'She has never forgotten afriend: she has never forgotten an enemy in all her years. And hercookery--wah!' He rubbed his slim stomach. 

There were cakes, there were sweetmeats, there was cold fowl stewed torags with rice and prunes--enough to burden Kim like a mule. 

'I am old and useless, ' she said. 'None now love me--and nonerespect--but there are few to compare with me when I call on the Godsand squat to my cooking-pots. Come again, O people of good will. HolyOne and disciple, come again. The room is always prepared; the welcomeis always ready . .. See the women do not follow thy chela too openly. I know the women of Kulu. Take heed, chela, lest he run away when hesmells his Hills again . .. Hai! Do not tilt the rice-bag upside down. .. Bless the household, Holy One, and forgive thy servant herstupidities. '

She wiped her red old eyes on a corner of her veil, and cluckedthroatily. 

'Women talk, ' said the lama at last, 'but that is a woman's infirmity. I gave her a charm. She is upon the Wheel and wholly given over to theshows of this life, but none the less, chela, she is virtuous, kindly, hospitable--of a whole and zealous heart. Who shall say she does notacquire merit?'

'Not I, Holy One, ' said Kim, reslinging the bountiful provision on hisshoulders. 'In my mind--behind my eyes--I have tried to picture suchan one altogether freed from the Wheel--desiring nothing, causingnothing--a nun, as it were. '

'And, O imp?' The lama almost laughed aloud. 

'I cannot make the picture. '

'Nor I. But there are many, many millions of lives before her. Shewill get wisdom a little, it may be, in each one. '

'And will she forget how to make stews with saffron upon that road?'

'Thy mind is set on things unworthy. But she has skill. I amrefreshed all over. When we reach the lower hills I shall be yetstronger. The hakim spoke truly to me this morn when he said a breathfrom the snows blows away twenty years from the life of a man. We willgo up into the Hills--the high hills--up to the sound of snow-watersand the sound of the trees--for a little while. The hakim said that atany time we may return to the Plains, for we do no more than skirt thepleasant places. The hakim is full of learning; but he is in no wayproud. I spoke to him--when thou wast talking to the Sahiba--of acertain dizziness that lays hold upon the back of my neck in the night, and he said it rose from excessive heat--to be cured by cool air. Uponconsideration, I marvelled that I had not thought of such a simpleremedy. '

'Didst thou tell him of thy Search?' said Kim, a little jealously. Hepreferred to sway the lama by his own speech--not through the wiles ofHurree Babu. 

'Assuredly. I told him of my dream, and of the manner by which I hadacquired merit by causing thee to be taught wisdom. '

'Thou didst not say I was a Sahib?'

'What need? I have told thee many times we be but two souls seekingescape. He said--and he is just herein--that the River of Healing willbreak forth even as I dreamed--at my feet, if need be. Having foundthe Way, seest thou, that shall free me from the Wheel, need I troubleto find a way about the mere fields of earth--which are illusion? Thatwere senseless. I have my dreams, night upon night repeated; I haveJataka; and I have thee, Friend of all the World. It was written in thyhoroscope that a Red Bull on a green field--I have notforgotten--should bring thee to honour. Who but I saw that prophecyaccomplished? Indeed, I was the instrument. Thou shalt find me myRiver, being in return the instrument. The Search is sure!'

He set his ivory-yellow face, serene and untroubled, towards thebeckoning Hills; his shadow shouldering far before him in the dust. 

Chapter 13

 Who hath desired the Sea--the immense and contemptuous surges? The shudder, the stumble, the swerve ere the star-stabbing bowsprit merges-- The orderly clouds of the Trades and the ridged roaring sapphire thereunder-- Unheralded cliff-lurking flaws and the head-sails' low-volleying thunder? His Sea in no wonder the same--his Sea and the same in each wonder-- His Sea that his being fulfils? So and no otherwise--so and no otherwise hill-men desire their hills!

 The Sea and the Hills. 

'Who goes to the hills goes to his mother. '

They had crossed the Siwaliks and the half-tropical Doon, leftMussoorie behind them, and headed north along the narrow hill-roads. Day after day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and dayafter day Kim watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among theterraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready toprofit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to Mussoorie he drewhimself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered bank, andwhere he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about him, drew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only ahillman can. Kim, plains-bred and plains-fed, sweated and pantedastonished. 'This is my country, ' said the lama. 'Beside Such-zen, this is flatter than a rice-field'; and with steady, driving strokesfrom the loins he strode upwards. But it was on the steep downhillmarches, three thousand feet in three hours, that he went utterly awayfrom Kim, whose back ached with holding back, and whose big toe wasnigh cut off by his grass sandal-string. Through the speckled shadowof the great deodar-forests; through oak feathered and plumed withferns; birch, ilex, rhododendron, and pine, out on to the barehillsides' slippery sunburnt grass, and back into the woodlands' coolthagain, till oak gave way to bamboo and palm of the valley, the lamaswung untiring. 

Glancing back in the twilight at the huge ridges behind him and thefaint, thin line of the road whereby they had come, he would lay out, with a hillman's generous breadth of vision, fresh marches for themorrow; or, halting in the neck of some uplifted pass that gave onSpiti and Kulu, would stretch out his hands yearningly towards the highsnows of the horizon. In the dawns they flared windy-red above starkblue, as Kedarnath and Badrinath--kings of that wilderness--took thefirst sunlight. All day long they lay like molten silver under thesun, and at evening put on their jewels again. At first they breathedtemperately upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawledover some gigantic hog's-back; but in a few days, at a height of nineor ten thousand feet, those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed avillage of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat. The lama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to theknife-edged breezes which had cut the years off his shoulders. 

'These are but the lower hills, chela. There is no cold till we cometo the true Hills. '

'Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the foodis very bad, ' Kim growled; 'and we walk as though we were mad--orEnglish. It freezes at night, too. '

'A little, maybe; but only enough to make old bones rejoice in the sun. We must not always delight in soft beds and rich food. '

'We might at least keep to the road. '

Kim had all a plainsman's affection for the well-trodden track, not sixfeet wide, that snaked among the mountains; but the lama, beingTibetan, could not refrain from short cuts over spurs and the rims ofgravel-strewn slopes. As he explained to his limping disciple, a manbred among mountains can prophesy the course of a mountain-road, andthough low-lying clouds might be a hindrance to a short-cuttingstranger, they made no earthly difference to a thoughtful man. Thus, after long hours of what would be reckoned very fair mountaineering incivilized countries, they would pant over a saddle-back, sidle past afew landslips, and drop through forest at an angle of forty-five ontothe road again. Along their track lay the villages of thehillfolk--mud and earth huts, timbers now and then rudely carved withan axe--clinging like swallows' nests against the steeps, huddled ontiny flats half-way down a three-thousand-foot glissade; jammed into acorner between cliffs that funnelled and focused every wandering blast;or, for the sake of summer pasture, cowering down on a neck that inwinter would be ten feet deep in snow. And the people--the sallow, greasy, duffle-clad people, with short bare legs and faces almostEsquimaux--would flock out and adore. The Plains--kindly andgentle--had treated the lama as a holy man among holy men. But theHills worshipped him as one in the confidence of all their devils. Theirs was an almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with anature-worship fantastic as their own landscapes, elaborate as theterracing of their tiny fields; but they recognized the big hat, theclicking rosary, and the rare Chinese texts for great authority; andthey respected the man beneath the hat. 

'We saw thee come down over the black Breasts of Eua, ' said a Betah whogave them cheese, sour milk, and stone-hard bread one evening. 'We donot use that often--except when calving cows stray in summer. There isa sudden wind among those stones that casts men down on the stillestday. But what should such folk care for the Devil of Eua!'

Then did Kim, aching in every fibre, dizzy with looking down, footsorewith cramping desperate toes into inadequate crannies, take joy in theday's march--such joy as a boy of St Xavier's who had won thequarter-mile on the flat might take in the praises of his friends. Thehills sweated the ghi and sugar suet off his bones; the dry air, takensobbingly at the head of cruel passes, firmed and built out his upperribs; and the tilted levels put new hard muscles into calf and thigh. 

They meditated often on the Wheel of Life--the more so since, as thelama said, they were freed from its visible temptations. Except thegrey eagle and an occasional far-seen bear grubbing and rooting on thehillside; a vision of a furious painted leopard met at dawn in a stillvalley devouring a goat; and now and again a bright-coloured bird, theywere alone with the winds and the grass singing under the wind. Thewomen of the smoky huts over whose roofs the two walked as theydescended the mountains, were unlovely and unclean, wives of manyhusbands, and afflicted with goitre. The men were woodcutters whenthey were not farmers--meek, and of an incredible simplicity. But thatsuitable discourse might not fail, Fate sent them, overtaking andovertaken upon the road, the courteous Dacca physician, who paid forhis food in ointments good for goitre and counsels that restore peacebetween men and women. He seemed to know these hills as well as heknew the hill dialects, and gave the lama the lie of the land towardsLadakh and Tibet. He said they could return to the Plains at anymoment. Meantime, for such as loved mountains, yonder road mightamuse. This was not all revealed in a breath, but at eveningencounters on the stone threshing-floors, when, patients disposed of, the doctor would smoke and the lama snuff, while Kim watched the weecows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eyes acrossthe deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talksapart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs, and Kim, asbudding physician, must accompany him. 

'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not know what the deuce-an' all I shalldo when I find our sporting friends; but if you will kindly keep withinsight of my umbrella, which is fine fixed point for cadastral survey, Ishall feel much better. '

Kim looked out across the jungle of peaks. 'This is not my country, hakim. Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bear-skin. '

'Oah, thatt is my strong points. There is no hurry for Hurree. Theywere at Leh not so long ago. They said they had come down from theKarakorum with their heads and horns and all. I am onlee afraid theywill have sent back all their letters and compromising things from Lehinto Russian territoree. Of course they will walk away as far to theEast as possible--just to show that they were never among the WesternStates. You do not know the Hills?' He scratched with a twig on theearth. 'Look! They should have come in by Srinagar or Abbottabad. Thatt is their short road--down the river by Bunji and Astor. But theyhave made mischief in the West. So'--he drew a furrow from left toright--'they march and they march away East to Leh (ah! it is coldthere), and down the Indus to Hanle (I know that road), and then down, you see, to Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by processof elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure sowell. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producingimpressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see mecatch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on theumbrella. '

It nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round themountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered bycompass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide. 'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a carelessfinger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself incompliments. 

They crossed a snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the lama, mildlychaffing Kim, went through up to his knees, like a Bactrian camel--thesnow-bred, shag-haired sort that came into the Kashmir Serai. Theydipped across beds of light snow and snow-powdered shale, where theytook refuge from a gale in a camp of Tibetans hurrying down tiny sheep, each laden with a bag of borax. They came out upon grassy shouldersstill snow-speckled, and through forest, to grass anew. For all theirmarchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not impressed; and it was onlyafter days of travel that Kim, uplifted upon some insignificantten-thousand-foot hummock, could see that a shoulder-knot or horn ofthe two great lords had--ever so slightly--changed outline. 

At last they entered a world within a world--a valley of leagues wherethe high hills were fashioned of a mere rubble and refuse from off theknees of the mountains. Here one day's march carried them no farther, it seemed, than a dreamer's clogged pace bears him in a nightmare. They skirted a shoulder painfully for hours, and, behold, it was but anoutlying boss in an outlying buttress of the main pile! A roundedmeadow revealed itself, when they had reached it, for a vast tablelandrunning far into the valley. Three days later, it was a dim fold inthe earth to southward. 

'Surely the Gods live here!' said Kim, beaten down by the silence andthe appalling sweep and dispersal of the cloud-shadows after rain. 'This is no place for men!'

'Long and long ago, ' said the lama, as to himself, 'it was asked of theLord whether the world were everlasting. On this the Excellent Onereturned no answer . .. When I was in Ceylon, a wise Seeker confirmedthat from the gospel which is written in Pali. Certainly, since weknow the way to Freedom, the question were unprofitable, but--look, andknow illusion, chela! These--are the true Hills! They are like myhills by Suchzen. Never were such hills!'

Above them, still enormously above them, earth towered away towards thesnow-line, where from east to west across hundreds of miles, ruled aswith a ruler, the last of the bold birches stopped. Above that, inscarps and blocks upheaved, the rocks strove to fight their heads abovethe white smother. Above these again, changeless since the world'sbeginning, but changing to every mood of sun and cloud, lay out theeternal snow. They could see blots and blurs on its face where stormand wandering wullie-wa got up to dance. Below them, as they stood, the forest slid away in a sheet of blue-green for mile upon mile; belowthe forest was a village in its sprinkle of terraced fields and steepgrazing-grounds. Below the village they knew, though a thunderstormworried and growled there for the moment, a pitch of twelve or fifteenhundred feet gave to the moist valley where the streams gather that arethe mothers of young Sutluj. 

As usual, the lama had led Kim by cow-track and by-road, far from themain route along which Hurree Babu, that 'fearful man', had bucketedthree days before through a storm to which nine Englishmen out of tenwould have given full right of way. Hurree was no game-shot--the snickof a trigger made him change colour--but, as he himself would havesaid, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', and he had raked the hugevalley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, thewhite of worn canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree Babu hadseen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing-floor ofZiglaur, twenty miles away as the eagle flies, and forty by road--thatis to say, two small dots which one day were just below the snow-line, and the next had moved downward perhaps six inches on the hillside. Once cleaned out and set to the work, his fat bare legs could cover asurprising amount of ground, and this was the reason why, while Kim andthe lama lay in a leaky hut at Ziglaur till the storm should beover-past, an oily, wet, but always smiling Bengali, talking the bestof English with the vilest of phrases, was ingratiating himself withtwo sodden and rather rheumatic foreigners. He had arrived, revolvingmany wild schemes, on the heels of a thunderstorm which had split apine over against their camp, and so convinced a dozen or two forciblyimpressed baggage-coolies the day was inauspicious for farther travelthat with one accord they had thrown down their loads and jibbed. Theywere subjects of a Hill Rajah who farmed out their services, as is thecustom, for his private gain; and, to add to their personal distresses, the strange Sahibs had already threatened them with rifles. The mostof them knew rifles and Sahibs of old: they were trackers andshikarris of the Northern valleys, keen after bear and wild goat; butthey had never been thus treated in their lives. So the forest tookthem to her bosom, and, for all oaths and clamour, refused to restore. There was no need to feign madness or--the Babu had thought of anothermeans of securing a welcome. He wrung out his wet clothes, slipped onhis patent-leather shoes, opened the blue-and-white umbrella, and withmincing gait and a heart beating against his tonsils appeared as 'agentfor His Royal Highness, the Rajah of Rampur, gentlemen. What can I dofor you, please?'

The gentlemen were delighted. One was visibly French, the otherRussian, but they spoke English not much inferior to the Babu's. Theybegged his kind offices. Their native servants had gone sick at Leh. They had hurried on because they were anxious to bring the spoils ofthe chase to Simla ere the skins grew moth-eaten. They bore a generalletter of introduction (the Babu salaamed to it orientally) to allGovernment officials. No, they had not met any other shooting-partiesen route. They did for themselves. They had plenty of supplies. Theyonly wished to push on as soon as might be. At this he waylaid acowering hillman among the trees, and after three minutes' talk and alittle silver (one cannot be economical upon State service, thoughHurree's heart bled at the waste) the eleven coolies and the threehangers-on reappeared. At least the Babu would be a witness to theiroppression. 

'My royal master, he will be much annoyed, but these people are onleecommon people and grossly ignorant. If your honours will kindlyoverlook unfortunate affair, I shall be much pleased. In a littlewhile rain will stop and we can then proceed. You have been shooting, eh? That is fine performance!'

He skipped nimbly from one kilta to the next, making pretence to adjusteach conical basket. The Englishman is not, as a rule, familiar withthe Asiatic, but he would not strike across the wrist a kindly Babu whohad accidentally upset a kilta with a red oilskin top. On the otherhand, he would not press drink upon a Babu were he never so friendly, nor would he invite him to meat. The strangers did all these things, and asked many questions--about women mostly--to which Hurree returnedgay and unstudied answers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid liketo gin, and then more; and in a little time his gravity departed fromhim. He became thickly treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweepingindecency of a Government which had forced upon him a white man'seducation and neglected to supply him with a white man's salary. Hebabbled tales of oppression and wrong till the tears ran down hischeeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singinglove-songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Neverwas so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappilythrust upon aliens. 

'They are all just of that pattern, ' said one sportsman to the other inFrench. 'When we get into India proper thou wilt see. I should liketo visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It ispossible that he has heard of us and wishes to signify his good-will. '

'We have not time. We must get into Simla as soon as may be, ' hiscompanion replied. 'For my own part, I wish our reports had been sentback from Hilas, or even Leh. '

'The English post is better and safer. Remember we are given allfacilities--and Name of God!--they give them to us too! Is itunbelievable stupidity?'

'It is pride--pride that deserves and will receive punishment. '

'Yes! To fight a fellow-Continental in our game is something. Thereis a risk attached, but these people--bah! It is too easy. '

'Pride--all pride, my friend. '

'Now what the deuce is good of Chandernagore being so close to Calcuttaand all, ' said Hurree, snoring open-mouthed on the sodden moss, 'if Icannot understand their French? They talk so particularly fast! Itwould have been much better to cut their beastly throats. '

When he presented himself again he was racked with aheadache--penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he mighthave been indiscreet. He loved the British Government--it was thesource of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur held thevery same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him and to quotepast words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins, andleers of infinite cunning, the poor Babu was beaten out of his defencesand forced to speak--truth. When Lurgan was told the tale later, hemourned aloud that he could not have been in the place of the stubborn, inattentive coolies, who with grass mats over their heads and theraindrops puddling in their footprints, waited on the weather. All theSahibs of their acquaintance--rough-clad men joyously returning yearafter year to their chosen gullies--had servants and cooks andorderlies, very often hillmen. These Sahibs travelled without anyretinue. Therefore they were poor Sahibs, and ignorant; for no Sahibin his senses would follow a Bengali's advice. But the Bengali, appearing from somewhere, had given them money, and could make shiftwith their dialect. Used to comprehensive ill-treatment from their owncolour, they suspected a trap somewhere, and stood by to run ifoccasion offered. 

Then through the new-washed air, steaming with delicious earth-smells, the Babu led the way down the slopes--walking ahead of the coolies inpride; walking behind the foreigners in humility. His thoughts weremany and various. The least of them would have interested hiscompanions beyond words. But he was an agreeable guide, ever keen topoint out the beauties of his royal master's domain. He peopled thehills with anything thev had a mind to slay--thar, ibex, or markhor, and bear by Elisha's allowance. He discoursed of botany and ethnologywith unimpeachable inaccuracy, and his store of local legends--he hadbeen a trusted agent of the State for fifteen years, remember--wasinexhaustible. 

'Decidedly this fellow is an original, ' said the taller of the twoforeigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier. '

'He represents in little India in transition--the monstrous hybridismof East and West, ' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal withOrientals. '

'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But hehas a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided tome last night, ' said the other. 

Under the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was straining ear and brain tofollow the quick-poured French, and keeping both eyes on a kilta fullof maps and documents--an extra-large one with a double red oil-skincover. He did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to knowwhat to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he had stolenit. He thanked all the Gods of Hindustan, and Herbert Spencer, thatthere remained some valuables to steal. 

On the second day the road rose steeply to a grass spur above theforest; and it was here, about sunset, that they came across an agedlama--but they called him a bonze--sitting cross-legged above amysterious chart held down by stones, which he was explaining to ayoung man, evidently a neophyte, of singular, though unwashen, beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted half a march away, and Kim hadsuggested a halt till it came up to them. 

'Ha!' said Hurree Babu, resourceful as Puss-in-Boots. 'That iseminent local holy man. Probably subject of my royal master. '

'What is he doing? It is very curious. '

'He is expounding holy picture--all hand-worked. '

The two men stood bareheaded in the wash of the afternoon sunlight lowacross the gold-coloured grass. The sullen coolies, glad of the check, halted and slid down their loads. 

'Look!' said the Frenchman. 'It is like a picture for the birth of areligion--the first teacher and the first disciple. Is he a Buddhist?'

'Of some debased kind, ' the other answered. 'There are no trueBuddhists among the Hills. But look at the folds of the drapery. Lookat his eyes--how insolent! Why does this make one feel that we are soyoung a people?' The speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. 'Wehave nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere! That, do you understand, iswhat disquiets me. ' He scowled at the placid face, and the monumentalcalm of the pose. 

'Have patience. We shall make your mark together--we and you youngpeople. Meantime, draw his picture. '

The Babu advanced loftily; his back out of all keeping with hisdeferential speech, or his wink towards Kim. 

'Holy One, these be Sahibs. My medicines cured one of a flux, and I gointo Simla to oversee his recovery. They wish to see thy picture--'

'To heal the sick is always good. This is the Wheel of Life, ' said thelama, 'the same I showed thee in the hut at Ziglaur when the rain fell. '

'And to hear thee expound it. '

The lama's eyes lighted at the prospect of new listeners. 'To expoundthe Most Excellent Way is good. Have they any knowledge of Hindi, suchas had the Keeper of Images?'

'A little, maybe. '

Hereat, simply as a child engrossed with a new game, the lama threwback his head and began the full-throated invocation of the Doctor ofDivinity ere he opens the full doctrine. The strangers leaned on theiralpenstocks and listened. Kim, squatting humbly, watched the redsunlight on their faces, and the blend and parting of their longshadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious girt-in belts thatreminded him hazily of the pictures in a book in St Xavier's library"The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico" was its name. Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Sumichrast of that tale, andvery unlike the 'highly unscrupulous folk' of Hurree Babu's imagining. The coolies, earth-coloured and mute, crouched reverently some twentyor thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack of his thin gear snappinglike a marking-flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of happyproprietorship. 

'These are the men, ' Hurree whispered, as the ritual went on and thetwo whites followed the grass-blade sweeping from Hell to Heaven andback again. 'All their books are in the large kilta with the reddishtop--books and reports and maps--and I have seen a King's letter thateither Hilas or Bunar has written. They guard it most carefully. Theyhave sent nothing back from Hilas or Leh. That is sure. '

'Who is with them?'

'Only the beegar-coolies. They have no servants. They are so closethey cook their own food. '

'But what am I to do?'

'Wait and see. Only if any chance comes to me thou wilt know where toseek for the papers. '

'This were better in Mahbub Ali's hands than a Bengali's, ' said Kimscornfully. 

'There are more ways of getting to a sweetheart than butting down awall. '

'See here the Hell appointed for avarice and greed. Flanked upon theone side by Desire and on the other by Weariness. ' The lama warmed tohis work, and one of the strangers sketched him in the quick-fadinglight. 

'That is enough, ' the man said at last brusquely. 'I cannot understandhim, but I want that picture. He is a better artist than I. Ask him ifhe will sell it. '

'He says "No, sar, "' the Babu replied. The lama, of course, would nomore have parted with his chart to a casual wayfarer than an archbishopwould pawn the holy vessels of his cathedral. All Tibet is full ofcheap reproductions of the Wheel; but the lama was an artist, as wellas a wealthy Abbot in his own place. 

'Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Sahibis a Seeker and of good understanding, I may myself draw him another. But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim. '

'He wishes it now--for money. '

The lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. TheRussian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling overa dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatchedhalf-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A lowmurmur of horror went up from the coolies--some of whom were Spiti menand, by their lights, good Buddhists. The lama rose at the insult; hishand went to the heavy iron pencase that is the priest's weapon, andthe Babu danced in agony. 

'Now you see--you see why I wanted witnesses. They are highlyunscrupulous people. Oh, sar! sar! You must not hit holyman!'

'Chela! He has defiled the Written Word!'

It was too late. Before Kim could ward him off, the Russian struck theold man full on the face. Next instant he was rolling over and overdownhill with Kim at his throat. The blow had waked every unknownIrish devil in the boy's blood, and the sudden fall of his enemy didthe rest. The lama dropped to his knees, half-stunned; the cooliesunder their loads fled up the hill as fast as plainsmen run aross thelevel. They had seen sacrilege unspeakable, and it behoved them to getaway before the Gods and devils of the hills took vengeance. TheFrenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with somenotion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cuttingstones--hillmen are very straight shots--drove him away, and a cooliefrom Ao-chung snatched the lama into the stampede. All came about asswiftly as the sudden mountain-darkness. 

'They have taken the baggage and all the guns, ' yelled the Frenchman, firing blindly into the twilight. 

'All right, sar! All right! Don't shoot. I go to rescue, ' andHurree, pounding down the slope, cast himself bodily upon the delightedand astonished Kim, who was banging his breathless foe's head against aboulder. 

'Go back to the coolies, ' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They havethe baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but lookthrough all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King'sletter]. Go! The other man comes!'

Kim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and hecowered partridge-wise. 

'If you shoot, ' shouted Hurree, 'they will descend and annihilate us. I have rescued the gentleman, sar. This is particularly dangerous. '

'By Jove!' Kim was thinking hard in English. 'This is dam'-tightplace, but I think it is self-defence. ' He felt in his bosom forMahbub's gift, and uncertainly--save for a few practice shots in theBikanir desert, he had never used the little gun--pulled the trigger. 

'What did I say, sar!' The Babu seemed to be in tears. 'Come downhere and assist to resuscitate. We are all up a tree, I tell you. '

The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurriedupward through the gloom, swearing like a cat--or a country-bred. 

'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him. 

'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs. 

'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow. '

'But not before we have done justice, ' a voice cried. 'I have got theSahibs' guns--all four. Let us go down. '

'He struck the Holy One--we saw it! Our cattle will be barren--ourwives will cease to bear! The snows will slide upon us as we gohome. .. Atop of all other oppression too!'

The little fir-clump filled with clamouring coolies--panic-stricken, and in their terror capable of anything. The man from Ao-chung clickedthe breech-bolt of his gun impatiently, and made as to go downhill. 

'Wait a little, Holy One; they cannot go far. Wait till I return, 'said he. 

'It is this person who has suffered wrong, ' said the lama, his handover his brow. 

'For that very reason, ' was the reply. 

'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, yeacquire merit by obedience. '

'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together, ' the man insisted. 

For a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into abreech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he rose to his feet, and laida finger on the man's shoulder. 

'Hast thou heard? I say there shall be no killing--I who was Abbot ofSuch-zen. Is it any lust of thine to be re-born as a rat, or a snakeunder the eaves--a worm in the belly of the most mean beast? Is it thywish to--'

The man from Ao-chung fell to his knees, for the voice boomed like aTibetan devil-gong. 

'Ai! ai!' cried the Spiti men. 'Do not curse us--do not curse him. It was but his zeal, Holy One! . .. Put down the rifle, fool!'

'Anger on anger! Evil on evil! There will be no killing. Let thepriest-beaters go in bondage to their own acts. Just and sure is theWheel, swerving not a hair! They will be born many times--in torment. 'His head drooped, and he leaned heavily on Kim's shoulder. 

'I have come near to great evil, chela, ' he whispered in that dead hushunder the pines. 'I was tempted to loose the bullet; and truly, inTibet there would have been a heavy and a slow death for them . .. Hestruck me across the face . .. Upon the flesh . .. ' He slid to theground, breathing heavily, and Kim could hear the over-driven heartbump and check. 

'Have they hurt him to the death?' said the Ao-chung man, while theothers stood mute. 

Kim knelt over the body in deadly fear. 'Nay, ' he cried passionately, 'this is only a weakness. ' Then he remembered that he was a white man, with a white man's camp-fittings at his service. 'Open the kiltas! TheSahibs may have a medicine. '

'Oho! Then I know it, ' said the Ao-chung man with a laugh. 'Not forfive years was I Yankling Sahib's shikarri without knowing thatmedicine. I too have tasted it. Behold!'

He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap whisky--such as is sold toexplorers at Leh--and cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth. 

'So I did when Yankling Sahib twisted his foot beyond Astor. Aha! Ihave already looked into their baskets--but we will make fair divisionat Shamlegh. Give him a little more. It is good medicine. Feel! Hisheart goes better now. Lay his head down and rub a little on thechest. If he had waited quietly while I accounted for the Sahibs thiswould never have come. But perhaps the Sahibs may chase us here. Thenit would not be wrong to shoot them with their own guns, heh?'

'One is paid, I think, already, ' said Kim between his teeth. 'I kickedhim in the groin as we went downhill. Would I had killed him!'

'It is well to be brave when one does not live in Rampur, ' said onewhose hut lay within a few miles of the Rajah's rickety palace. 'If weget a bad name among the Sahibs, none will employ us as shikarris anymore. '

'Oh, but these are not Angrezi Sahibs--not merry-minded men like FostumSahib or Yankling Sahib. They are foreigners--they cannot speakAngrezi as do Sahibs. '

Here the lama coughed and sat up, groping for the rosary. 

'There shall be no killing, ' he murmured. 'Just is the Wheel! Evil onevil--'

'Nay, Holy One. We are all here. ' The Ao-chung man timidly patted hisfeet. 'Except by thy order, no one shall be slain. Rest awhile. Wewill make a little camp here, and later, as the moon rises, we go toShamlegh-under-the-Snow. '

'After a blow, ' said a Spiti man sententiously, 'it is best to sleep. '

'There is, as it were, a dizziness at the back of my neck, and apinching in it. Let me lay my head on thy lap, chela. I am an oldman, but not free from passion . .. We must think of the Cause ofThings. '

'Give him a blanket. We dare not light a fire lest the Sahibs see. '

'Better get away to Shamlegh. None will follow us to Shamlegh. '

This was the nervous Rampur man. 

'I have been Fostum Sahib's shikarri, and I am Yankling Sahib'sshikarri. I should have been with Yankling Sahib now but for thiscursed beegar [the corvee]. Let two men watch below with the guns lestthe Sahibs do more foolishness. I shall not leave this Holy One. '

They sat down a little apart from the lama, and, after listeningawhile, passed round a water-pipe whose receiver was an old Day andMartin blacking-bottle. The glow of the red charcoal as it went fromhand to hand lit up the narrow, blinking eyes, the high Chinesecheek-bones, and the bull-throats that melted away into the dark dufflefolds round the shoulders. They looked like kobolds from some magicmine--gnomes of the hills in conclave. And while they talked, thevoices of the snow-waters round them diminished one by one as thenight-frost choked and clogged the runnels. 

'How he stood up against us!' said a Spiti man admiring. 'I rememberan old ibex, out Ladakh-way, that Dupont Sahib missed on ashoulder-shot, seven seasons back, standing up just like him. DupontSahib was a good shikarri. '

'Not as good as Yankling Sahib. ' The Ao-chung man took a pull at thewhisky-bottle and passed it over. 'Now hear me--unless any other manthinks he knows more. '

The challenge was not taken up. 

'We go to Shamlegh when the moon rises. There we will fairly dividethe baggage between us. I am content with this new little rifle andall its cartridges. '

'Are the bears only bad on thy holding? said a mate, sucking at thepipe. 

'No; but musk-pods are worth six rupees apiece now, and thy women canhave the canvas of the tents and some of the cooking-gear. We will doall that at Shamlegh before dawn. Then we all go our ways, rememberingthat we have never seen or taken service with these Sahibs, who may, indeed, say that we have stolen their baggage. '

'That is well for thee, but what will our Rajah say?'

'Who is to tell him? Those Sahibs, who cannot speak our talk, or theBabu, who for his own ends gave us money? Will he lead an army againstus? What evidence will remain? That we do not need we shall throw onShamlegh-midden, where no man has yet set foot. '

'Who is at Shamlegh this summer?' The place was only a grazing centreof three or four huts. '

'The Woman of Shamlegh. She has no love for Sahibs, as we know. Theothers can be pleased with little presents; and here is enough for usall. ' He patted the fat sides of the nearest basket. 

'But--but--'

'I have said they are not true Sahibs. All their skins and heads werebought in the bazar at Leh. I know the marks. I showed them to yelast march. '

'True. They were all bought skins and heads. Some had even the mothin them. '

That was a shrewd argument, and the Ao-chung man knew his fellows. 

'If the worst comes to the worst, I shall tell Yankling Sahib, who is aman of a merry mind, and he will laugh. We are not doing any wrong toany Sahibs whom we know. They are priest-beaters. They frightened us. We fled! Who knows where we dropped the baggage? Do ye think YanklingSahib will permit down-country police to wander all over the hills, disturbing his game? It is a far cry from Simla to Chini, and fartherfrom Shamlegh to Shamlegh-midden. '

'So be it, but I carry the big kilta. The basket with the red top thatthe Sahibs pack themselves every morning. '

'Thus it is proved, ' said the Shamlegh man adroitly, 'that they areSahibs of no account. Who ever heard of Fostum Sahib, or YanklingSahib, or even the little Peel Sahib that sits up of nights to shootserow--I say, who, ever heard of these Sahibs coming into the hillswithout a down-country cook, and a bearer, and--and all manner ofwell-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in their tail? How can theymake trouble? What of the kilta?'

'Nothing, but that it is full of the Written Word--books and papers inwhich they wrote, and strange instruments, as of worship. '

'Shamlegh-midden will take them all. '

'True! But how if we insult the Sahibs' Gods thereby! I do not liketo handle the Written Word in that fashion. And their brass idols arebeyond my comprehension. It is no plunder for simple hill-folk. '

'The old man still sleeps. Hst! We will ask his chela. ' The Ao-chungman refreshed himself, and swelled with pride of leadership. 

'We have here, ' he whispered, 'a kilta whose nature we do not know. '

'But I do, ' said Kim cautiously. The lama drew breath in natural, easysleep, and Kim had been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a playerof the Great Game, he was disposed just then to reverence the Babu. 'It is a kilta with a red top full of very wonderful things, not to behandled by fools. '

'I said it; I said it, ' cried the bearer of that burden. 'Thinkestthou it will betray us?'

'Not if it be given to me. I can draw out its magic. Otherwise itwill do great harm. '

'A priest always takes his share. ' Whisky was demoralizing theAo-chung man. 

'It is no matter to me. ' Kim answered, with the craft of hismother-country. 'Share it among you, and see what comes!'

'Not I. I was only jesting. Give the order. There is more than enoughfor us all. We go our way from Shamlegh in the dawn. '

They arranged and re-arranged their artless little plans for anotherhour, while Kim shivered with cold and pride. The humour of thesituation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul. Here werethe emissaries of the dread Power of the North, very possibly as greatin their own land as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly smittenhelpless. One of them, he privately knew, would be lame for a time. They had made promises to Kings. Tonight they lay out somewhere belowhim, chartless, foodless, tentless, gunless--except for Hurree Babu, guideless. And this collapse of their Great Game (Kim wondered to whomthey would report it), this panicky bolt into the night, had come aboutthrough no craft of Hurree's or contrivance of Kim's, but simply, beautifully, and inevitably as the capture of Mahbub's fakir-friends bythe zealous young policeman at Umballa. 

'They are there--with nothing; and, by Jove, it is cold! I am herewith all their things. Oh, they will be angry! I am sorry for HurreeBabu. '

Kim might have saved his pity, for though at that moment the Bengalisuffered acutely in the flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. A miledown the hill, on the edge of the pine-forest, two half-frozen men--onepowerfully sick at intervals--were varying mutual recriminations withthe most poignant abuse of the Babu, who seemed distraught with terror. They demanded a plan of action. He explained that they were very luckyto be alive; that their coolies, if not then stalking them, had passedbeyond recall; that the Rajah, his master, was ninety miles away, and, so far from lending them money and a retinue for the Simla journey, would surely cast them into prison if he heard that they had hit apriest. He enlarged on this sin and its consequences till they badehim change the subject. Their one hope, said he, was unostentatiousflight from village to village till they reached civilization; and, forthe hundredth time dissolved in tears, he demanded of the high starswhy the Sahibs 'had beaten holy man'. 

Ten steps would have taken Hurree into the creaking gloom utterlybeyond their reach--to the shelter and food of the nearest village, where glib-tongued doctors were scarce. But he preferred to endurecold, belly-pinch, bad words, and occasional blows in the company ofhis honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he sniffeddolefully. 

'And have you thought, ' said the uninjured man hotly, 'what sort ofspectacle we shall present wandering through these hills among theseaborigines?'

Hurree Babu had thought of little else for some hours, but the remarkwas not to his address. 

'We cannot wander! I can hardly walk, ' groaned Kim's victim. 

'Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in loving-kindness, sar, otherwise--'

'I promise myself a peculiar pleasure in emptying my revolver into thatyoung bonze when next we meet, ' was the unchristian answer. 

'Revolvers! Vengeance! Bonzes!' Hurree crouched lower. The war wasbreaking out afresh. 'Have you no consideration for our loss? Thebaggage! The baggage!' He could hear the speaker literally dancing onthe grass. 'Everything we bore! Everything we have secured! Ourgains! Eight months' work! Do you know what that means? "Decidedlyit is we who can deal with Orientals!" Oh, you have done well. '

They fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was withthe kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. Therewas no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted. For the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through thehills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads shouldtell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their owncoolies are little respected in the Hills, and the hillman has a verykeen sense of humour. 

'If I had done it myself, ' thought Hurree, 'it would not have beenbetter; and, by Jove, now I think of it, of course I arranged itmyself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran downhill I thought it!Thee outrage was accidental, but onlee me could have worked it--ah--forall it was dam'-well worth. Consider the moral effect upon theseignorant peoples! No treaties--no papers--no written documents atall--and me to interpret for them. How I shall laugh with the Colonel!I wish I had their papers also: but you cannot occupy two places inspace simultaneously. Thatt is axiomatic. '

Chapter 14

 My brother kneels (so saith Kabir) To stone and brass in heathen wise, But in my brother's voice I hear My own unanswered agonies. His God is as his Fates assign-- His prayer is all the world's--and mine. 

 The Prayer. 

At moonrise the cautious coolies got under way. The lama, refreshed byhis sleep and the spirit, needed no more than Kim's shoulder to bearhim along--a silent, swift-striding man. They held the shale-sprinkledgrass for an hour, swept round the shoulder of an immortal cliff, andclimbed into a new country entirely blocked off from all sight of Chinivalley. A huge pasture-ground ran up fan-shaped to the living snow. At its base was perhaps half an acre of flat land, on which stood a fewsoil and timber huts. Behind them--for, hill-fashion, they wereperched on the edge of all things--the ground fell sheer two thousandfeet to Shamlegh-midden, where never yet man has set foot. 

The men made no motion to divide the plunder till they had seen thelama bedded down in the best room of the place, with Kim shampooing hisfeet, Mohammedan-fashion. 

'We will send food, ' said the Ao-chung man, 'and the red-topped kilta. By dawn there will be none to give evidence, one way or the other. Ifanything is not needed in the kilta--see here!'

He pointed through the window--opening into space that was filled withmoonlight reflected from the snow--and threw out an empty whisky-bottle. 

'No need to listen for the fall. This is the world's end, ' he said, and went out. The lama looked forth, a hand on either sill, with eyesthat shone like yellow opals. From the enormous pit before him whitepeaks lifted themselves yearning to the moonlight. The rest was as thedarkness of interstellar space. 

'These, ' he said slowly, 'are indeed my Hills. Thus should a manabide, perched above the world, separated from delights, consideringvast matters. '

'Yes; if he has a chela to prepare tea for him, and to fold a blanketfor his head, and to chase out calving cows. '

A smoky lamp burned in a niche, but the full moonlight beat it down;and by the mixed light, stooping above the food-bag and cups, Kim movedlike a tall ghost. 

'Ai! But now I have let the blood cool, my head still beats and drums, and there is a cord round the back of my neck. '

'No wonder. It was a strong blow. May he who dealt it--'

'But for my own passions there would have been no evil. '

'What evil? Thou hast saved the Sahibs from the death they deserved ahundred times. '

'The lesson is not well learnt, chela. ' The lama came to rest on afolded blanket, as Kim went forward with his evening routine. 'Theblow was but a shadow upon a shadow. Evil in itself--my legs wearyapace these latter days!--it met evil in me: anger, rage, and a lustto return evil. These wrought in my blood, woke tumult in my stomach, and dazzled my ears. ' Here he drank scalding black-tea ceremonially, taking the hot cup from Kim's hand. 'Had I been passionless, the evilblow would have done only bodily evil--a scar, or a bruise--which isillusion. But my mind was not abstracted, for rushed in straightway alust to let the Spiti men kill. In fighting that lust, my soul wastorn and wrenched beyond a thousand blows. Not till I had repeated theBlessings' (he meant the Buddhist Beatitudes) 'did I achieve calm. Butthe evil planted in me by that moment's carelessness works out to itsend. Just is the Wheel, swerving not a hair! Learn the lesson, chela. '

'It is too high for me, ' Kim muttered. 'I am still all shaken. I amglad I hurt the man. '

'I felt that, sleeping upon thy knees, in the wood below. Itdisquieted me in my dreams--the evil in thy soul working through tomine. Yet on the other hand'--he loosed his rosary--'I have acquiredmerit by saving two lives--the lives of those that wronged me. Now Imust see into the Cause of Things. The boat of my soul staggers. '

'Sleep, and be strong. That is wisest. '

'I meditate. There is a need greater than thou knowest. '

Till the dawn, hour after hour, as the moonlight paled on the highpeaks, and that which had been belted blackness on the sides of the farhills showed as tender green forest, the lama stared fixedly at thewall. From time to time he groaned. Outside the barred door, wherediscomfited kine came to ask for their old stable, Shamlegh and thecoolies gave itself up to plunder and riotous living. The Ao-chung manwas their leader, and once they had opened the Sahibs' tinned foods andfound that they were very good they dared not turn back. Shamleghkitchen-midden took the dunnage. 

When Kim, after a night of bad dreams, stole forth to brush his teethin the morning chill, a fair-coloured woman with turquoise-studdedheadgear drew him aside. 

'The others have gone. They left thee this kilta as the promise was. Ido not love Sahibs, but thou wilt make us a charm in return for it. Wedo not wish little Shamlegh to get a bad name on account ofthe--accident. I am the Woman of Shamlegh. ' She looked him over withbold, bright eyes, unlike the usual furtive glance of hillwomen. 

'Assuredly. But it must be done in secret. '

She raised the heavy kilta like a toy and slung it into her own hut. 

'Out and bar the door! Let none come near till it is finished, ' saidKim. 

'But afterwards--we may talk?'

Kim tilted the kilta on the floor--a cascade of Survey-instruments, books, diaries, letters, maps, and queerly scented nativecorrespondence. At the very bottom was an embroidered bag covering asealed, gilded, and illuminated document such as one King sends toanother. Kim caught his breath with delight, and reviewed thesituation from a Sahib's point of view. 

'The books I do not want. Besides, they are logarithms--Survey, Isuppose. ' He laid them aside. 'The letters I do not understand, butColonel Creighton will. They must all be kept. The maps--they drawbetter maps than me--of course. All the native letters--oho!--andparticularly the murasla. ' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That mustbe from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Babu spoke truth. By Jove! It is afine haul. I wish Hurree could know . .. The rest must go out of thewindow. ' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of atheodolite. But after all, a Sahib cannot very well steal, and thethings might be inconvenient evidence later. He sorted out every scrapof manuscript, every map, and the native letters. They made onesoftish slab. The three locked ferril-backed books, with five wornpocket-books, he put aside. 

'The letters and the murasla I must carry inside my coat and under mybelt, and the hand-written books I must put into the food-bag. It willbe very heavy. No. I do not think there is anything more. If thereis, the coolies have thrown it down the khud, so thatt is all right. Now you go too. ' He repacked the kilta with all he meant to lose, andhove it up on to the windowsill. A thousand feet below lay a long, lazy, round-shouldered bank of mist, as yet untouched by the morningsun. A thousand feet below that was a hundred-year-old pine-forest. He could see the green tops looking like a bed of moss when a wind-eddythinned the cloud. 

'No! I don't think any one will go after you!'

The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodolitehit a jutting cliff-ledge and exploded like a shell; the books, inkstands, paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a few secondslike a swarm of bees. Then they vanished; and, though Kim, hanginghalf out of the window, strained his young ears, never a sound came upfrom the gulf. 

'Five hundred--a thousand rupees could not buy them, ' he thoughtsorrowfully. 'It was verree wasteful, but I have all their otherstuff--everything they did--I hope. Now how the deuce am I to tellHurree Babu, and whatt the deuce am I to do? And my old man is sick. Imust tie up the letters in oilskin. That is something to dofirst--else they will get all sweated . .. And I am all alone!' Hebound them into a neat packet, swedging down the stiff, sticky oilskinat the comers, for his roving life had made him as methodical as an oldhunter in matters of the road. Then with double care he packed awaythe books at the bottom of the food-bag. 

The woman rapped at the door. 

'But thou hast made no charm, ' she said, looking about. 

'There is no need. ' Kim had completely overlooked the necessity for alittle patter-talk. The woman laughed at his confusion irreverently. 

'None--for thee. Thou canst cast a spell by the mere winking of aneye. But think of us poor people when thou art gone. They were alltoo drunk last night to hear a woman. Thou art not drunk?'

'I am a priest. ' Kim had recovered himself, and, the woman being aughtbut unlovely, thought best to stand on his office. 

'I warned them that the Sahibs will be angry and will make aninquisition and a report to the Rajah. There is also the Babu withthem. Clerks have long tongues. '

'Is that all thy trouble?' The plan rose fully formed in Kim's mind, and he smiled ravishingly. 

'Not all, ' quoth the woman, putting out a hard brown hand all coveredwith turquoises set in silver. 

'I can finish that in a breath, ' he went on quickly. 'The Babu is thevery hakim (thou hast heard of him?) who was wandering among the hillsby Ziglaur. I know him. '

'He will tell for the sake of a reward. Sahibs cannot distinguish onehillman from another, but Babus have eyes for men--and women. '

'Carry a word to him from me. '

'There is nothing I would not do for thee. '

He accepted the compliment calmly, as men must in lands where womenmake the love, tore a leaf from a note-book, and with a patentindelible pencil wrote in gross Shikast--the script that bad littleboys use when they write dirt on walls: 'I have everything that theyhave written: their pictures of the country, and many letters. Especially the murasla. Tell me what to do. I am atShamlegh-under-the-Snow. The old man is sick. '

'Take this to him. It will altogether shut his mouth. He cannot havegone far. '

'Indeed no. They are still in the forest across the spur. Ourchildren went to watch them when the light came, and have cried thenews as they moved. '

Kim looked his astonishment; but from the edge of the sheep-pasturefloated a shrill, kite-like trill. A child tending cattle had pickedit up from a brother or sister on the far side of the slope thatcommanded Chini valley. 

'My husbands are also out there gathering wood. ' She drew a handful ofwalnuts from her bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat. Kimaffected blank ignorance. 

'Dost thou not know the meaning of the walnut--priest?' she saidcoyly, and handed him the half-shells. 

'Well thought of. ' He slipped the piece of paper between them quickly. 'Hast thou a little wax to close them on this letter?'

The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented. 

'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to theBabu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm. '

'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician--who is like a Sahib. '

'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer. '

'But if he offer a rudeness? I--I am afraid. '

Kim laughed. 'He is, I have no doubt, very tired and very hungry. TheHills make cold bedfellows. Hai, my'--it was on the tip of his tongueto say Mother, but he turned it to Sister--'thou art a wise and wittywoman. By this time all the villages know what has befallen theSahibs--eh?'

'True. News was at Ziglaur by midnight, and by tomorrow should be atKotgarh. The villages are both afraid and angry. '

'No need. Tell the villages to feed the Sahibs and pass them on, inpeace. We must get them quietly away from our valleys. To steal isone thing--to kill another. The Babu will understand, and there willbe no after-complaints. Be swift. I must tend my master when hewakes. '

'So be it. After service--thou hast said?--comes the reward. I am theWoman of Shamlegh, and I hold from the Rajah. I am no common bearer ofbabes. Shamlegh is thine: hoof and horn and hide, milk and butter. Take or leave. '

She turned resolutely uphill, her silver necklaces clicking on herbroad breast, to meet the morning sun fifteen hundred feet above them. This time Kim thought in the vernacular as he waxed down the oilskinedges of the packets. 

'How can a man follow the Way or the Great Game when he is so--alwayspestered by women? There was that girl at Akrola of the Ford; andthere was the scullion's wife behind the dovecot--not counting theothers--and now comes this one! When I was a child it was well enough, but now I am a man and they will not regard me as a man. Walnuts, indeed! Ho! ho! It is almonds in the Plains!'

He went out to levy on the village--not with a begging-bowl, whichmight do for down-country, but in the manner of a prince. Shamlegh'ssummer population is only three families--four women and eight or ninemen. They were all full of tinned meats and mixed drinks, fromammoniated quinine to white vodka, for they had taken their full sharein the overnight loot. The neat Continental tents had been cut up andshared long ago, and there were patent aluminium saucepans abroad. 

But they considered the lama's presence a perfect safeguard against allconsequences, and impenitently brought Kim of their best--even to adrink of chang--the barley-beer that comes from Ladakh-way. Then theythawed out in the sun, and sat with their legs hanging over infiniteabysses, chattering, laughing, and smoking. They judged India and itsGovernment solely from their experience of wandering Sahibs who hademployed them or their friends as shikarris. Kim heard tales of shotsmissed upon ibex, serow, or markhor, by Sahibs twenty years in theirgraves--every detail lighted from behind like twigs on tree-tops seenagainst lightning. They told him of their little diseases, and, moreimportant, the diseases of their tiny, sure-footed cattle; of trips asfar as Kotgarh, where the strange missionaries live, and beyond even tomarvellous Simla, where the streets are paved with silver, and anyone, look you, can get service with the Sahibs, who ride about intwo-wheeled carts and spend money with a spade. Presently, grave andaloof, walking very heavily, the lama joined himself to the chatterunder the eaves, and they gave him great room. The thin air refreshedhim, and he sat on the edge of precipices with the best of them, and, when talk languished, flung pebbles into the void. Thirty miles away, as the eagle flies, lay the next range, seamed and channelled andpitted with little patches of brush--forests, each a day's dark march. Behind the village, Shamlegh hill itself cut off all view to southward. It was like sitting in a swallow's nest under the eaves of the roof ofthe world. 

From time to time the lama stretched out his hand, and with a littlelow-voiced prompting would point out the road to Spiti and north acrossthe Parungla. 

'Beyond, where the hills lie thickest, lies De-ch'en' (he meantHan-le'), 'the great Monastery. S'Tag-stan-ras-ch'en built it, and ofhim there runs this tale. ' Whereupon he told it: a fantastic pilednarrative of bewitchment and miracles that set Shamlegh a-gasping. Turning west a little, he steered for the green hills of Kulu, andsought Kailung under the glaciers. 'For thither came I in the old, olddays. From Leh I came, over the Baralachi. '

'Yes, yes; we know it, ' said the far-faring people of Shamlegh. 

'And I slept two nights with the priests of Kailung. These are theHills of my delight! Shadows blessed above all other shadows! Theremy eyes opened on this world; there my eyes were opened to this world;there I found Enlightenment; and there I girt my loins for my Search. Out of the Hills I came--the high Hills and the strong winds. Oh, justis the Wheel!' He blessed them in detail--the great glaciers, thenaked rocks, the piled moraines and tumbled shale; dry upland, hiddensalt-lake, age-old timber and fruitful water-shot valley one after theother, as a dying man blesses his folk; and Kim marvelled at hispassion. 

'Yes--yes. There is no place like our Hills, ' said the people ofShamlegh. And they fell to wondering how a man could live in the hotterrible Plains where the cattle run as big as elephants, unfit toplough on a hillside; where village touches village, they had heard, for a hundred miles; where folk went about stealing in gangs, and whatthe robbers spared the Police carried utterly away. 

So the still forenoon wore through, and at the end of it Kim'smessenger dropped from the steep pasture as unbreathed as when she hadset out. 

'I sent a word to the hakim, ' Kim explained, while she made reverence. 

'He joined himself to the idolaters? Nay, I remember he did a healingupon one of them. He has acquired merit, though the healed employedhis strength for evil. Just is the Wheel! What of the hakim?'

'I feared that thou hadst been bruised and--and I knew he was wise. 'Kim took the waxed walnut-shell and read in English on the back of hisnote: Your favour received. Cannot get away from present company atpresent, but shall take them into Simla. After which, hope to rejoinyou. Inexpedient to follow angry gentlemen. Return by same road youcame, and will overtake. Highly gratified about correspondence due tomy forethought. 'He says, Holy One, that he will escape from theidolaters, and will return to us. Shall we wait awhile at Shamlegh, then?'

The lama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head. 

'That may not be, chela. From my bones outward I do desire it, but itis forbidden. I have seen the Cause of Things. '

'Why? When the Hills give thee back thy strength day by day? Rememberwe were weak and fainting down below there in the Doon. '

'I became strong to do evil and to forget. A brawler and aswashbuckler upon the hillsides was I. ' Kim bit back a smile. 'Justand perfect is the Wheel, swerving not a hair. When I was a man--along time ago--I did pilgrimage to Guru Ch'wan among the poplars' (hepointed Bhotanwards), 'where they keep the Sacred Horse. '

'Quiet, be quiet!' said Shamlegh, all arow. 'He speaks ofJam-lin-nin-k'or, the Horse That Can Go Round The World In a Day. '

'I speak to my chela only, ' said the lama, in gentle reproof, and theyscattered like frost on south eaves of a morning. 'I did not seektruth in those days, but the talk of doctrine. All illusion! I drankthe beer and ate the bread of Guru Ch'wan. Next day one said: "We goout to fight Sangor Gutok down the valley to discover" (mark again howLust is tied to Anger!) "which Abbot shall bear rule in the valley andtake the profit of the prayers they print at Sangor Gutok. " I went, and we fought a day. '

'But how, Holy One?'

'With our long pencases as I could have shown . .. I say, we foughtunder the poplars, both Abbots and all the monks, and one laid open myforehead to the bone. See!' He tilted back his cap and showed apuckered silvery scar. 'Just and perfect is the Wheel! Yesterday thescar itched, and after fifty years I recalled how it was dealt and theface of him who dealt it; dwelling a little in illusion. Followed thatwhich thou didst see--strife and stupidity. Just is the Wheel! Theidolater's blow fell upon the scar. Then I was shaken in my soul: mysoul was darkened, and the boat of my soul rocked upon the waters ofillusion. Not till I came to Shamlegh could I meditate upon the Causeof Things, or trace the running grass-roots of Evil. I strove all thelong night. '

'But, Holy One, thou art innocent of all evil. May I be thy sacrifice!'

Kim was genuinely distressed at the old man's sorrow, and Mahbub Ali'sphrase slipped out unawares. 

'In the dawn, ' the lama went on more gravely, ready rosary clickingbetween the slow sentences, 'came enlightenment. It is here . .. I aman old man . .. Hill-bred, hill-fed, never to sit down among my Hills. Three years I travelled through Hind, but--can earth be stronger thanMother Earth? My stupid body yearned to the Hills and the snows of theHills, from below there. I said, and it is true, my Search is sure. So, at the Kulu woman's house I turned hillward, over-persuaded bymyself. There is no blame to the hakim. He--followingDesire--foretold that the Hills would make me strong. They strengthenedme to do evil, to forget my Search. I delighted in life and the lustof life. I desired strong slopes to climb. I cast about to find them. I measured the strength of my body, which is evil, against the highHills, I made a mock of thee when thy breath came short under Jamnotri. I jested when thou wouldst not face the snow of the pass. '

'But what harm? I was afraid. It was just. I am not a hillman; and Iloved thee for thy new strength. '

'More than once I remember'--he rested his cheek dolefully on hishand--'I sought thy praise and the hakim's for the mere strength of mylegs. Thus evil followed evil till the cup was full. Just is theWheel! All Hind for three years did me all honour. From the Fountainof Wisdom in the Wonder House to'--he smiled--'a little child playingby a big gun--the world prepared my road. And why?'

'Because we loved thee. It is only the fever of the blow. I myself amstill sick and shaken. '

'No! It was because I was upon the Way--tuned as are si-nen [cymbals]to the purpose of the Law. I departed from that ordinance. The tunewas broken: followed the punishment. In my own Hills, on the edge ofmy own country, in the very place of my evil desire, comes thebuffet--here!' (He touched his brow. ) 'As a novice is beaten when hemisplaces the cups, so am I beaten, who was Abbot of Such-zen. Noword, look you, but a blow, chela. '

'But the Sahibs did not know thee, Holy One?'

'We were well matched. Ignorance and Lust met Ignorance and Lust uponthe road, and they begat Anger. The blow was a sign to me, who am nobetter than a strayed yak, that my place is not here. Who can read theCause of an act is halfway to Freedom! "Back to the path, " says theBlow. "The Hills are not for thee. Thou canst not choose Freedom andgo in bondage to the delight of life. "'

'Would we had never met that cursed Russian!'

'Our Lord Himself cannot make the Wheel swing backward. And for mymerit that I had acquired I gain yet another sign. ' He put his hand inhis bosom, and drew forth the Wheel of Life. 'Look! I considered thisafter I had meditated. There remains untorn by the idolater no morethan the breadth of my fingernail. '

'I see. '

'So much, then, is the span of my life in this body. I have served theWheel all my days. Now the Wheel serves me. But for the merit I haveacquired in guiding thee upon the Way, there would have been added tome yet another life ere I had found my River. Is it plain, chela?'

Kim stared at the brutally disfigured chart. From left to rightdiagonally the rent ran--from the Eleventh House where Desire givesbirth to the Child (as it is drawn by Tibetans)--across the human andanimal worlds, to the Fifth House--the empty House of the Senses. Thelogic was unanswerable. 

'Before our Lord won Enlightenment'--the lama folded all away withreverence--'He was tempted. I too have been tempted, but it isfinished. The Arrow fell in the Plains--not in the Hills. Therefore, what make we here?'

'Shall we at least wait for the hakim?'

'I know how long I shall live in this body. What can a hakim do?'

'But thou art all sick and shaken. Thou canst not walk. '

'How can I be sick if I see Freedom?' He rose unsteadily to his feet. 

'Then I must get food from the village. Oh, the weary Road!' Kim feltthat he too needed rest. 

'That is lawful. Let us eat and go. The Arrow fell in the Plains . .. But I yielded to Desire. Make ready, chela. '

Kim turned to the woman with the turquoise headgear who had been idlypitching pebbles over the cliff. She smiled very kindly. 

'I found him like a strayed buffalo in a cornfield--the Babu; snortingand sneezing with cold. He was so hungry that he forgot his dignityand gave me sweet words. The Sahibs have nothing. ' She flung out anempty palm. 'One is very sick about the stomach. Thy work?'

Kim nodded, with a bright eye. 

'I spoke to the Bengali first--and to the people of a near-by villageafter. The Sahibs will be given food as they need it--nor will thepeople ask money. The plunder is already distributed. The Babu makeslying speeches to the Sahibs. Why does he not leave them?'

'Out of the greatness of his heart. '

'Was never a Bengali yet had one bigger than a dried walnut. But it isno matter . .. Now as to walnuts. After service comes reward. I havesaid the village is thine. '

'It is my loss, ' Kim began. 'Even now I had planned desirable thingsin my heart which'--there is no need to go through the complimentsproper to these occasions. He sighed deeply . .. 'But my master, ledby a vision--'

'Huh! What can old eyes see except a full begging-bowl?'

'--turns from this village to the Plains again. '

'Bid him stay. '

Kim shook his head. 'I know my Holy One, and his rage if he becrossed, ' he replied impressively. 'His curses shake the Hills. '

'Pity they did not save him from a broken head! I heard that thou wastthe tiger-hearted one who smote the Sahib. Let him dream a littlelonger. Stay!'

'Hillwoman, ' said Kim, with austerity that could not harden theoutlines of his young oval face, 'these matters are too high for thee. '

'The Gods be good to us! Since when have men and women been other thanmen and women?'

'A priest is a priest. He says he will go upon this hour. I am hischela, and I go with him. We need food for the Road. He is anhonoured guest in all the villages, but'--he broke into a pure boy'sgrin--'the food here is good. Give me some. '

'What if I do not give it thee? I am the woman of this village. '

'Then I curse thee--a little--not greatly, but enough to remember. ' Hecould not help smiling. 

'Thou hast cursed me already by the down-dropped eyelash and theuplifted chin. Curses? What should I care for mere words?' Sheclenched her hands upon her bosom . .. 'But I would not have thee to goin anger, thinking hardly of me--a gatherer of cow-dung and grass atShamlegh, but still a woman of substance. '

'I think nothing, ' said Kim, 'but that I am grieved to go, for I amvery weary; and that we need food. Here is the bag. '

The woman snatched it angrily. 'I was foolish, ' said she. 'Who is thywoman in the Plains? Fair or black? I was fair once. Laughest thou?Once, long ago, if thou canst believe, a Sahib looked on me withfavour. Once, long ago, I wore European clothes at the Mission-houseyonder. ' She pointed towards Kotgarh. 'Once, long ago. I wasKer-lis-ti-an and spoke English--as the Sahibs speak it. Yes. MySahib said he would return and wed me--yes, wed me. He went away--Ihad nursed him when he was sick--but he never returned. Then I sawthat the Gods of the Kerlistians lied, and I went back to my own people. .. I have never set eyes on a Sahib since. (Do not laugh at me. Thefit is past, little priestling. ) Thy face and thy walk and thy fashionof speech put me in mind of my Sahib, though thou art only a wanderingmendicant to whom I give a dole. Curse me? Thou canst neither cursenor bless!' She set her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly. 'ThyGods are lies; thy works are lies; thy words are lies. There are noGods under all the Heavens. I know it . .. But for awhile I thought itwas my Sahib come back, and he was my God. Yes, once I made music on apianno in the Mission-house at Kotgarh. Now I give alms to priests whoare heatthen. ' She wound up with the English word, and tied the mouthof the brimming bag. 

'I wait for thee, chela, ' said the lama, leaning against the door-post. 

The woman swept the tall figure with her eyes. 'He walk! He cannotcover half a mile. Whither would old bones go?'

At this Kim, already perplexed by the lama's collapse and foreseeingthe weight of the bag, fairly lost his temper. 

'What is it to thee, woman of ill-omen, where he goes?'

'Nothing--but something to thee, priest with a Sahib's face. Wilt thoucarry him on thy shoulders?'

'I go to the Plains. None must hinder my return. I have wrestled withmy soul till I am strengthless. The stupid body is spent, and we arefar from the Plains. '

'Behold!' she said simply, and drew aside to let Kim see his own utterhelplessness. 'Curse me. Maybe it will give him strength. Make acharm! Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest. ' She turned away. 

The lama had squatted limply, still holding by the door-post. Onecannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in thenight. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kimwere alive and imploring. 

'It is all well, ' said Kim. 'It is the thin air that weakens thee. Ina little while we go! It is the mountain-sickness. I too am a littlesick at stomach, '--and he knelt and comforted with such poor words ascame first to his lips. Then the woman returned, more erect than ever. 

'Thy Gods useless, heh? Try mine. I am the Woman of Shamlegh. ' Shehailed hoarsely, and there came out of a cow-pen her two husbands andthree others with a dooli, the rude native litter of the Hills, thatthey use for carrying the sick and for visits of state. 'Thesecattle'--she did not condescend to look at them--'are thine for so longas thou shalt need. '

'But we will not go Simla-way. We will not go near the Sahibs, ' criedthe first husband. 

'They will not run away as the others did, nor will they steal baggage. Two I know for weaklings. Stand to the rear-pole, Sonoo and Taree. 'They obeyed swiftly. 'Lower now, and lift in that holy man. I will seeto the village and your virtuous wives till ye return. '

'When will that be?'

'Ask the priests. Do not pester me. Lay the food-bag at the foot, itbalances better so. '

'Oh, Holy One, thy Hills are kinder than our Plains!' cried Kim, relieved, as the lama tottered to the litter. 'It is a very king'sbed--a place of honour and ease. And we owe it to--'

'A woman of ill-omen. I need thy blessings as much as I do thy curses. It is my order and none of thine. Lift and away! Here! Hast thoumoney for the road?'

She beckoned Kim to her hut, and stooped above a battered Englishcash-box under her cot. 

'I do not need anything, ' said Kim, angered where he should have beengrateful. 'I am already rudely loaded with favours. '

She looked up with a curious smile and laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Atleast, thank me. I am foul-faced and a hillwoman, but, as thy talkgoes, I have acquired merit. Shall I show thee how the Sahibs renderthanks?' and her hard eyes softened. 

'I am but a wandering priest, ' said Kim, his eyes lighting in answer. 'Thou needest neither my blessings nor my curses. '

'Nay. But for one little moment--thou canst overtake the dooli in tenstrides--if thou wast a Sahib, shall I show thee what thou wouldst do?'

'How if I guess, though?' said Kim, and putting his arm round herwaist, he kissed her on the cheek, adding in English: 'Thank youverree much, my dear. '

Kissing is practically unknown among Asiatics, which may have been thereason that she leaned back with wide-open eyes and a face of panic. 

'Next time, ' Kim went on, 'you must not be so sure of your heatthenpriests. Now I say good-bye. ' He held out his hand English-fashion. She took it mechanically. 'Good-bye, my dear. '

'Good-bye, and--and'--she was remembering her English words one byone--'you will come back again? Good-bye, and--thee God bless you. '

Half an hour later, as the creaking litter jolted up the hill path thatleads south-easterly from Shamlegh, Kim saw a tiny figure at the hutdoor waving a white rag. 

'She has acquired merit beyond all others, ' said the lama. 'For to seta man upon the way to Freedom is half as great as though she hadherself found it. '

'Umm, ' said Kim thoughtfully, considering the past. 'It may be that Ihave acquired merit also . .. At least she did not treat me like achild. ' He hitched the front of his robe, where lay the slab ofdocuments and maps, re-stowed the precious food-bag at the lama's feet, laid his hand on the litter's edge, and buckled down to the slow paceof the grunting husbands. 

'These also acquire merit, ' said the lama after three miles. 

'More than that, they shall be paid in silver, ' quoth Kim. The Womanof Shamlegh had given it to him; and it was only fair, he argued, thather men should earn it back again. 

Chapter 15

 I'd not give room for an Emperor-- I'd hold my road for a King. To the Triple Crown I'd not bow down-- But this is a different thing! I'll not fight with the Powers of Air-- Sentry, pass him through! Drawbridge let fall--He's the Lord of us all-- The Dreamer whose dream came true!

 The Siege of the Fairies. 

Two hundred miles north of Chini, on the blue shale of Ladakh, liesYankling Sahib, the merry-minded man, spy-glassing wrathfully acrossthe ridges for some sign of his pet tracker--a man from Ao-chung. Butthat renegade, with a new Mannlicher rifle and two hundred cartridges, is elsewhere, shooting musk-deer for the market, and Yankling Sahibwill learn next season how very ill he has been. 

Up the valleys of Bushahr--the far-beholding eagles of the Himalayasswerve at his new blue-and-white gored umbrella--hurries a Bengali, once fat and well-looking, now lean and weather-worn. He has receivedthe thanks of two foreigners of distinction, piloted not unskilfully toMashobra tunnel, which leads to the great and gay capital of India. Itwas not his fault that, blanketed by wet mists, he conveyed them pastthe telegraph-station and European colony of Kotgarh. It was not hisfault, but that of the Gods, of whom he discoursed so engagingly, thathe led them into the borders of Nahan, where the Rahah of that Statemistook them for deserting British soldiery. Hurree Babu explained thegreatness and glory, in their own country, of his companions, till thedrowsy kinglet smiled. He explained it to everyone who asked--manytimes--aloud--variously. He begged food, arranged accommodation, proved a skilful leech for an injury of the groin--such a blow as onemay receive rolling down a rock-covered hillside in the dark--and inall things indispensable. The reason of his friendliness did himcredit. With millions of fellow-serfs, he had learned to look uponRussia as the great deliverer from the North. He was a fearful man. He had been afraid that he could not save his illustrious employersfrom the anger of an excited peasantry. He himself would just as liefhit a holy man as not, but . .. He was deeply grateful and sincerelyrejoiced that he had done his 'little possible' towards bringing theirventure to--barring the lost baggage--a successful issue, he hadforgotten the blows; denied that any blows had been dealt that unseemlyfirst night under the pines. He asked neither pension nor retainingfee, but, if they deemed him worthy, would they write him atestimonial? It might be useful to him later, if others, theirfriends, came over the Passes. He begged them to remember him in theirfuture greatnesses, for he 'opined subtly' that he, even he, MohendroLal Dutt, MA of Calcutta, had 'done the State some service'. 

They gave him a certificate praising his courtesy, helpfulness, andunerring skill as a guide. He put it in his waist-belt and sobbed withemotion; they had endured so many dangers together. He led them athigh noon along crowded Simla Mall to the Alliance Bank of Simla, wherethey wished to establish their identity. Thence he vanished like adawn-cloud on Jakko. 

Behold him, too fine-drawn to sweat, too pressed to vaunt the drugs inhis little brass-bound box, ascending Shamlegh slope, a just man madeperfect. Watch him, all Babudom laid aside, smoking at noon on a cot, while a woman with turquoise-studded headgear points south-easterlyacross the bare grass. Litters, she says, do not travel as fast assingle men, but his birds should now be in the Plains. The holy manwould not stay though Lispeth pressed him. The Babu groans heavily, girds up his huge loins, and is off again. He does not care to travelafter dusk; but his days' marches--there is none to enter them in abook--would astonish folk who mock at his race. Kindly villagers, remembering the Dacca drug-vendor of two months ago, give him shelteragainst evil spirits of the wood. He dreams of Bengali Gods, University text-books of education, and the Royal Society, London, England. Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrella goes forward. 

On the edge of the Doon, Mussoorie well behind them and the Plainsspread out in golden dust before, rests a worn litter in which--all theHills know it--lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing. Villages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, fornot only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple goodmoney--full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the doolitravelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that fewSahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dustfilled every fold of the impassive lama's drapery; between the blackhorns of Raieng where they heard the whistle of the wild goats throughthe clouds; pitching and strained on the shale below; hard-held betweenshoulder and clenched jaw when they rounded the hideous curves of theCut Road under Bhagirati; swinging and creaking to the steady jog-trotof the descent into the Valley of the Waters; pressed along the steamylevels of that locked valley; up, up and out again, to meet the roaringgusts off Kedarnath; set down of mid-days in the dun gloom of kindlyoak-forests; passed from village to village in dawn-chill, when evendevotees may be forgiven for swearing at impatient holy men; or bytorchlight, when the least fearful think of ghosts--the dooli hasreached her last stage. The little hill-folk sweat in the modifiedheat of the lower Siwaliks, and gather round the priests for theirblessing and their wage. 

'Ye have acquired merit, ' says the lama. 'Merit greater than yourknowing. And ye will return to the Hills, ' he sighs. 

'Surely. The high Hills as soon as may be. ' The bearer rubs hisshoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grasssandal. Kim--his face is drawn and tired--pays very small silver fromhis belt, heaves out the food-bag, crams an oilskin packet--they areholy writings--into his bosom, and helps the lama to his feet. Thepeace has come again into the old man's eyes, and he does not look forthe hills to fall down and crush him as he did that terrible night whenthey were delayed by the flooded river. 

The men pick up the dooli and swing out of sight between the scrubclumps. 

The lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas. 'Not withyou, O blessed among all hills, fell the Arrow of Our Lord! And nevershall I breathe your airs again!'

'But thou art ten times the stronger man in this good air, ' says Kim, for to his wearied soul appeal the well-cropped, kindly Plains. 'Here, or hereabouts, fell the Arrow, yes. We will go very softly, perhaps, akoss a day, for the Search is sure. But the bag weighs heavy. '

'Ay, our Search is sure. I have come out of great temptation. '

It was never more than a couple of miles a day now, and Kim's shouldersbore all the weight of it--the burden of an old man, the burden of theheavy food-bag with the locked books, the load of the writings on hisheart, and the details of the daily routine. He begged in the dawn, set blankets for the lama's meditation, held the weary head on his lapthrough the noonday heats, fanning away the flies till his wristsached, begged again in the evenings, and rubbed the lama's feet, whorewarded him with promise of Freedom--today, tomorrow, or, at furthest, the next day. 

'Never was such a chela. I doubt at times whether Ananda morefaithfully nursed Our Lord. And thou art a Sahib? When I was a man--along time ago--I forgot that. Now I look upon thee often, and everytime I remember that thou art a Sahib. It is strange. '

'Thou hast said there is neither black nor white. Why plague me withthis talk, Holy One? Let me rub the other foot. It vexes me. I amnot a Sahib. I am thy chela, and my head is heavy on my shoulders. '

'Patience a little! We reach Freedom together. Then thou and I, uponthe far bank of the River, will look back upon our lives as in theHills we saw our days' marches laid out behind us. Perhaps I was oncea Sahib. '

'Was never a Sahib like thee, I swear it. '

'I am certain the Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House was in pastlife a very wise Abbot. But even his spectacles do not make my eyessee. There fall shadows when I would look steadily. No matter--weknow the tricks of the poor stupid carcass--shadow changing to anothershadow. I am bound by the illusion of Time and Space. How far came wetoday in the flesh?'

'Perhaps half a koss. ' (Three quarters of a mile, and it was a wearymarch. )

'Half a koss. Ha! I went ten thousand thousand in the spirit. How, we are all lapped and swathed and swaddled in these senseless things. 'He looked at his thin blue-veined hand that found the beads so heavy. 'Chela, hast thou never a wish to leave me?'

Kim thought of the oilskin packet and the books in the food-bag. Ifsomeone duly authorized would only take delivery of them the Great Gamemight play itself for aught he then cared. He was tired and hot in hishead, and a cough that came from the stomach worried him. 

'No. ' he said almost sternly. 'I am not a dog or a snake to bite whenI have learned to love. '

'Thou art too tender towards me. '

'Not that either. I have moved in one matter without consulting thee. I have sent a message to the Kulu woman by that woman who gave us thegoat's milk this morn, saying that thou wast a little feeble andwouldst need a litter. I beat myself in my mind that I did not do itwhen we entered the Doon. We stay in this place till the litterreturns. '

'I am content. She is a woman with a heart of gold, as thou sayest, but a talker--something of a talker. '

'She will not weary thee. I have looked to that also. Holy One, myheart is very heavy for my many carelessnesses towards thee. ' Anhysterical catch rose in his throat. 'I have walked thee too far: Ihave not picked good food always for thee; I have not considered theheat; I have talked to people on the road and left thee alone . .. Ihave--I have . .. Hai mai! But I love thee . .. And it is all too late. .. I was a child . .. Oh, why was I not a man? . .. ' Overborne bystrain, fatigue, and the weight beyond his years, Kim broke down andsobbed at the lama's feet. 

'What a to-do is here!' said the old man gently. 'Thou hast neverstepped a hair's breadth from the Way of Obedience. Neglect me? Child, I have lived on thy strength as an old tree lives on the lime of a newwall. Day by day, since Shamlegh down, I have stolen strength fromthee. Therefore, not through any sin of thine, art thou weakened. Itis the Body--the silly, stupid Body--that speaks now. Not the assuredSoul. Be comforted! Know at least the devils that thou fightest. They are earth-born--children of illusion. We will go to the womanfrom Kulu. She shall acquire merit in housing us, and specially intending me. Thou shalt run free till strength returns. I hadforgotten the stupid Body. If there be any blame, I bear it. But weare too close to the Gates of Deliverance to weigh blame. I couldpraise thee, but what need? In a little--in a very little--we shallsit beyond all needs. '

And so he petted and comforted Kim with wise saws and grave texts onthat little-understood beast, our Body, who, being but a delusion, insists on posing as the Soul, to the darkening of the Way, and theimmense multiplication of unnecessary devils. 

'Hai! hai! Let us talk of the woman from Kulu. Think you she willask another charm for her grandsons? When I was a young man, a verylong time ago, I was plagued with these vapours--and some others--and Iwent to an Abbot--a very holy man and a seeker after truth, though thenI knew it not. Sit up and listen, child of my soul! My tale was told. Said he to me, "Chela, know this. There are many lies in the world, and not a few liars, but there are no liars like our bodies, except itbe the sensations of our bodies. " Considering this I was comforted, and of his great favour he suffered me to drink tea In his presence. Suffer me now to drink tea, for I am thirsty. '

With a laugh across his tears, Kim kissed the lama's feet, and setabout the tea-making. 

'Thou leanest on me in the body, Holy One, but I lean on thee for someother things. Dost know it?'

'I have guessed maybe, ' and the lama's eyes twinkled. 'We must changethat. '

So, when with scufflings and scrapings and a hot air of importance, paddled up nothing less than the Sahiba's pet palanquin sent twentymiles, with that same grizzled old Oorya servant in charge, and whenthey reached the disorderly order of the long white rambling housebehind Saharunpore, the lama took his own measures. 

Said the Sahiba cheerily from an upper window, after compliments: 'Whatis the good of an old woman's advice to an old man? I told thee--Itold thee, Holy One, to keep an eye upon the chela. How didst thou doit? Never answer me! I know. He has been running among the women. Look at his eyes--hollow and sunk--and the Betraying Line from the nosedown! He has been sifted out! Fie! Fie! And a priest, too!'

Kim looked up, over-weary to smile, shaking his head in denial. 

'Do not jest, ' said the lama. 'That time is done. We are here upongreat matters. A sickness of soul took me in the Hills, and him asickness of the body. Since then I have lived upon hisstrength--eating him. '

'Children together--young and old, ' she sniffed, but forbore to makeany new jokes. 'May this present hospitality restore ye! Hold awhileand I will come to gossip of the high good Hills. '

At evening time--her son-in-law was returned, so she did not need to goon inspection round the farm--she won to the meat of the matter, explained low-voicedly by the lama. The two old heads nodded wiselytogether. Kim had reeled to a room with a cot in it, and was dozingsoddenly. The lama had forbidden him to set blankets or get food. 

'I know--I know. Who but I?' she cackled. 'We who go down to theburning-ghats clutch at the hands of those coming up from the River ofLife with full water-jars--yes, brimming water-jars. I did the boywrong. He lent thee his strength? It is true that the old eat theyoung daily. Stands now we must restore him. '

'Thou hast many times acquired merit--'

'My merit. What is it? Old bag of bones making curries for men who donot ask "Who cooked this?" Now if it were stored up for my grandson--'

'He that had the belly-pain?'

'To think the Holy One remembers that! I must tell his mother. It ismost singular honour! "He that had the belly-pain"--straightway theHoly One remembered. She will be proud. '

'My chela is to me as is a son to the unenlightened. '

'Say grandson, rather. Mothers have not the wisdom of our years. If achild cries they say the heavens are falling. Now a grandmother is farenough separated from the pain of bearing and the pleasure of givingthe breast to consider whether a cry is wickedness pure or the wind. And since thou speakest once again of wind, when last the Holy One washere, maybe I offended in pressing for charms. '

'Sister, ' said the lama, using that form of address a Buddhist monk maysometimes employ towards a nun, 'if charms comfort thee--'

'They are better than ten thousand doctors. '

'I say, if they comfort thee, I who was Abbot of Such-zen, will make asmany as thou mayest desire. I have never seen thy face--'

'That even the monkeys who steal our loquats count for again. Hee!hee!'

'But as he who sleeps there said, '--he nodded at the shut door of theguest-chamber across the forecourt--'thou hast a heart of gold. .. Andhe is in the spirit my very "grandson" to me. '

'Good! I am the Holy One's cow. ' This was pure Hinduism, but the lamanever heeded. 'I am old. I have borne sons in the body. Oh, once Icould please men! Now I can cure them. ' He heard her armlets tinkleas though she bared arms for action. 'I will take over the boy anddose him, and stuff him, and make him all whole. Hai! hai! We oldpeople know something yet. '

Wherefore when Kim, aching in every bone, opened his eyes, and would goto the cook-house to get his master's food, he found strong coercionabout him, and a veiled old figure at the door, flanked by the grizzledmanservant, who told him very precisely the things that he was on noaccount to do. 

'Thou must have? Thou shalt have nothing. What? A locked box inwhich to keep holy books? Oh, that is another matter. Heavens forbidI should come between a priest and his prayers! It shall be brought, and thou shalt keep the key. '

They pushed the coffer under his cot, and Kim shut away Mahbub'spistol, the oilskin packet of letters, and the locked books anddiaries, with a groan of relief. For some absurd reason their weighton his shoulders was nothing to their weight on his poor mind. Hisneck ached under it of nights. 

'Thine is a sickness uncommon in youth these days: since young folkhave given up tending their betters. The remedy is sleep, and certaindrugs, ' said the Sahiba; and he was glad to give himself up to theblankness that half menaced and half soothed him. 

She brewed drinks, in some mysterious Asiatic equivalent to thestill-room--drenches that smelt pestilently and tasted worse. Shestood over Kim till they went down, and inquired exhaustively afterthey had come up. She laid a taboo upon the forecourt, and enforced itby means of an armed man. It is true he was seventy odd, that hisscabbarded sword ceased at the hilt; but he represented the authorityof the Sahiba, and loaded wains, chattering servants, calves, dogs, hens, and the like, fetched a wide compass by those parts. Best ofall, when the body was cleared, she cut out from the mass of poorrelations that crowded the back of the buildings--house-hold dogs, wename them--a cousin's widow, skilled in what Europeans, who knownothing about it, call massage. And the two of them, laying him eastand west, that the mysterious earth-currents which thrill the clay ofour bodies might help and not hinder, took him to pieces all one longafternoon--bone by bone, muscle by muscle, ligament by ligament, andlastly, nerve by nerve. Kneaded to irresponsible pulp, half hypnotizedby the perpetual flick and readjustment of the uneasy chudders thatveiled their eyes, Kim slid ten thousand miles into slumber--thirty-sixhours of it--sleep that soaked like rain after drought. 

Then she fed him, and the house spun to her clamour. She caused fowlsto be slain; she sent for vegetables, and the sober, slow-thinkinggardener, nigh as old as she, sweated for it; she took spices, andmilk, and onion, with little fish from the brooks--anon limes forsherbets, fat quails from the pits, then chicken-livers upon a skewer, with sliced ginger between. 

'I have seen something of this world, ' she said over the crowded trays, 'and there are but two sorts of women in it--those who take thestrength out of a man and those who put it back. Once I was that one, and now I am this. Nay--do not play the priestling with me. Mine wasbut a jest. If it does not hold good now, it will when thou takest theroad again. Cousin, '--this to the poor relation, never wearied ofextolling her patroness's charity--'he is getting a bloom on the skinof a new-curried horse. Our work is like polishing jewels to be thrownto a dance-girl--eh?'

Kim sat up and smiled. The terrible weakness had dropped from him likean old shoe. His tongue itched for free speech again, and but a weekback the lightest word clogged it like ashes. The pain in his neck (hemust have caught it from the lama) had gone with the heavy dengue-achesand the evil taste in the mouth. The two old women, a little, but notmuch, more careful about their veils now, clucked as merrily as thehens that had entered pecking through the open door. 

'Where is my Holy One?' he demanded. 

'Hear him! Thy Holy One is well, ' she snapped viciously. 'Though thatis none of his merit. Knew I a charm to make him wise, I'd sell myjewels and buy it. To refuse good food that I cooked myself--and goroving into the fields for two nights on an empty belly--and to tumbleinto a brook at the end of it--call you that holiness? Then, when hehas nearly broken what thou hast left of my heart with anxiety, hetells me that he has acquired merit. Oh, how like are all men! No, that was not it--he tells me that he is freed from all sin. I couldhave told him that before he wetted himself all over. He is wellnow--this happened a week ago--but burn me such holiness! A babe ofthree would do better. Do not fret thyself for the Holy One. He keepsboth eyes on thee when he is not wading our brooks. '

'I do not remember to have seen him. I remember that the days andnights passed like bars of white and black, opening and shutting. Iwas not sick: I was but tired. '

'A lethargy that comes by right some few score years later. But it isdone now. '

'Maharanee, ' Kim began, but led by the look in her eye, changed it tothe title of plain love--'Mother, I owe my life to thee. How shall Imake thanks? Ten thousand blessings upon thy house and--'

'The house be unblessed!' (It is impossible to give exactly the oldlady's word. ) 'Thank the Gods as a priest if thou wilt, but thank me, if thou carest, as a son. Heavens above! Have I shifted thee andlifted thee and slapped and twisted thy ten toes to find texts flung atmy head? Somewhere a mother must have borne thee to break her heart. What used thou to her--son?'

'I had no mother, my mother, ' said Kim. 'She died, they tell me, whenI was young. '

'Hai mai! Then none can say I have robbed her of any right if--whenthou takest the road again and this house is but one of a thousand usedfor shelter and forgotten, after an easy-flung blessing. No matter. Ineed no blessings, but--but--' She stamped her foot at the poorrelation. 'Take up the trays to the house. What is the good of stalefood in the room, O woman of ill-omen?'

'I ha--have borne a son in my time too, but he died, ' whimpered thebowed sister-figure behind the chudder. 'Thou knowest he died! I onlywaited for the order to take away the tray. '

'It is I that am the woman of ill-omen, ' cried the old lady penitently. 'We that go down to the chattris [the big umbrellas above theburning-ghats where the priests take their last dues] clutch hard atthe bearers of the chattis [water-jars--young folk full of the pride oflife, she meant; but the pun is clumsy]. When one cannot dance in thefestival one must e'en look out of the window, and grandmothering takesall a woman's time. Thy master gives me all the charms I now desirefor my daughter's eldest, by reason--is it?--that he is wholly freefrom sin. The hakim is brought very low these days. He goes aboutpoisoning my servants for lack of their betters. '

'What hakim, mother?'

'That very Dacca man who gave me the pill which rent me in threepieces. He cast up like a strayed camel a week ago, vowing that he andthou had been blood-brothers together up Kulu-way, and feigning greatanxiety for thy health. He was very thin and hungry, so I gave ordersto have him stuffed too--him and his anxiety!'

'I would see him if he is here. '

'He eats five times a day, and lances boils for my hinds to savehimself from an apoplexy. He is so full of anxiety for thy health thathe sticks to the cook-house door and stays himself with scraps. He willkeep. We shall never get rid of him. '

'Send him here, mother'--the twinkle returned to Kim's eye for aflash--'and I will try. '

'I'll send him, but to chase him off is an ill turn. At least he hadthe sense to fish the Holy One out of the brook; thus, as the Holy Onedid not say, acquiring merit. '

'He is a very wise hakim. Send him, mother. '

'Priest praising priest? A miracle! If he is any friend of thine (yesquabbled at your last meeting) I'll hale him here with horse-ropesand--and give him a caste-dinner afterwards, my son . .. Get up and seethe world! This lying abed is the mother of seventy devils . .. My son!my son!'

She trotted forth to raise a typhoon off the cook-house, and almost onher shadow rolled in the Babu, robed as to the shoulders like a Romanemperor, jowled like Titus, bare-headed, with new patent-leather shoes, in highest condition of fat, exuding joy and salutations. 

'By Jove, Mister O'Hara, but I are jolly-glad to see you. I willkindly shut the door. It is a pity you are sick. Are you very sick?'

'The papers--the papers from the kilta. The maps and the murasla!' Heheld out the key impatiently; for the present need on his soul was toget rid of the loot. 

'You are quite right. That is correct Departmental view to take. Youhave got everything?'

'All that was handwritten in the kilta I took. The rest I threw downthe hill. ' He could hear the key's grate in the lock, the sticky pullof the slow-rending oilskin, and a quick shuffling of papers. He hadbeen annoyed out of all reason by the knowledge that they lay below himthrough the sick idle days--a burden incommunicable. For that reasonthe blood tingled through his body, when Hurree, skippingelephantinely, shook hands again. 

'This is fine! This is finest! Mister O'Hara! you have--ha! ha!swiped the whole bag of tricks--locks, stocks, and barrels. They toldme it was eight months' work gone up the spouts! By Jove, how theybeat me! . .. Look, here is the letter from Hilas!' He intoned a lineor two of Court Persian, which is the language of authorized andunauthorized diplomacy. 'Mister Rajah Sahib has just about put hisfoot in the holes. He will have to explain offeecially how thedeuce-an'-all he is writing love-letters to the Czar. And they arevery clever maps . .. And there is three or four Prime Ministers ofthese parts implicated by the correspondence. By Gad, sar! TheBritish Government will change the succession in Hilas and Bunar, andnominate new heirs to the throne. "Trea-son most base" . .. But you donot understand? Eh?'

'Are they in thy hands?' said Kim. It was all he cared for. 

'Just you jolly-well bet yourself they are. ' He stowed the entiretrove about his body, as only Orientals can. 'They are going up to theoffice, too. The old lady thinks I am permanent fixture here, but Ishall go away with these straight off--immediately. Mr Lurgan will beproud man. You are offeecially subordinate to me, but I shall embodyyour name in my verbal report. It is a pity we are not allowed writtenreports. We Bengalis excel in thee exact science. ' He tossed back thekey and showed the box empty. 

'Good. That is good. I was very tired. My Holy One was sick, too. And did he fall into--'

'Oah yess. I am his good friend, I tell you. He was behaving verystrange when I came down after you, and I thought perhaps he might havethe papers. I followed him on his meditations, and to discussethnological points also. You see, I am verree small person herenowadays, in comparison with all his charms. By Jove, O'Hara, do youknow, he is afflicted with infirmity of fits. Yess, I tell you. Cataleptic, too, if not also epileptic. I found him in such a stateunder a tree in articulo mortem, and he jumped up and walked into abrook and he was nearly drowned but for me. I pulled him out. '

'Because I was not there!' said Kim. 'He might have died. '

'Yes, he might have died, but he is dry now, and asserts he hasundergone transfiguration. ' The Babu tapped his forehead knowingly. 'Itook notes of his statements for Royal Society--in posse. You mustmake haste and be quite well and come back to Simla, and I will tellyou all my tale at Lurgan's. It was splendid. The bottoms of theirtrousers were quite torn, and old Nahan Rajah, he thought they wereEuropean soldiers deserting. '

'Oh, the Russians? How long were they with thee?'

'One was a Frenchman. Oh, days and days and days! Now all thehill-people believe all Russians are all beggars. By Jove! they hadnot one dam'-thing that I did not get them. And I told the commonpeople--oah, such tales and anecdotes!--I will tell you at old Lurgan'swhen you come up. We will have--ah--a night out! It is feather inboth our caps! Yess, and they gave me a certificate. That is creamingjoke. You should have seen them at the Alliance Bank identifyingthemselves! And thank Almighty God you got their papers so well! Youdo not laugh verree much, but you shall laugh when you are well. Now Iwill go straight to the railway and get out. You shall have all sortsof credits for your game. When do you come along? We are very proudof you though you gave us great frights. And especially Mahbub. '

'Ay, Mahbub. And where is he?'

'Selling horses in this vi-cinity, of course. '

'Here! Why? Speak slowly. There is a thickness in my head still. '

The Babu looked shyly down his nose. 'Well, you see, I am fearful man, and I do not like responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I didnot know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. Sowhen I had come down here I slipped in private wire to Mahbub--he wasat Meerut for races--and I tell him how case stands. He comes up withhis men and he consorts with the lama, and then he calls me a fool, andis very rude--'

'But wherefore--wherefore?'

'That is what I ask. I only suggest that if anyone steals the papers Ishould like some good strong, brave men to rob them back again. Yousee, they are vitally important, and Mahbub Ali he did not know whereyou were. '

'Mahbub Ali to rob the Sahiba's house? Thou art mad, Babu, ' said Kimwith indignation. 

'I wanted the papers. Suppose she had stole them? It was onlypractical suggestion, I think. You are not pleased, eh?'

A native proverb--unquotable--showed the blackness of Kim's disapproval. 

'Well, '--Hurree shrugged his shoulders--'there is no accounting forthee taste. Mahbub was angry too. He has sold horses all about here, and he says old lady is pukka [thorough] old lady and would notcondescend to such ungentlemanly things. I do not care. I have gotthe papers, and I was very glad of moral support from Mahbub. I tellyou, I am fearful man, but, somehow or other, the more fearful I am themore dam'-tight places I get into. So I was glad you came with me toChini, and I am glad Mahbub was close by. The old lady she issometimes very rude to me and my beautiful pills. '

'Allah be merciful!' said Kim on his elbow, rejoicing. 'What a beastof wonder is a Babu! And that man walked alone--if he did walk--withrobbed and angry foreigners!'

'Oah, thatt was nothing, after they had done beating me; but if I lostthe papers it was pretty-jolly serious. Mahbub he nearly beat me too, and he went and consorted with the lama no end. I shall stick toethnological investigations henceforwards. Now good-bye, MisterO'Hara. I can catch 4. 25 p. M. To Umballa if I am quick. It will begood times when we all tell thee tale up at Mr Lurgan's. I shallreport you offeecially better. Good-bye, my dear fallow, and when nextyou are under thee emotions please do not use the Mohammedan terms withthe Tibetan dress. '

He shook hands twice--a Babu to his boot-heels--and opened the door. With the fall of the sunlight upon his still triumphant face hereturned to the humble Dacca quack. 

'He robbed them, ' thought Kim, forgetting his own share in the game. 'He tricked them. He lied to them like a Bengali. They give him achit [a testimonial]. He makes them a mock at the risk of his life--Inever would have gone down to them after the pistol-shots--and then hesays he is a fearful man . .. And he is a fearful man. I must get intothe world again. '

At first his legs bent like bad pipe-stems, and the flood and rush ofthe sunlit air dazzled him. He squatted by the white wall, the mindrummaging among the incidents of the long dooli journey, the lama'sweaknesses, and, now that the stimulus of talk was removed, his ownself-pity, of which, like the sick, he had great store. The unnervedbrain edged away from all the outside, as a raw horse, once rowelled, sidles from the spur. It was enough, amply enough, that the spoil ofthe kilta was away--off his hands--out of his possession. He tried tothink of the lama--to wonder why he had tumbled into a brook--but thebigness of the world, seen between the forecourt gates, swept linkedthought aside. Then he looked upon the trees and the broad fields, with the thatched huts hidden among crops--looked with strange eyesunable to take up the size and proportion and use of things--stared fora still half-hour. All that while he felt, though he could not put itinto words, that his soul was out of gear with its surroundings--acog-wheel unconnected with any machinery, just like the idle cog-wheelof a cheap Beheea sugar-crusher laid by in a corner. The breezesfanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of thepopulated house behind--squabbles, orders, and reproofs--hit on deadears. 

'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it againand again. 

He did not want to cry--had never felt less like crying in hislife--but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, andwith an almost audible click he felt the wheels of his being lock upanew on the world without. Things that rode meaningless on the eyeballan instant before slid into proper proportion. Roads were meant to bewalked upon, houses to be lived in, cattle to be driven, fields to betilled, and men and women to be talked to. They were all real andtrue--solidly planted upon the feet--perfectly comprehensible--clay ofhis clay, neither more nor less. He shook himself like a dog with aflea in his ear, and rambled out of the gate. Said the Sahiba, to whomwatchful eyes reported this move: 'Let him go. I have done my share. Mother Earth must do the rest. When the Holy One comes back frommeditation, tell him. '

There stood an empty bullock-cart on a little knoll half a mile away, with a young banyan tree behind--a look-out, as it were, above somenew-ploughed levels; and his eyelids, bathed in soft air, grew heavy ashe neared it. The ground was good clean dust--no new herbage that, living, is half-way to death already, but the hopeful dust that holdsthe seeds of all life. He felt it between his toes, patted it with hispalms, and joint by joint, sighing luxuriously, laid him down fulllength along in the shadow of the wooden-pinned cart. And Mother Earthwas as faithful as the Sahiba. She breathed through him to restore thepoise he had lost lying so long on a cot cut off from her goodcurrents. His head lay powerless upon her breast, and his opened handssurrendered to her strength. The many-rooted tree above him, and eventhe dead manhandled wood beside, knew what he sought, as he himself didnot know. Hour upon hour he lay deeper than sleep. 

Towards evening, when the dust of returning kine made all the horizonssmoke, came the lama and Mahbub Ali, both afoot, walking cautiously, for the house had told them where he had gone. 

'Allah! What a fool's trick to play in open country!' muttered thehorse-dealer. 'He could be shot a hundred times--but this is not theBorder. '

'And, ' said the lama, repeating a many-times-told tale, 'never was sucha chela. Temperate, kindly, wise, of ungrudging disposition, a merryheart upon the road, never forgetting, learned, truthful, courteous. Great is his reward!'

'I know the boy--as I have said. '

'And he was all those things?'

'Some of them--but I have not yet found a Red Hat's charm for makinghim overly truthful. He has certainly been well nursed. '

'The Sahiba is a heart of gold, ' said the lama earnestly. 'She looksupon him as her son. '

'Hmph! Half Hind seems that way disposed. I only wished to see thatthe boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowest, heand I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together. '

'That is a bond between us. ' The lama sat down. 'We are at the end ofthe pilgrimage. '

'No thanks to thee thine was not cut off for good and all a week back. I heard what the Sahiba said to thee when we bore thee up on the cot. 'Mahbub laughed, and tugged his newly dyed beard. 

'I was meditating upon other matters that tide. It was the hakim fromDacca broke my meditations. '

'Otherwise'--this was in Pushtu for decency's sake--'thou wouldst haveended thy meditations upon the sultry side of Hell--being an unbelieverand an idolater for all thy child's simplicity. But now, Red Hat, whatis to be done?'

'This very night, '--the words came slowly, vibrating withtriumph--'this very night he will be as free as I am from all taint ofsin--assured as I am, when he quits this body, of Freedom from theWheel of Things. I have a sign'--he laid his hand above the torn chartin his bosom--'that my time is short; but I shall have safeguarded himthroughout the years. Remember, I have reached Knowledge, as I toldthee only three nights back. '

'It must be true, as the Tirah priest said when I stole his cousin'swife, that I am a Sufi [a free-thinker]; for here I sit, ' said Mahbubto himself, 'drinking in blasphemy unthinkable . .. I remember thetale. On that, then, he goes to Fannatu l'Adn [the Gardens of Eden]. But how? Wilt thou slay him or drown him in that wonderful river fromwhich the Babu dragged thee?'

'I was dragged from no river, ' said the lama simply. 'Thou hastforgotten what befell. I found it by Knowledge. '

'Oh, ay. True, ' stammered Mahbub, divided between high indignation andenormous mirth. 'I had forgotten the exact run of what happened. Thoudidst find it knowingly. '

'And to say that I would take life is--not a sin, but a madness simple. My chela aided me to the River. It is his right to be cleansed fromsin--with me. '

'Ay, he needs cleansing. But afterwards, old man--afterwards?'

'What matter under all the Heavens? He is sure ofNibban--enlightened--as I am. '

'Well said. I had a fear he might mount Mohammed's Horse and fly away. '

'Nay--he must go forth as a teacher. '

'Aha! Now I see! That is the right gait for the colt. Certainly hemust go forth as a teacher. He is somewhat urgently needed as a scribeby the State, for instance. '

'To that end he was prepared. I acquired merit in that I gave alms forhis sake. A good deed does not die. He aided me in my Search. Iaided him in his. Just is the Wheel, O horse-seller from the North. Let him be a teacher; let him be a scribe--what matter? He will haveattained Freedom at the end. The rest is illusion. '

'What matter? When I must have him with me beyond Balkh in six months!I come up with ten lame horses and three strong-backed men--thanks tothat chicken of a Babu--to break a sick boy by force out of an oldtrot's house. It seems that I stand by while a young Sahib is hoistedinto Allah knows what of an idolater's Heaven by means of old Red Hat. And I am reckoned something of a player of the Game myself! But themadman is fond of the boy; and I must be very reasonably mad too. '

'What is the prayer?' said the lama, as the rough Pushtu rumbled intothe red beard. 

'No matter at all; but now I understand that the boy, sure of Paradise, can yet enter Government service, my mind is easier. I must get to myhorses. It grows dark. Do not wake him. I have no wish to hear himcall thee master. '

'But he is my disciple. What else?'

'He has told me. ' Mahbub choked down his touch of spleen and roselaughing. 'I am not altogether of thy faith, Red Hat--if so small amatter concern thee. '

'It is nothing, ' said the lama. 

'I thought not. Therefore it will not move thee, sinless, new-washedand three parts drowned to boot, when I call thee a good man--a verygood man. We have talked together some four or five evenings now, andfor all I am a horse-coper I can still, as the saying is, see holinessbeyond the legs of a horse. Yea, can see, too, how our Friend of allthe World put his hand in thine at the first. Use him well, and sufferhim to return to the world as a teacher, when thou hast--bathed hislegs, if that be the proper medicine for the colt. '

'Why not follow the Way thyself, and so accompany the boy?'

Mahbub stared stupefied at the magnificent insolence of the demand, which across the Border he would have paid with more than a blow. Thenthe humour of it touched his worldly soul. 

'Softly--softly--one foot at a time, as the lame gelding went over theUmballa jumps. I may come to Paradise later--I have workings thatway--great motions--and I owe them to thy simplicity. Thou hast neverlied?'

'What need?'

'O Allah, hear him! "What need" in this Thy world! Nor ever harmed aman?'

'Once--with a pencase--before I was wise. '

'So? I think the better of thee. Thy teachings are good. Thou hastturned one man that I know from the path of strife. ' He laughedimmensely. 'He came here open-minded to commit a dacoity [ahouse-robbery with violence]. Yes, to cut, rob, kill, and carry offwhat he desired. '

'A great foolishness!'

'Oh! black shame too. So he thought after he had seen thee--and a fewothers, male and female. So he abandoned it; and now he goes to beat abig fat Babu man. '

'I do not understand. '

'Allah forbid it! Some men are strong in knowledge, Red Hat. Thystrength is stronger still. Keep it--I think thou wilt. If the boy benot a good servant, pull his ears off. '

With a hitch of his broad Bokhariot belt the Pathan swaggered off intothe gloaming, and the lama came down from his clouds so far as to lookat the broad back. 

'That person lacks courtesy, and is deceived by the shadow ofappearances. But he spoke well of my chela, who now enters upon hisreward. Let me make the prayer! . .. Wake, O fortunate above all bornof women. Wake! It is found!'

Kim came up from those deep wells, and the lama attended his yawningpleasure; duly snapping fingers to head off evil spirits. 

'I have slept a hundred years. Where--? Holy One, hast thou been herelong? I went out to look for thee, but'--he laughed drowsily--'I sleptby the way. I am all well now. Hast thou eaten? Let us go to thehouse. It is many days since I tended thee. And the Sahiba fed theewell? Who shampooed thy legs? What of the weaknesses--the belly andthe neck, and the beating in the ears?'

'Gone--all gone. Dost thou not know?'

'I know nothing, but that I have not seen thee in a monkey's age. Knowwhat?'

'Strange the knowledge did not reach out to thee, when all my thoughtswere theeward. '

'I cannot see the face, but the voice is like a gong. Has the Sahibamade a young man of thee by her cookery?'

He peered at the cross-legged figure, outlined jet-black against thelemon-coloured drift of light. So does the stone Bodhisat sit wholooks down upon the patent self-registering turnstiles of the LahoreMuseum. 

The lama held his peace. Except for the click of the rosary and afaint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence ofevening in India wrapped them close. 

'Hear me! I bring news. '

'But let us--'

Out shot the long yellow hand compelling silence. Kim tucked his feetunder his robe-edge obediently. 

'Hear me! I bring news! The Search is finished. Comes now theReward. .. Thus. When we were among the Hills, I lived on thy strengthtill the young branch bowed and nigh broke. When we came out of theHills, I was troubled for thee and for other matters which I held in myheart. The boat of my soul lacked direction; I could not see into theCause of Things. So I gave thee over to the virtuous woman altogether. I took no food. I drank no water. Still I saw not the Way. Theypressed food upon me and cried at my shut door. So I removed myself toa hollow under a tree. I took no food. I took no water. I sat inmeditation two days and two nights, abstracting my mind; inbreathingand outbreathing in the required manner . .. Upon the second night--sogreat was my reward--the wise Soul loosed itself from the silly Bodyand went free. This I have never before attained, though I have stoodon the threshold of it. Consider, for it is a marvel!'

'A marvel indeed. Two days and two nights without food! Where was theSahiba?' said Kim under his breath. 

'Yea, my Soul went free, and, wheeling like an eagle, saw indeed thatthere was no Teshoo Lama nor any other soul. As a drop draws to water, so my Soul drew near to the Great Soul which is beyond all things. Atthat point, exalted in contemplation, I saw all Hind, from Ceylon inthe sea to the Hills, and my own Painted Rocks at Such-zen; I saw everycamp and village, to the least, where we have ever rested. I saw themat one time and in one place; for they were within the Soul. By this Iknew the Soul had passed beyond the illusion of Time and Space and ofThings. By this I knew that I was free. I saw thee lying in thy cot, and I saw thee falling downhill under the idolater--at one time, in oneplace, in my Soul, which, as I say, had touched the Great Soul. Also Isaw the stupid body of Teshoo Lama lying down, and the hakim from Daccakneeled beside, shouting in its ear. Then my Soul was all alone, and Isaw nothing, for I was all things, having reached the Great Soul. AndI meditated a thousand thousand years, passionless, well aware of theCauses of all Things. Then a voice cried: "What shall come to the boyif thou art dead?" and I was shaken back and forth in myself with pityfor thee; and I said: "I will return to my chela, lest he miss theWay. " Upon this my Soul, which is the Soul of Teshoo Lama, withdrewitself from the Great Soul with strivings and yearnings and retchingsand agonies not to be told. As the egg from the fish, as the fish fromthe water, as the water from the cloud, as the cloud from the thickair, so put forth, so leaped out, so drew away, so fumed up the Soul ofTeshoo Lama from the Great Soul. Then a voice cried: "The River! Takeheed to the River!" and I looked down upon all the world, which was asI had seen it before--one in time, one in place--and I saw plainly theRiver of the Arrow at my feet. At that hour my Soul was hampered bysome evil or other whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay uponmy arms and coiled round my waist; but I put it aside, and I cast forthas an eagle in my flight for the very place of the River. I pushedaside world upon world for thy sake. I saw the River below me--theRiver of the Arrow--and, descending, the waters of it closed over me;and behold I was again in the body of Teshoo Lama, but free from sin, and the hakim from Decca bore up my head in the waters of the River. It is here! It is behind the mango-tope here--even here!'

'Allah kerim! Oh, well that the Babu was by! Wast thou very wet?'

'Why should I regard? I remember the hakim was concerned for the bodyof Teshoo Lama. He haled it out of the holy water in his hands, andthere came afterwards thy horse-seller from the North with a cot andmen, and they put the body on the cot and bore it up to the Sahiba'shouse. '

'What said the Sahiba?'

'I was meditating in that body, and did not hear. So thus the Searchis ended. For the merit that I have acquired, the River of the Arrowis here. It broke forth at our feet, as I have said. I have found it. Son of my Soul, I have wrenched my Soul back from the Threshold ofFreedom to free thee from all sin--as I am free, and sinless! Just isthe Wheel! Certain is our deliverance! Come!'

He crossed his hands on his lap and smiled, as a man may who has wonsalvation for himself and his beloved.