Kim

reforming as the folds shook and quivered to the night wind; and when

the talk grew more earnest the jewelled forefinger snapped out little

sparks of light between the embroideries. Behind the cart was a wall

of uncertain darkness speckled with little flames and alive with

half-caught forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening

had settled down to one soothing hum whose deepest note was the steady

chumping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest

was the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl's sitar. Most men had eaten

and pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookahs, which in full

blast sound like bull-frogs.

At last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded

cotton-quilt and spread it carefully by the fire.

'She deserves ten thousand grandchildren,' thought Kim. 'None the

less, but for me, those gifts would not have come.'

'A virtuous woman--and a wise one.' The lama slackened off, joint by

joint, like a slow camel. 'The world is full of charity to those who

follow 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 of

which were idle tales which she had heard from devil-serving priests

who pretend to follow the Way. Some I answered, and some I said were

foolish. Many wear the Robe, but few keep the Way.'

'True. That is true.' Kim used the thoughtful, conciliatory tone of

those who wish to draw confidences.

'But by her lights she is most right-minded. She desires greatly that

we should go with her to Buddh Gaya; her road being ours, as I

understand, for many days' journey to the southward.'

'And?'

'Patience a little. To this I said that my Search came before all

things. She had heard many foolish legends, but this great truth of my

River 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--nor

the tale of the Arrow.'

'And?'

'I spoke therefore of the Search, and of the Way, and of matters that

were profitable; she desiring only that I should accompany her and make

prayer for a second son.'

'Aha! "We women" do not think of anything save children,' said Kim

sleepily.

'Now, since our roads run together for a while, I do not see that we in

any way depart from our Search if so be we accompany her--at least as

far as--I have forgotten the name of the city.'

'Ohe!' said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to one of the

Ooryas a few yards away. 'Where is your master's house?'

'A little behind Saharunpore, among the fruit gardens.' He named the

village.

'That was the place,' said the lama. 'So far, at least, we can go with

her.'

'Flies go to carrion,' said the Oorya, in an abstracted voice.

'For the sick cow a crow; for the sick man a Brahmin.' Kim breathed

the 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 the

rivers that the road overpasses. She desires that I should come. She

very greatly desires it.'

Kim stifled a laugh in the quilt. When once that imperious old lady

had recovered from her natural awe of a lama he thought it probable

that she would be worth listening to.

He was nearly asleep when the lama suddenly quoted a proverb: 'The

husbands of the talkative have a great reward hereafter.' Then Kim

heard him snuff thrice, and dozed off, still laughing.

The diamond-bright dawn woke men and crows and bullocks together. Kim

sat up and yawned, shook himself, and thrilled with delight. This was

seeing the world in real truth; this was life as he would have

it--bustling and shouting, the buckling of belts, and beating of

bullocks and creaking of wheels, lighting of fires and cooking of food,

and new sights at every turn of the approving eye. The morning mist

swept off in a whorl of silver, the parrots shot away to some distant

river in shrieking green hosts: all the well-wheels within ear-shot

went to work. India was awake, and Kim was in the middle of it, more

awake and more excited than anyone, chewing on a twig that he would

presently use as a toothbrush; for he borrowed right- and left-handedly

from all the customs of the country he knew and loved. There was no

need to worry about food--no need to spend a cowrie at the crowded

stalls. He was the disciple of a holy man annexed by a strong-willed

old lady. All things would be prepared for them, and when they were

respectfully invited so to do they would sit and eat. For the

rest--Kim giggled here as he cleaned his teeth--his hostess would

rather heighten the enjoyment of the road. He inspected her bullocks

critically, as they came up grunting and blowing under the yokes. If

they went too fast--it was not likely--there would be a pleasant seat

for himself along the pole; the lama would sit beside the driver. The

escort, of course, would walk. The old lady, equally of course, would

talk a great deal, and by what he had heard that conversation would not

lack salt. She was already ordering, haranguing, rebuking, and, it

must be said, cursing her servants for delays.

'Get her her pipe. In the name of the Gods, get her her pipe and stop

her ill-omened mouth,' cried an Oorya, tying up his shapeless bundles

of bedding. 'She and the parrots are alike. They screech in the dawn.'

'The lead-bullocks! Hai! Look to the lead-bullocks!' They were

backing 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 pray

for a son,' the man called back over his high load. 'Room for the

Queen of Delhi and her Prime Minister the grey monkey climbing up his

own sword!' Another cart loaded with bark for a down-country tannery

followed close behind, and its driver added a few compliments as the

ruth-bullocks backed and backed again.

From behind the shaking curtains came one volley of invective. It did

not last long, but in kind and quality, in blistering, biting

appropriateness, it was beyond anything that even Kim had heard. He

could see the carter's bare chest collapse with amazement, as the man

salaamed reverently to the voice, leaped from the pole, and helped the

escort haul their volcano on to the main road. Here the voice told him

truthfully what sort of wife he had wedded, and what she was doing in

his absence.

'Oh, shabash!' murmured Kim, unable to contain himself, as the man

slunk away.

'Well done, indeed? It is a shame and a scandal that a poor woman may

not go to make prayer to her Gods except she be jostled and insulted by

all the refuse of Hindustan--that she must eat gali [abuse] as men eat

ghi. But I have yet a wag left to my tongue--a word or two well spoken

that serves the occasion. And still am I without my tobacco! Who is

the one-eyed and luckless son of shame that has not yet prepared my

pipe?'

It was hastily thrust in by a hillman, and a trickle of thick smoke

from each corner of the curtains showed that peace was restored.

If Kim had walked proudly the day before, disciple of a holy man, today

he paced with tenfold pride in the train of a semi-royal procession,

with a recognized place under the patronage of an old lady of charming

manners and infinite resource. The escort, their heads tied up