Kim

Mahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for himself he saw

one long grey vista of barracks, schools, and barracks again. He gazed

imploringly at the clear-cut face in which there was no glimmer of

recognition; but even at this extremity it never occurred to him to

throw himself on the white man's mercy or to denounce the Afghan. And

Mahbub stared deliberately at the Englishman, who stared as

deliberately at Kim, quivering and tongue-tied.

'My horse is well trained,' said the dealer. 'Others would have

kicked, Sahib.'

'Ah,' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his pony's damp withers with

his whip-butt. 'Who makes the boy a soldier?'

'He says the Regiment that found him, and especially the Padre-sahib of

that regiment.

'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor sailed

down upon them from the veranda.

'Powers O' Darkness below, O'Hara! How many more mixed friends do you

keep in Asia?' he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly before

him.

'Good morning, Padre,' the Englishman said cheerily. 'I know you by

reputation well enough. Meant to have come over and called before

this. I'm Creighton.'

'Of the Ethnological Survey?' said Father Victor. The Englishman

nodded. 'Faith, I'm glad to meet ye then; an' I owe you some thanks

for bringing back the boy.'

'No thanks to me, Padre. Besides, the boy wasn't going away. You

don't know old Mahbub Ali.' The horse-dealer sat impassive in the

sunlight. 'You will when you have been in the station a month. He

sells us all our crocks. That boy is rather a curiosity. Can you tell

me anything about him?'

'Can I tell you?' puffed Father Victor. 'You'll be the one man that

could help me in my quandaries. Tell you! Powers o' Darkness, I'm

bursting 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 of

telling me all those stories about the pony? Not one pice more than

three hundred and fifty rupees will I give.'

'The Sahib is a little hot and angry after riding,' the horse-dealer

returned, with the leer of a privileged jester. 'Presently, he will

see my horse's points more clearly. I will wait till he has finished

his talk with the Padre. I will wait under that tree.'

'Confound you!' The Colonel laughed. 'That comes of looking at one of

Mahbub's horses. He's a regular old leech, Padre. Wait, then, if thou

hast 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. Queer

sort 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 Mahbub

Ali in conference beneath the tree. The Padre went indoors for

cheroots.

Creighton heard Kim say bitterly: 'Trust a Brahmin before a snake, and

a snake before an harlot, and an harlot before a Pathan, Mahbub Ali.'

'That is all one.' The great red beard wagged solemnly. 'Children

should 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. They

will not make a soldier of thee.'

'You crafty old sinner!' thought Creighton. 'But you're not far

wrong. That boy mustn't be wasted if he is as advertised.'

'Excuse me half a minute,' cried the Padre from within, 'but I'm

gettin' the documents in the case.'

'If through me the favour of this bold and wise Colonel Sahib comes to

thee, and thou art raised to honour, what thanks wilt thou give Mahbub

Ali when thou art a man?'

'Nay, nay! I begged thee to let me take the Road again, where I should

have been safe; and thou hast sold me back to the English. What will

they give thee for blood-money?'

'A cheerful young demon!' The Colonel bit his cigar, and turned

politely 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 Mahbub

Ali.

'A letter from my lama which he wrote from Jagadhir Road, saying that

he 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--and

half-Sahibs. I have seen it when I sell horses there. So the lama

also 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. How

fast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By Allah!'

the keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant--'thy lama has sent what

to me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in

hoondis. 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 good

place to sleep and where the boys beat me.'

'I do not think that. Have patience, child. All Pathans are not

faithless--except in horseflesh.'

Five--ten--fifteen minutes passed, Father Victor talking energetically

or asking questions which the Colonel answered.

'Now I've told you everything that I know about the boy from beginnin

to 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 of

hand are good from here to China,' said the Colonel. 'The more one

knows 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 this

mixture of Red Bulls and Rivers of Healing (poor heathen, God help

him!) an' notes of hand and Masonic certificates. Are you a Mason, by

any chance?'

'By Jove, I am, now I come to think of it. That's an additional

reason,' 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, sitting

on my bed with his little shimmy torn open showing his white skin; an'

the prophecy comin' true! They'll cure all that nonsense at St

Xavier'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 be

brought up as a good Catholic. All that troubles me is what'll happen

if the old beggar-man--'

'Lama, lama, my dear sir; and some of them are gentlemen in their own

country.'

'The lama, then, fails to pay next year. He's a fine business head to

plan 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 was

white he seems to have made his arrangements accordingly. I'd give a

month's pay to hear how he explained it all at the Tirthankars' Temple

at Benares. Look here, Padre, I don't pretend to know much about

natives, 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 down

to Lucknow. If your Anglican Chaplain thinks you've stolen a march on

him--'

'Bad luck to Bennett! He was sent to the Front instead o' me. Doughty

certified me medically unfit. I'll excommunicate Doughty if he comes

back alive! Surely Bennett ought to be content with--'

'Glory, leaving you the religion. Quite so! As a matter of fact I