Kim

don't think Bennett will mind. Put the blame on me. I--er--strongly

recommend sending the boy to St Xavier's. He can go down on pass as a

soldier's orphan, so the railway fare will be saved. You can buy him an

outfit from the Regimental subscription. The Lodge will be saved the

expense 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'll

look after the boy on the way--give him in charge of my servants, and

so on.'

'You're a good man.'

'Not in the least. Don't make that mistake. The lama has sent us

money for a definite end. We can't very well return it. We shall have

to 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 note

of hand--'I don't know Gobind Sahai: or his bank, which may be a hole

in a wall.'

'You've never been a subaltern in debt. I'll cash it if you like, and

send 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, the

thing's very interesting to me. I'd like to make a note of it for some

Government work that I'm doing. The transformation of a regimental

badge like your Red Bull into a sort of fetish that the boy follows is

very interesting.'

'But I can't thank you enough.'

'There's one thing you can do. All we Ethnological men are as jealous

as jackdaws of one another's discoveries. They're of no interest to

anyone but ourselves, of course, but you know what book-collectors are

like. Well, don't say a word, directly or indirectly, about the

Asiatic 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 say

to anyone till I see it in print.'

'Thank you. That goes straight to an ethnologist's heart. Well, I

must be getting back to my breakfast. Good Heavens! Old Mahbub here

still?' He raised his voice, and the horse-dealer came out from under

the shadow of the tree, 'Well, what is it?'

'As regards that young horse,' said Mahbub, 'I say that when a colt is

born to be a polo-pony, closely following the ball without

teaching--when such a colt knows the game by divination--then I say it

is 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. (These

fellows think of nothing in the world but horses, Padre.) I'll see you

tomorrow, Mahbub, if you've anything likely for sale.'

The dealer saluted, horseman-fashion, with a sweep of the off hand. 'Be

patient a little, Friend of all the World,' he whispered to the

agonized Kim. 'Thy fortune is made. In a little while thou goest to

Nucklao, and--here is something to pay the letter-writer. I shall see

thee again, I think, many times,' and he cantered off down the road.

'Listen to me,' said the Colonel from the veranda, speaking in the

vernacular. 'In three days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing and

hearing new things all the while. Therefore sit still for three days

and 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 thou

wilt go under my protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will be

angry if thou returnest to the Road now. Remember--much has been told

me 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 was

ordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar, and found the

young letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.

'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be

written.'

'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by

virtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation.

'This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take thy pen and write

quickly. To Teshoo Lama, the Holy One from Bhotiyal seeking for a

River, who is now in the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. Take

more ink! In three days I am to go down to Nucklao to the school at

Nucklao. The name of the school is Xavier. I do not know where that

school 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 lifted

his 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 is

beckoning 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 to

Lucknow?'

'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?' The

Colonel 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 of

strangers concerned in any matter, because by the naming of names many

good plans are brought to confusion.'

'Thou hast been well taught,' the Colonel replied, and Kim flushed. 'I

have left my cheroot-case in the Padre's veranda. Bring it to my house

this even.'

'Where is the house?' said Kim. His quick wit told him that he was

being 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 must

bring it to him this evening. That is all my letter except, thrice

over, Come to me! Come to me! Come to me! Now I will pay for a stamp

and 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 Colonel

Sahib without a regiment.'

'What is his business?'

'God knows. He is always buying horses which he cannot ride, and

asking riddles about the works of God--such as plants and stones and

the customs of people. The dealers call him the father of fools,

because he is so easily cheated about a horse. Mahbub Ali says he is

madder than most other Sahibs.'

'Oh!' said Kim, and departed. His training had given him some small

knowledge of character, and he argued that fools are not given

information which leads to calling out eight thousand men besides guns.

The Commander-in-Chief of all India does not talk, as Kim had heard him

talk, to fools. Nor would Mahbub Ali's tone have changed, as it did