makes them onlee for us, but in case she does not, when we get them we
put in, before issue, one small piece of turquoise. Mr Lurgan he gives
them. There is no other source of supply; but it was me invented all
this. It is strictly unoffeecial of course, but convenient for
subordinates. Colonel Creighton he does not know. He is European.
The turquoise is wrapped in the paper ... Yes, that is road to railway
station ... Now suppose you go with the lama, or with me, I hope, some
day, or with Mahbub. Suppose we get into a dam'-tight place. I am a
fearful man--most fearful--but I tell you I have been in dam'-tight
places 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. All
we Babus talk English to show off;' said Hurree, flinging his
shoulder-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, which
is 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 is
all my invention. Verree good. Sat Bhai has many members, and perhaps
before they jolly-well-cut-your-throat they may give you just a chance
of life. That is useful, anyhow. And moreover, these foolish
natives--if they are not too excited--they always stop to think before
they kill a man who says he belongs to any speecific organization. You
see? You say then when you are in tight place, "I am Son of the
Charm", and you get--perhaps--ah--your second wind. That is only in
extreme instances, or to open negotiations with a stranger. Can you
quite see? Verree good. But suppose now, I, or any one of the
Department, come to you dressed quite different. You would not know me
at all unless I choose, I bet you. Some day I will prove it. I come
as Ladakhi trader--oh, anything--and I say to you: "You want to buy
precious stones?" You say: "Do I look like a man who buys precious
stones?" Then I say: "Even verree poor man can buy a turquoise or
tarkeean."'
'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." Then
you say: "There is no caste when men go to--look for tarkeean." You
stop a little between those words, "to--look". That is thee whole
secret. The little stop before the words.'
Kim repeated the test-sentence.
'That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there is
time, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views and
documents and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us.
We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean, but
always 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 help
you--perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean, if you
want to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, at
present, you have no offeecial business. You are--ah
ha!--supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you were
Asiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year of
leave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you,
because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all your
examinations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You
are on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help
Sons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my
dear 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 entrance
of Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged
himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in the
bosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck;
begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger (Mr Lurgan had forgotten
nothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paint-box, and compass, and
in a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns lay
a month's pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in a
leaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a
policeman 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 so
alone as I! If I die today, who shall bring the news--and to whom? If I
live and God is good, there will be a price upon my head, for I am a
Son of the Charm--I, Kim.'
A very few white people, but many Asiatics, can throw themselves into a
mazement as it were by repeating their own names over and over again to
themselves, letting the mind go free upon speculation as to what is
called 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 all
other thoughts; hands folded in lap, and pupils contracted to
pin-points. In a minute--in another half-second--he felt he would
arrive at the solution of the tremendous puzzle; but here, as always
happens, his mind dropped away from those heights with a rush of a
wounded 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 the
Way, 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 soul
might be. The seizure came of a sudden. I know. Who should know but
I? 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. Of
what 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 Allah
alone knoweth what I seek.'
The old fellow slipped the bairagi's crutch under his armpit and sat
down on a patch of ruddy leopard's skin as Kim rose at the call for the
Benares train.
'Go in hope, little brother,' he said. 'It is a long road to the feet
of the One; but thither do we all travel.'
Kim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty
miles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a
string of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical
gifts.
Benares struck him as a peculiarly filthy city, though it was pleasant