Classic Audiobook Collection - Kim by Rudyard Kipling ~ Full Audiobook [adventure]

Episode Date: May 2, 2023

Kim by Rudyard Kipling audiobook. Genre: adventure Orphaned and streetwise, Kimball O'Hara - known to everyone simply as Kim - grows up in the crowded, shifting world of British India, drifting between cultures with an easy talent for languages, disguises, and friendships. When he meets an aging Tibetan lama searching for a holy river said to bring spiritual freedom, Kim becomes his devoted chela, guiding him across the subcontinent's bazaars, temples, and mountain roads. But Kim's gift for slipping unnoticed through every layer of society draws the attention of British intelligence, pulling him into the covert contest of the Great Game as rival powers maneuver for influence beyond the northern frontier. Torn between loyalty to the lama's peaceful quest and the dangerous work he is trained to do, Kim must decide what kind of life - and what kind of self - he will claim. Vivid, panoramic, and rich with travel, humor, and tension, Kipling's classic follows a boy coming of age amid clashing empires and spiritual longing, asking whether identity is inherited, chosen, or performed, and what it costs to serve more than one master. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:37:23) Chapter 01 (01:11:31) Chapter 02 (01:50:49) Chapter 03 (02:39:29) Chapter 04 (02:59:16) Chapter 04 (03:29:15) Chapter 05 (03:51:31) Chapter 05 (04:18:51) Chapter 06 (05:02:59) Chapter 07 (05:44:33) Chapter 08 (06:29:49) Chapter 09 (06:56:51) Chapter 09 (07:24:25) Chapter 10 (08:10:46) Chapter 11 (08:48:40) Chapter 11 (09:10:46) Chapter 12 (09:46:31) Chapter 12 (10:16:52) Chapter 13 (10:44:47) Chapter 13 (11:13:34) Chapter 14 (12:01:38) Chapter 15 (12:28:29) Chapter 15 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Kim by Rudyard Kipling. Chapter 1 Part 1 O ye who tread the narrow way, by Tofit 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 Zamzamar on her brick platform opposite the old, Ajib Gere, the wonderhouse, as the natives call the Lahore Museum.

Who hold Zamzamar, that fire-breathing dragon, hold the Punjab? For the great Green Grons piece is always the first of the conqueror's loot. There was some justification for Kim. He had kicked Lala Dinanath's boy off the Tranions since the English held the Punjab and Kim was English. was burned black as any native, though he spoke the vernacular by preference and his mother tongue in a clipped uncertain sing-song, though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the small boys of the bazaar, Kim was white, a poor white of the very poorest. The half-cast woman who looked after him, she smoked opium and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the

square where the cheap cabs wait, told the missionaries that she was Kim's mother's sister. But his mother had been a nursemaid in a colonel's family, and had married Kimball O'Hara, a young colour sergeant of the Mavericks, an Irish regiment. He afterwards took a post in the Sindh, Punjab and Delhi railway, and his regiment went home without him. The wife died of cholera, Mphorazepur, and O'hara fell to drive. and loafing up and down the line with a keen-eyed three-year-old baby. Societies and chaplains, anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but O'Hara drifted away till he came across the woman who took opium and learned the taste from her, and died,

as poor whites do in India. His estate at death consisted of three papers. One he called his nay varreter, because those words were written below his signature thereon, and another his clearance certificate. The third was Kim's birth certificate. Those things he used to say in his glorious opium hours would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was Kim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of magic, such magic as men practiced over yonder behind the museum in the big blue and white jaddu gear, the magic house, as we name the Masonic Lodge. It would, he said, all come right someday, and Kim's horn would be exalted between pillars, monstrous pillars, of beauty and strength. The Colonel himself, riding on a horse at the head of the finest regiment in the world, would attend to Kim.

little Kim that should have been better off than his father. Nine hundred first-class devils, 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 on the Farozypour line. Then he would weep bitterly in the broken, rush chair on the veranda. So it came about after his death

that the woman sowed parchment, paper and birth certificate into a leather amulet case which she strung around Kim's neck. And someday, she said, confusedly remembering O'Hara's prophecies, there will come for you a great red bull on a green field and the colonel riding on his tall horse, yes, and dropping into English, nine hundred devils. Ah, said Kim, I should Kim. shall remember, a red bull and a colonel on a horse will come, but first my father said will come the two men making ready the ground for these matters. That is how my father said they

always did, and it is always so when men work magic. If the woman had sent Kim up to the local Jadu Gur with these papers, he would, of course, have been taken over by the provincial lodge, and sent to the Masonic orphanage in the hills. But what she had heard of magic, she distrusted. Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached the years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white men of serious aspect who asked who he was and what he did.

For Kim did nothing, with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful walled city of life, whore from the deli gate to the outer fort ditch, was hand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Harun al-Rashid dreamed of, and he lived a life wild as that of the Arabian Knights, but missionaries and secretaries of charitable societies could not see the beauty of it. His nickname through the wards was Little Friend of All the World, and very often being lithe and and conspicuous, he executed commissions by night on the crowded house-tops for sleek and shiny young men of fashion. It was intrigue, of course, he knew that much, as he had known all evil since he could speak.

But what he loved was the game for its own sake, the stealthy prowl through the dark gullies and lanes, the crawl up a water-pipe, the sights and sounds of the women's world on the flat roofs, and the headlong flight from housetop to housetop under cover of the hot dark. Then there were holy men, ash smeared fakirs, by their brick shrines under the trees at the riverside, with whom he was quite familiar, greeting them as they returned from begging tours, and where no one was by, eating from the same dish. The woman who looked after him insisted with tears that he should wear European clothes, trousers, a shirt, and a battered hat.

Kim found it easier to slip into Hindu or Mohammedan garb when engaged on certain business. One of the young men of fashion, he who was found dead at the bottom of a well on the night of the earthquake, had once given him a complete suit of Hindu kit, the costume of a low-cast street-boy, and Kim stored it in a secret place under some bulks in Nila-ram's timber-yard, behind the Punjab High Court, where the fragrant Diodore logs lie seasoning after they had driven down the Ravi. When there was business or frolic afoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn, to the veranda, or tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or yelling 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 his native friends.

friends. As he drummed his heels against Zamzamar, he turned now and again from the king of the castle game with little Chotolalal and Abdul of the sweetmeat-seller's son, to make a rude remark to the native policeman on guard over the rows of shoes at the museum door. The big Punjabi grinned tolerantly. He knew Kim of old. So did the water carrier, sluicing water on the drier road from his goat-skin bag. So did Jawa Hiss Singh, the museum carpenter, bent over new packing cases, so did everybody in sight, except the peasants from the country, hurrying up to the Wonderhouse to view the things that men made in their own province and elsewhere. The museum was given over to Indian arts and manufacturers, and anybody who sought wisdom could ask the curator to explain.

"'Off, off, let me up!' cried Abdullah, climbing up to Zamzama's wheel. "'Thy father was a pastry-cook. Thy mother stole the G,' sang him. All musselmans fell off Zamsam-Mar long ago. "'Let me up!' shrewed little Cholter-Lal in his gilt-embroider cap. His father was worth perhaps half a million sterling, but India is the only democratic land. and in the world. The Hindus fell off Zamzimar too, the musselmans pushed them off, thy father was a pastry cook. He stopped, for there shuffled round the corner from the roaring moati bazaar, such a man as Kim, who thought he knew all casts, had never seen. He was nearly

six feet high, dressed in fold-on-fold of dingy stuff like horse-blanketing, and not one-fold. And not one-fold. of it could Kim refer to any known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long, open-work iron pencase, and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his head was a gigantic sort of tamashanta. His face was yellow and wrinkled, like that of Fuk Xing, the Chinese bootmaker in the bazaar. His eyes turned 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 have ever seen. "'A priest, perhaps,' said Cholterl, spying the rosary. "'See, he goes into the Wonderhouse.' "'Nay, nay,' said the policeman, shaking his head. "'I do not understand your talk.' The constable spoke Punjabi. Oh, friend of all the world, what does he say? Send him hither, said Kim, dropping from Zamzama, flourishing his bare heels.

He is a foreigner, and thou art a buffalo. The man turned helplessly and drifted toward the boys. He was old, and his woollen gabardine still reeked of the stinking Artemisia of the mountain passes. Oh, children, what? It is that big house, he said in very fair Urdu. The Abjib Ghear, the Wonderhouse! Kim gave him no title such as Lala or Mayen. 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 cast? Where is your house? Have you come far?' Kim asked. "'I came by Kulu, from beyond the Kailas. But what know you? From the hills where,' he sighed,

"'The air and water are fresh and cool.' "'Aha! A quite, a Chinaman,' said Abdullah proudly. Fook-Shin had once chased him out of his shop for spitting at the joss above the boots. "'Pahari! A hillman!' said little Cholter-Lal. "'I, child, a hillman from hills thou'll never see. "'Dist hear of Boti-yal, Tibet?' "'I am no, Qiteyte, I am, no quite, but a Boatiyah, a Tibetan, since you must know a Lama, or say a Guru in your tongue.

A guru from Tibet, said Kim, I have not seen such a man. They be Hindus in Tibet, then? We be followers of the Middle Way, living in peace in our Lama series, and I go to see the four holy places before I, die. Now do you, who are children, know as much as I do who am old. He smiled benightently on the boys. Has thou eaten? He fumbled in his bosom, and drooped forth a worn wooden begging-bowl. The boys nodded. All priests of their acquaintance begged. I do not wish to eat yet. He turned his head like an old tortoise in the sunlight. "'Is it true that there are many images in the wonder-house of Lahore?' He repeated the last words as one making sure of an address.

"'That is true,' said Abdullah. "'It is full of heathen boots. "'Thou also art an idolator.' "'Never mind him,' said Kim. "'That is the government's house, and there is no idolatry in it, "'but only a Saib with a white beard. come with me and I will show. Strange priests eat boys,

whispered Cholta-Low. And he is a stranger and a Budpara-Sat, an idolater, said Abdullah the Mohammedan. Kim laughed. He is new. Run to your mother's laps and be safe. Come! Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile.

The old man followed and halted, amazed. in the entrance hall stood the larger figures of the greek-o-buddhist sculptures done savants know how long since by a forgotten workman whose hands were feeling and not unskilfully for the mysteriously transmitted grecian touch there were hundreds of pieces freezes of figures in relief fragments of statues and slabs crowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the buddhist stupas and virhara of the north country, and now dug up and labelled, made the pride of the museum. In open-mouthed wonder, the llama turned to this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a large alto relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The master was represented seated on a lotus, the petals of which were so deeply undercut as to show almost detached.

Round him was an adoring hierarchy of kings, elders and old-time Buddhas. Below were lotus-covered waters with fishes and waterbirds. Two butterfly-winged dewers held a wreath over his head. Above them another pair supported an umbrella, surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat. The Lord! The Lord! It is Sakyamundi himself, the Lama half sobbed, and under his breath began the wonderful Buddhist invocation.

To him the way the law apart, Whamaya held beneath her heart, Ananda's lord, the Bodhisat. And it is he the most excellent law is here also. My pilgrimage is well begun. And what work? What work! Yonder is the Saib, said Kim,

and dodged sideways among the cases of the arts and manufactures wing. A white-bearded Englishman was looking at the llama, who gravely turned and saluted him, and after some fumbling drew forth a notebook and a scrap of paper. Yes, that is my name, smiling at the clumsy childish print. One of us who made pilgrimage to the Holy Pilgrimage to the Holy places. He is now abbot of the Lung Chow Monastery, gave it to me, stammered the Lama. He spoke of these. His lean hand moved tremulously round. Welcome, then, O Lama from Tibet,

here be the images, and I am here, he glanced at the Lama's face, to gather knowledge. Come to my office a while. The old man was trembling with excitement. The office was but a little wooden cubicle partitioned off from the sculpture-lined gallery. Kim laid himself down, his ear against a crack in the heat-split-sid-door, and, following his instinct, stretched out to listen and watch. Most of the talk was altogether above his head. The llama, haltingly at first, spoke to the curator of his own lamassery, the Such-Sen opposite the painted rocks, four months march away.

The curator brought out a huge book of photos and showed him that very place perched on its crag overlooking the gigantic valley of many-hued strata. Aye, aye, aye. The llama mounted a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles of Chinese work. Here is the little door. through which we bring wood before winter. And thou?

The English know of these things? He who is now abbot of Lung Cho told me, But I did not believe him. The Lord, the excellent 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 llama to the main hall.

and the curator beside him went through the collection with the reverence of a devotee and the appreciative instinct of a craftsman. Incident by incident in the beautiful story he identified on the blurred stone, puzzled here and there by the unfamiliar Greek convention, but delighted as a child at each new trove. Where the sequence failed, as in the enunciation, the curator supplied it from his mound, of books, French and German, with photographs and reproduction. Here was the devout acita, the pendant of Simeon in the Christian story, holding the holy child on his knee while mother and father listened. And here were incidents in the legend of cousin divadata. Here was the wicked woman who accused the master of impurity, all confounded. Here was the teaching in the teaching in

the deer park, the miracle that stunned the fire worshippers, here was the Bodhisat, in royal state as a prince, the miraculous birth, the death at Kusinagara, where the weak disciple fainted, while there were almost countless repetitions of the meditation under the Bodhi tree, and the adoration of the alms bowl was everywhere. In a few minutes the curator saw that his guest was no mere bead-telling medicant but a scholar of parts. And they went at it all over again, the llama taking snuff, wiping his spectacles, and talking at railway speed in a bewildering mixture of Urdu and Tibetan.

He had heard of the travels of the Chinese pilgrims, Fu Huyen and Juan Singh, and was anxious to know if there was any translation of their record. He drew in his book, breath as he turned helplessly over the pages of Beal and Slanesthos Julian. "'Tis all here a treasure locked.' Then he composed himself reverently to listen to fragments hastily rendered into Urdu. For the first time he heard of the labours of European scholars,

who by the help of these and a hundred other documents have identified the holy places of Buddhism. Then he was shown a mighty map spotted and traced with yellow. The brown finger followed the curator's pencil from point to point. Here was Kapilovastu. Here was the Middle Kingdom. And here Mahabodi, the Mecca of Buddhism. And here was Kusinagara, sad place of the Holy One's death. The old man bowed his head over the sheets in silence for a while, and the curator lit another pipe. Kim had fallen asleep. When he waited, the talk still in spate, was more within his comprehension.

And thus it was, O Fountain of Wisdom, that I decided to go to the holy places which his foot had trod, to the birthplace, even to Kapila, and then to Mahabodi, which is Budagai, to the monastery, to the deer park, To the place of his death, the Lama lowered his voice, And I come here alone. For five, seven, eighteen, forty years, it was in my mind that the old law was not well followed, being overlaid as thou knowest with devildom, charms and idolatry.

Even as the child outside said but now, I, even as the child outside said, but now, I, even as the child, said with Budparazzi. So it comes with all faiths, thinks thou, the books of my Llamaseri I read, and they were dried pith. And the later ritual, with which we of the reformed law have cumbered ourselves, that too had no worth to these old eyes. Even the followers of the excellent one are at feud on feud with one another. It is all illusion. I, Maya, illusion. But I have another desire. The seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the curator, and the long four-finger nail tapped on the table. Your scholars by these books have followed the blessed feet in all their wanderings.

but there are things which they have not sought out. I know nothing, nothing do I know, but I go to free myself from the wheel of things by a broad and open road. He smiled with most simple triumph. As a pilgrim to the holy places, I acquire merit. but there is more. Listen to a true thing. When our gracious Lord, being as yet a youth, sought a mate, men said in his father's court

that he was too tender for marriage. Thou know'st? The curator nodded, wondering what would come next. So they made a triple trial of strength against all comers. and at the test of the bow our lord first breaking that which they gave him call for such a bow as none might bend thou know'st it is written i have read and over-shooting all other marks the arrow passed far and far beyond sight at last it fell and where it touched earth There broke out a stream, which presently became a river, whose nature, by our Lord's beneficence, and that merit he acquired ere he freed himself, is that 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 of wisdom. 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 hast not told me. Surely thou must know.

See, I am an old man. I asked with my head between my feet, O fountain of wisdom. We know, he drew the bow. 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, but where is the river? If I knew, think you that I would not cry it aloud? By it one attains freedom from the wheel of things, the llama went on unheeding. The river of the arrow, think again, some little stream may be dried in the heats. But the holy one would never so cheat an old man. I do not know, I do not know.

The llama brought his thousand wrinkled face, once more a hand's breadth from the Englishman's. I see thou dost not know. Not being of the law, the matter is hid from thee. I, hidden, hidden. We are both bound, thou and I, my brother. brother, but I, he rose with a sweep of the soft, thick drapery. I go to cut myself free. Come also.

I am bound, said the curator, but with a ghost thou. First to Kashi, Benares. Where else? There shall I meet one of the pure faith in a Jain temple of the that city. He is also a seeker in secret, and from him happily I may learn. Maybe he will go with me to Bujigaya, hence north and west to Kapilavastu, and there will I seek for the river. Nay, I will seek everywhere as I go, for the place is not known where the And how wilt thou go? It is a far cry to Delhi, and farther to Benares. By road and the

terrains. From Pathancourt, having left the hills, I came hither in a terrain. It goes swiftly. At first I was amazed to see those tall poles by the side of the road snatched. up and snatching up their threads. He illustrated the swoop and whirl of a telegraph pole flashing past the train. But later I was cramped and desired to walk as I am used. And thou art sure of thy road, said the curator. Ah, for that one but asks a question and pays money, and the appointed persons dispatch all to the appointed place.

That much I knew in my Lama seri from shore report, said the Lama proudly. And when dost thou go? The curator smiled at the mixture of old 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 the river of the arrow. There is, moreover, our written paper of the hours of the trains that go south. And for food, llamas, as a rule, have a good store of money somewhere about them, but the curator wished to make sure. For the journey, I take up the master's begging-bowl.

Yes, even as he went so go. O I, forsaking the ease of my monastery. There was with me when I left the hills a Cela, a disciple, who begged for me as the rule demands, but halting in Culu a while, a fever took him, and he died. I have now no Cela, but I will take the arm's bowl, and thus enable the charitable deal. to acquire merit. He nodded his head valiantly. Lerned doctors of a llama, sirry, do not beg, but the

Lama was an enthusiast in his quest. "'Be it so,' said the curator, smiling, "'suffer me now to acquire merit. We be craftsmen together, thou and I. Here is a new book of white English paper. Here be sharpened pencils, two and three, thick and thin, all good for a scribe. Now lend me thy spectacles. The curator looked through them. They were heavily scratched, but the power was almost exactly that of his own pair, which he slid into the llama's hand, saying, Try these. A feather, a very feather upon my face. The old man turned his head delightedly and wrinkled up his nose. How scarcely do I feel them? How clearly do I see? They be billow, crystal, and will never scratch.

May they help thee to thy river, for they are thine. I will take them, and the pencils and the white notebook, said the llama, as a sign of friendship between priest and priest. And now, he fumbled at his belt, detached the open-work iron pen-case, and laid it on the curator's table. That is for a memory between thee and me. My pen-case, it is something old, even as I am. It was a piece of ancient design,

Chinese of an iron that is not smelted, these days, and the collector's heart in the curator's bosom had gone out to it from the first. For no persuasion would the Lama resume his gift. When I return, having found the river, I will bring thee a written picture of the Padma Sumpthora, such as I used to make on silk at the Lama seri, yes, and the wheel of life, he chuckled, for we be craftsmen together, thou and I. The curator would have detained him. There are few in the world who still have the secret of the conventional brushpen Buddhist pictures,

which are, as they were, half written and half drawn. But the Lama strode out, head high in air, and pausing an instant before the great statue 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 to investigate further precisely as he would have investigated a new building or a strange festival in Lahore City. The llama was his trove, and he purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had been Irish, too. The old man halted by Zamzamar, and he had been Zamsamar, and he purposed to take possession. Kim's mother had been Irish too. The old man halted by Zamzumar and looked round till his eye fell on Kim. The inspiration of his pilgrimage had left him for a while,

and he felt old, forlorn, and very empty. Do not sit under that gun, said the policeman loftily. Huh, owl, was Kim's retort on the llama's behalf. Sit under that gun if it please. please thee? When didst thou steal the milkwoman slippers, Danu? That was an utterly unfounded charge sprung on the spur of the moment, but it silenced Danu, who knew that Kim's clear yell could call up legions of bad bazaar boys, if need arose. And whom didst thou worship within, said Kim affably, squatting in the shade beside the llama. I worship none, child. I worshiped none,

I bowed before the excellent law. Kim accepted this new God without emotion. He already knew a few score. And what dost thou do? I beg. I remember now, it is long since I have eaten or drunk. What is the custom of charity in this town? In silence, as we do of Tibet, or speaking aloud?

"'Those who beg in silence, starve in silence,' said Kim, quoting a native proverb. "'The Lama tried to rise, but sank back again, sighing for his disciple, dead in faraway Kulu. Kim watched, head to one side, considering and interested. "'Give me the bowl. I know the people of this city. All who are charitable, 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." End of Part One of Chapter One.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by a Adrian Pretzellus. Chapter 1, Part 2 He trotted off to the open shop of a kundry,

a low cast of a vegetable-seller, which lay opposite the Belt tramway line, down at the Moti Bazaar. She knew Kim of old. "'Aho! Hast thou turned yogi with thy begging bowl?' she cried. "'Nay,' said Kim proudly, "'There is a new priest in the city, "'a man such as I have never seen.'

"'Old priest, young tiger,' said the woman angrily, "'I am tired of new priests. "'They settle on our wares like flies. "'Is the father of my son a well of charity "'to give to all who ask?' "'No,' said Kim. "'Thyman is rather Yagi, bad-tempered, "'than yogi, a holy man.'

"'But this priest is not. knew. The Saib in the Wonderhouse has talked to him like a brother. Oh, my mother, fill me this bowl. He waits. That bowl indeed, that cow-bellied basket, thou hast as much grace as the holy bull of Shiv. He has taken the best of a basket of onions already this morn, and forsooth, I must fill thy bowl. He comes here again. The huge, moose-colored bromini bull, of the ward was shouldering his way through the many-coloured crowd, a stolen plantain hanging out of his mouth. He headed straight for the shop, well-knowing his privileges as a sacred beast, lowered his head and puffed heavily along the line of baskets, air-making his choice. Up flew Kim's hard little heel,

and caught him on his moist blue nose. He snorted indignantly and walked away. He walked away. He walked away, across the tram rails, his hump quivering with rage. "'See, I have saved more than the bowl will cost thrice over. Now, mother, a little rice and some dried fish atop, yes, with some vegetable curry.' 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's good to give to the poor.' She took the bowl and returned it full of hot rice.

"'But my yogi is not a cow,' said Kim gravely, making a hole with his fingers in the top of the mound. "'A little curry is good, and a fried cake and a morsel of conserve would please him, I think.' "'It is a hole as big as thy head,' said the woman fretfully. But she filled it, nonetheless, with good steaming vegetable curry, clapped a fried cake atop, and a morsel of clarified butter on her. on the cake, dabbed a lump of sour tamarind conserve at the side, and Kim looked at the load lovingly. That is good. When I am in the bazaar, the bull shall not come to this house. He is a bold beggar-man. And thou, laughed the woman, but speak well of bulls, hast thou not told me that someday a red bull will come out of a field to help thee?

"'Now hold all straight and ask for the holy man's blessing upon me. 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 dogs and hungry acquaintances. "'Thus to we beg who know the way of it,' said he proudly to the llama, who opened his eyes at the contents of the bowl. Eat now, and I will eat with thee. Oh, hey, Beastie, he called to the water-carrier,

sluicing the crotten's by the museum. Give water here, we men are thirsty. We men, said the behestie, laughing. Is one skinful enough for such a pair? Drink then in the name of the compassionate. He loosed a thin stream into Kim's hands, who dreamt native fashion, but the llama must needs pull out a cup from his inexhaustible upper draperies and drink ceremonially.

Padessi, a foreigner, Kim explained as the old man delivered in an unknown tongue what was evidently a blessing. They ate together in great content, clearing the begging bowl. Then the llama took snuff from a portentous wooden snuff-gord, fingered his rosary a while, and so dropped into the easy sleep of age as the shadow of Zamzama grew long. Kim loafed over to the nearest tobacco cellar, a rather lively young Mohammedan woman, and begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sell to students of the Punjab University who copy English customs.

Then he smoked and thought, knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and the outcome of his thoughts was a sudden. and a stealthy departure in the direction of Nila Ram's timber-yard. The Lama did not wake till the evening life of the city had begun with lamp-lighting and the return of white-robed clerks and subordinates from the government offices. He stared dizzily in all directions, but none looked at him, save a Hindu urchin in a dirty turban and Isabella-coloured clothes. Suddenly he bowed his head on his knees and white.

What is this? said the boy, standing before him. Has thou been robbed? It is my new chela, disciple, that is gone away from me, and I do not know where he is. And what like of a man was thy disciple? It was a boy who came to me in place of him who died on account of him. of the merit which I had gained when I bow before the law within there. He pointed towards the museum. He came upon me to show me a road which I had lost. He led me into the Wonderhouse, and by his talk emboldened to speak to the keeper of the

images, so that I was cheered and made strong. but when I was faint with hunger he begged for 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 the law upon the road to Benares. Kim stood amazed at this, because he had overheard the talk in the museum, and knew that the old man was speaking the truth,

which is a thing a native on the road seldom presents to a stranger. But I see now that he was but sent for a purpose. But this I know that I 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 llama. To none have I spoken of my search. "'Save to the priest of the images. "'Who art thou?'

"'Thai Chela,' said Kim, simply, "'sitting on his heels. "'I have never seen any one like to thee "'in all this my life. "'I go with thee to Benares, "'and too I think that so older man as thou "'speaking the truth to chance-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 were speaking to the Englishman. "'I lay against the door.' The llama sighed. "'I thought thou hast been a guide permitted. "'Such things fall sometimes, but I am not worthy. "'Thou dost not then know the 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 acquaintance had a scheme, Kim was quite ready with one of his own, and boylike he had really thought for as much as twenty minutes at a time of his father's prophecy. "'To what, child?' said the llama. "'God knows, but so my father told me. I heard thy talk in the wonder-house Of all those new strange places in the hills

And if one so old and so little So used to truth-telling May go out for the small matter of a river It seemed to me that I too must go a-travelling If it is our fate to find those things We shall find them Thou thy river And I my bull and the strong pillars

and some other matters that I forget. It is not pillars but a wheel, from which I would be free, said the llama. 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 llama replied 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 of his 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 Sarai, said Kim, laughing at his perplexity.

I have a friend there. come. The hot and crowded bazaars blazed with light as they made their way through the press of all the races of Upper India, and the Lama mooned through it like a man in a dream. It was his first experience of a large manufacturing city, and the crowded tram car, with its continually squealing brakes, frightened him. Half pushed, half-toed, he arrived at the high gate of the Kashmir-sur-I, that huge, open square over against the railway station, surrounded with arched cloisters where the camel and the horse caravans put up on their return from Central Asia. Here were all manner of northern folk, tending tethered ponies and kneeling camels, loading and unloading bales and bundles, drawing water for the evening meal at the creaking well windlasses, piling grass before the shrieking wild-eyed stallions, cuffed. the surly caravan dogs, paying off camel drivers, taking on new grooms, swearing, shouting,

arguing and chafing in the packed square. The cloisters, reached by three or four masonry steps, made a haven of refuge around this turbulent sea. Most of them were rented to traders as we rent the arches of a viaduct. The space between pillar and pillar being bricked or boarded off into rooms which were guarded by heavy wooden doors and cumberous native padlocks. Locked doors showed that the owner was away, and a few rude, sometimes very rude, chalk or paint scratches told where he had gone. Thus, Lutafullah is gone to Kurdistan, below in coarse verse, O Allah, who sufferest lice to live on the coat of a Kabuli,

Why hast thou allowed this Laos Lutuf to live so long? Kim, fending the llama between excited men and excited beasts, sidled along the cloisters to the far end, nearest the railway station, where Mabub Ali, the horse-trader, lived when he came in from that mysterious land beyond the passes of the north. Kim had had many dealings with Mab in his little life, especially between his tenth and his thirteenth year, and the big burly Afghan, his beard dyed scarlet with lime, for he was elderly and did not wish his grey hairs to show, knew the boy's value as a gossip. Sometimes he would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with horses,

to follow him for one whole day, and report every soul with whom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of this tale at evening, and Mabub would listen without a word or gesture. It was intrigue of some kind Kim knew, but it's worth lay in saying nothing whatever to anyone except Mabub, who gave him beautiful meals all hot from the cook-shop at the head of the Sarai, and once as much as eight annas in money. "'Here he is,' said Kim, hitting a bad time. tempered camel on the nose. Oh, hey, Mabub Ali!

He halted at a dark arch and slipped behind the bewilded llama. The horse-trader, his deep, embroidered, Bukhariet belt unloosed, was lying on a pair of silk carpet saddlebags, pulling lazily at an immense silver hooker. He turned his head very slightly at the cry, and seeing only the tall, silent figure, chuckled in his deep, deep chest. A la, a llama, a red llama. It is far from Lahore to passes. What dost thou do here? The llama held out the begging bowl mechanically. God curse on all unbelievers, said Mabob. I do not give to a lousy Tibetan, but ask my

Balties over yonder behind the camels. They may value your blessings. Ho! Horse boys! Here's a countryman of yours. See if he be hungry. A shaven, crouching balty, who had come down with the horses, and who was nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, farned upon the priest, and in thick gutterls besought the holy one to sit at the horse-boy's fire. Go, said Kim, pushing him lightly, and the llama strode away, leaving Kim at the edge of the cloister.

Go, said Mabub Ali, returning to his hooker. "'Hindoo, run away, God's curse on all unbelievers. "'Beg from those of my tail who are of thy faith.' "'Maharaj,' whined Kim, using the Hindu form of address, "'and thoroughly enjoying the situation, "'my father is dead, my mother is dead, my stomach is empty.' "'Beg from my men among the horses, I say. "'There must be some Hindus in my tail.'

"'Oh, Mabub Ali, but am I a human? "'Hindu?' said Kim in English. The trader gave no sign of astonishment, but looked under shaggy eyebrows. "'Little friend of all the world,' he said, "'what is this?' "'Nothing. I am now that holy man's disciple, and we go a pilgrimage together to Benares,' he says. "'He's quite mad, and I am tired of Lahore City. I wish new air and water.' "'But for whom dost thou work?' "'Why come to me?' The voice was harsh with suspicion.

"'To whom else should I come? I have no money. It is not good to go about without money. Thou wilt sell many fine horses to the officers. They are very fine horses these new ones. I have seen them. Give me a rupee, Mabub Ali. When I come into my wealth, I will give the abundant pay.' "'Hm!' said Mabub Ali, thinking swiftly.

"'Thou hast never before lied to me. Call that llama. Stand back in the dark.' "'Ah, our tales will agree,' said Kim, laughing. "'We go to Benares,' said the llama, as soon as he understood the drift of Mabu Ali's questions. "'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain river.' "'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 have befallen the fortunate, to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember now 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. Musselman, Sikh, Hindu, Jane, low-caste 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 look you, without him, I shall not find my river. He wagged his head solemnly. "'None shall take him from thee. "'Go sit among my Balties,' said Mabub Ali, 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, hajee?' Mabub puffed his hooker in silence. Then he began almost whispering, "'Umbala is on the way to Benares.' "'If indeed ye two go there.' "'Tur! I tell you he does not know how to lie, as we two know.

And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as Umbala, I will give thee money. It concerns a horse, a white stallion which I have sold to an officer upon the last time I returned from the passes. But then stand nearer, and hold up thy hands as begging. The pedigree of the white stallion is not fully established, and that officer— Who is now at Umbala? Abadme made it clear. Mabub here described the house and the appearance of the officer. So the message to that officer will be, The pedigree of the white stallion is fully established.

By this he will know that thou comes from me. He will then say, What proof hast thou, and thou wilt answer, Mabub Ali has given me the proof. "'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 hard words as well.' A shadow passed between Kim and a feeding camel.

Mabub Ali raised his voice. "'Alaw! Art thou the only beggar in this city! Thy mother is dead, thy father is dead. So it is with all of them. Well, well, he turned, as feeling on the floor beside him, and tossed a flap of soft, greasy, musselman bread to the boy. Go and lie down among my horseboys for tonight. Thou and the llama, tomorrow I may give thee service.

Kim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and as he expected he found a small ward of folded tissue paper wrapped in oil-skin and three silver rupees, enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money and paper into his leather amulet case. The llama, sumptuously fed by Mabub's Baltis, was already asleep in the corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay down beside him and laughed. He knew he had rendered a service to Mabub Ali, and not for one minute did he believe the tale of the stallion's pedigree. But Kim did not suspect that Mabub Ali, known as one of the best horse dealers in the Punjab, a wealthy and enterprising trader,

whose caravans penetrated far and far into the back of beyond, was registered in one of the locked books of the Indian Survey Department as C251B. Twice or thrice yearly, C25 would send in a little story, badly told, but most interesting, and generally it was checked by the statements of R17 and M4, quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-way mountain principalities, explorers of nationalities other than English, and the gun trade, was, in brief, a small portion of the 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 leakage of news from their territories into British India, so those kings' prime ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps after the oriental fashion. They suspected, among others, the bullying, red-bearded horse dealer whose caravans ploughed through their fastnesses belly-deep in snow.

At least his caravan that season had been ambushed and shot at twice on the way down, when Mabub's men accounted for three strange ruffians, who might or might not, have been hired for the job. Therefore, Mabub had avoided halting at the insolubrious city of Peshwar, and had come through without stop to Lahore, where, knowing his country people, he anticipated curious developments. And there was that on Mabubu. Ali which he did not wish to keep an hour longer than was necessary. A ward of closely folded tissue paper wrapped in oil skin,

an impersonal, unaddressed statement with five microscopic pinholes in one corner that most scandalously betrayed the five confederated kings, the sympathetic northern power, a Hindu banker in Peshua, a firm of gunmakers in Belgium, and an important semi-independent Mohammedan ruler to the south. This last was R-17's work, which Mabub had picked up beyond the Dora Pass, and was carrying in for R-17,

who, owing to circumstances over which he had no control, could not leave his post of observation. Dynamite was milky and innocuous beside that report of C-25, and even an Oriental, with an oriental's views of the VIII, value of time, could see that the sooner it was in the proper hands, the better. Mabub had no particular desire to die by violence, because two or three family blood feuds across the border hung unfinished on his hands, and when these scores were cleared, he intended to settle down as a more or less virtuous citizen. He had never passed the

Sarai Gate since his arrival two days ago, but had been ostentatious in sending telegrams to Bombay, where he banked some of his money, to Delhi, where a sub-partner of his own clan was selling horses to the agent of a Rajputana state, and to Umbala, where an Englishman was excitingly demanding the pedigree of a white stallion. The public letter-writer, who knew English, composed excellent telegrams such as Crichton, Laurel Bank Umbala. Horse is Arabian, as already advised. Sorrowful delayed pedigree, which am translating, and later to the same address,

much sorrowful delay, will forward pedigree. To his sub-partner at Delhi, he wired, Lutov Allah, have wired two thousand rupees to your credit, Luckman Narenes Bank. This was entirely in the way of trade, but every one of those telegrams was discussed and rediscussed by parties who conceived themselves to be interested, before they went over to the railway station in charge of a foolish balty who allowed all sorts of people to read them on the road. When, in Mabub's own picturesque language, he had muddied the wells of inquiry with the sticker precaution,

Kim had dropped on him, sent from heaven. and being as prompt as he was unscrupulous, Mabub Ali, used to taking all sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on the spot. A wandering llama with a low-cast boy servant might attract a moment's interest if they wandered about India, the land of pilgrims, but no one would suspect them, or what was more to the point, Rob. He called for a new lightball to his hooker, and considered the case. If the worst came to the worst and the boy came to harm, the paper would incriminate nobody, and he would go up to Umbala leisurely, and, at a certain risk of exciting, fresh suspicion, repeat his tale by word of mouth to the people concerned. But R-17's report was the

kernel of the whole affair, and it would be distinctly inconvenient if that failed to come to hand. However, God was great, and Mabub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time being. 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 Mabub had not known that to others. For his own ends or Mabub's business, Kim could lie like an oriental. Then Mabub Ali rolled across the Sarai to the gate of the... the harpies who paint their eyes and trap the stranger, and was at some pains to call on the one girl, who, he had reason to believe, was a particular friend of a smooth-faced Kashmiri

pundit, who had waylaid his simple balty in the matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do, because they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the law of the prophet, and Mabub grew wonderfully drunk. and the gates of his mouth were loosened, and he pursued the flower of delight, with the feet of intoxication, till he felt flat among the cushions. Where the flower of delight, aided by a smooth-faced Kashmiri pundit, searched him from head to foot most thoroughly. About the same hour Kim heard soft feet in Mabub's deserted stall.

The horse-trader, curiously enough, had left his door unlocked, and his men were busy celebrating their return to India with a whole sheep of Mabob's bounty. A sleek young gentleman from Delhi, armed with a bunch of keys which the flower had unshackled from this senseless one's belt, went through every single box, bundle, mat and saddlebag in Mabub's possession, even more systematically than the flower and the pundit were searching the owner. "'And I think,' said the flower scornfully an hour later, one rounded elbow on the snoring carcass, "'that he is no more than a pig of an Afghan horse-dealer,

"'with no thought except women and horses. "'Moreover, he may have sent it away by now, "'if ever there were such a thing. "'Nay, in a matter touching five kings, "'it would be next his black heart,' said the pundit. "'Was there nothing?' The deli man laughed and resettled his turban as he entered. I searched between the souls of his slippers as the flower searched his clothes.

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 councils are troubled. That north country is full of horse-dealers as an old coat of lice. "'There is Shikanda Khan, Nur Ali Baig, Farukshal, "'all, all heads of kaffilas, caravans, who deal there,' said the flower.

"'They have not yet come in,' said the pundit. "'Thou must ensnare them later.' "'Phew!' said the flower, in deep disgust, rolling Mabub's head from her lap. "'I earn my money. "'Faruk Shah is a bear. "'Alibeg a swashbuck. An old Sikanda Khan, yay! Go, I sleep now, this swine will not stir till dawn.

When Mabug woke, the flower talked to him severely on the sin of drunkenness. Asiatics do not wink when they out-maneuvered an enemy, but as Mabub Ali cleared his throat, tightening his belt, and staggered forth under the early morning stars, he came very near to it. "'What a colt's trick!' he said to himself, "'As if every girl in Peshwar did not use it, but was prettily done. Now, God, he knows how many more there may be upon the road

"'you have orders to test me, perhaps with the knife. "'So it stands that the boy must go to Umbala, and by rail, "'for the writing is something urgent. "'I abide here following the flower and drinking wine as an Afghan coper should. He halted at the stool next but one to his own. His men lay there heavy with sleep. There was no sign of Kim or the llama. Up, he stirred a sleeper. Whither went those who lay here last even. The llama and the boy, is aught missing? Nay, grunted the man. The old madman rose at second cock-crow, saying he would go to Benares, and the young, and the young,

one led him away. The curse of Allah and all unbelievers, said Mabub heartily, and climbed into his own stall, growling in his beard. But it was Kim who wakened the llama. Kim, with one eye, laid against the knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the deli-man search through the boxes. This was no common thief that turned over letters, bills and saddles. No mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways into the soles of Mabub's slippers, or picked the seams of the saddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had been minded to give the alarm, the long-drawn, chou-aw! Thief, thief, that sets the sirire a blaze of knights. But he looked more carefully, and, hand-on-amulet, drew his own conclusions. It must be the pedigree of that made-up

horse lie, he said, the thing that I carry to Umbala. Better that we go now. Those who search bags with knives may presently search bellies with knives. Surely there is a woman behind this. High, hi, hi, in a whisper to the light-sleeping old man. Come, it is time, time to go to Benares. The llama rose obediently, and they passed out of the sarai, like shadows.

End of Chapter 1 Kim by Rudyard Kipling This is a Librevox recording All Libravox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit Libravox.org Kim by Rudyard Kipling

Read by Adrian Pretzellis Chapter 2 And whoso will from Pride released contemming 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 electric sizzling over the goods yards where they handled the heavy northern grain traffic. This is the work of devils, said the lama, recoiling from the shepherding from the

shadow, echoing darkness, the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms and the maze of girders above. He stood in a gigantic stone hall, paved, it seemed, with the sheeted dead, third-classed passengers, who had taken their tickets overnight and were sleeping in the waiting rooms. All hours of the twenty-four are alike to Orientals, and their passenger traffic is regulated accordingly. This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind that hole, Kim pointed to the ticket office, who will give thee a paper to take thee to Umbala.

But we go to Benares, he replied petulantly. All one, Benares then. Quick, she comes. Take thou the purse. The llama not so well used to trains as he had pretended. started as the 3.25 a.m. southbound roared in. The sleepers sprang to life, and the station filled with clamour and shoutings, cries of water, and sweetmeat vendors, shouts of native policemen,

and shrill yells of women gathering up their baskets, their families, and their husbands. "'It is the train, only de terrain. It will not come here. Wait!' amazed at the llama's immense simplicity he had handed him a small bag full of rupees kim asked and paid for a ticket to ombala the sleepy clerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station just six miles distance 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 now give the ticket to a Ambala. The Babu scowled and dealt the proper ticket. "'Now another to Amritsa,' said Kim, who had no notion of spending Mabub Ali's money on anything so crude as a paid ride to Ambala. The price is so much, the small money on return is just so much.

I know the ways of the terrain. Never did Yogi need Chela as thou dost,' he went on merrily to the bewildered Lama. They would have flung the out at Myanmar, but for me, this way, come! He returned the money, keeping only one anna in each rupee of the price of the Ambala ticket as his commission, the immemorial commission of Asia. The llama jibed at the open door of a crowded third-class carriage. "'Were not better to walk?' he said weakly. A burly Sikh artisan thrust forth his bearded head. Is he afraid? Do not be afraid.

I remember the time when I was afraid of the terrain. 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-do cultivator, a Hindu jut from the rich Jalandur district. Our night trains are not as well looked after as the day ones,

where the sexes are very strictly kept to separate carriages. Oh, mother of my son, we can make space, said the blue-turbined husband. Pick up the child, it is a holy man, cease thou. And my lap full of seventy times seven bundles, why not bid him sit on my knee, shameless, But men are ever thus. She looked round for approval. An Amritsar,

a courtesan near the window, sniffed, behind her headdrapery. Enter, enter! cried a fat Hindu moneylender. His folded account book in a cloth under his arm, with an oily smirk. It is well to be kind to the poor. I, at seven per cent a month with a mortgage on the unborn calf,

said a young Dogra soldier, going south on league, And they all laughed. "'Will it travel to Banares?' said the llama. "'Assuredly, else, why should we come? Enter or we are left,' cried Kim. "'See!' shrilled the Amritsa girl. "'He has never entered a train. Oh, see!' "'Nay, help,' said the cultivator,

putting out a large brown hand and hauling him in. "'Thus is it done, father.' "'But—but I sit on the floor. "'It is against the rule to sit on a bench,' said the Lama. "'Moreover, it cramps me.' "'I say,' began the money-lender, pursing his lips, "'that there is not one rule of right living, "'with which these terrains do not cause us to break.

"'We sit, for example, side by side with all castes and peoples. "'Yeay, and with the most—' "'Outrangeously shameless ones,' said the wife, scowling at the Amritsar girl, making eyes at the young sepoi. "'I said we might have gone by cart along the road,' said the husband, and thus saved some money. "'Yes, and spent twice over what we saved on food, by the way. That was talked out ten thousand times.'

"'Aye, by ten thousand tongues,' grunted he, "'the gods help us poor women, if we may not speak. No, no, he is of that sort 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 his disciple is like him? Nay, mother, said Kim most promptly, not when the woman is well-looking, and, above all, charitable to the hungry. O beggar's answer, said the Sikh, laughing, thou hast brought it upon thyself, sister.

Kim's hands were crooked in supplication. And with a ghost thou, said the woman, handing him the half of a cake from a greasy package. Even to Benares. Jugglers be like, the young soldier suggested, have ye any tricks to pass the time? And why does not that yellow man answer? Because, said Kim stoutly, he is holy and thinks upon matters hidden from the— that may be well we of the luteana Sikhs he rolled it out sonorously do not trouble our heads with doctrine we fight my sister's brother's son is a naik corporal in that regiment said the Sikh craftsman quietly there are also some dogra companies there the soldier glared for a dogra is of another caste than a Sikh and the banker tittered

"'They are all one to me,' said the Amritsa girl. "'That we believe,' snorted the cultivator's wife, malignantly. "'Nay, but all who serve the Seer-car with weapons in their hands are, as it were, one brotherhood. There is one brotherhood of the caste, but beyond that again—' She looked round timidly. The bonds of the Pulton, the regiment, eh?' "'My brother is in a Jat regiment,' said the cultivator. "'Dogras be good men. "'Thy Sikhs at least were of that opinion,' said the soldier with a scowl at the placid old man in the corner.

"'Thy Sikhs thought so when our two companies came to aid them at the Pyrrasei Kotol, "'in the face of eight Afridi standards on the ridge, not three months gone. "'He told the story of a border action in which the dogra companies of the Lutiana Sikhs "'had acquitted themselves well.' The Amritsa girl smiled, for she knew. the tale was to win her approval. "'Alas!' said the cultivator's wife at the end. So their villages were burned, and their little children were made homeless.

They had marked our dead. They paid a great payment after we of the Sikhs had schooled them. So it was. Is this Amritsa? Aye, and here they cut our tickets," said the banker, fumbling at his belt. The lamps were paling in the dawn when the half-cast guard came. round. Ticket collecting is a slow business in the East, where people secrete their tickets in all sorts

of curious places. Kim produced his, and was told to get out. But I go to Ambala, he protested. I go with this holy man. Thou canst go to Jahanam for all I care. This ticket is only to Amritra. Out. Kim burst into a flood of tears, protesting that the Lama was his father and his father.

his mother, and that he was the prop of the llama's declining years, and that the llama would die without his care. All the carriage bade the guard be merciful. The banker was especially eloquent here, but the guard hauled Kim onto the platform. The llama blinked. He could not overtake the situation, and Kim lifted up his voice and wept outside the carriage window. "'I am very poor. My father is dead. My mother. My mother. mother is dead. Oh, charitable ones, if I am left here, who shall tend that old man?' "'What? What is this?' the llama repeated. "'He must go to Benares. He must come with me. He is my chela. If there is money to be paid.'

"'Oh, be silent,' whispered Kim. "'Are we Rogers the throwaway good silver when the world is so charitable? The Amritsar girl stepped out with her bundles, and it was on her that Kim kept his watchful eye. Ladies of that persuasion he knew were generous. "'A ticket! A little ticket! To Umbala, O Breaker of Hearts!' she laughed. "'Has thou no charity? Does the Holy Man come from the north? From far and far in the north he comes,' cried Kim. "'From among the hills! There is snow among the pine, trees in the north. In the hills there is snow. My mother was from Kulu. Get thee a ticket. Ask him for a blessing. Ten thousand blessings, shrilled Kim. Oh, holy one, a woman has given us in charity so that I can

come with thee, a woman with a golden heart. I run for the ticket. The girl looked up at the llama who had mechanically followed Kim to the platform. He bowed his head that he might not see her, and muttered in Tibetan as she passed on with the crowd. "'Lide come, light go,' said the cultivator's wife viciously. "'She has a quiet merit,' returned the Lama. "'Beyond doubt it was a nun. "'There be ten thousand such nuns in Amrits alone. "'Riturn, old man, or the terrain may depart without thee,' cried the banker.

"'Not only was it sufficient for the ticket, but for a little food also,' said Kim, leaping to his place, "'Now eat, holy one. "'Look, day comes!' "'Golden, rose, saffron, and pink. "'The morning mist smoked away "'across the flat green levels. "'All the rich Punjab lay out in the splendour of the keen sun.

"'The llama flinched a little "'as the telegraph posts swung by. "'Great is the speed of the terrain!' "'said the banker with a patronising grin. We have gone farther since Lo-hor than thou couldst walk in two days. At even we shall enter Umbala. And that is still far from Benares, said the Lama wearily, mumbling over the cakes that Kim offered. They all unloosed their bundles and made their morning meal.

Then the banker, the cultivator and the soldier prepared their pipes and wrapped the compartment in choking, acrid smoke. spitting and coughing and enjoying themselves. The Sikh and the cultivator's wife chewed pan. The llama took snuff and told his beads, while Kim, cross-legged, smiled over the comfort of a full stomach. "'What rivers have ye by Benares!' said the llama of a sudden to the carriage at large. "'We have Gunja,' returned the banker, when the little titter had subsided.

"'What others?' "'What other than Ganja?' "'Nay, but in my mind was the thought "'of a certain river of healing.' "'That is Ganja, who bathes in her his mate clean, "'and goes to the gods, "'thrice of I made pilgrimage to Ganja,' "'he looked round proudly.

"'There was need,' said the young seapoy, dryly, "'and the traveller's laugh turned against the banker. clean to return again to the gods, the llama muttered, and to go forth on the round of lives anew, still tied to the wheel. He shook his head testily, but maybe there is a mistake. Who then made Ganja 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 that made Ganja. What like of gods were there? The carriage looked at him in amazement. It was inconceivable that anyone should be ignorant of Ganja. What? What is thy god? said the money-lender at last.

Here, said the llama, shifting the rosary to his hand. here for I speak of him. Now the people of Hind, listen. He began in Urdu, the tale of the Lord Buddha, but born by his own thoughts slid into Tibetan and long-droned text from a Chinese book of 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 continue to the end. "'Ahm,' said the soldier of the Lujana Sikhs. "'There was a Mohammedan regiment lay next to ours at Pyrsicotal,

and a priest of theirs he was, as I remember, a naik. When the fit was on him spake prophecies. But the mad are all in God's keeping, his officers overlooked much in that man. The llama fell back on Urdu, remembering that he was in a strange land. "'Here the tale of the arrow which our Lord Lust from the bow,' he said. This was much more to their taste, and they listened curiously while he told it. now o people of hind i go to seek the river know ye ought that may guide me for we be all men and women in evil case "'There is Ganja, and Ganja alone, who washes away sin,' ran the murmur round the carriage.

"'Though past question we have good gods, Jalandu away,' said the cultivator's wife, looking out of the window. "'See how they have blessed the crops.' "'To search every river in the Punjab is no small matter,' said her husband. "'For me, a stream that leaves good silt on my land suffices, "'And I thank Bohumya, the god of the homestead.' He shrugged one knotted, bronzed shoulder. "'Think you are, Lord, came so far north,' said the llama, turning to Kim.

"'It may be,' Kim replied soothingly as he spat red pan-juice on the floor. "'The last of the great ones,' said the Sikh with authority, "'was Sikandah Gil Khan,' Alexander the Great. He paved the streets of Jilandur and built a great tank near Umbala. That pavement holds to this day, and the tank is there also. I have never heard of thy God. Let thy hair grow long and talk, Punjabi, said the young soldier, jestingly to Kim, quoting a northern proverb,

That is all that makes a Sikh. But he did not say this very loud. Lama sighed and shrank into himself a dingy, shapeless mass. In the pauses of their talk, they could hear the low droning, Omane Pudmaham, Omane Pudmeham, and the thick click of the wooden rosary beads. It irks me, he said at last. The speed and the clatter, irk me. Moreover, my chela, I think that maybe we have overpast that river.

Peace, peace, said Kim. Was not the river near Banares? We are yet far from the place. But if our Lord came north, it may be any one of these little ones that we have run across. I do not know. But thou was sent to me. Was thou sent to me?

For the merit I had acquired over yonder at such such as. Zen. From beside the cannon didst thou come, 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. A boy, a Hindu boy, by the great green canon. But was there not also an Englishman with a white beard, wholly among images, who himself made more sure my assurance of the river of the arrow. He, we went to Ajib Gia in Lahore to pray before the gods there, Kim explained to the openly listening company,

and the Saib of the Wonderhouse talked to him, yes, this is truth as a brother. He is a very holy man from far beyond the hills, rest thou. In time we come to Umbala. my river, the river of my healing. And then, if it please thee, we will go hunting for that river on foot, so that we will miss nothing, not even a little rivulet in a field-side. But thou hast a search of thy own, the llama, very pleased that he remembered so well, sat bolt upright.

Aye, said Kim, humouring him, the boy was entirely happy to be out chewing 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 carry thee wither. I have forgotten. A red bull on a green field, was it not? Nay, it will carry me nowhere, said Kim. It is but a tale, I told thee. is this? The cultivator's wife leaned forward, her bracelets clinking on her arm. Do you both dream, dreams? A red bull on a green field 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, behind Jolendur City, and he grazes by

choice in the very greenest of our fields. Give a woman an old wife's tail and a weaver bird a leaf and a thread, they will weave wonderful things, said the Sikh. All holy men dream dreams, and by following holy men their disciples attain that power. A red bull on a green field, was it? The llama repeated. In a former life, it may be thou hast a quiet merit, and the bull will come to reward thee. "'Nay, nay, it was but a tale one told to me, for a jest, be like,

"'but I will seek the bull about Umbala, "'and thou canst look for thy river and rest from the clatter of the train.' "'It may be that the bull knows that he is sent to guide us both,' said the llama, hopefully as a child. "'Then to the company indicating Kim, "'this one was sent to me, but yesterday. He is not, I think, of this world. Beggars a plenty have I met and holy men to boot, but never such a yogi, nor such a disciple,' said the woman. Her husband touched his forehead

lightly with one finger and smiled. But the next time the llama would eat, they took care to give him of their best. And at last, tired, sleepy and dusty, they reached Umbala city station. We abide here upon a lawsuit, said the cultivator's wife to Kim. We lodge with my man's cousin's younger brother. There is room also in the courtyard for thy yogi and for thee. Will he give me a blessing? Oh, holy man, a woman with a heart of gold gives us lodging for the night. It is a kindly land, this land of the south. See how we have been helped since the dawn. The llama bowed his head in benediction. "'To fill my cousin's younger brother's house with wastrelost, the husband began as he shoulded his heavy bamboo staff. "'Thy cousin's younger brother owes my father's cousin something yet

"'on his daughter's marriage feast,' said the woman crisply. "'Let him put their food to that account. "'The yogi will beg, I doubt not.' "'I, I beg for him,' said Kim, anxious only to get the llama, under shelter for the night, that he might seek Mabub Ali's Englishman and deliver himself of the white stallion's pedigree. "'Now,' said he, when the Lama, had come to anchor at the inner courtyard of a decent Hindu house behind the cantonments, I go away for a while to—to bias victual in the bazaar. Do not stray abroad till I return.

"'Thou wilt return? "'Thou wilt surely return.' The old man caught at his wrist. "'And thou wilt return in this very same shape? It is too late to look to night for the river.' "'Too late and too dark. Be comforted. Think how far thou out on the road, and hundred miles from Lahore already.' "'Yea, and farther from my monastery.

Alas, it is a great and terrible world. Kim stole out and away. As unremarkable a figure as ever carried his own, and a few score thousand other folks' fate slung round his neck. Mabub Ali's directions left him little doubt of the house in which his Englishman lived, and a groom bringing a dog-cart home from the club made him quite sure. It remained only to identify his man, and Kim slipped through the garden hedge and hid in a clump of plumed grass close to the veranda. The house blazed with lights, and servants moved about tables dressed with flowers, glass, and silver. Presently forth came an Englishman, dressed in black and white, humming a tune. It was too dark to see his face, so Kim, beggar-wise, tried an old experiment.

"'Protector of the poor!' the man backed to watch. the voice. Mabub Ali says. Ha, what says Mabub Ali? He made no attempt to look for the speaker, and that showed Kim that he knew. The predigree of the white stallion is fully established. What proof is there? The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in the side of the drive. Mabub-Ali has given me this proof. Kim flipped the ward of folded paper into the air, and it fell on the path beside the man who put his foot on it as a gardener came round the corner. When the servant passed, he picked it up, dropped a rupee, Kim could hear the clink, and strode back into the house, never turning around. Swiftly Kim took up the money.

But for all his training, he was Irish enough by birth to reckon silver the least part of any game. What he desired was the visible effect of action. so instead of slinking away he lay close in the grass and wormed nearer to the house. He saw Indian bungalows are open through and through. The Englishman returned to a small dressing-room in a corner of the veranda that was half-office, littered with papers and dispatch boxes, and sit down to study Mabub Ali's message. His face, by the full ray of the kerosene lamp, changed and darkened, and Kim, used as every beggar must be to watching countenances, took good note.

"'Will, will, dear,' called the woman's voice. "'You ought to be in the drawing-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 hear the troopers in the drive.' The man dashed out bareheaded, as a big Landau with four native troopers behind it, halted at the veranda, and a tall black-haired man erect as an arrow swung out, preceded by a young officer who laughed pleasantly.

Flat on his belly lay Kim, almost touching the high wheels. His man and the black stranger exchanged two sentences. "'Certainly, sir,' said the young officer promptly. "'Everything waits while a horse is concerned. We shan't be more than twenty minutes,' said Kim's man. You can do the honours, keep him amused and all that. Tell one of the troopers to wait, said the tall man, and they passed into the dressing-room together as the Landau rolled away. Kim saw their heads bent over Mabub Ali's message and heard the voices, one low and deferential, the other sharp and decisive.

It isn't a question of weeks, it's a question of days, hours almost, said the elder. I had been expecting it for some time, but this, he tapped Mabub Ali's paper, clenches it. Grogan's dying here tonight, isn't he? Yes, sir, and Maclin too. Very good. I'll speak to them myself. The matter will be referred to the Council, of course, but this is a case where one is justified in assuming that we take action at once.

Warm the Pindi and Peshwar brigades. It will disorganise all the summer reliefs, but we can't have. help that. This comes of not smashing them thoroughly the first time. Eight thousand should be enough. What about artillery, sir? I must consult Maclin. Then it means war. No, punishment. When a man is bound by the action of his predecessor, but C-25 may have lied. He bears out the others' information. Practically they showed their hands six months back, but Devonish would have it there was a chance of peace. Of course they used it to make themselves stronger. Send off those telegrams at once. The new code, not the old one,

mine and Whartons. I don't think we need keep the ladies waiting any longer. We can settle the rest over cigars. I thought it was coming. It's punishment, not war. As the trooper cantered off, Kim crawled round to the back of the house where, going on his Lahore experiences, he judged there would be food and information. The kitchen was crowded with excited scullions, one of whom kicked him. Aye, said Kim, feigning tears. I came only to wash dishes, in return for a belly full. All on barles on the same errand. Get hence, they all go in now with the soup.

think you that we who serve Crichton Saib need strange Scalions to help us through a big dinner. It is a very big dinner, said Kim, looking at the plates. Small Wanda, the guest of honour, is none other than the Jangilat Saib, the commander-in-chief. Oh, said Kim, with the correct guttural note of Wanda. He had learned what he wanted, and when the scalyan turned, he was gone. And all that trouble, said he to himself, thinking as usual in Hindustani, for a horse's pedigree. Mabub Ali should have come to me to learn a little lying. Every time before that I have borne a message, it concerned a woman.

Now it is men, better. The tall man said that they will lose a great army to punish someone somewhere. The news goes to Pindi and Peshwar. There are also guns, would I had crept nearer. It is big news. He returned to find the cultivator's cousin's younger brother, discussing the family lawsuit in all its bearings with the cultivator and his wife, and a few friends, while the llama dozed.

After the evening meal, someone passed him a water pipe, and Kim felt very much of a man as he pulled the smooth coconut shell. His legs spread abroad in the moonlight. his tongue clicking in remarks from time to time. His hosts were most polite, for the cultivator's wife had told them of his vision of 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 Sarsuit Brahmin, dropped in later and naturally started a theological argument to impress the family.

By creed, of course, they were all on their priest's side, but the llama was the guest and the novelty. His gentle kindliness and his impressive Chinese quotations that sounded like spells delighted them hugely, and in this sympathetic, simple air, he expanded like the Bodhisat's own lotus, speaking of his life in the great hills of Such-Sen, before, as he said, I rose up to seek enlightenment. Then it came out that in those worldly days he had been a master hand at casting horoscopes and nativities, and the family priest led him on to describe his methods,

each giving the planet's names that the others could not understand and pointing upwards as the big stars sailed across the dark. The children of the house tugged, unrebuked at his rosary, and he clean forgot the rule, forbids looking at women, as he talked of enduring snows, land slips, blocked passes, the remote cliffs where men find sapphires and turquoise, and that wonderful upland road that leads at last into great China itself. "'How thinkest thou of this one?' said the cultivator aside to the priest.

"'Ah, holy man, a holy man indeed. His gods are not our gods, but his feet are upon the way,' was the answer, and his methods of nativities, though that is beyond thee, are wise and sure. "'Tell me,' said Kim lazily, "'whether I find my red bull on a green field, as was promised me. "'What knowledge hast thou of thy birth-hour?' The priest asked, swelling with importance, "'between first and second cock-crow of the first night in May. "'Of what year? I do not know.

"'But upon the hour that I cried first fell the great, earthquake in Seringa Gar, which is Kashmir. This Kim had from the woman who took care of him, and she again from Kimball O'Hara. The earthquake had been felt in India, and for long stood as the leading date in the Punjab. "'Aye!' said a woman excitedly. This seemed to make Kim's supernatural origin more certain. Was not such an one's daughter born then? And her mother bore her husband and four sons in four years, all likely boys, cried the cultivator's wife, sitting outside the circle in the shadow. None reared in the knowledge, said the family priest. Forget how the planets stood in their houses upon that night. He began to draw in the dust of the cool-chard.

At least thou hast good claim to half of the house of the bull. How runs thy prophecy? Upon a day, said Kim, delighted at the sensation he was creating, shall be made great by the means of a red ball on a green field, but first there will enter two men, making all things ready. Yes, thus ever at the opening of a vision, a thick darkness that clears slowly, anon one enters with a broom, making ready the place. Then begins the slight, two men thou sayest, ay, the sun, leaving the house of the bull, enters that of the twins, hence the two men of the prophecy. Now, let us consider.

Fetch me a twig, little one. He knitted his brows, scratched, smoothed out and scratched again in the dust, mysterious signs, to the wonder of all save the llama, 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 make all things ready. "'After them follows the bull. "'But the sign over against him is the sign of war and armed men. "'There was indeed a man of the Ladiana Sikhs in the carriage from Lahore,' "'said the cultivator's wife, hopefully. "'Tah! Armed men! Many hundreds! "'What concern hast thou with war?' said the priest to Kim.

"'Thine is a red, an angry sign of war, to be loosed very soon. "'None, none.' "'None,' said the llama earnestly. "'We seek only peace and our river.' 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, I cannot see.

In three days come the bull to thee, boy. "'And my river, my river!' pleaded the llama. I had hoped his bull would lead us both to the river. Alas for that wondrous river, my brother, the priest replied, Such things are not common. Next morning, though they were pressed to stay, the llama insisted on departure. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three annas in copper money for the needs of the road,

and, with many blessings, watched the two go southward in the dawn. Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from the wheel of things, said the llama. Nay, then would only evil people be left on earth, and who would give us meat and shelter? Quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his burden. Yonder is a small, strong, "'Dream! Let us look,' said the llama, and he led from the white road across the field, walking into a very hornet's nest of pariah dogs.

End of Chapter 2. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Roger Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis. Chapter 3 Yay, voice of every soul that clung to life that strove from rung to rung, when dividata's rule was young, the warm wind brings to Kamakura.

Buddha at Kamakura. Behind them, an angry farmer brandished a bamboo pole. He was a market garlander. aran by caste, growing vegetables and flowers for Umbala City, and well Kim knew the breed. Such an one, said the Lama, disregarding the dogs, is impolite to strangers in temperate of speech and uncharitable. Be warned by his demeanour my disciple. Oh, shameless beggar. "'Yes!' shouted the farmer.

"'Be gone! Get hence!' "'We go!' the llama returned, with quiet dignity. "'We go from these unblessed fields.' "'Ah!' said Kim, sucking in his breath, "'if the next crops fail, thou canst only blame thy own tongue.' The man shuffled uneasily in his slippers. "'The land is full of it. of beggars," 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 you hail from not to know a canal cut? It runs, as straight as an arrow, and I pay for the water as though it were molten silver. There is a branch of a river beyond, but if ye need water, I can give that, and milk." "'Nay, we will go to the river,' said the llama striding out.

"'Milk and a meal,' the man stammered as he looked at the strange tall figure. I would not draw evil upon myself on my crops, but beggars are so many in these hard days. Take notice, the Lama turned to him. He was led to speak harshly by the red mist of anger. That, clearing from his eyes, he becomes courteous and of an affable heart. May his fields be blessed.

Beware not to judge men too hastily, O farmer. I have met holy ones who would have cursed thee from hearthstone to Bayer," said Kim to the abashed man. Is he not wise and holy? I am his disciple. He cocked his nose in the air loftily, and stepped across the narrow field-borders with great dignity. There is no pride," said the Lama, after a pause. There is no pride among such as follow the middle way. But thou hast said he was low-cast and discourteous.

Low-cast, I did not say, for how can that be which is not? Afterwards he amended his discourtesy. I forgot the offence. Moreover, he is as we are bound upon the wheel of things, and he does not tread the way of deliverance. He halted as a little runlet among the fields, and considered the hoof-pitted bank. Now, how will I know thy river? said Kim, squatting in the shade of some tall sugar-cane. When I find it, an enlightenment will surely be given. This, I feel, is not the place. Oh, littlest among the waters,

if only thou couldst tell me where runs my river, and be thou blessed to make the fields bear. Look, look, Kim sprang to his side and dragged him back. A yellow and brown streak glided from the purple rustling stems to the bank, stretched its neck to the water, drank, and lay still. A big cobra, with fixed lidless eyes. I have no stick, I have no stick, said Kim.

I will get me one and break his back. Why, he is upon the wheel as we are, a life ascending or descending, very far from deliverance. Great evil must the soul have done that is cast into this shape. I hate all snakes, said Kim. No native training can quench the white man's horror of the serpent. Let him live out his life. The coiled thing hissed and half opened its hood.

May thy release come soon, brother! the Lama continued placidly. 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. It flattened itself amongst 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 llama backed his order by some droned Chinese quotation, which Kim took for a charm. He obeyed and bounded across 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 with a go-we. "'That is for thee to say, I am old and a stranger, far from my own place. But that the real carriage fills my head with noises of devil-drums, I would go in it to Banaras now, Yet by so going we may miss the river! Let us find another river! Where the hard-worked soil gives three and even four crops a year, Through patches of sugar-cane, tobacco, long white radishes, and knoll-cole, All that day they strolled on, turning aside to every glimpse of water,

rousing village dogs and sleeping villages at noonday. The llama replying to the vollied questions with an unswerving simplicity. They sought a river, a river of miraculous healing. Had anyone knowledge of such a stream? Sometimes men laughed, but more often heard the story out to the end and 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 the world 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 from the grazing grounds, and the women prepared the day's last meal. They had passed beyond the belt to market gardens round hungry umbala, and were among the mile-wide green of the staple crops. He was a white-bearded and affable elder, used to entertaining strangers. He dragged out a string bedstead for the llama, set warm-cooked food before him, prepared him a pipe, and the evening ceremonies being finished in the village temple, sent for the village priest. Kim told the older children tales of the size and beauty of

of Lahore, of railway travel, and such-like city things, while the men torped slowly as their cattle chewed the cud. "'I cannot fathom it,' said the headman at last to the priest. "'How readest thou this talk?' The llama, his tale told, was silently telling his 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?

Aye, but that man had right and reasoned, for Krishna himself appeared in a vision, promising him paradise without the burning pyre if he journeyed to Prajag. This man seeks no God who is within my knowledge. Peace! he is old. He comes from far off, and he is mad, the smooth-shaven priest replied. "'Hear me,' he returned to the llama. "'Three coasts, six miles, to the westward, runs the great road to Calcutta. "'But I would go to Banaris, to Benares. "'And to Benares also. "'It crosses all streams on this side of the Hind.

"'Now, my word to the Holy One, is rest here till tomorrow. "'Then take the road. was the grand trunk road, he meant, and test each stream that overpasses it, for as I understand, the virtue of thy river lies neither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then if thy gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom. That is well said, the llama was much impressed by the plan. we will begin to morrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a near road." A deep Sing-song Chinese half-chant closed at the sentence.

Even the priest was impressed, and the headman feared an evil spell, but none could look at the llama's simple, eager face and doubt him long. "'Seest thou my chela?' he said. Diving into his snuff-gord, with an important sniff. It was his duty to repay courtesy with courtesy. "'I see and here!' The headman rolled his eye where Kim was chatting to 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, "'Ye, a red bull on a green field will some day raise him to honour. He is, I think, not altogether of this world. He was sent of a sudden to aid me in this search. His name is friend of all the world.' The priest smiled. "'Oh, there, friend of all the world!' he cried across the sharp smelling smoke.

What out thou? This Holy One's disciple, said Kim. He says thou art a Butte, a spirit. Can Butts eat? said Kim with a twinkle, for I am hungry. It is no jest, cried the Lama, a certain astrologer of that city whose name I have forgotten. That is no more than the city of Umbala, where we slept in. last night, Kim whispered to the priest. Aye, whom bala was it? He cast a horoscope and declared that my chelah should find his desire within two days. But what said he of the meaning 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 the brickwork plinth under the great tree. Where a native would have laid down, Kim's white blood set him on his feet. "'I, war,' he answered. "'That is a sure prophecy,' rumbled a deep voice. "'For there is always war along the border, as I know.'

It was an old, withered man who had served the government in the days of the mutiny, as a native officer, in a newly raised cavalry regiment. The government had given him a good holding in the village, and though the demands of his sons, now grey-bidded officers on their own account, had impoverished him, he was still a person of consequence. English officials, deputy commissioners even, turned aside from the main road to visit him, and on those occasions he dressed himself in the uniform of ancient days and stood up like a ramrod. But this shall be a great war, a war of eight thousand. Kim's voice shrilled across the quick-gathering crowd, astonishing himself. "'Redcoats or our own regiment,' the old man snapped, as though he were asking an equal.

His tone made men respect Kim. "'Redcoats!' said Kim at a venture. "'Redcoats and guns.' "'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 red-coats,

From Pindy and Peshwar they will be drawn. This is sure. The boy has heard bizarre talk, said the priest. But he was always by my side, said the llama. How should he know? I did not know. He will make a clever juggler where the old man is dead, muttered the priest to the headman. What new trick is this? A sign, give me a sign," thundered the old soldier, suddenly. If there were war my sons would have told me.

When all is ready thy sons doubt not will be told. But it is a long 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 the letter-carrying line when, for the sake of a few pice, he pretended, to know more than he knew. But now he was playing for larger things, the sheer excitement and the sense of power. He drew a new breath and went on.

Old man, give me a sign. Do underlings order the goings of eight thousand redcoats and 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 Topkana, the artillery. A tall man, a tall man with black hair walking thus? Kim took a few paces in a stiff wooden style. Aye, but that anyone may have seen. The crowd were breathless still through all this talk.

"'That is true,' said Kim, "'but I will say more. "'Look now, first the great man walks thus, "'then he thinks thus.' "' Kim drew a forefinger over his forehead "'and downwards till it came to rest "'by the angle of the jaw. "'Anon he twitches his fingers thus.

"'Anon he thrusts his hat under his left armpit. "' Kim illustrated the motion "'and stood like a stone. The old man groaned, inarticulate with amazement, and the crowd shivered. 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 finger on the table, and he makes a small sniffing noise through his nose, and he speaks saying, "'Lose such and such a regiment. Call out such guns.'

The old man rose stiffly and saluted. "'For,' Kim translated into the vernacular, the clinching sentences he had heard in the dressing-room at Ambala. "'Four,' says he, "'we should have done this long ago. It is not war. It is a chastisement.' "'Enough, I believe. I have seen him. thus in the smoke of battle.

Seen and heard, it is he. I saw no smoke, Kim's voice shifted to the rapt sing-song of the wayside fortune-teller. I saw this in darkness. First came a man to make things clear, then came horseman, then came he, standing in a ring of light. The rest followed, as I have said,

old man, have I spoken truth? It is he. Past doubt it is he. The crowd drew a long, quavering breath, staring alternately at the old man, still at attention, and ragged Kim against the purple twilight. Said I not, said I not he was from the other world, cried the llama proudly.

He is the friend of all the world. he is the friend of the stars. At least it does not concern us, a man cried. O thou young soothsayer, if the gift abides with thee at all seasons, I have a red-spotted cow. She may be the sister to thy bull for all I know. Or I care, said Kim, my stars do not concern themselves with thy cattle.

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 will 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 Fakhirs, by the Taksali Gate for thirteen years, without also knowing human nature. The priest looked at him sideways, something bitterly, a dry, belighting smile. "'Is there no priest then in the village? I thought I had seen a great one even now,' cried Kim.

"'I, but,' the woman began, "'but thou and thy husband hoped to get the cow cured for a handful of thanks.' The shot told, they were notoriously the closest-fisted couple in the village. It is not well to cheat the temples, give a young calf to thine own priest, And unless thy gods are angry past recall, she will give milk within a month. "'A master-begger art thou?' heard the priest approvingly. "'Not the cunning of forty years could have done better. Surely thou hast made the old man rich!' "'A little flour, a little butter, and a mouthful of cardamums,' Kim retorted, flushed with the praise, but still cautious.

"'Does one grow rich on that?' and as thou canst see he is mad but it serves me while i learn the road at least he knew what the fakirs at the taxali gate were like when they talked among themselves and copied the very inflection of their lewd disciples Is his search then truth or a cloak to other ends? It may be treasure. He is mad, many times mad, there is nothing else. Here the old soldier hobbled up and asked if Kim would accept his hospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but insisted that the honour of entertaining the llama belonged to the temple,

at which the llama smiled guilelessly. Kim glanced from one face to the other and drew his own conclusions. "'Where is the money?' he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the darkness. "'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 chelah, or am I not? Do I not see? Do I not say, safeguard thy old feet about the ways, give me the money, and at dawn I will return it.'

He slipped his hand above the llama's girdle, and brought away the purse. Be it so, be it so. The old man nodded his head. This is a great and 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 llama was quite happy, and Kim had enjoyed a most interesting evening with the old man who brought out his cavalry sabre, and, balancing it on his dry knees, told tales of the mutiny, and young captains thirty years in their graves, till Kim dropped off to sleep. Certainly the air of this country is good, said the llama.

i sleep lightly as to all old men but last night i slept unwaking till broad day even now i am heavy drink a draught of hot milk said kim who had carried not a few such remedies to opium smokers of his acquaintance it is time to take the road again the long road that overpasses all all the rivers of Hind," said the Lama gaily. Let us go. But how thinkest thou, O Chela, to recompense these people, and especially the priest, for their great kindness? Truly they are budpahast, but in other lives maybe they will receive enlightenment. A rupee to the temple?

the thing which is no more than stone and red paint, but the heart of man we must acknowledge, when and where it is good. Holy one, hast thou ever taken the road alone? Kim looked up sharply, like the Indian crows so busy about the fields. Surely, child, from Kulu to Pathancourt, from Kulu where my first jailer died. When men were kind to us, we made offerings, and all men were well disposed throughout all the hills. It is otherwise in Hind, said Kim, dryly. Their gods are many armed and malignant. Let them alone. I would set thee on thy road, far little, friend of all the world, thou and thy yellow man.

The old soldier ambled up the village street, all shadowy in the dawn, on a gaunt, scissor-hocked pony. "'Last night broke up the fountains of remembrance in my so-dried heart, and it was a blessing to me. Truly there is war abroad in the air. I smell it. See, I have brought my sword.' He sat long-legged on the little beast, with the big sword. at his side, hand dropped on the pommel, staring fiercely over the flat lands towards the north. "'Tell me again how he showed in thy vision. Come up and sit behind me. The beast will carry, too.' "'I am this Holy One's disciple,' said Kim, as they cleared the village gate. The villagers seemed

almost sorry to be rid of them, but the priest's farewell was cold and distant. He had wasted some opium on a man who carried no money. I am not much use to Holy Men, but respect is always good. There is no respect in these days, not even when a Commissioner Saib comes to see me, but why should one whose star lead him to war follow a holy man? But he is a holy man, said Kim earnestly, in truth and in talk and in act, holy. He is not like the others. I have never seen such an one. We be not fortune-tellers, or jugglers, or beggars. Thou art not that I can see, but I do not know that other. He marches well, though.

The first freshness of the day carried the llama forward with low, easy, camel-like strides. He was deep in meditation, mechanically clicking his. rosary. They followed the rutted and worn country road that wound across the flat between the great dark green mango groves, the line of the snow-capped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All India was at work in the fields, to the creaking of well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmen behind their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even the pony felt the good influence and almost broke into a trot, as Kim laid a hand on the stirrup leather. "'It repents me that I did not give a rupee to the shrine,' said the llama on the last bead of his eighty-one.

The old soldier growled in his beard, said that the llama for the first time was aware of him. "'Seekest thou the river, too?' he said, turning. "'The day is new,' was the reply. What need of a river to save water at before sundown! I come to show thee a short lane to the big road. That is a courtesy to be remembered, O man of goodwill, but why the sword! The old soldier looked as abashed as a child interrupted in his game of make-believe.

The sword! he said, fumbling it. Oh, that was a fancy of mine, an old man's fancy. Truly the police orders are that no man must bear weapons throughout the hind, but—' He cheered up and slapped the hilt. All the constables hear about know me. "'It is not a good fancy,' said the llama. "'What profit to kill men?' "'Very little, as I know, but if you're not a good fancy,' said the llama, "'what profit to kill men.'

"'Very little, as I know, but if you're not. If evil men were not now and then slain, it would not be a good world for weaponless dreamers. I do not speak without knowledge who have seen the land from Delhi South awash with blood. What madness was that then? The gods who sent it for a plague alone, no. A madness ain't into all the army, and they turned against their officers. It was the first evil. not passed remedy if they had then held their hands, but they chose to kill the Saib's wives and

children. Then came the Saibs from over the sea, and called them to most strict account. Some such rumour, I believe, reached me once long ago. They called it the black years I remember. What manner of life hast thou led not to know the year, a rumor indeed, all earth new and trembled? Our earth never shook but once upon the day that the excellent one received enlightenment. I saw Delhi shake at least, and Delhi is the naval of the world. So they turned against me. women and children. That was a bad deed for which the punishment cannot be avoided. Many strove to do so, but with very small profit. I was then in a regiment of cavalry.

It broke. Of six hundred and eighty sabres stood fast 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 my friends my brothers fell from me they said the time of the english is accomplished let each strike out in a little holding for himself but i had talked with the men of sobraon of chilean waller of mudki and ferroza shah i said abide a little and the wind turns. There is no blessing in this work. In those days I rode seventy miles with an English Mem Saib and her babe on my saddle-bow. Oh, that was a horse fit for a man. I placed them in safety, and back 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 kin, and my cousin's blood is wet on my sabre.

Be content, he said, there is great work forward. When this madness is over, there is a recompense. Aye, there is a recompense when the madness is over, surely, the llama muttered half to himself. They did not hang medals in those days. on all who by accident had heard a gun fired. In nineteen pitched battles was I, in six 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, reminded me when the Kaysa'i Hind had accomplished fifty years of her reign, and all the land rejoiced they said, Give him the order of British India. I carry it upon my neck now. I have also my jag here, holding, from the hands of the state,

a free gift to me and mine. The men of the old days, they are now commissioners, come riding to me through the crops, high upon horses, so that all the village sees, and we talk out the old skirmishes, one dead man's name leading to another. And after?

said the llama. Oh, afterwards they go away, but not before my village has seen. And at the last, what wilt thou do? At the last I will die. And after? "'Let the gods order it. I have never pestered them with prayers. I do not think they will pester me. Look you, I have noticed in my long life that those who eternally break in upon those above with complaints and reports and bellowings and weepings are presently sent for in haste, as our colonel used to send for slack-jaw-down country men who talk too much. no i have never wearied the gods they will remember this and give me a quiet place where i can drive my lance in the shade and wait to welcome my sons i have no less than three ristledar majors all in the regiments and they are likewise bound upon the wheel go forth from life to life from despair to despair said the lama below his breath. Hot, uneasy, snatching. Aye, the old soldier chuckled. Three Ristled our majors in three

regiments. 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 a well-watered strip. But my men cheat me. I do not know how to ask, save at the lance's point. Ah! I grow angry, and I curse them, and they feign penitence. But behind my back I know they call me a toothless old ape. Has thou never desired any other thing?

Yes, yes, a thousand times. A straight back, and a close clearest. knee once more, a quick wrist and a keen eye, and the marrow that makes a man. Oh, the old days, the good days of my strength. That strength is weakness. It has turned so, about fifty years since I could have proved it otherwise. The old soldier retorted, driving his stirrup edge into the pony's lean flank. But I know a river of great healing. I have drink Ganja water to the edge of Dropsie. All she gave me was a flux and no sort of strength.

It is not Ganja. The river that I know washes from all taint of sin. Ascending the far bank, one is assured of freedom. I do not know thy life, but thy face is the face of the honourable and courteous. Thou hast clung to thy way, rendering fidelity, when it was hard to give in that black year, of which I now remember other tales. Enter now upon the middle way, which is the path to freedom. "'Hear the most excellent law, and do not follow dreams.'

"'Speak then, old man,' the soldier smiled, half saluting. "'We be all babblers at our age.' The llama squatted under the shade of a mango, whose shadow played checkerwise over his face. The soldier sat stiffly on the pony, and Kim, making sure there were no snakes, down in the crotch of the twisted roots. There was a drowsy buzz of small life in hot sunshine, a cooing of dove and a sleepy drone of well-wheels across the fields. Slowly and impressively the llama began. At the end of ten minutes the old soldier slid from his pony to hear better as he said and sat with the reins round his wrist. The lama's voice faltered, the periods lengthened.

Kim was busy watching a grey squirrel. When the little scolding bunch of fur close pressed to the branch disappeared, preacher and audience were fast asleep, and the old officer's strong-cut head pillowed on his arm, the lamas thrown back against the tree-bowl, where it showed like yellow and ivory. A naked child toddled up, stared, and moved by some quick impulse of reverence,

made a solemn little obeisance before the llama. Only the child was so short and fat that it toppled over sidewows. And Kim laughed at the sprawling chubby legs. The child, scared and indignant, yelled aloud. "'Hi, hi!' said the old soldier, leaping to his feet. "'What is it? What orders? Is it?' "'A child. I dreamed it was an alarm.

Little one, little one, do not cry. Have I slept? That was discourteous indeed. I fear, I am afraid, roared the child. What is it to fear? Two old men and a boy. How wilt thou ever make a soldier, princeling? The llama had waked, too. But taking no direct notice of the child, clicked his rosary. What is that? said the child, stopping a yell midway. never seen such things. Give them me. Ah-ha, said the llama, smiling and trailing a loop of it on the grass. This is a handful of cardamombs. This is a lump of g. This is millet and chilies and rice.

A supper for thee and me. The child shrieked with joy and snatched the dark glancing beads. "'Oh-hoo!' said the old soldier. "'Winst hast thou that song, despiser of this world.' "'I learned it in path and court, sitting on a doorstep,' said the llama shyly. "'It is good to be kind to babes.' "'As I remember before sleep came upon us, "'thou hast told me that marriage and bearing were darkeners of the true light, stumbling blocks upon the way. Do children drop from heaven in thy country? Is it the way to sing them songs?

No man is perfect, said the llama gravely, recalling the rosary. Run out to mother little one. Hear him, said the soldier to Kim. He is ashamed for that he has made a child happy. There was a very good householder lost in thee, my brother. High child! He threw it a pice. Sweet meats are always sweet. And as the little figure capered away into the sunshine, They grow up and become men.

Holy one, I grieve that I slept in the midst of thy preaching. Forgive me. We be but two old men, said the Lama. The fault is mine. I listen to thy talk of the world and its madness, and one fault led to the other. Hear him, what harm do thy God suffer from play with a babe, and that song was very well sung. Let us go and I will sing thee the song of Nichol-Sain before Delhi, the old song. and they fared out from the gloom of the mango tope, the old man's high, shrill voice ringing across the field.

As wail by long-drawn wail, he unfolded the story of Nicholson, the song that men sing in the Punjab to this day. Kim was delighted and the llama listened with deep interest. Aye, Nicholson is dead, he died before Delhi. lances of the north take vengeance for Nicholstein. He quavered it out to the end, marking the trills with the flat of his sword on the pony's rump. And now we come to the big road, said he, after receiving the compliments of Kim,

for the llama was markedly silent. It is long since I have ridden this way, but thy boy's talk stirred me. See, holy one, the great road which is the backbone of all. hind. For the most part it is shaded, as here with four lines of trees. The middle road, all hard, takes the quick traffic. In the days before rail carriages, the Saibs travelled up and down here in hundreds. Now there are only country carts and such like. Left and right is the rougher roads for the heavy carts, grain and cotton and timber, fodder, lime and hides. A man

goes in safety here, for every few coasts is a police station. The police are thieves and extortioners. I myself would patrol it with cavalry, young recruits under a strong captain. But at least they do not suffer any rivals. All castes and kinds of men move here. Look, Brahmins and Chumas, bankers and tinkers, barbers and buniers, pilgrims and potters. all the world going and coming. It is to me as a river from which I am withdrawn like a log after a flood. And truly the Grand Trunk Road is a wonderful spectacle. It runs straight, bearing without crowding India's traffic for fifteen hundred miles,

such a river of life as nowhere else exists in the world. They looked at the green art. shade-flecked length of it, the white breadth speckled with slow-paced folk, and the two-roomed police-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 enough to destroy all evildoers?' "'It was because of police I brought it,' was the answer.

"'Does all go well in Hind?' "'Ristel d'ar Saib, all goes well. I am like an old tortoise, look you, who puts his head out from the bank and draws it in again. Aye, this is the road of Hindustan. All men come by this way. Son of a swine is the soft part of the road meant for thee to scratch thy back upon, farther of all the daughters of shame of the husband of ten thousand virtuous ones. Thy mother was devoted to a devil being led here too by her mother. thy aunts have never had a nose for seven generations.

Thy sister! What owls folly told thee to draw thy carts upon the road! A broken wheel! Then take a broken head and put the two together at leisure! The voice and a venomous whip-cracking came out of a pillar of dust fifty yards away where a cart had broken down. A thin high cathywa mare

with eyes and nostrils of flame rocketed out of the jam, snorting and wincing as her driver bent her across the road in chase of a shouting man. He was tall and grey-bearded, sitting the almost mad beast as a piece of her, and scientifically lashing his victim between plungers. The old man's face lit with pride. My child, he said briefly, and strove to rein the pony's neck to a fitting arch. "'Am I to be beaten before the police?' cried the Carter. "'Justice! I will have justice!' "'Am I to be blocked by a shouting ape who upsets ten thousand sacks under a young horse's nose?

"'That is the way to ruin a mayor.' "'He speaks the truth, he speaks the truth, but she follows her a man close,' said the old man. The Carter ran under the wheels of his cart, and thence threatened all sorts of of vengeance. "'They are strong men, thy sons,' said the policeman, serenely, picking his teeth. The horseman delivered one last vicious cut with his whip, and came on at 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 do father and son in the east. End of Chapter 3.

Kim by Roger Kipling. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus. Chapter 4, Part 1 Good luck, she is never a lady, but the cursedest queen alive, Trixie, wincing and Jady, Kittled to lead or drive.

Greet her, she's hailing a stranger. Meet her, she's basking to leave. Let her alone for a shrew to the bone, And the hussy comes plucking your sleeve. Largesse, largesse, oh fortune, Give or hold at your will. If I have no care for fortune, Fortune must follow me still.

The wishing-caps. Then, lowering their voice, they spoke together. Kim came to rest under a tree, but the llama tugged impatiently at his elbow. "'Let us go on. The river is not here.' "'Hi, my, have we not walked enough for a little? Our river will not run away. Patience and he will give us a dole.' "'This,' said the old soldier suddenly, "'is the friend of the stars. He brought me the new,

yesterday, having seen the very man himself in a vision, giving orders for the war. "'Hm!' said his son, all deep in his broad chest. He came by a bizarre rumor and made profit of it. His father laughed. At least he did not write to me begging for a new charger, and the gods knowed how many rupees. Are thy brother's 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, Oh, gamblers and spendthrifts all! But thou hast never yet ridden in a charge.

A good horse is needed there 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 thy house.' "'At least pay the boy, then. I have no pice with me, and he brought auspicious news. "'Oh, friend of all the world, a war is towards as thou hast said.'

"'Nay, as I know thee war,' returned Kim composedly. "'Eh?' said the llama. fingering his beads, all eager for the road. My master does not trouble the stars for hire. We brought the news, bear witness, we brought the news, and now we go. Kim half-crooked his hand at his side. The sun tossed a silver coin through the sunlight, grumbling something about beggars and jugglers. It was a four-an-a-piece, and would feed them well for some days.

The llama, seeing the flash of metal, droned a blessing. Go thy way, friend of all the world, piped the old soldier, wheeling his scrawny mount. For once in all my days I have met a true prophet, who was not in the army. Father and son swung round together, the old man sitting as erect as the younger. A Punjabi constable in yellow linen trousers slouched across the road, he had seen the money passed. "'Polt,' he cries in impressive English, "'know ye not that there is a tarkas of two anas ahead,

"'which is four anas on those who enter the road from this side road. "'It is the order of the Sircar, "'and the money is spent for the planting of trees "'and the beautification of the ways.' "'And the bellies of the police,' said Kim, "'skipping out of arm's reach, "'consider for a while, with a mud-head. Think you we came from the nearest pond like the frog thy father-in-law.

Hast thou ever heard the 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 the veranda. He took a label from the bottle of belayti-pani, soda-water, and affixing it to a bridge, collected taxes for a month from those who passed, saying it was the Sirka's order. Then came an Englishman and 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 the road. "'Was there ever such a disciple as I?' he cried merrily to the llama.

"'All earth would have picked thy bones within ten mile of Lahore City if I had not guarded thee.' "'I consider in my own mind whether thou art a spirit sometimes, or sometimes an evil imp,' said the Lama, smiling slowly. "'I am thy chela!' Kim dropped into step at his side, that indescribable gate of the long-distance tramp all the world over. "'No, let us walk,' muttered the Lama, and to the click of his rosary they walked in silence, upon mile. The Lama, as usual, was deep in meditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide. This broad, smiling river of life, he considered, was a vast improvement on the cramped and crowded Lahore streets. There were new people, and new sights at every stride, castes he knew, and castes that were altogether out of his experience. They met a troop of long-haired,

strong-scented sansis, with baskets of lizards and other unclean food on their backs, their lean dog sniffing at their heels. These people kept their own side of the road, moving at a quick, furtive jog-trot, and all other casts gave them ample room, for the sandsy is deep pollution. Behind them walking wide and stiffly across the strong shadows, the memory of his leg-iron still on him, strode one. newly released from the jail, his full stomach and shiny skin to prove that the government fed its prisoners better than most honest men could feed themselves. Kim knew that walk well, and made 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, with polished steel coits glistening in the cone of his tall blue turban, stalked past. returning from a visit to one of the independent Sikh states, where he had been singing the ancient glories of the calcer to college-trained princelings in top-boots and white-cord breeches. Kim was careful not to irritate that man, for the Akali's temper was short and his arm quick. Here and there they met or were overtaken by the gaily dressed crowds of whole villages

turning out to some local fare. The women, with their babes on their hips, walking behind the men, the older boys prancing on sticks of sugar-cane, dragging rude brass models of locomotives such as they sell for a haepney, or flashing the sun into the eyes of their bettors from cheap toy mirrors. One could see at a glance what each had brought, and if there were any doubt it needed only to watch the wives, comparing Brown-arm against Brown-arm, the newly-perienced-brown-arm, the newly purchased dull glass bracelets that come from the northwest. These merry-makers stepped slowly, calling one to the other, and stopping to haggle with sweep-meat sellers, or to make a prayer before one

of the wayside shrines, sometimes Hindu, sometimes musselman, which the low cast of both creeds share with beautiful impartiality. A solid line of blue rising and falling like the back of a caterpillar in haste, would swing up through the quivering dust, and trot past to a chorus of quick cackling. That was a gang of Changas, the women who have taken all the embankments of all the northern railways under their charge, a flat-footed, big bosomed, strong-limbed, blue petticoated clan of earth-carriers, hurrying north on news of a job, and wasting no time by the road. They belonged to the cast whose men do not count, and they walked with squared elbows, swinging hips and heads on high as suits women who carry heavy weights. A little later a marriage procession would strike into the grand trunk with music and shoutings, and a smell of marigold and jasmine stronger even than the reek of the dust.

One could see the bride's litter, a blur of red and tinsel, staggering through the haze, while the bridegroom's bereathed pony turned aside to snatch a mouthful from a passing fodder-cart. Then Kim would join the Kentish fire of good wishes and bad jokes, wishing the couple a hundred sons and no daughters, as the saying is. Still more interesting and more to be shouted over, it was when a strolling-jouling-joules, juggler with some half-trained monkeys, or panting feeble bear, or a woman who tied goat's horns to her feet, and with those danced on a slack rope, set the horses to shying, and the women to shrill, long-drawn, quavers of amazement. The llama never raised his eyes. He did not note the money-lender

on his goose-rumped pony, hastening along to collect the cruel interest, or the long-shouting, deep-voiced little mob, still in military formation, of native soldiers on leave, rejoicing to be rid of their britches and puttees, and saying the most outrageous things to the most respectable women in sight. Even the cellar of Ganji's water, he did not see, and Kim expected that he would at least buy a bottle of that precious stuff. He looked steadily at the ground, and strode as steadily hour after hour, his soul busied elsewhere. Kim was in the seventh heaven of joy. The grand trunk at this point was built on an embankment to guard against winter floods from the foothills, so that one walked, as it were, a little above

the country, along a stately corridor, seeing all India spread out to left and right. It was beautiful to behold the many-yoked grain and cotton wagons crawling over the country roads. One could hear their axles, complaining a mile away. coming nearer, till with shouts and yells and bad words they climbed 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, turning aside to go to their own villages, dispersing and growing small by twos and threes across the level plain. Kim felt these things, though he could not give tongue to his feelings,

and so contented himself with buying peeled sugar-cane and spitting the pith generously about his path. From time to time the llama took snuff, and at last Kim could endure the silence no longer. "'This is a good land, the land of the South,' said he. "'The air is good, the water is good, eh?' "'And they are all bound upon the wheel,' said the llama, "'bound from life to life, to none of these has the way been shown.' He shook himself back to this world. "'And now we have walked a weary way,' said Kim.

"'Surely we shall soon come to a parao,' a resting place. "'Shall we stay there? Look, the sun is sloping. "'Who will receive us this evening?' "'That is all one. The country is full of good folks. Besides,' he sunk his voice beneath a whisper. "'We have money!' The crowd thickened as they neared the resting place

which marked the end of their day's journey. A line of stalls selling very simple food and tobacco, a stack of firewood, a police station, a well, a horse-trough, a few trees, and under them some trampled ground dotted with the black ashes of old fires, are all that mark a parral on the grand trunk. If you accept the beggars and the crows, both hungry. By this time the sun was delving broad, golden strokes through the lower branches of the mango trees. The parakeets and doves were coming home in their hundreds. The chattering, grey-backed seven sisters, talking over the day's adventures, walked back and forth in twos and threes,

almost under the feet of the travellers, and the shufflings and scufflings in the branches showed that the bats were ready to go out on the night-picket. Swiftly the light gathered itself together, painted for an instant the faces and the cart-wheels and the bullock's horns as red as blood. Then the night fell, changing the touch of the air, drawing a low, even haze like a gossamer veil of blue across the face of the country, and bringing out keen and distinct the smell of wood-smoke and cattle, and the good scent of wheat and cakes cooked on ashes. The evening patrol hurried out of the police station with important coughings and reiterated orders, and a live charcoal ball in the cup of a wayside Carter's hooker

glowed red, while Kim's eyes mechanically watched the last flicker of the sun on the brass tweezers. The life of the Paro was like that of the Kashmir Sarai on a small scale. Kim dived into the happy Asiatic disorder, which, if you only allow time, will bring you everything that a simple man needs. His wants were few, because, since the Lama had no cast scruples, cooked food. from the nearest stall would serve. But for luxury's sake, Kim brought a handful of dung-cakes to build a fire. All about, coming and going round the little flames, men cried for oil or grain or sweetmeats or tobacco, jostling one another, while they waited

their turn at the well. And under the men's voices, you heard from halted, shuddered carts the high squeals and giggles of women whose faces should not be seen in part. Nowadays, well-educated natives are of opinion that when their women-folk travel, and they visit a good deal, it is better to take them quickly by rail in a properly screened compartment, and that custom is spreading. But there are always those of the old rock who hold by the use of their forefathers, and above all there are always the old women, more conservative than the men, who toward the end of their days go on a pilgrimage. They, being withered and undesirable, do not, under certain circumstances, object to unveiling. After their long seclusion, during which they have always been in business touch with a thousand outside interests, they love the bustle and stir of the open road, the gatherings at the shrines, and the infinite possibilities of gossip with like-minded dowagers. Very often it suits a long-suffering family that are strong-suffering family that are

strong-tongued, iron-willed old lady should disport herself about India in this fashion, for certainly pilgrimage is grateful to the gods. So all about India, in the most remote places, as in the most public, you find some knot of grizzled servitors in nominal charge of an old lady who is more or less curtained and hid away in a bullock cart. Such men are stayed and discreet, and when a European or high-cast native is near, will net their charge with most elaborate precautions. But in the ordinary haphazard chances of pilgrimage, 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 bullet-cart, with a broidered canopy of two domes, like a double-humped camel, which had just been drawn into the parole. Eight men made its retinue, and two of the eight were armed with rusty sabres. Sure signs that they followed a person of distinction, for the common folk do not bear arms. An increasing cackle of complaints, orders and jests, and what to a European would have been bad language,

came from behind the curtain. Here was evidently a woman used to command. command. Kim looked over the retinue critically. Half of them were thin-legged grey-beard ores from down-country. The other half were duffel-clad, felt-hatted hillman of the north, and that mixture told its own tale, even if he had not overheard the incessant sparring between the two divisions. The old lady was going south on a visit, probably to a rich relative, most probably to a son-in-law, who had sent to a... up an escort as a mark of respect. The Hillman would be of her own people, Kulu or Kangrafolk. It was quite clear that she was not taking her daughter down to be wedded, or the curtains would

have been laced home, and the guard would have allowed no one near the car. A merry and high-spirited dame, thought Kim, balancing the dung-cake in one hand, the cooked food in the other, and piloting the Lama with a nudging shoulder. Something might be made out of the meeting. The Lama would give no help, but as a conscientious chela, Kim was delighted to beg for two. End of Chapter 4, Part 1. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox. box.org.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellis. Chapter 4, Part 2 He built his fire as close to the cart as he dared, waiting for one of the escort to order him away. The llama 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 broken Hindustani by one of the hillmen. Ha! It is only a pahari, a hillman, said Kim over his shoulder. Since when of the hill asses owned all Hindustan, the retort was a swift and brilliant sketch of Kim's pedigree for three generations. Ah, Kim's voice was sweeter than ever as he broke the dung cake into fit pieces. In my country we call that the beginning of love-talk. A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the hillman on his metal for a second shot.

"'Not so bad, not so bad,' said Kim with calm. "'But have a care, my brother, 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 oriors laughed. The hillman sprang forward threateningly. The llama suddenly raised his head, bringing his huge Tamashanta hat into the full light of Kim's new-started fire. What is it? said he.

The man halted as though struck to stone. I am safe from a great sin, he stammered. The foreigner has found him a priest at last, whispered one of the oriars. hi why is that beggar-brat not well beaten the old woman cried the hillman drew back to the cart and whispered something to the curtain 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 is requested that the holy one will do the honour of to talk to one who would speak to him. After he is eaten, he will sleep, Kim returned loftily. He could not quite see what new turn the game had taken, but stood resolute to profit by it.

Now I will get him his food." The last sentence spoken loudly ended with a sigh of faintness. "'I, I myself, and the others of my people, will look to that, if it is permitted.' "'It is permitted,' said Kim, more loftily than ever. "'Holy one, these people will bring us food.' "'The land is good, all the country of the south is good. "'A great and terrible world,' mumbled the llama drowsily. "'Let him sleep,' said Kim,

"'but look to it that we are well fed when he awakes. "'He is a very holy man.' Again, one of the Orias said something contemptuously. "'He is not a fakir. He is not a down-country beggar,' Kim went on severely addressing the stars. "'He is the most holy of holy men. He is above all casts, and I am his chelah.' "'Come here!' said the flat, thin voice behind the curtain. And Kim came, conscious that eyes he could not see were still. staring at him. One skinny brown finger, heavy with rings, lay on the edge of the cart,

and the talk went this way. Who is that one? An exceedingly holy one. He comes from far off. He comes from Tibet. We're in Tibet. From behind the snows, from a very far place. He knows the stars. He makes horoscopes. He reads nativities. He does. He does. does not do this for money. 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 show him an end to his pilgrimage. Hmm. Consider a brat that I am an old woman and not altogether a fool. Lamas I know. And to that these I give reverence. But thou art no more a lawful chelah, then this my finger is the pole of this wagon.

Thou art a castless Hindu, a bold and unblushing beggar. Attached, be like, to the holy one for the sake of gain. Do we not all work for gain? Kim changed his toll promptly to match that altered voice. I have heard—this was a bow drawn at a venture. I have heard—' "'What hast thou heard?' she snapped, wrapping with the finger. "'Nothing that I well remember, but some talk in the bazaars, which is doubtless a lie, "'that even Rajas, small hill Rajas, "'but nonetheless of good Rajput blood—' "'Assuredly of good blood, that these even sell them more comely of their women-folk for gain.

"'Down south they sell them to Zemindars, and such all of Udha. If there be one thing in the world that the small hill-rars deny, it is just this charge. But it happens to be one thing that the bazaars believe, when they discuss the mysterious slave-traffics of India. The old lady explained to Kim in a tense, indignant whisper, precisely what manner and fashion and malignant liar he was. Had Kim hinted this when she was a girl, he would have been able to be able to be. pommeled to death that same evening by an elephant. This was perfectly true. "'Hi, I am only a beggar's brat as the eye of beauty has said,' he wailed in extravagant terror. "'I of beauty forsooth. Who am I that thou should fling beggar endearments at me?'

And yet she laughed at the long-forgotten word. "'Fourty years ago that might have been said. and not without truth ay thirty years but it is the fault of this gadding up and 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 with indignation i am even what the great queen says i am but none the less is my master holy he has not yet heard the great queen's order that order? I order a holy one, a teacher of the law, to come and speak to a 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 and salaamed profoundly. The old lady recognised that as the eyes and ears and ears,

of the llama, he was to be propitiated. I am but the Holy One's disciple. When he is eaten, perhaps he will come. Oh, villain and shameless rogue! The jewelled forefinger shook itself at him reprovingly, but he could hear the old lady's cackle. Nay, what is it? he said, dropping into his most caressing and confidential tone, the one he well knew that few could resist.

Is there any need of a sense? son in thy family? Speak freely, for we priests.' That last was a direct plagiarism from a fakir by the Taksali gate. We priests, thou art not yet old enough to—' She checked the joke with another laugh. Believe me now and again, we women, oh priest, think of other matters than sons. Moreover, my daughter has born her man-child. Two arrows in the quiver are better than one, and three are better still." Kim quoted the proverb, with a meditative cough, looking discreetly earthward. "'True, oh, true, but perhaps that will come.

Certainly those down-country Brahmins are utterly useless. I sent gifts and monies and gifts again to them, and they prophesied.' "'Ah!' drawled Kim with infinite contempt. they prophesied. A professional could have done no better. And it was not until I remembered my own gods that my prayers were heard. I chose an auspicious hour, and perhaps thy holy one has heard of the abbot of the Lung-Cho-Lamasseri. It was to him, I put the matter, and behold, in due time all came about as I desired. The Brahmin in the house of the father of my daughter's son has since said that it was through his prayers, which is a little error that I will explain to him when we reach our journey's end,

and so afterwards I go to Buda Gaya to make Sharadha for the father of my children. Thither go we, doubly auspicious, chirped the old lady, a second son at least. Oh, friend of all the world! The llama had waked, and simply as a child bewildered in a strange bed called, for Kim. I come, I come, Holy One. He dashed to the fire where he found the llama already surrounded by dishes of food, the hillman visibly adoring him, and the southerners looking sourly. Go back, withdraw, Kim cried. Do we eat publicly like dogs? They finished the meal in silence, each turned a little from the other, and Kim topped it with a native-made cigarette. Have I not said

a hundred times that the south is a good land, here is a virtuous and high-born widow of a hill-rasha on pilgrimage, she says, to Budagaya. She it is sends us those dishes, and when thou art rested, she would speak to thee. Is this also thy work? The llama dipped deep into his snuff gourd. Who else watched over thee since our wonderful journey began? Kim's eyes danced in his head as he blew the rank smoke through his nostrils and stretched him on the dusty ground. Have I failed to oversee thy comforts, holy one? A blessing on thee! The llama inclined his solemn head.

I have known many men in my long life, and disciples not a few, but to none among men, if so be thou art woman born. "'Horn! Has my heart gone out as it has to thee? "'Thoughtful, wise, and courteous, but something of a small imp.' "'And I have never seen such a priest as thou.' Kim considered the benevolent yellow face, wrinkle by wrinkle. "'It is less than three days since we took the road together, "'and it is as though it were a hundred years. "'Perhaps in a four, in a four,

"'for my life it was permitted "'that I should have rendered thee 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 again and again "'from the mouths of many whom the English would not consider imaginative. Now, as regards that woman in the bullet cart, I think she needs a second son for her daughter. "'That is no part of the way,' sighed the llama. But at least she is from the hills, oh, the hills, and the snow of the hills!' he rose and stalked to the cart. Kim would have given his ears to come too, but the Lama did not invite him. And the few words he caught were in an unknown tongue, for they spoke some common speech of the mountains. The woman seemed to ask questions which the Lama turned over in his mind before answering.

Now and again he heard the sing-song cadence of a Chinese quotation. It was a strange picture that Kim watched between drooped eyelids. The llama varies straight and erect, the deep folds of his yellow clothing slashed with black in the light of the parral fires, precisely as a knotted tree-trunk is slashed with the shadows of the low sun, addressed a tinsle and lacquered ruth, which burned like a many-coloured jewel in the same uncertain light. The patterns on the gold-worked curtains ran up and down, melting and reforming as the fold shook and quivered to the night wind. And when the talk grew more earnest, the jeweled 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-court forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening had settled down to one soothing hum, whose deepest note was the steady chomping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest was the tinkle of a Bengali dancing girl Citar. Most men had eaten, and pulled deep at their gurgling, grunting hookers, which in full blast sound like bullfrogs. At last the llama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded cotton quilt and spread it carefully by the fire. She deserves ten thousand grandchildren, "'Ton,' thought Kim.

"'Nondaless, but for me, these gifts would not have come.' "'A virtuous woman and a wise one!' The llama 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 propound in many problems,

the most of which were idle tales, which she had heard from devil-serving priests who pretended 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 Budgeya. 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 Long 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 a prayer for a second son. Aha! We women do not think of anything save children,

said Kim, sleep. Now, since our roads run together for a while, I do not see that we in any way depart from our search. If so, we accompany her, at least as far as—I have forgotten the name of the city. Oh, hey, said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to want the orias a few yards away. Where is your master's house? A little behind Saranpur, among the fruit gardens, he named the village. That was the place, said the llama. So far at least we can go with her.

Flies go to Carrion, said the oria 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. "'Moria 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 over passes. "'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 o'er of the llama, he thought it probable that she would be worth listening to. He was nearly asleep when the llama 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, the 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 whirl of silver. The parrots shot away to some of the world. distant river, in shrieking green hosts. All the well-wheels with a earshot 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 oaks. If they went too fast, it was not likely, there would be a pleasant seat for himself along the pole. The llama 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 dinner. delays. Get her her pipe! In the name of the gods, get her her pipe! And stop her ill-o-wined mouth, cried an oria, tying up his shapeless bundles of bedding. She and the parrots are alike. They screech in the dawn. The lead bullocks! Hi! 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.

Aye, yoy, yay! 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 salamed reverently to the voice,

leaped from the pole, and helped the escort, haul their volcano, onto 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. Is it a shame and a scandal that a poor woman may not go to make a 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 gee? But I have yet a wag left to my tongue, a word or too 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 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 recognised place under the patronage of an old lady of charming manners and infinite resource. The escort at their heads tied up native fashion fell in on either side the cart, shuffling enormous clouds of dust. The llama and Kim walked a little to one side, Kim chewing his stick of sugar cane and making way for no one under the status of a priest.

They could hear the old lady's tongue clack as steadily as a rice husker. she bade her escort tell her what was going on on the road and so soon as they were clear of the parral she flung back the curtains and peered out her veil a third across her face her men did not eye her directly when she addressed them and thus the proprieties were more or less observed a dark sallowish district superintendent of police fortlessly uniformed an englishman trotted by on a tired horse and seeing from her retinue what manner of a person she was chaffed her. "'Oh, mother!' he cried. "'Do they do this in the Zananas? "'Suppose an Englishman came by "'and saw that their hat's no nose.'

"'What?' she shrilled back. "'Thine own mother has no nose? "'Why say so, then, in the open road?' "'It was a fair counter. "'The Englishman threw up his hand "'with the gesture of a man hit at swordplay. "'She laughed and nodded. "'Is this a faced attempt,

"'To virtue aside?' she withdrew all her veil and stared at him. "'It was by no means lovely. But as the man gathered up his reins, "'he called it a moon of paradise, a disturber of integrity, "'and a few other fantastic epithets which doubled her up with mirth. "'That is a nut-cat,' a rogue,' she said. "'Oh, police constables are nut-cats. "'But the police-wallers are worst. "'Hi, my son! Thou hast never left.

learned all that since thou comts from belate, from Europe, who suckled thee? A Paharin, a hill-woman, of Dalhousie, my mother. Keep thy beauty under a shadow, dispensure of delights, and he was gone. These be the sort, she took a fine judicial tone, and stuffed her mouth with pan. These be the sort to oversee justice. They know the land and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe suckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worse than 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 had disturbed some small

hill-rasha, a ninth cousin of her own, in the matter of a trivial land case, winding up with a quotation from a work by no means devotional. Then her mood changed, and she bad one of the escort asked whether the llama would walk alongside and discuss matters of religion. So Kim dropped back into the dust and returned to his sugar cane. For an hour or more the llama's Tamashanta showed like a moon through the haze. And from all he heard, Kim gathered that the old woman wept. One of the orias half apologised for his rudeness overnight, saying that he had never known his mistress of so bland a temper,

and he ascribed it to the presence of the strange priest. Personally, he believed in Brahmans, though, like all natives, he was acutely aware of their cunning and their greed. Still, when Brahmins, but irritated with begging demands, the mother of his master's wife, and when she sent them away so angry that they cursed the whole retinue, which was the real reason of the second off-side bullet going lame, and of the pole breaking the night before,

he was prepared to accept any priest of any other denomination in or out of India. To this, Kim assented with wise nods, and bad the oria observed that the llama took no money, and that the cost of his and Kim's food would be repaid a hundred times in the good luck that would attend the caravan henceforward. He also told stories of Lahore City, and sang a song or two which made the escort laugh. As a town mouse well acquainted with the latest songs by the most fashionable composers,

they are women for the most part, Kim had a distinct advantage of a men from a little fruit village behind Saharanpur, but he let that advantage be inferred. At noon they turned aside to eat, and the meal was good, plentiful, and well-served on plates of clean leaves, indecency, out of the drift of the dust. They gave the scraps to certain beggars, that all requirements might be fulfilled, and sat down to a long, luxurious smoke. The old lady had retreated behind her curtains, but mixed most freely in the talk,

her servants arguing with and contradicting her as servants do throughout the east. She compared the cool and the pines of the Kangra and Kulhu hills with the dust and the mangoes of the south. She told a tale of some local gods at the edge of her husband's territory. She roundly abused the tobacco which she was then smoking, reviled all Brahmans, and speculated without reserve on the coming of many grandsons. End of Chapter 4 Kim by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. Read by Adrian Pretzelis Chapter 5 Part 1 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 husks have greater zest for me. I think my pigs will be best for me, So I'm off to the sties afresh. The prodigal son. Once more the lazy string-tides, shuffling procession got underway, and she slept till they reached the next halting stage. It was a very short march, and the time lacked an hour to sundown,

so Kim cast about for means of amusement. "'But why not sit and rest?' said one of the escort. "'Only the devils and the English walk to and fro without reason. "'Never make friends with a devil, a monkey or a boy. No man knows what they will do next,' said his fellow. Kim turned a scornful back. He did not want to hear the old story how the devil played with boys and repented of it, and walked idly across country.

The llama strode after him. All that day, whenever they passed the stream, he had turned aside to look at it, but in no case had he received any of the... warning that he had found his river. Insensibly to the comfort of speaking to someone in a reasonable tongue, and of being properly considered and respected as her spiritual adviser by a well-born woman had weaned his thoughts a little from the search.

And further, he was prepared to spend serene years in his quest, having nothing of the white man's impatience, but a great faith. "'Whither goest thou?' he called after King. Kim. No whither. It was a small march, and all this, Kim waved his hands abroad, is new to me. She is without question a wise and discerning woman, but it is hard to meditate when— All women are thus, Kim spoke as might have Solomon. Before the Lama's seri was a broad platform, the Lama muttered. loping up the well-worn rosary,

Of stone, On that I have left the marks of my feet, Pacing to and fro with these. He clicked the beads, And began the Omane-pudme-hams of his devotion, Grateful for the cool, the quiet, And the absence of dust. One thing after another drew Kim's idle eye across the plain.

There was no purpose in his wanderings, except that the build of the huts nearby seemed new, and he wished to investigate. They had come out on a broad tract of grazing-ground, brown and purple in the afternoon light, with a heavy clump of mangoes in the centre. It struck Kim as curious that no shrine stood in so eligible a spot. The boy was observing as any priest for these things. Far across the plain walked side by side four men made small by the distance. He looked intently 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 they have 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 the mango-top. Two little figures halted. The other two came forward, uncertainly. They were the advance party of a regiment on the march, sent out, as usual, to mark the camp. They bore five-foot sticks with fluttering flags and called to each other as they spread over the flat earth. they entered the mango grove, walking heavily. It's here or hereabouts. Officers tents under the trees, I take it, and the rest of us can stay outside. Have they marked out for the baggage wagons yet? They cried out again to their comrades in the distance,

and the rough answer came back faint and mellowed. Shove the flag in here, then, said one. What do they prepare? said the llama, wonderstruck. This is a great and a terrible world! What is that device on the flag?' A soldier thrust a stave within a few feet of them, gruntedly, pulled it up again, conferred with his companion, who looked up and down the shaded cave of greenery, and returned it. Kim stared with all his eyes his breath coming short and sharp between his teeth. The soldiers stamped off into the sun.

"'Oh, Holy One!' he gasped. "'My horoscope! The drawing in the dust by the priest at Umbala! "'Remember what he said? First come, two, for ashes, to make all things ready, "'in a dark place, as it is always at the beginning of a vision.' "'But this is not vision,' said the llama. "'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 not ten feet away. It was no more than an ordinary camp-marking flag, but the regiment, all was punctilious in matters of millinery, had charged it with the regimental device, the red bull, which is the crest of the mavericks, the great red bull on a background of Irish green. I see, and now I remember, said the llama. Certainly it is thy bull, certainly also the two men came to make already.

They are soldiers, white soldiers. What said the priest? The sign over against the bull is the sign of war and armed men. Men. Holy one, this thing touches my search. True, it is true. The Lama stared fixedly at the device that flamed like a ruby in the dusk. The priest that Dambalus said that thine was the sign of war. What is to do now? Wait, let us wait. Even now the darkness clears, said Kim. it was only natural that the descending sun should at last strike through the tree trunks across the grove filling it with merely gold light for a few minutes but to kim it was crown of the ambala brahmin's prophecy said the lama one beats a drum far off at first the sound carrying diluted through the still air resembled the beating of an artery in the head soon

a sharpness was added. Ah, the music! Kim explained. He knew the sound of a regimental band, but it amazed the llama. At the far end of the plain, a heavy, dusty column crawled into 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 shrug in the shrughey. trill-tonged fiefs. We shouldered arms, we marched, we marched away, from Phoenix Park we marched

to Dublin Bay, the drums and the fiefs, oh sweetly they did play, as we marched, marched, marched, marched with the Mulligan guards. It was the band of the Mavericks playing the regiment to camp, for the men were route-marching with their baggage. The rippling column swung into the level, carts behind it, divided left and right, ran about like an ant-hill, and, but this is sorcery, said the llama. The plain dotted itself with tents that seemed to rise or spread from the carts. Another rush of men invaded the grove, pitched a huge tent in silence, ran up, yet eight or nine more by the side of it, unearthed cooking pots, pans and bundles, which were taken possession of by a crowd of native servants.

And behold, the mango-tope turned into an orderly town as they watched. "'Let us go!' said the llama, sinking back afraid, as the fires twinkled and the white officers with jingling swords stalked into the mess-tent. "'Stand back in the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of the fire,' said Kim. his eyes still on the flag. He had never before watched the routine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty minutes. "'Look, look, look!' clucked the llama. "'Yernder comes a priest!' It was Bennett, the Church of England chaplain of the regiment, limping in dusty black.

One of his flock had made some rude remarks about the chaplain's metal, and to abash him, Bennett had marched step by step with the men that day. The black dress, gold cross on the watch-chain, the hairless face, and the soft black, wide-awake hat would have marked him as a holy man anywhere in all India. He dropped into a camp-chair by the door of the mess-tent and slid off his boots. Three or four officers 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 have considered the countenance of that priest, and I think he is learned. "'Is it likely that he will understand our talk? I would talk to him of my search.'

"'Never speak to a white man till he is fed,' said Kim. quoting a well-known proverb. "'They will eat now, and, I do not think they are good to beg from. Let us go back to the resting-place. After we have eaten, we will come again. It certainly was a red bull. My red bull!' They were both noticeably absent-minded when the old lady's retinue set their meal before them.

So none broke their reserve, for it is not lucky to annoy guests. "'Now,' said Kim, picking his teeth, "'we will return to that place, "'but thou, oh, holy one, must wait a little way off, "'because thy feet are heavier than mine, "'and I am anxious to see more of that red bull.' "'But how canst thou understand the talk? "'Walk slowly.

"'The road is dark,' the llama replied uneasily. "'Kim put the question aside. I marked a place near to the trees, said he, where thou can't sit till I call. Nay, as the Lama made some sort of protest, remember this is my search, the search for my red bull. The sign in the stars was not for thee. I know a little of the customs of the white soldiers, and I always desire to see some new things. What dost thou not know of this world? The llama squatted obediently in a little hollow of the ground, not a hundred yards from the hump of the mango trees, dark against the star-powded sky.

Stay till I call. Kim flitted into the dusk. He knew that in all probability there would be centuries round the camp, and smiled to himself as he heard the thick boots of one. A boy who can dodge over the roofs of Lahore City on a moonlit night, using every little patch and corner of darkness to discomfort his pursuer, is not likely to be checked by a line of well-trained soldiers. He paid them the complement of crawling between a couple, and running and halting, crouching and dropping flat,

worked his way toward the lighted mess-tent, where, close-pressed behind the mango tree, he waited till some chance word should give him a returnable lead. The one thing now in his mind was further information as to the Red Bull. For aught he knew and Kim's limitations were as curious and sudden as his expansions, the men, the 900 thorough devils of his father's prophecy, might pray to the beast after dark, as Hindus prayed to the holy cow. That at least would be entirely right and logical,

and the Padre with the gold cross would be, therefore, the man to consult. in the matter. On the other hand, remembering sober-faced Padres whom he had avoided in Lahore City, the priest might be an inquisitive nuisance, who would bid him learn. But had it not been proven at Umbala that his sign in the high havens portended war and armed men? Was he not the friend of the stars, as well as of all the world, crammed to the teeth with dreadful secrets? Lastly, and, and, And, firstly, as the undercurrent of all his quick thoughts, this adventure, though he did not know the English word, was a stupendous lark, a delightful continuation of his old flights across the housetops, as well as the fulfilment of sublime prophecy. He lay belly-flacked and wriggled toward the mess-tent door, a hand on the amulet round his neck. It was as he suspected. The Saibes prayed to their God.

For in the centre of the mess-table, its sole ornament, when they were on the line of March, stood a golden bull fashioned from old-time lute of the summer palace at Peking. A red-gold bull with lowered head, ramping upon a field of Irish green. To him the Saibs held out their glasses and cried aloud confusedly. Now, the Reverend Arthur Bennett always left mess after. to that toast, and being rather tired by his march, his movements were more abrupt than usual. Kim, with slightly raised head, was still staring at his totem on the table, when the chaplain stepped on his right shoulder-blade. Kim flinched under the leather, and rolling sideways,

brought down the chaplain, who, ever a man of action, caught him by the throat, and nearly choked the life out of him. Kim then kicked him desperately in the stomach. Mr. Bennet gasped and doubled up, but without relaxing his grip, rolled over again, and silently hauled Kim to his own tent. The Mavericks were incurable practical jokers, and it occurred to the Englishman 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 of the tent-pole lantern, then, shaking him severely, cried,

"'What were you doing? You're a thief, sure, Malum?' His Hindustani was very limited, and the ruffled and disgraced Kim intended to keep to the character laid down for him. As he recovered his breath, he was inventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some scullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little under the chaplain's left armpit. The chance came. He ducked for a doorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping the amulet string and closing on the amulet. "'Give it me! Oh, give it me! Is it last? Give me the papers!'

The words were in English. The tinny, sore-cut English of the native bread, and the chaplain jumped. "'A scapula?' he said, opening his hand. "'No, some sort of heathen charm. Why? Why do you speak English?' "'Little boys who steal are beaten, do you know that?' "'I do not, I do not steal.' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at a lifted stick. "'Oh, give it me! It is my charm! Do not thieve it from me!'

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 boy in the dark, out of the dark, out of the same. outside the mess tent. Ordinarily, I should have chastised him and let him go, because I believe him to be a thief. But it seems he talks English, and he attaches some sort of value to a charm round his neck. I thought perhaps you might help me.

Between himself and the Roman Catholic chaplain of the Irish contingent lay, as Bennett believed, an unbridgeable gulf. But it was noticeable that whenever the Church of England dealt with a human problem, she was very likely to call in the Church of Rome. Benet's official abhorrence of the scarlet woman in all her ways was only equalled by his private respect for Father Victor. A thief talk in English, is it? Let's look at his charm. No, it's not a scapular, Bennett. He held out his hand. But have we any right to open it? A sound whipping! I did not thief, protested Kim. You have hit me kicked all over my body. Now give me my charm, and I will go away.' "'Not quite so fast. We look first,' said Father Victor, leisurely rolling out poor Kimball

O'Hara's knee-varyatur parchment, his clearance certificate, and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this last, O'Hara, with some confused idea that he was doing wonders for his son, had scrawled scores of times, Look after the boy. Please look after the boy. Signing his name and regimental number in full. Pairs of darkness below, said Father Victor, passing all over to Mr. Bennett.

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 brought them 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 making of a gay mystery here. Do you believe in Providence, Bennett?

I hope so. Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the same thing. Powers of Darkness, Kimball O'Hara, and his son. But then he's a native, and I saw Kimball married myself to Annie's shot. How long have you had these things, boy? Ever since I was a little baby. Father Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's upper garment. You see, Bennett, he's not very black.

What's your name? Kim. Or Kimberl? Perhaps, will you let me go away? What else? They call me Kim Rishty-Kee, that is, Kim of the Rishty. What is that Rishty? I-Rish-Tee.

That was the regiment of my father's. Irish. Oh, I see. Yes, that was how my father told me. My father, he has lived. He has lived where? Has lived. Of course. He's dead.

Gone out. Oh, that's sheer abrupt way of putting it, is it? Bennett interrupted. It is possible that I have done the boy in injustice. He is certainly white, though evidently neglected. I'm sure I must have bruised him. I do not think spirits. Get him a glass of cherry then, and let him squat on the cot. Now, Kim, continued Father Victor, no one is going to hurt you. Drink that down, and tell us about yourself. The truth,

if you've no objection. End of Chapter 5, Part 1. Kim, by Roger Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellis. Chapter 5 Part 2 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 about camps are generally turned out after a whipping, but he had received no stripes. The amulet was evidently working in his favour,

and it looked as though the umbala horoscope, and the few words he could remember of his father's morderinges, fitted in most miraculously. Else why did the fat Padre seemed so impressed, and why the glass of hot yellow drink from the lean one? My father, he is dead in Lahore City since I was very little. The woman, she kept Kabari's shop, near where the higher carriages are. Kim began 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. My father, he got these papers from the Jadu Gehr. What you call that? Bennett nodded. Because he was in "'Good standing! What do you call that?' Again,' Bennett nodded.

"'My father told me that he said to—and also the Brahmin, who made the drawing in the dust at Ambala two days ago. He said that I shall find a red bull in a green field, and that the bull shall help me.' "'A phenomenal little liar!' muttered Bennett. "'Pers of darkness below! What a contrary!' 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 the place ready. That is always so in a dream, or an account of a prophecy. So I knew it was come true. I saw the red bull on the green field, and my father, he said, Nine hundred pucker devils, and the colonel riding on a horse will look our after you when you find the Red Bull. I did not know what to do when I saw the bull, but I went away and I came back when it was dark. I wanted to see the bull again, and I saw the bull again

with the Saibs praying to it. I think the bull 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 can witness to all the things that I say, and he knows I am not a thief." "'Sayib praying to a bull? What in the world you make of that?' said Bennett. "'Disible of a holy man? Is the boy mad?' "'It's O'Hara's boy, sure enough. O'Hara's boy leagued with the powers of the devil. It's very much what his father would have done, if he 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 you come.

He is my master. Then afterwards we can go. Powers of darkness, was all that Father Victor could say, as Bennett marched 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. I have found the bull, but God knows what comes next. They will not hurt you. 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 uncurried donkeys. Then it is not well to make a jest of their ignorance, the Lama returned. I am glad if thou art rejoiced, Jela. Dignified and unsuspicious, he strode into the little tent. saluted the churches as a churchman, and sat down by the open charcoal brazier.

The yellow lining of the tent reflected in the lamplight made his face red gold. Bennett looked at him with the triple-ringed uninterest of the creed that lumps nine-tenths of the world under the title of heathen. And what was the end of the search? What gift has the red bull-bore? the lama addressed himself to kim he says what are you going to do bennet was staring uneasily at father victor and kim for his own ends took upon himself the office of interpreter i do not see what concern this for care has with the boy who is probably his dupe or his confederate bennet began we cannot allow an english boy assuming that he is the son of a mason soon he goes to the masonic orphanage, the better. Ah, that's your opinion as the secretary to the regimental Lodge,' said Father

Victor. But we might as well tell the old man what we're going to do, too. 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 son of a Saib. But how? Oh, it is true. I knew it since my birth, but he could only find it out by rending the amulet from my neck and reading all the papers. He thinks that once a Saib is always a Saib, and between the two of them they propose to keep me in this regiment, or send me to a Madrisha a school. it has happened before i've always avoided it the fat fool is of one mind and the camel-like one of another but that is no odds i may spend one night here and perhaps the next it has happened before then i will run away and return to thee but tell them that thou art my chelah tell them how they'll just come to me when i was faint and bewildered tell them that thou art my chelah tell them how they'll dost come to me when i was faint and bewildered

"'Tell them of our search, and they 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. Bennet. "'Oh, he only says that if you do not let me go, it will stop him in his business, his urgent private affairs.' This last was a reminiscence of some talk with. the Eurasian clerk in the canal department, but it only drew a smile which nettled him. And if you did know what his business was, you would not be in such a beastly hurry to interfere.

"'What is it, then?' said Father Victor, not without feeling as he watched the Lama's face. "'There is a river in this country which he wishes to find so very much. It was put out by an arrow which Kim tapped his foot impatiently, as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to the clumsy English. Oh, it was made by our Lord God Buddha, you know, and if you wash there, you are washed away from all your sins and made as white as cotton wool. Kim had heard mission talk in his time. I'm his disciple, and we must find that river. It is so very valuable to us. "'Say that again,' said Bennett. Kim obeyed with amplifications.

"'But this is gross blasphemy!' cried the Church of England. "'Chuch, said Father Victor sympathetically. "'I'd give a great deal to be able to talk the vernacular. "'A river that washes away sin. "'And how long have you till been looking for it?' "'Oh, many days. "'Now we wish to go away and look for it again. "'It is not here, you see.'

"'I see,' said Father Victor, gravely, "'but he can't go on in that old man's company. "'It would be different, Kim, if you were not a soldier's son. "'Tell him that the regiment will take care of you "'and make you as good a man as you're—as good a man as can be. "'Tell him that if he believes 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 is coming here to his own regiment. In search of his red bull is in the nature of a miracle. Consider the chances against it, Bennett. This one boy in all India, an all regiment of all others on the line of march for him to meet with. It's predestined on the face of it. Yes, tell him it's Kismit. Kismit Malam, do you understand? He turned towards the llama to whom he might as well have talked of Mesopotamia.

They say, the old man's eye lighted at Kim's speech, they say that the meaning of my horoscope is now accomplished, and that being led back, though as thou knowest I went out of curiosity, to these people and their red bull, I must needs go to a madrisha and be turned into a Saib. Now I make pretence of agreement, for at the worst it will only be a few meals eaten away from thee. Then I will slip away and follow down the road to Saranpur. Therefore, holy one, keep with that Kulu woman, on no account stray far from her cart till I come again. Past question, my sign is of war and of armed men. See how they have given me wine to drink and set me upon a bed of honour. My father must have been some great person. So if they raise me to honour among them, good.

good again. However it goes, I will run back to thee when I am tired. But stay with the Raj Putney, or I shall miss thy feet. Oh, yes, said the boy. I have told him everything you tell me to say. And I cannot see any need why he should wait, said Bennett, feeling in his trouser pocket. We could investigate the details later, and I will give him a room. Give him time. Maybe he's fond of the lad, said Father Victor. half-arresting the clergyman's motion, the llama-dragged forth his rosary and pulled his huge hat-brim over his eyes.

What can he want now? He says, Kim put up one hand, he says, be quiet. He wants to speak to me by himself. You see, you do not know one little word of what he says, and I think if you talk he will perhaps give you very bad curses. When he takes those bees like that, you see, he wants to be quiet.

The two Englishmen sat overwhelmed, but there was a look in Bennett's eye that promised ill for Kim when he should be relaxed to the religious arm. A Saib! and the son of a Saib! The llama's voice was harsh with pain. But no white man knows the land, and the customs of the land, as thou know'st.

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 first spoke to thee under zamsama the great gun as a boy in the dress of white men when i first went to the wonder-house and a second time thou watched a hindoo what shall the third incarnation be he chuckled drearily ah chela thou hast done a wrong 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 bring me to this business the lama covered his face afresh and nervously rattled the rosary Kim squatted beside him, and laid hold upon a fold of his clothing. "'Now it is understood that the boy's a saib,' he went on in a muffled tone, "'such a saib as was he who kept the images in the wonder-house.'

The llama's experience of white men was limited. He seemed to be repeating a lesson. So then it is not seemly that he should do other than as the Saibs do. He must go back to his own people. For a day and a night and a day, Kim pleaded. No, ye don't, Father Victor saw Kim edging towards the door and interposed a strong leg. I do not understand a cock. of white men. The priest of the images in the Wonderhouse in Lahore

was more courteous than the thin one here. This boy will be taken from me. They will make a saib of my disciple, woe to me. How shall I find my river? Have they no disciples? Ask. He says he is very sorry that he cannot find the river now any more. He says, Why have you no disciples, and stop bothering him?

He wants to be 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 you will let me go now, we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will look for that river, like before I was caught. I wish I did not come here to find the Red Bull, and all that sort of thing. I do not want it. 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, and yet he's a good man. I'm sure he's a good man. "'Benet, if you give him that rupee, he'll curse your root and branch.' They listened to each other's breathing. Three, five full minutes. Then the llama raised his head and looked forth across them into space and emptiness.

"'And I am a follower of the way,' he said bitterly. "'The sin is mine and the punishment is mine. I made belief to myself, for now I see it was but make belief, that thou was sent to me to aid in the search. So my heart went out to thee for thy charity and thy courtesy and the wisdom of thy little years. But those who follow the way must permit not the fire of the fire. any desire or attachment, for that is all illusion. As says, he quoted an old, old Chinese text, backed it with another, and reinforced these with a third.

I stepped aside from the way, my chela. It was no thought 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 my search alone. Now I am sorrowful, because thou are taken away, and my river is far from me. It is the law which I have broken. "'Darkness below,' said Father Victor, who, wise in the confessional, heard the pain in every sentence.

"'I can see now that the sign of the Red Bull was a sign for me as well as for thee. All desire is red and evil. I will do penance and find my river alone.' At least go back to the cooling. "'Blue woman,' said Kim. "'Otherwise thou wilt be lost upon the roads. "'She will feed thee till I run back to thee.' The llama waved a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in his mind.

"'Now,' his tone altered as he turned to Kim, "'what will they do with thee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill. Make me a Saib, so they think. The day after tomorrow I return, do not grieve. Of what sort? Such and one as this or that man? He pointed to Father Victor.

Such and one of those I saw this evening, men wearing swords and stamping heavily. Maybe. That is not well. These men follow desire and come to emptiness. Thou must not be of their sort. The Ambalah priest said that my star was war, Kim interjected. I will ask these fools, but there is truly no need. I will run away this night for all I wanted to see the new things.

Kim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating the replies to the Lama. Then, he says, you take him from me, and you cannot say what you will make him. He says, tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing to make a child. You will be sent to a school. Later on we shall see. Kimball, I suppose you'd like to be a soldier. Godalogue, white folk. Noah, Noah! Kim shook his head violently.

There was nothing in his composition to which drill and routine appealed. I will not be a soldier. You will be what you'll tell to be, said Bennett, and you should be grateful that we're going to help you.' Kim smiled compassionately. If these men lay under the delusion that he would do anything that he did not fancy, so much the better. Another long silence followed. Bennett fidgeted with impatience and suggested calling a sentry to evict the fakir. Do they give or sell learning a-mere?

among the Saibs, ask them, said the Lama and Kim interpreted. They say that money is paid to the teacher, but that money the regiment will give. What need? It is only for a night. And the more money is paid the better learning is given? The Lama disregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. It is no wrong to pay for learning, to help the ignorant, wisdom is always a merit. The rosary 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, that depends. The regiment would pay for you all the time you were at the military orphanage, or you might go on to the Punjab Masonic orphanages list. Not that he or you'd understand what that means, but the best schooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St Saviars, in Partibus, at Lucknow. This took some time to interpret, for Bennett wished 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 any sense of amazement. "'Bennet, impatient, did not understand. "'He says, "'write that name and the money upon a paper and give it to him. "'And he says you must write your name below "'because he is going to write a letter in some days to you. "'He says you are a good man. "'He says the other man is a fool.

"'He is going away.' "'The llama rose suddenly. "'I will follow my name.' search, he cried, and was gone. He'll run slap into the centuries, cried Father Victor, jumping up as the Lama stalked out. But I can't leave the boy. Kim made swift motion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge outside. The Lama had disappeared. Kim settled himself composedly on the chaplain's cot. At least the Lama had promised that he would

stay with the Rajput woman from Kulu, and the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the two Padres were so evidently excited. They talked long in undertones, Father Victor urging some scheme upon Mr. Bennett, who seemed incredulous. All this was very new and fascinating, but Kim felt sleepy. They called men into the tent, one of them certainly was the colonel, as his father had prophesied, and they asked him an infinity of question. chiefly about the woman who had looked after him, all of which Kim answered truthfully. They did not seem to think the woman a good guardian.

After all, this was the newest of his experiences. Sooner or later, if he chose, he could escape into great grey formless India, beyond tents and Padres and colonels. Meanwhile, if the Saibs were to be impressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white man. After much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a sergeant who had strict instructions not to let him escape. The regiment would go on to Umbala, and Kim would be sent up, partly at the expense of the lodge, and in part by subscription, to a place called Sanawar. It's miraculous past, all-whooping Colonel, said Father Victor, when he had talked without a break for ten minutes.

His Buddhist friend has Levanted after taking my name and address. I can't make out whether he'll pay for the boy's education or whether he's preparing some sort of witchcraft on his own account. Then to Kim, you'd live to be grateful to your friend the Red Bull yet. We'll make a man of you at San Juan, even at the price of making you a Protestant. Certainly, most certainly, said Bennett. But you will not go to San Juan. "'Sanawa,' said Kim.

"'But we will go to Sanoir, little man. "'That's the order of the commander-in-chief, "'who's a trifle more important than O'Hara's son.' "'You will not go to Sanoa. "'You will go to the war.' "'There was a shout of laughter from the full tent. "'When you know your own regiment a trifle better, "'you won't confuse the line of march with line of battle, Kim.

"'We hope to go to the war sometime.' "'Oh, I know all that.' Kim drew his bow again at a venture. If they were not going to the war, at least they did not know what he knew of the talk on the veranda and Umballa. I know you are not at the war now, but I tell you that as soon as you get to Umbala, you will be sent to the war, the new war. It is a war of eight thousand men, besides the guns. That's explicit.

Do you add prophecy to your other gifts? So take him along, Sergeant. Take up suit for him from the drums, and take care he doesn't slip through your fingers. Who says the age of miracles has gone 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 sat Kim, newly washed all over in a horrible stuff suit that rasped his arms and legs. A most amazing young bird, said the sergeant. He turns up in charge of a yellow-headed Buck Brahmin priest, with his father's lodge certificates round his neck, talking, God knows, what of all a red bull. The Buck Brahmin evaporates without explanations, and the boy sets cross-legged on the chaplain's bed,

prophesy and bloody war to the men at large, injures a wild land for a god-fearing. him man. I'll just tie his leg to the tent pole in case he'll go through the roof. What do you say about the war? Eight thousand men. Besides guns, said Kim, very soon you will see. You're a consoling little imp. Lie down between the drums and go to bye-bye. Those two boys will watch your slumbers. End of Chapter 5. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis. Chapter 6 Now I remember comrades, old playmates on new seas, when as we traded opement 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 as the mavericks took a side road to Umbala.

It did not skirt the resting pace, and Kim trudging beside a baggage cart under fire of comments from soldiers' wives, was not so confident as overnight. He discovered 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 Colonel a letter. He read it and spoke to a major. Half a mile in the rear, Kim heard a horse and joyful clamour rolling down on him through the thick dust, then someone beat him on the back, crying, "'Tell us how you knew, your little limb of Satan. Father, dear, see if he can make him tell.'

A pony raged alongside, and he was hauled onto the priest's saddle-bow. "'Now, my son, your prophecy of last night was come true. Our orders are to entrain at Ambala, for the front to-morrow.' "'What is that?' said Kim, for front and entrain were newish. words to him. We're going to the war, as you called it. Of course you are going to the war, I said last night. You're dead, but powers of darkness. How did you know? Kim's eyes sparkled. He shut his lips, nodded his head, and looked unspeakable things. The chaplain moved on through the dust, and privates, sergeants and subalterns called one another's attention to the boy. The colonel at

head of the column, stared at him curiously. It was probably some bizarre rumour, he said. But even then, he referred to the paper in his hand. Hang it all. The thing was only decided within the last forty-eight hours. Are there many more like you in India? said Father Victor. Or are you, boy, the way of being a loosest natural loy? Now I have told you, said the boy, will you let me go back to my old man? If he has not stayed with that woman from Kulu, I'm afraid he will die.

But what I saw of him he's well able to take care of himself as you, no. You've brought us luck, and we're going to make a man of you. I'll take you back to your baggage cart, and you'll come to me this evening. For the rest of the day, Kim found himself an object of distinguished consideration among a few hundred white men. The story of his appearance in camp, the discovery of his parentage and his prophecy had lost nothing in the telling. A big, shapeless white woman on a pile of bedding asked Kim mysteriously whether he thought her husband would come back from the war. Kim reflected gravely and said that he would, and the woman gave him food. In many respects, this big procession that played music at intervals, this crowd that taught,

and laughed so easily, resembled a festival in Lahore City. So far there was no sign of hard work, and he resolved to lend the spectacle his patronage. At evening there came out to meet them bands of music, and played the Mavericks into camp near Umbala Railway Station. That was an interesting night. Men of other regiments came to visit the Mavericks. The Mavericks went visiting on their own account. Their pickets hurried for to bring them back, met pickets of strange regiments on the same duty, and after a while the bugles blew madly for more pickets with officers to control the tumult. The Mavericks had a reputation for liveliness to live up to, but they fell in on the platform next morning in perfect

shape and condition, and Kim left behind with the sick women and boys, found himself shouting farewells excitedly as the trains drew away. Life as a Saiby, was amusing so far, but he touched it with a cautious hand. Then they marched him back in charge of a drummer-boy to empty lime-washed barracks, whose floors were covered with rubbish and string and paper, and whose ceilings gave back his lonely footfall. Native fashion he curled himself up on a striped 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 various English police notices in Lahore City

because they affected his comfort, and among the many guests of the women who looked after him had been a queer German who painted scenery for the Farsi travelling theatre. He told Kim that he had been on the barricades in 48, and therefore, at least that was how it struck Kim, he would teach the boy to write in return for food. Kim had been kicked as far as single letters, but did not think well of them. I do not know anything, go away, said Kim, senting evil. Hereupon the man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing,

where a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be still if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully. The man explained something or other with white lines on a black board for at least half an hour, and Kim continued his interrupted nap. He much disapproved at the present state of affairs, for this was the very school and discipline he had spent two-thirds of his young life in avoiding. Suddenly a beautiful idea occurred to him, and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. said a high voice at his heels.

I've got to look after you. My orders are not to let you out of my sight. Where are you going? It was the drummer boy who had been hanging around him all the forenoon, a fat and freckled person of about fourteen, and Kim loathed him from the soles of his boots, to the bazaar, to get sweets for you, said Kim after a thought. Well, the bazaar's out of bound.

and if we go there we'll get a dressing down. You come back. How near can we go? Kim did not know what bounds meant, but he wished to be polite for the present. How near? How far, you mean. We can go as far as that tree down the road.

Then I will go there. All right. I ain't going. It's too hot. I can watch you from here. It's no good running away. if you did they'd spot you by your clothes. That's regimental stuff you're wearing. There ain't a picket and embala wouldn't edge you back quicker than you started out. This did not impress Kim as much as the knowledge that his Raymond would tire him out if he tried to run. He slouched to the tree at the corner of a bare road leading it toward the bazaar and eyed the natives passing. Most of them were barrack servants of the lowest caste. Kim, Hailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a piece of unnecessary insolence in the natural

belief that the European boy could not follow it. The low, quick answer, undeceived him. Kim put his fettered soul into it, thankful for the late chance to abuse somebody in the tongue he knew best. And now, go to the nearest letter-writer in the bazaar, and tell him to come here. I would write a letter. "'But what manner of white man's son art thou to need a bizarre letter-writer? Is there not a schoolmaster in the barracks?'

"'Aye, and hell is full of the same sort. "'Do my order, you owed?' "'Thy mother was married under a basket. "'Servant of Lalbeg,' Kim knew the god of the sweepers. "'Run on my business, or we will talk later.' The sweeper shuffled off in haste. "'There is a white boy by the barracks, waiting under a tree. Who is not a white boy?' he stammered to the first bizarre letter-writer he came across.

"'He needs thee.' "'Will he pay?' said that spruce scribe, gathering up his desk and pens and sealing wax, all in order. "'I do not know. He is not like other boys. Go and see. It is well worth.' 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 have made the price higher. But who art thou dressed in that fashion to speak in this fashion?

Aha, that is in the letter which thou shalt write. Never was such a tale. But I am in no haste. "'Another writer will serve me. Ambala city is full of them as is Lahore.' "'Four Anas,' said the writer, sitting down and spreading his cloth in the shade of a deserted barrack wing. Mechanically Kim squatted beside him, squatted as only the natives can, in spite of the abominable clinging trousers. The writer regarded him sideways. "'That is the price to ask of Saibs,' said Kim.

Now fix me a true one. And anna and a half. How do I know, having written the letter, that thou wilt not run away? I must not go beyond this tree, and there is also the stamp to be considered. I get no commission on the price of the stamp. Once more, what manner of white boy art thou? That shall be said in the letter, which is to Mabub Ali, the horse-dealer, in the Kashmir-sur-a-la-ha-ha. He is my friend. Wonder on wonder, murmured the letter-writer,

dipping a reed in the inkstand. To be written in Hindi? Assuredly. To Mabub Ali, then. Begin. I have come down with the old man as far as Ombala in the train. At Ombala, I carried the news of the Bay Mayor's pedigree. After what he had seen in the garden,

he was not going to write of white stallions. "'Slower a little. What has a bay mare to do? Is it Mabub Ali the great dealer?' "'Who else? I have been in his service. Take more ink. Again. As the order was, so I did it. We then went on foot to Benares, but on the third day we found a certain regiment. Is that down?' "'Aye, Poulton,' murmured the writer, all ears. I went into their camp and was caught, and by means of the charm about my neck which thou knowest, it was established that I was the son of some man in the regiment, according to the prophecy of the Red Bull which thou knowest was common talk of Abazaar. Kim waited for this shaft to sink into

the letter-writer's heart, cleared his throat, and continued. A priest, clothed me and gave me a new name. One priest, however, was a fool. The clothes are very heavy, but I am a Saib, 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, Mabub Ali, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer who writes this. Who writes this? Who writes this? It It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art as clever as Hassan Bucks that forge the treasury stamps at Nuklau. But what a tale!

What a tale! Is it true by any chance? It does not profit to tell lies to Mabub Ali. It is better to help his friends by lending them a stamp. When the money comes, I will repay. The writer grunted doubtfully, but took a stamp out of his desk, sealed the letter, handed it over to Kim, and departed. Mabub Ali's was a name of power in Umbala.

That is the way to win good account with the gods, Kim shouted after him. Pay me twice over when the money comes, the man cried over his shoulder. What was you bucking to that nigger about? said the drummer boy when Kim returned to the veranda. I was watching you. I was only talking to him. You talked the same as a nigger. don't you? Noah, Noah, I only speak a little. What shall we do now? The bugles will go for dinner in half a minute.

My God, I wish I'd gone up to the front with the regiment. It's lawful doing nothing but school down here. Don't you, ate it? Oh, yes. I'd run away if I knew where to go. But as the man see, in this blooming injure, you're only a prisoner at love. You can't desert without being took back at once. I'm fair sick of it.

But have you been in England? Why, I only come out last troop in season with my mother. I should think I have been in England. What an ignorant little beggar you are. He was brought up in the gutter, wasn't you? Oh yes. Tell me something about England. My father, he came from there.

Though he would not say so, Kim, of course, disbelieved every word the drummer-boy spoke about the Liverpool suburb, which was his England. It passed the heavy time till dinner, a most unappetising meal served to the boys and a few invalids in a corner of a barrack room. But that he had written to Mabub Ali, Kim would have been almost depressed. The indifference of native crowds he was used to, but this strong loneliness among white men prayed of. on him. He was grateful when in the course of the afternoon, a big soldier took him over to Father Victor, who lived in another wing across another dusty parade ground. The priest was reading an English letter written in Purple Ink. He looked at Kim more curiously than ever. And 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 had an amazing epist. I've had an amazing epistence. from your friend. Where is he? Is he well? Oh, if he knows to write me letters, it is 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? No. Oh, I know. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter writer who can write English very well, so he wrote. I do hope you understand. That accounts for it. Do you know anything about his money affairs? Kim's face showed that he did not. How can I tell? That's what I'm asking. Now listen, if he can make head or tail of this. We'll skip the first part. It's written from Jagged Here Road.

Sitting on Wayside in grave meditation, trusting to be favoured with your honour's applause of present step, which recommend your honour to execute for Almighty God's sake. Education is greatest blessing, if of best sorts, otherwise no earthly good. Faith the old man's hit the bullseye that time. If your honour condescending, giving my boy best education saviour, I suppose that's Saint Saviour's impartibus, in terms of our conversation dated in your tent,

instant. A business-like touch there. Then, Almighty God, blessing your honour's succeeding to third and fourth generations, and, listen now, confide in your honour's humble servant for adequate remuneration per hundi per annum, three hundred rupees a year, to one expensive education, St. Xavier, Lucknow, and allow small time to full, forward same per hundi sent to any part of India as your honour shall address yourself. This servant of your honour has presently no place to lay crown of his head, but going to Benares by train on account of persecution of old woman talking so much and unanxious residing Saharanpur in any domestic capacity.

Now, what in the world does that mean? She has asked him to be her Puro, her clergyman, at Suranapur, I think. 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 to Benares, where we'll find address and forward rupees for boy who is apple of eye, and for almighty God's sake execute this education and your petitioner, as in duty bound, shall ever awfully pray. Written by Sobrow Saiti,

Failed entrance, Al-Aabad University, for venerable Tishu Lama, the priest of Suchsen, looking for a river. Address, care of Tirthankas Temple, Benares. P.M. Please note, boy is apple of eye, and rupees shall be sent per hundi, 300 per annum, for God Almighty's sake.

Now, is that raven lunacy or a business proposition, I ask you, because I'm fairly at my wits end? He says he will give me 300 rupees a year, so he will give 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't believe it. But we'll see. You were going off today to the military orphanage at Sanawar, where the regiment will keep you till you were old enough to enlist.

You'd be brought up to the Church of England. Bennett arranged for that. On the other hand, if you go to St. Xavier's, you'll get a better education and can have the religion. Do you see my dilemma? Kim saw nothing save a vision of the Lama going south in a train, with none to beg for him. Like most people, I'm going to temporise.

If your friend sends the money from Benares, powers of darkness below, where's a street beggar to raise 300 rupees? You'll go down to Lucknow and I'll pay you fair because I can't touch the subscription money if I intend, as I do, to make you a Catholic. If he doesn't, you'll go to the military orphanage at the regiment's expense. I'll allow him three days' grace, I don't believe in it at all. Even then, if he fails in his payments later on,

but it's beyond me. We can only walk one step at a time in this world. Praise God. And they sent Bennett to the front and left me behind. Bennett can't expect everything. Oh, yes, said Kim, vaguely. The priest leaned forward. I'd give a month's pay to find out what's going on in that little round head of yours.

There is nothing. said Kim and scratched it. He was wondering whether Mabub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he could pay the letter-writer and write letters to the Lama at Bonares. Perhaps Mahub 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 at Umbala had caused the great war which the men and the boys had discussed so loudly over the barrack dinner tables. But if Mabub Ali did not know this,

it would be very unsafe to tell him so. Mabub Ali was hard upon boys who knew or thought they knew too much. Well, till I get further news, Father Victor's voice interrupted the reverie. You can run along now and play with the other boys. They'll teach you something, but I don't think you'll like it. The day dragged to its weary end. When he wished to sleep, he was instructed how to fold up his clothes and set out his boots. the other boys deriding. Bougals waked him in the dawn. The schoolmaster caught him after breakfast,

thrust a page of meaningless characters under his nose, gave them senseless names, and whacked him without reason. Kim meditated poisoning him with opium borrowed from a barrack sweeper, but reflected that, as they all ate at one table in public, this was particularly revolting to Kim, who preferred to turn his back on the world at meals, the stroke might be dangerous.

Then he attempted to run off to the village where the priest had tried to drug the llama, the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing centuries at every exit headed back the little scarlet figure. Trousers and jacket crippled body and mind alike, so he abandoned the project and fell back oriental fashion on time and chance.

Three days of torment passed in the big, echoing white room. He walked out of afternoons under escort of the drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companion were the few useless words which seemed to make two-thirds of the white man's abuse. Kim knew and despised them all long ago. The boy resented his silence and lack of interest by beating him, as was only lateral. He did not care for any of the bazaars that were in bounds. He styled all natives niggers, yet servants and sweepers, called him abominable names to his face, and misled by the deferential attitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled Kim for the beatings. On the morning of the fourth day, a judgment overtook

that drummer. They had gone out together towards Umbala racecourse. He returned alone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been doing nothing in particular, had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger on horseback, that the nigger had then and there laid into him with a peculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young O'Hara, and borne him off at full gallop. These tidings came to Father Victor, and he drew down his long upper lip.

He was already sufficiently startled by a letter from the temple of the Thurcantas at Benares, enclosing a native banker's note of hand for 300 rupees, and an amazing prayer to Almighty God. The Lama would have been more annoyed than the priest, had he known how the bizarre letter-writer had translated his phrase to acquire merit. Per's of darkness below, Father Victor fumbled with a note. And now he's off with another of his Peepaday friends.

I don't know whether it would be a greater relief to me to get him back or to have him lost. He's beyond my comprehension. How the devil? Yes, he's the man, I mean. Can a street beggar raise the money to educate white boys? Three miles off at Umbala racecourse, Mabub Ali, reigning a great Kabuli stallion with Kim in front of him, was saying,

Bard little friend of all the world, there is my honour and reputation to be considered. All the officer Saibs in all the regiments, and all Mbbalah know Mubub Ali. Men saw me pick thee up and chastise that boy. We are seen now from far across the plain. How can I take thee away or account for thy disappearing if I set thee down and let thee run off into the crops?

They would put me in jail. Be patient. Once a saib, always a saib. When thou art a man, who knows, thou wilt be grateful to Mabuvat. Take me beyond their centuries, where I can change this red. Give me money, and I will go to Benares and be with my llama again. I do not want to be a Saib, and remember I did deliver that message.'

The stallion bounded wildly. Mabub Ali had incautiously driven home the sharp-edged therip. He was not the new sort of fluent horse-dealer who wears English boots and spurs. Kim drew his own conclusions from that betrayal. that was a small matter it lay on the straight road to bernaris i and the sahib have by this time forgotten it i send so many letters and messages to men who ask questions about horses i cannot well remember one from the other "'Was it some matter of a Bay Mayor that Peter's Sayyb wished the pedigree of?' Kim saw the trap at once. If he had said Bay Mayor, Mabu would have known, by his very readiness to fall in with the amendment

that the boy suspected something. Kim replied, therefore, "'Bay Mayor, no, I do not forget my messages thus. It was a white stallion.' "'Aye, so it was a white. white Arab stallion, but thou didst write Bay Mare to me?' "'Who cares to tell the truth to a letter-writer?' Kim answered, feeling Mabub's palm on his heart. "'Ah, ha, ha, ha. Hey, Mab, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice.

And an Englishman raced alongside on a little polo pony. "'I've been chasing you half over the country. That cabooly of yours can go. For sale, I suppose. I have some young stuff coming on made by heaven for the delicate and difficult polo game. He has no equal. He plays polo and waits at table, yes. We know all that. What the deuce have you got there? A boy, said Mabub gravely. He was being beaten by another boy. His father was once a white soldier in the big war. The boy was a child in Lahore City. He played with my horse. horses when he was a babe. Now I think they will make him a soldier. He has been newly caught by his father's regiment that went up to the war last week. But I do not think he wants to be a soldier.

I take him for a ride. Tell me where thy 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? The Englishman asked. He was bored in the land. He has friends. He goes where he chooses.

He is Chabook, so why? A sharp chap. It needs only to change his clothing and in a twinkling, he would be a low-cast Hindu boy. The deuce he would? The Englishman looked critically at the boy as Mabub headed toward the barracks. Kim ground his teeth.

Mabu was mocking him as faithless Afghans' will, for he went on, "'They will send him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and swaddle 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 staring white nearby. Perhaps he will make a good soldier, said Mabub reflexively. He will make a good orderly, at least. I sent him to deliver a message once from Lahore,

a message concerning the pedigree of a white stallion. Here was deadly insult on deadlier injury, and the Saib to whom he had so craftily given that war-waking letter, heard it all. Kim beheld Mabub 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 Mabub 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, Saib.' "'Ah!' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his ponies, damp withers with his whip-but. "'Who makes the boy a soldier?' "'He says the regiment that found him, and especially the Padre Saib of the regiment?' "'There is the Padre,' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor, sailed down upon them from the veranda. "'Pair is a 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.

"'Ment to have come over and called before this. I'm Crichton.' "'Of the ethnological survey?' said Father Victor. The Englishman nodded. "'Faith, I'm glad to meet you then, and I owe you thanks for bringing back the boy.' "'No thanks to me, Padre. Besides, the boy wasn't going away. Don't you know old Mabub Ali?' The horse-dealer sat impassive in the sunlight.

"'You will when you've been in the station a month. He sells us all our crocs. That boy is rather a kid. 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 of darkness! I'm bursting to tell someone who knows something of the native.' A groom came round the corner.

Colonel Crichton raised his voice, speaking in Urdu. "'Very good, Maboo-Bali. But what is the use of telling me all these stories about the pony? one pie more than three hundred and fifty rupees will I give. The Saib is a little hot and angry after riding,' the horse-dealer returned with a leer of a privileged jester. Presently he will see my horses' 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 Mabub's horses. He's a really. He's a really. regular old leech, Padre. Wait then, if thou hast so much time to spare Mabub, now, amateur service,

Padre. Where is the boy? And he's gone off to collogue with Mabub, queer sort of boy. Might I ask you to send my mare over under cover? He dropped into a chair which commanded a clear view of Kim and Mabub Ali in conference beneath the tree. The Padre went indoors for shrewts. "'Crighton heard Kim say bitterly, "'Trust a Brahman before a snake, "'and a snake before a harlot, "'and a harlot before a pathan, "'Mabub 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 will not make a soldier of thee.'

"'You crafty old sinner,' thought Crichton. "'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 getting the documents in the case.' "'If through me the favour of this bold and wise Colonel Saib comes to thee, and thou art raised in honour, "'what thanks wilt thou give Mabub Ali when thou art a man?'

nay nay i beg 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 marbuwali a letter from my life my llama, which he wrote from Jahagir Road, saying that he will pay three hundred rupees by the year for my schooling. Oh, ho, is that old red hat of that sort? At which

school? God knows. I think in Nakhlau. Yes, there is a big school there for the sons of Saibs and half-sabes. I've seen it when I sell horses there, so the llama also loved a friend of all the world. I,

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 Saib! Mabub Ali chuckled. By Allah! The keen eyes swept the veranda for an instant. Thy llama has sent what to me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few dealings in Hundis.

The Colonel Saib 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 horse-flesh.' "'Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. father victor talking energetically or asking questions which the colonel answered now i've told you ever a tin that i know about the boy from beginning to end and it's a blessed relief to me did you ever hear the loyke

at any rate the old man has sent the money go bin sahai's notes of hand are good from here to china said the colonel the more one knows about natives the less one can say what they will or won't do that's consoling from the head of the ethnological survey it's this mixture of red bulls and rivers of healing poor heathen god help him and notes of hand and masonic's 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 you see a reason in it. But as I said, it's the mixture of things that's beyond me. And his prophesying to our Colonel sitting on my bed, with his little shimmy torn open showing his white skin, and the prophecy coming true. That'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'd 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 at the spur of the moment, but he's bound to die one day, and taking a heathen's money to give a choil to Christian education. 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 Tia Thancar's 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 of instead of me. Dorothy certified me medical unfit. I'll excommunicate Dorothy 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 don't think Bennett will mind. Put the blame on me. I am strongly recommended sending the boy to St. Xavier's. He can go down on a pass as a soldier's orphan, so the railway fell. 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 Luck now 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 llama has sent us money for a definite end. We can't very well return it. we shall have to do what he says well that's settled isn't it shall we say that a tuesday next you'll hand him over to me at the night train south it'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 gobin sahai or his bank which may be a hole in the wall you've never been a subaltern in debt i'll cash if you like and send you the vouchers in proper order. But with all your own work too, it's asking, 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 jealous as jackdaws of one another's discoveries. There are 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. You'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. Oh, Mabub 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 Mabub, I say that when a colt is born to be a polo pony, closely following the ball without teaching, when such a cult knows the game by divination, then I say it is a great wrong to break that cult to a heavy cart, Saib. So say I also, Mabub, the cult will be entered for polo only. These fellows think of nothing in the world but horses, Padre. I'll see you tomorrow.

Mabub, if you've anything likely for sale. The dealer saluted horseman fashion with a sweep of the offhand. "'Be patient a little, friend of all the world,' he whispered to the agonized Kim. "'Thy fortune is made. In a little while thou go'st to Nucklow. 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, in Lucknow.' "'Shall I meet my holy one there?' Kim whimpered. "'At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than Umbala. "'It may be thou would go under my protection. Mabu 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. End of Chapter 6. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer. please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis.

Chapter 7 Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised With idiot moons and stars retracting stars, Creep thou between, thy comings all unnoised. Heaven hath her highs, as earth her baser wars, Ere to these tumults this affright, that fray, by Adam's father's own sin bound away, Peer up, draw out thy horoscope, and say, Which planet mend 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 bazaar 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.' "'Mabub Ali is in Umbala,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by virtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation.

"'This is not to Mabub but to a priest. Take thy pen and write quickly.' to Teshu Lama, the Holy One from Botiyaal 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 Nuklau, to the school at Nakhlau. The name of the school is Xavier. I do not know where that school is, but it is at Nakhlau.

But I know, the writer is. interrupted. I know the school. Tell him where it is, and I will 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 Crichton in tennis flannels. "'Oh, that is some Saib who knows the fat priest in the barracks. He is beckoning me.' "'What dost thou?' said the Colonel, when he, Kim trotted up. I am not running away.

I send a letter to my Holy One at Benares. I had not thought of that. Has thou said that I take thee to luck now? 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 a very one. an expedient 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 shrewd 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 bazaar, the Colonel walked on. He has forgotten his charute 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 thee for a stamp and put it in the post. He rose to go, and as an afterthought he asked, Who is that angry-faced Saib who lost the Sharute case?

Oh, he is only Crichton Saib, a very foolish Saib, who is Colonel Saib 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 the people. The dealers call him the father of fools, because he is so easily charged. cheated about a horse. Mabub Ali says he is madder than most other Saibs. 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 Mabub Ali's tone have changed. as it did every time he mentioned the colonel's name, if the colonel had been a fool. Consequently, and this set Kim to skipping, there was a mystery somewhere, and Mabub Ali probably spied for the colonel as much as Kim had spied for Mabub. And like the horse-dealer, the colonel evidently respected people who did not show themselves to be too clever. He rejoiced that he had not portrayed his knowledge of the colonel's house, and when, on his return to the barracks, he discovered that no charute case had been left behind, he beamed with delight.

Here was a man after his own heart, a torturous and indirect person playing a hidden game. Well, if he could be a fool, so could Kim. He showed nothing of his mind when Father Victor, for three long mornings, discourse to him on an entirely new set of gods and godlings, notably of a goddess called Mary, who he gathered, was one with Bibi Miriam of Mabub Ali's theology. He betrayed no emotion when after the lecture Father Victor dragged him from shop to shop buying articles of outfit, nor when envious drummer-boys kicked him because he was going to a superior school did he complain, but awaited the play of circumstances with an interested soul.

Father Victor, good man, took him to the station, Put him into an empty second class next to Colonel Crichton's first, and bade him farewell with genuine feeling. They'll make a man of your O'Hara at St. Xavier's, a white man, and I hope a good man. They know all about your coming, and the Colonel will see that you're not lost or mislaid anywhere on the road. I've given you a notion of religious matters, at least I hope so, and you'll remember when they ask you your religion that you're a Catholic. Better say Roman Catholic. though I am not fun of the word.

Kim lit a rank cigarette. He had been careful to buy a stock in the bazaar, and lay down to think. This solitary passage was very different from that joyful down journey in the third class with the Lama. Saibs get little pleasure of travel, he reflected. Hi, my, I go from one place to another, as if it might be a kick-ball.

It is my kismit. No man can escape his kismet. I am to pray to Bibi Miriam and I am a Saib. He looked at his boots ruefully. No, I am Kim. This is the great world, and I am only Kim. Who is Kim? He considered his own identity,

a thing he had never done before, till his head swam. He was one insignificant person in all this roaring whirl of India, going southward to He knew not what fate. Presently the Colonel sent for him, and talked for a long time. So far as Kim could gather, he was to be diligent and enter the survey of India as a chain-man. If he were good and passed the proper examinations, he would be earning thirty rupees a month at seventeen years old, and Colonel Crichton would see that he found suitable employment.

Kim pretended at first to understand perhaps one word in three of this talk, then the Colonel, seeing his mistake, turned to flea. and picturesque Urdu, and Kim was contented. No man could be a fool who knew the language so intimately, who moved so gently and silently, and whose eyes were so different from the dull fat eyes of other Saibs. Yes, and thou must learn how to make pictures of roads and mountains and rivers, to carry these pictures in thine eye till a suitable time comes to set them down upon paper. Perhaps some day, when thou art a chain-man, I may say to thee, when we are working together, Go across those hills, and see what lies beyond.

Then one will say, There are bad people living in those hills who will slay the chain-man if he be seen to look like a Saib. What then? Kim thought, would it be safe to return the colonel's lead? I would tell them what that other man had said. said, "'But what if I answered, I will give the a hundred rupees for knowledge of what is behind those hills, for a picture of a river, and a little news of what the people say in those villages there?' "'How can I tell? I'm only a boy. Wait till I am a man.' Then, seeing the Colonel's brow clouded, he went on, "'But I think I should in 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 sell knowledge for nothing.' "'Tell now,' the Colonel held up a rupee. "'Kim's hand half reached towards it and dropped. "'Nay, Sahib, nay, I—' I know the price that will be paid for the answer, but I do not know why the question is asked. "'Take it as a gift, then,' said Crichton, tossing it over.

"'There is a good spirit in thee. Do not let it be blunted at St. Xavier's. There are many boys there who despise the black man.' "'Their mothers were bizarre women,' said Kim. He knew well there is no hatred like that of the half-cast for his brother-in-law. "'True, but thou art a scyre. Saib, and the son of a Saib. Therefore, do not at any time be led to condemn the black men. I have known boys newly entered into the service of the government,

who feigned not to understand the talk or the customs of black men. Their pay was cut for ignorance. There is no sin so great as ignorance. Remember this. Several times in the course of the long twenty-four hours run south did the Colonel send for Kim, always developing this latter text. "'We'd be all on one lead rope, then,' said Kim at last.

"'The colonel, Mabub Ali and I, when I become a chain-man, "'he will use me as Mabub Ali employed me, I think. "'That is good, if it allows me to return to the road again. "'This clothing grows no easier by wear.' "'When they came to the crowded Lucknow station, there was no sign of the llama. He swallowed his disappointment, while the colonel bundled him into a ticagari with his neat belongings, and dispatched him alone to 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 yet tried. "'Not when I brought thee!' Kim actually dared to use the tum of equals.

"'A white stallion's pedigree that night?' "'Much is gained by forgetting, little brother,' said the Colonel, with a look that pierced through Kim's shoulder-blades as he scuttled into the carriage. It took him nearly five minutes to recover, then he sniffed the new air appreciatively. "'A rich city,' he said. "'Ritcher than Lahore! How good the bazaars must be! "'Cochman! Drive me a little through the bazaars 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 and most fluent vernacular, Kim pointed out his error, climbed onto the box-seat, and perfect understanding established, drove for a couple of hours up and down, estimating, comparing, and enjoying. There is no city except Bombay, the queen of all, more beautiful in a garish style. 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 of the Chathamunzel and the trees in which the town is bedded. Kings have adorned her with fantastic buildings, endowed her with charities, crammed her with

pensioners, and drenched her with blood. She is the centre of all idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares with Delhi the claim to talk the only pure Urdu. "'A fair city! A beautiful city!' The driver, as a Lucknow man, was pleased with the compliment, and told Kim many astounding things where an English guide would have talked of the mutiny. "'Now we will go to the school,' said Kim at last. The great old school of St. Xavier's in Partibus, block on block of low white buildings,

stands in vast grounds over against the Gumpty River, at some distance from the city. "'What like of folks are they within?' said Kim. Young Saib's, all devils. But to speak truth, I drive many of them to and fro from the railway station. I have never seen one that had in him the makings of a more perfect devil than thou, this young Saib, whom I am now driving. Naturally, for he was never trained to consider them, in any improper way, Kim had passed the time of day with one or two frivolous ladies at upper windows in a certain street, and, naturally, in the exchange of compliments, had acquitted himself well.

He was about to acknowledge the driver's last insolence, when his eye—it was growing dusk, caught a figure in 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 reccoming?' said the driver petulantly. Is the boy mad?

Last time it was a dancing girl. This time it is a priest. Kim was in the road headlong, patting the dusty feet beneath the yellow robe. I have waited here a day and a half, the llama's level voice began. Nay, I had a disciple with me. He that was my friend in the temple of the Thirthankar.

gave me a guide for this journey i came from benares in the terrain when thy letter was given to me yet i am well fed i need nothing but why didst thou not stay with the coolie woman o holy one in what way didst thou get to bernaris my heart has been heavy since we parted The woman wearied me by constant flux of talk and requiring charms for children. I separated myself from that company, permitting her to acquire merits by gifts. She is at least a woman of open hands, and I made a promise to return to her house if need a rose. then perceiving myself alone in this great and terrible world i bethought me of the terrain to benares where i knew one abode in the tyrannachar's temple who was a seeker even as i "'Ah, thy river,' said Kim. "'I had forgotten the river.'

"'So soon, my chelah, I have never forgotten it. But when I had left thee, 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 before us, some two or three, have left a record of the place of our river there is debate in the temple of the tyrannachars on this matter some saying 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 priest of that body of men who served the Red Bull wrote me that all should be as I desired for thee. I sent the money to suffice for one year, and then I came, as thou seest me, to watch for thee, going up into the gates of learning. A day and a half have I waited, not because I was led by any affection towards thee. That is no part of the way. But as they said at the Tirthankar's temple, because money, having been played for 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 I came because I wish to see thee, misguided by the red mist of affection, but it is not so. Moreover, I am troubled by a dream. But surely, Holy One, thou hast not forgotten the road, and all that befell 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, we need the driver.

Go to Jehannum and abide there with thy reputationalist aunt, Kim snarled over his shoulder. I am all alone in this land. I know not where I go, nor what shall before me. My heart was in that letter I sent thee, except for Mabub Ali, and he is a man. I have no friend save 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 before that I have not found my river, by assuring myself that thy feet are set on wisdom. what they will teach thee, I do not know.

But the priest wrote me that no son of a Saib in all India will be better taught than thou. So, from time to time, therefore, I will come again. Maybe thou will be such a Saib as he who gave me those spectacles. The Lama wiped them elaborately. In the wonder-house at Lahore, That is my hope, 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 forget thee? "'No, no,' he put the boy aside. "'I must go back to Banaris. "'From time to time, now that I know the customs of letter-writers in this land, "'I will send thee a letter, and from time to time I will come and see thee.' "'But whither shall I send my letters?' while Kim, clutching at the robe, all forgetful that he was a Saib. To the temple of the Tirthankars at Banares.

That is the place I have chosen, till I find my river. Do not weep, for look you, all desire is illusion, and a new binding upon the wheel. Go up to the gates of learning. Let me see thee go. Dost thou love me? Then go. Oh, my heart cracks. I will come again.

Surely I will come again. The llama watched the Tikagari rumble into the compound and strode off 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 do not resemble those of any other land, and his teachers approach him by roads which an English master would not understand. Therefore you would scarcely be interested in Kim's experiences as a St. Xavier's boy among two or three hundred precocious

youths, most of whom had never seen the sea. He suffered the usual penalties for breaking out of bounds when there was cholera in the city. This was before he had learned to write fair English, and so was obliged to find a bizarre letter-writer. He was, of course, indicted for smoking, and for the use of abuse more full-flavored than even St. Xavier's had ever heard. He learned to wash himself with the levittical scrupulosity of the native-born, who in his heart considers the Englishman rather dirty. He played the usual tricks on the patient coolies, pulling the punkers in the sleeping rooms when the boys threshed through the hot nights, telling tales till the dawn, and quietly he measured himself against his self-reliant mates.

They were the sons of subordinate officials in the railway, telegraph and canal services, of warrant officers, sometimes retired, and sometimes acting as commanders-in-chief to a feudatory Rajas army. Of captains of the Indian Marine, government pensioners, and planters, presidency shopkeepers and missionaries. A few were cadets of the old Eurasian houses that have taken strong route in Durham-Tola, Periaris, De Sousers and De Silva's. Their parents could well have educated them in England, but they loved the school that has served their own youth, and generation followed sallow-hued generation at St. Xavier's. Their homes ranged from howder of the railway people, to abandon contunments like Mungir and Chuna, lost tea gardens,

Shalongway, villages where their fathers were large landholders in Uda or the Deccan, mission stations a week from the nearest railway line, seaports a thousand miles south facing the brazen Indian surf, and Chicana plantations south of all. The mere story of their adventures, which to them were no adventures, on the road to and from school, would have crisped a western boy's hair. They were used to jogging off alone through a hundred miles of jungle, where there was always the delightful chance of being delayed by tigers. But they could no more have bathed in the English Channel in an English August than their brothers across the world would have lain still while a leopard snuffed at their palanquin. There were boys of

who had spent a day and a half on an islet in the middle of a flooded river, taking charge, as by right, of a camp of frantic pilgrims returning from a shrine. There were seniors who had requisitioned a chance-met-Raj's elephant in the name of St. Francis's Saviour, when the rains once blotted out the cart-track that led to their father's estate, and who had all but lost the huge beast in a quicksand. There was a boy who, he said, and undoubted, had helped his father to be able to beat off with rifles from the veranda, a rush of uckers in the days when those headhunters were bold against lonely plantations. And every tale was told in the even, passionless voice of the native

born, mixed with quaint reflections, borrowed unconsciously from native foster-mothers, and turns of speech that showed that they had that 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 atmosphere suited him, and he throve by inches. They gave him a white-drill suit as the weather warmed, and he rejoiced in the new-found bodily comforts,

as he rejoiced to use his sharpened mind over the tasks they set him. His quickness would have delighted an English master, but at St. Xavier's, they know the first rush of minds developed by sun and surroundings, as they know the half-collapse that sets in at 22 or 23. Nonetheless, he remembered to hold himself lowly. When tales were told of hot nights, Kim did not sweep the board with his reminiscences, for St. Xavier's looks down upon boys who go native altogether. One must never forget that one is a little bit of a man.

Saib, and that some day when examinations are passed, one will command natives. Kim made a note of this, for he began to understand where examinations led. Then came the holidays from August to October, the long holidays imposed by the heat and the rains. Kim was informed that he would go north to some station in the hills behind Dumbala, where Father Victor would arrange for him. "'A barrack school?' said Kim, who had asked many questions, and thought more. "'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. "'It will not do you any harm to keep you out of mischief. You can go up with young De Castro as far as Delhi.' Kim considered it in every possible light. He had been diligent, even as the Colonel advised.

A boy's holiday was his own property, of so much the talk of his companions had advised. him, and a barrack school would be torment after St. Xavier's. Moreover, this was magic worth anything else, he could write. In three months he had discovered how men can speak to each other without a third party at the cost of half an Anna and a little knowledge. No word had come from the llama, but there remained the road. Kim yearned for the caresses of soft mud, squishing up between the toes, as his mouth watered for mutton stewed with butter and cabbages, for rice speckled with strong-scented cardamoms, for the saffron-tinted rice, garlic and onions, and the forbidden greasy sweetmeats of the bazaars. They would feed him raw beef on a platter in the barrack school,

and he must smoke by stealth. But again he was a Saib, and was at St. Xavier's, and that pig, Mabub Ali, no, he would not tell him. Mububb's hospitality, and yet. He thought it out alone in the dormitory, and came to the conclusion that he had been unjust to Mabub. The school was empty. Nearly all the masters had gone away. Colonel Crichton's railway-pass lay in his hand, and Kim puffed himself that he had not spent Colonel Crichton's or Mabob's money on riotous living. He was still lord of two rupees, seven anna's. His new bullock trunk marked K-O-H, and bedding-roll lay in the empty sleeping-room. Saibs 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 time before. 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 of that upper room. "'A little dye-stuff and three yards of cloth to help out a jest. Is that too much to ask?' "'Who is she? Thou art full young, as Saib's go for this deviltry.' "'Oh, she? She is the daughter of a certain schoolmaster of a regiment in the cantonements. He has beaten me twice because I went over their wall in these clothes. Now I would go as a gardener's boy. Old men are very jealous.

It is true. Hold thy face still while I dab on the juice. Not too black, Nican. I would not appear to her as a hoop-she. Oh, love makes naught of these things. And how old is she? Twelve years, I think, said the shameless Kim. Spread it also on the breast. It may be her father will tear my clothes off me, and if I am piebald, he laughed. The girl worked busily, dabbing a twist of cloth into a little saucer of 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 is all unshaved, and he will surely knock off my turban. I am not a barber, but I will make shift. Thou wast born to be a breaker of hearts. all this disguise for one evening, remember, the stuff does not wash away. She shook with laughter till her bracelets and anklets jingled. But who is to pay me for this? Hanifa herself could not have given thee better stuff.

Trust in the gods, my sister, said Kim gravely, screwing his face round as the stain dried. Besides, hast thou ever helped to paint a Saib thus before? Never indeed. But jest is not much. It is worth much more. Child, thou art beyond all dispute the most shameless son of Shaitan that 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 in this world? She gave him the dancing girl's salutation in mockery.

All one, make haste, and rough-cut my head. my head. Kim shifted from foot to foot, his eyes ablaze with mirth, as he thought of the fat days before him. He gave the girl four annas, and ran down the stairs in the likeness of a low-cast Hindu boy, perfect in every detail. A cook-shop was his next point of call, where he feasted in extravagance and greasy luxury. On Lucknow Station platform he watched young DeCastro, all covered with prickly heat, get into a sea. second-class compartment. Kim patronised a third, and was the life and soul of it. He explained to the company that he was assistant to a juggler who had left him behind sick with fever, and that he would

pick up his master at Ambala. As the occupants of the carriage changed, he varied this tale, or adorned it with all the shoots of a budding fancy, the more rampant for being held off native speech so long. In all India that night was no huge. human being so joyful as Kim. At Umballa he got out and headed eastward, plashing over the soddened fields to the village where the old soldier lived. About this time Colonel Crichton at Simler was advised from Lucknow by wire that Young O'Hara had disappeared.

Mabubali was in town selling horses, and to him the Colonel confided the affair one morning, cantering round Anandale racecourse. "'Oh, that is nothing,' said the horse-dealer. "'Men are like horses. "'At certain times they need salt. "'And if that salt is not in the mangers, "'they will lick it up from the earth.

"'He has gone back to the road again for a while. "'The madrisha wearied him, I knew it would. "'Another time, I will take him upon the road myself. "'Do not be troubled,' cried in Saib. "'It is though a polo pony breaking loose. 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 monkey does not fall among trees. Next morning, on the same course, Mabub's stallion ranged beside the colonel. It is as I had thought, said the horse-dealer. He has come through Umbala at least, and there has written a length. letter to me, having learned in the bazaar that I was here."

"'Read,' said the Colonel, with a sigh of relief. It was absurd that a man of his position should take an interest in a little country-bred vagabond, but the Colonel remembered the conversation in the train, and often in the past few months had caught himself thinking of the queer, silent, self-possessed boy. His evasion, of course, was the height of insolence, but it argued some resource and nerve. Mabub's eyes twinkled as he rained out into the centre of the cramped little plain, where none could come near unseen. The friend of the stars who is friend of all the world. What is this? A name we gave him in Lahore City. The friend of all the world takes leave to go his

own places. He will come back upon the appointed day. Let the box and the bedding roll be sent for. And if there has been a fault, let the hand of friendship turn aside the whip of calamity. There is yet a little more, but, no matter, read. Certain things are not known to those who eat with forks. It is better to eat with both hands for a while. Speak soft words to those who do not understand this, that the return may be propitious. Now, the manner in which that was cast is, of course, the work of the letter-writer. But see how wisely the boy has devised the matter of it, so that no hint is given except to those who know.

"'Is this the hand of friendship to avert the whip of calamity?' laughed the Colonel. "'See how wise is the boy. He would be so much as the boy. go back to the road again, as I said, not knowing yet thy trade. I am not at all sure of that, the Colonel muttered. He turns to me to make peace between you. Is he not wise? He says he will return. He is but perfecting his knowledge.

Think, Sahib. He has been three months at the school, and he is not mouth to that bit. For my part I rejoice. The pony learns the game. "'A, but another time he must not go alone.' "'Why?' "'He went alone before he came under the Colonel Saib's protection. "'When he comes to the great game, he must go alone, alone, and at the peril of his head.

"'Then if he spits or sneezes or sits down other than as the people do, "'whom he watches he may be slain. "'Why hinder him now?' "'Remember how the Persians say, the jackal that lives in the wilds of Mazandiran can only be caught by the hounds of Mazandaran. True, it is true, Mabali, and if he comes to no harm,

I do not desire anything better, but it is great insolence on his part. He does not tell me even whither he goes, said Mabub, he is no fool. When his time is accomplished, he will come. come to me. It is time the healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly, as Saibes reckon. This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mabub had gone down to Umbala to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim met him on the Calca Road, at dusk, riding alone,

begging an arms of him, was sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot to hear Mabob's gasp of amazement. Oh, 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 Umbala, anon with the household of my acquaintance in Umbala. With one of these I went as far as Delhi to the southward.

That is a wondrous city. Then I drove a bullock for a telly, an oilman, coming north. But I heard of a great feast forward in Patiala, and thither came I in the company of a firework-maker. It was a great feast. Kim rubbed his stomach. I saw Rajas and elephants with gold and silver trappings, and they lit all the fireworks at once,

whereby eleven men were killed, my firework-maker among them, and I was blown across. a tent but took no harm. Then I came back to the rail with a Sikh horseman, to whom I was groomed for my bread, and so here." "'Shabash!' said Mabub Ali. "'And what does the Colonel Saib say? I do not wish to be beaten.' "'The hand of friendship has averted the whip of calamity. But another time, when thou takeest the road, it will be with me. This is to be.

early. Late enough for me, I have learned to write English a little, at the madrisha. I shall soon be altogether a Saib. Hear him, laughed Mabub, looking at the little drenched figure dancing in the wet. Salam, Sahib, and he saluted ironically. Well, art tired of the road, or wilt thou come on to Ambala with me, and work back with the horses? I will come with thee, Mabub Ali. End of Chapter 7.

Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus. Chapter 8 Something I owe to the soil. that grew, more to life that fed, but most to Allah, who gave me the 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 Mabub, alluding to my own, eluding to to the Hindu colour of Kim's disreputable turban. Kim countered with the old proverb, I will change my faith and my bedding, but thou must pay for it. The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his horse.

At a shop on the outskirts of the city, the change was made, and Kim stood up externally at least a Mohammedan. Mabub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked meal of the finest with almond-kurd sweetmeats, balashei, we call it, and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco. This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh, said Kim, grinning as he squatted, and assuredly they give no such victuals at my madrisha.

I have a desire to hear of that same madrisha. Mabub stuffed himself with great boluses of spiced mutton, fried in fat with cabbage and golden-brown onions. But tell me first, altogether and truthfully, the manner of thy escape. For, O friend of all the world, he loosed his cracking belt. I do not think it is often that a Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there. How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing, said Kim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and the interview with the girl in the bazaar,

Mabubali's gravity went from him. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh. Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healer of turquoise's say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befell afterwards, step by step, omitting nothing. Step by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs, as the full-flavored tobacco caught his lungs. "'I said,' growled Mub Ali to himself, "'I said it was the pony breaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already, except that he must learn his distances. and his pacings and his rods and his compasses.

Listen now, I have turned aside the colonel's whip from thy skin, and that is no small service. True, Kim puffed serenely, that is all true. But it is not to be thought that this running out and inn is in any way good. It was my holiday, Hajee. I was a slave for many weeks. Why should I not run away when the school was shut? Look, too, how I, living upon my friends, or working for my bread, as I did with the Sikh,

have saved the Colonel Saib a great expense!' Mabub's lips twitched under his well-pruned Muhammadan moustache. "'What are a few rupees?' the pathorn threw out his open hand carelessly. "'To the Colonel Saib, he spends them for a purpose, nor is a few rupees.' "'Not in 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 plainly enough for one "'who is not altogether a mudhead. "'Yeay, he told me in the terrain "'when we went down to Lucknow.' "'Be it so. "'Then I will tell thee more.

friend of all the world, though in the telling I lend thee my head. "'It was forfeit to me,' said Kim, with deep relish, in Umbala when thou 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 choose to raise my finger here.' "'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, "'readjusting the live charcoal 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 to death, "'or may be thrown into a well by the roadside? "'Many people here and in similar, "'and across the passes behind the hills, "'would, on the other hand, say, "'what has come to Mabubali, if he were found dead among his horses.

Surely, too, the Colonel Saib would make inquiries, but again, Kim's face puckered with cunning. He would not make overlong inquiry, lest people should ask, What has this Colonel Saib to do with that horse-dealer? But I, if I lived, As thou would surely die, Maybe, but I say, if I lived,

I, and I alone, would know that one had come by night as a common thief, perhaps, to Mabub Ali's bulkhead in the Sarai, and there had slain him, either before or after that thief had made a full search into his saddle-bags, and between the souls of his slippers. Is that news to tell the Colonel, or would he say to me, I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he had not left behind him. what is Mabubali to me? Up went a great gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause. Then Mabubali spoke in admiration, and with these things on thy mind, dost thou lie down and rise up again among all the Sahib's little sons at the Madrisha, and meekly take instruction from thy teachers. It is an order, said Kip. him blandly. Who am I to dispute an order? "'A most finished son of Ebless,' said Mabub Ali.

"'And what is this tale of the thief and the search?' "'That which I saw,' said Kim, "'the night that my llama and I lay next thy place in the Kashmir Sarai. The door was left unlocked, which I think is not thy custom, Mabub. He came in as one assured that thou were stu. 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, not a bridle, nor brass pots, something little, and most carefully hid. Else why did he prick with an iron between the soles of thy slippers?

Ah! Mabub Ali smiled gently. "'And seeing these things, what turn to you? "'What turn to me? "'Ah!' Maboo-Ali smiled gently. "'And seeing these things, what tale didst thou fashion to thyself, well of the truth? None. I put my hand upon my amulet, which lies always next to my skin, and remembering the pedigree of a white stallion that I had bitten out of a piece of Muscle Mani bread, I went away to Ambala, perceiving that a heavy trust was laid upon me. At that hour had I chosen, thy head was forfeit.

It needed only to say to that man, I have here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read. And then— Kim peered at Maboo, under his eyebrows. Then thou wast have drunk water twice, perhaps thrice afterwards. I do not think more than thrice, said Mabub simply. It is true. I thought of that a little.

But most I thought that I loved these. Mabub. Therefore, I went to Ambala as thou know'st, and this thou dost not know. I lay hid in the garden grass to see what Colonel Crichton Saib might do upon reading the White Stallion's pedigree. And what did he? For Kim had bitten off the conversation. Does thou give news for love, or dost thou sell it? Kim asked. I sell and I buy. Mabub took a four an apiece out of his belt and held it up. Eight, said Kim, mechanically following the Huckster instinct of the East.

Mabub laughed and put away the coin. It is too easy to deal in that market, friend of all the world. Tell me for love. Our lives lie in each other's hand. Very good. I saw the Jiang Ilat Saib, the commander-in-chief, come to a big dinner. I saw him in Crichton-Saibe's office.

I saw the two read the White Stallion's pedigree. I heard the very orders given for the opening of a great war. Ah! Mabub nodded with deepest eyes of fire. The game is well played. That war is done now, and the evil will be. we hope, nipped before the flower, thanks to me and thee. What didst thou later? I made the news, as it were a hook,

to catch me victual and honour among the village whose priest drugged my llama. But I bore away the old man's purse, and the Brahmin found nothing. So next morning he was angry. Ho! ho! And I also used the news when I fell into the hands of that white regiment with their bull. that was foolishness mabob scowled news is not meant to be thrown about like dung cakes but used sparingly like bong

so i think now and moreover it did me no sort of good but that was very long ago he made to brush it all away with a thin brown hand and since then and especially in the nights under the punca at the madrisha I have thought very greatly. Is it permitted to ask whether the heaven-born's thought might have led? said Mabou, with elaborate sarcasm smoothing his scarlet beard. It is permitted, said Kim, and threw back the very tone. They say at Nuklau that no Saib must tell a black man that he has made a fault. Mabub's hand shot into his bosom, for to call up a thwart. a black man, Kala admi, is a blood insult. Then he remembered and laughed.

Speak, Saib, thy black man hears. But, said Kim, I am not a Saib, and I say I made a fault to curse thee, Mabub Ali, on that day at Umbala when I thought I was betrayed by a pathan. I was senseless, for I was but newly caught, and I wished to kill that low-class. "'I say now, Hajee, that it was well done, and I see my road all clearly before me to a good service. I will stay in the Majrisha till I am ripe.' "'Well, said, especially our distances and numbers and the manner of using compasses to be learned in that game. One waits in the hills above to show thee. I will learn their teaching upon a condition.

that my time is given to me without question when the madrisha is shut ask that for me of the colonel but why not ask the colonel in the saib's tongue The colonel is the servant of the government. He is sent hither and yon at a word, and must consider his own advancement. See how much I have already learned Nuklau. Moreover, the colonel I know since three months only. I have known one Mabub Ali for six years. So, to the madrisha I will go. At the madrisha I will learn. In the madrisha, I will be a saib. But when the madrisha is, is shut, then must I 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 the little clay-blacked room, where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily through the tobacco-smoke. And further I would see my llama again, and further, I know. I need money.

That is the need of everyone, said Maboo, ruefully. I will give the eight anas, for much money is not picked out of horse's hoofs, and it must suffice for many days. As to all the rest, I am well pleased, and no further talk is needed. Make haste to learn, and in three 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,' Mabu grunted.

"'Thou art my new horse-boy. Go and bed among my men. They are near the north end of the station with the horses.' "'They will beat me to the south end of the station if I come without authority.' Mabu felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a cake of Chinese ink, and dabble. the impression on a piece of soft native paper. From Balca to Bombay, men know that rough-ritched print, with the old scar running diagonally 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 to Crichton, Saib.

I have saved the abetting.' Allah! What is a beating, when the very head is loose on the shoulders? 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 mile or so. Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, for he needed time to invent a story if any of Mabub's retainers asked questions. They were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and, being natives, had not, of course, unloaded the two trucks in which Mabub's animals stood among a consignment of country breads bought by the Bombay tram company. The headman, a broken-down, consumptive-looking Mohammedan, promptly challenged Kim, but was pacified at sight of Mabub's sign-manual. "'The Hodge has of his favour given me service,' said Kim testily.

"'If this be doubted, wait till he comes in the morning. "'Meantime, a place by the fire.' "'Followed the usual aimless babble "'that every low-cast native must raise on every occasion. "'It died down and Kim lay out behind the little knot of Mabu's followers, "'almost under the wheels of a horse-truck, "'a borrowed blanket for covering. "'Now a bed among both,

Brick-bats and ballast refuse on a damp night between overcrowded horses and unwashed Balties would not appeal to many white boys, but Kim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were the breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots of St. Saviars all a row under the bunker,

gave him joy as keen as the repetition of the multiplication table in English. I am very old, he thought sleepily. Every month I become a year more old. I was very young and a fool to boot when I took Mabub's message to Ambala. Even when I was with that white regiment, I was very young and small and had no wisdom. But now I learn every day, and in three years the colonel will take me out of the Marjorisha and let me go upon the wrong. road, with Mabubh hunting for horse's pedigrees, or maybe I shall go by myself. Or maybe I shall find the llama and go with him. Yes, that is best, to walk again as a chela with my llama when he comes back to Benares. The thoughts came more slowly and disconnectedly. He was plunging into a beautiful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper, thin and sharp, above the monotonous

babble round the fire. It came from behind the iron-skinned horse-truck. Is he not here, then? Where should he be but roistering in the city? Who looks for a rat in a 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 repeats only, and there is no evidence. "'Except the woman. It must be more certain, and remember the price upon his head.' "'Aye, but the police have a long arm, and we are far from the border. If it were in Pesiaw now.' "'Yes, in Pesha-Wur,' the second voice sneered. "'Pesha-Wur, full of his blood-kin, full of bolt-holds and women behind whose clothes he will hide.

"'Yes, Pes-a-war, or Jehanum, would you. suit us equally well." Then what is the plan? Oh, fool, have I not told it a hundred times? Wait till he comes to lie down. Then one sure shot. The trucks are between us and pursuit. We have but to roll back over the lines and go our way.

They will not see whence the shot came. Wait here at least until the dawn. What manner of fakir art thou to shiver? art thou to shiver at a little watching. Aha, thought Kim, behind close-shut eyes. Once again, it is Mabub. Indeed, a white stallion's pedigree is not a good thing to peddle to Saib's. Or maybe Mabub has been selling other news.

Now, what is to do, Kim? I know not when Mab houses, and if he comes here before the 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 for mobub and he giggled almost aloud i do not remember any lesson at knucklow which will help me "'Here is Kim, and yonder are they. First then, Kim must wake and go away, so they shall not suspect. A bad dream wakes a man, thus.' He threw the blanket off his face, and raised himself suddenly, with the terrible bubbling, meaningless yell of the Asiatic, roused by a nightmare. "'Uro, la, la, la, narene, the churl, the churl. A churul. A churul.

is the particularly malignant ghost of a woman who has died in childbed. She haunts lonely roads. Her feet are turned backwards on the ankles, and she leads men to torment. Louder, rose Kim's quavering howl, till at last he leaped to his feet and staggered off sleepily, while the camp cursed him for waking them. Some twenty yards farther up the line he laid down again, taking care that the whisperers should hear his grunts and groans as he recomposed himself. After a few minutes he rolled towards the road and stole away into the thick darkness. He paddled along swiftly till he came to a culvert and dropped behind it his chin on a level with the coping stone. Here he could command all the night traffic himself unseen.

Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the suburbs, a coughing policeman and a hurrying foot-passenger or two who sang to keep off evil spirits, then wrapped the shod feet of a horse. Ah, this is more like Mabub, thought Kim, as the beast shied at the little head above the culvert. Oh, hey, Mabub Ali, he whispered, have a care. The horse was reigned back almost on its haunches and forced toward the culvert. "'Never again,' said Mabub, "'will I take a shod horse for night-work? They pick up all the bones and nails in the city.' He stooped to lift its forefoot, 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 thee at thy lying down, because there is a price on thy head, I heard, sleeping near the horses. "'Dest thou see them? Hold still, sire of devils!' "'This furiously 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 a little watching?' "'Good. Go back to the camp and lie down. I do not die to-night." Mabub wheeled his horse and vanished. Kim tore back down the ditch, till he reached a point opposite his second resting place, slipped across the road like a weasel, and recoiled himself in the blanket.

At least Mabub knows, he thought contentedly, and certainly he spoke as one expecting it. I do not think those two men will profit by tonight's watch. An hour passed, and with the best will in the world to keep awake all night, he slept deeply. Now and again a night train roared along the metals within twenty feet of him, but he had all the oriental's indifference to mere noise, and it did not even weave a dream through his slumber. Maboo was anything but asleep. It annoyed him vehemently that people outside his tribe, but unaffected by his casual amours, should pursue him for the life.

His first and natural impulse was to cross the line lower down, work up again, and, catching his well-wishers from behind, summarily slay them. Here he reflected with sorrow another branch of the government, totally unconnected with Colonel Crichton, might demand explanations, which would be hard to supply. and he knew that south of the border a perfectly ridiculous fuss was made about a corpse or so. He had not been troubled in this way since he sent Kim to Ambala with the message and hoped that suspicion had been finally diverted.

Then a most brilliant notion struck him, "'The English do eternally tell the truth,' he said, "'there we of this country are eternally made fool.' By Allah, I will tell the truth to an Englishman. Of what use is the government police, if a poor Kabuli be robbed of his horses in their very trucks. This is as bad as Peshawar. I should lay a complaint at the station. Better still, some young Saib on the railway.

They are zealous, and if they catch thieves, it is remembered to their honour. He tied up his horse outside the station and strode onto the platform. "'Hello, Mabub Ali,' said a young assistant district traffic superintendent, who was waiting to go down the line, a tall, tow-haired, horsey youth in dingy white linen. "'What are you doing here? Selling weeds, eh?' "'No, I am not troubled for my horses. I come to look for Lutaf Ula. I have a truck load up the line. Could anyone take them out without the railway's knowledge?' "'Shouldn't think so, Maboub. You could claim against us if they do.'

"'I have seen two men crouching under the wheels of one of the trucks nearly all the night. Fekirs do not steal horses, so I gave them no more thought. I would find Lutaf Ula, my partner.' "'The deuce you did, and you didn't bother your horse. head about it. Upon my word, it's just almost as well that I met you. What were they like, eh? They were only Fakhirs. They will no more than take a little grain, perhaps from one of the trucks. There are many up the line. The state will never miss the dole. I came here seeking for my partner, Lutafullah. Never mind your partner. Where are your horse-trucks?

a little to this side of the farthest place where they make lamps for the trains. The signal-box, yes. And upon the rail, nearest to the road, upon the right-hand signed, looking up at the line thus. But as regards Lutavullah, a tall man with a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound. Aye! The boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman, for, as he said,

the Rawa had suffered much from depredations in the goods yard. Mabub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard. They will walk in their boots making a noise, and then they will wonder why there are no fakirs. They are very clever boys, Barton Saib and Young Saib. He waited idly for a few minutes, expecting to see them hurry up the line Girt for action. a light engine slid through the station and he caught a glimpse of young barton in the cab i did that child an injustice he is not altogether a fool said mabub ali to take a fire-carriage for a thief this is a new game when mabub ali came to his camp in the dawn no one thought it worth while to tell him any news of the night no one at least but a small horseboy but a small horse-boy

newly advanced to the great man's service whom maboo called to his tiny tent to assist in some packing it is all known to me whispered kim bending above saddle-bags two sahibs came up on a terrain i was running to and fro in the dark on this side of the tracks as the terrain moved up and down slowly they fell upon two men sitting under this truck hajee what shall i do with this 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 saib with a fakir's buck-horn kim meant the conjoint black buckhorns which are a fakir's sole temporal weapon the blood came so the other sahib first smiting his own man senseless smote the stabber with a short gun which had rolled from the first man's hand they all raged as though mad together mabub smiled with heavenly resignation no that is not so much to oney madness or a case for a civil court the word can be punned upon both ways as nizamut a criminal case. A gun, sayest thou, ten good years in jail. Then they both lay still, but I think they were nearly dead when they were put in the terrain. Their heads moved thus. And there is much blood on the line. Come and see? I have seen blood before. Jail is the sure place, and assuredly they will give false names,

and assuredly no man will find them for a long time. They were unfriends of mine. Thy fate and mine seem on one string. What a tale for the healer of pearls! Now swiftly with the saddle-bags and the cooking platter. We will take out the horses, and away to Simler. Swiftly, as Orientals understand speed, with long explanations with abuse and windy talk,

carelessly amid a hundred checks for little things forgotten, the untidy camp broke up and led the half-dozen stiff and fretful horses along the Calca Road in the fresh of the rain-swept dawn. Kim, regarded as Mab Ali's favourite by all who wished to stand well with the Pathan, was not called upon to work. They strolled on by the easiest of stages, halting every few hours at a wayside shelter. Very many Saibs travel along the Kalka Road, and, as Mabubali says,

every young Saib needs must esteem himself a judge of a horse, and though he be overhead in debt to the money-lender, must make as if to buy. That was the reason that Saib after Saib, rolling along in a stage carriage, would stop and open talk. Some would even descend from their vehicles and feel the horse's legs, asking inane questions or through sheer ignorance of the vernacular, grossly insulting the imperturbable trader. When first I dealt with Saib's,

and that was when Colonel Sodi Saib was governor of Fort Abazi, and flooded the commissioner's camping ground for spite. Mabub confided to Kim as the boy filled his pipe under a tree. I did not know how greatly they were fools, and this made me wrath. as thus and he told kim a tale of an expression misused in all innocence that doubled kim up with mirth now i see however he exhaled smoke slowly that it is with them as with all men in certain matters they are wise in others most foolish very foolish it is to use the strong word to a stranger for though the heart may be clean of offence how is the stranger to know that. He is more like to search truth with a dagger.

True, true talk, said Kim solemnly. Fools speak of a cat when a woman is brought to bed, for instance, I have heard them. Therefore, in one situate as thou art, it particularly behooves thee to remember this with both kinds of faces. Among Saib's, never forgetting thou art a Saib. Among the folk of Hind, always remembering thou art. He paused with a puzzled smile. What am I?

Musselman, Hindu, Jane or Buddhist? That is a hard knot. Thou art beyond question and unbeliever, and therefore thou wilt be damned. So says my law, or I think it does. But thou art also my little friend of all the world, I love thee. So says my heart. This matter of creeds is like horse-flesh. A wise man knows horses are good, that there is profit to be made from all, and for myself, but that I am a good

Sunni and hate the men of Tirah, I could believe the same of all faiths. How manifestly a Kathia war mare taken from the sands of her birthplace and removed to the west of Bengal founders. Nor is even a Balca stallion, and there are no better horses than those of Balca, were they not so heavy in the shoulder, of any account in the great northern deserts beside the snow camels I have seen. Therefore I say in my heart the faiths are like the horses. Each has merit in its own country. But my llama said altogether a different thing. Ah, but he is an old dreamer of dreams from Botiyaal. My heart is a little angry, friend of all the world, that thou should see such worth in a man so little known. It is true, Hajie. But that worth I do see,

and to him my heart is drawn. And is to thine I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come, and they go against bit or spur. Shout Gulchakhan yonder to drive in that base stallion's picket more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at every resting stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a little. Now hear me, is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart to see that llama? It is one part of my bond, said Kim. If I do not see him, and if he has taken from me,

I will go out of that madrisha in Nuklau, and, and once gone, who is to find me again? It is true. Never was Colt, held on a lighter heel-rope than thou. Mabub nodded his head. Do not be afraid. Kim spoke as though he could have him vanished on the moment. My llama has said that he will come to see me at the Madrisha.

A beggar and his bowl in the presence of those young Saib. Not all, Kim cut in with a snort. Their eyes are blueed and their nails are blackened. with low-cast blood, many of them. Sons of Metirani's, brothers-in-law of the bungy, sweeper. We need not follow the rest of the pedigree,

but Kim made his little point clearly and without heat, chewing a piece of sugar-cane the while. Friend of all the world, said Mabu, pushing over the pipe for the boy to clean. I have met many men, men, women and boys, and not a few Saibs, but 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. Mabub Ali hauled himself off the ground, Girt in his belt, and went over to the horses. Or sell it! There was that in the tone that made Mabub halt and turn. What new devil-tree! Eight anna's, and I will tell thee, said Kim, grinning,

It touches thy peace. Oh, Shaitan! Mabub gave the money. Remember'st thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down yonder at Ambala? Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?

Remembersst thou the Kashmir Sarai? I will twist thy ears in a moment, Saib. No need, Pathan. Only the second Fakhir. Here, whom the Saib's beat senseless, was the man who came to search their bulkhead at Lahore. I saw his face as they helped him on the engine, the very same man. Why dost thou not tell before? Oh, he will go to jail and be safe for some years.

There is no need to tell, more than is necessary at one time. Besides, I did not then need money for sweetmeats. Al-A-Kharim, said Mabub Ali. thou some day sell my head for a few sweetmeats if the fit takes thee." Kim will remember till he dies, that long, lazy journey from Umbala through Kalka and the Pindjur gardens, nearby up to Simla. A sudden spate in the Guga River swept down one horse, the most valuable, be sure, and nearly drowned Kim among the dancing boulders.

farther up the road the horses were stampeded by a government elephant and being in a high condition of grass food it cost a day and a half to get them together again then they met sirkanda khan coming down with a few unsaleable screws remnants of his string and mabubub who has more of horse coping in his little finger-nail than siakhan in all his tents must needs buy two of the worst and that meant eight hours laborious diplomacy and untold tobacco. But it was all pure delight. The wandering road climbing, dipping and sweeping about the growing spurs. The flush of the morning laid upon the distant snows. The branched cacti tear upon tier on the stony hillsides.

The voices of a thousand water channels. The chatter of the monkeys. The solemn diodars, climbing one after another with down-dropped branches. the vista of the plains rolled out far beneath them the incessant twanging of the tongar horns and the wild rush of the horses when the toonga swung round a curve the halts for prayers maboo was very religious in dry washings and bellowings when time did not press the evening conferences by the halting places when camels and bullocks chewed solemnly together and the stolid drivers told the news of the road all these things lifted kim's heart to song within him but when the singing and dancing is done said mabub ali comes the colonel sahib's and that is not so sweet a fair land a most beautiful land is this of hind and the land of the five rivers is fairer than all kim half chanted into it i will go again if mabub ali or the colonel lift hand or foot against me

once gone who shall find me look haji is y under the city of simla allah what a city my father's brother and he was an old man when macchusin sahib well was new at peshawar could recall when there were but two houses in it he led the horses below the main road into the lower simla bazaar the crowded rabbit warren that climbs up from the valley to the town hall at an of forty-five. A man who knows his way there can defy all the police of India's summer capital. So cunningly does veranda communicate with veranda, alleyway with alleyway, and bolt-hole with bolt-hole. Here live those who minister to the wants of the Glad City. Jampanis, who pull the pretty ladies rickshaws by night and gamble till the dawn. Grocers, oil sellers, curio vendors, firewood dealers, priest, pickpockets and native employees of the government.

Here are discussed by courtesans the things which are supposed to be the profoundest secrets of the India Council. And here gather all the sub-sub-agents of half the native states. Here too Mab Ali rented a room much more securely locked than his bulkhead at Lahore in the house of a Mohammedan cattle dealer. It was a place of miracles too, for their Wednesdays, in at twilight a Muhammad and horseboy, and there came out, an hour later, a Eurasian lad. The Lucknow Girls Die was of the best, in badly fitting shop clothes. I have spoken with Crichton, Saib, quoth Mubububali, and a second time as the hand of friendship

averted the whip of calamity. He says thou hast altogether wasted sixty days upon the road, and it is too late, therefore, to send thee to any hill school. I have said that my holidays are my own. I do not go to school twice over. That is one part of my bond. The Colonel Saib is not yet aware of that contract. Thou art to lodge in Lurgan Saib's house till it is time to go again to Nakhlou.

I had sooner lodge with thee, Mabou. Thou dost not know the honour. Lurgen Saib himself asked for thee. Thou would go up to the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must forget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mabuwali, who sells horses to Crichton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.

Remember this order. Kim nodded. Good, good, said he. And who is Lurgan Saib? nay he caught mabub'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 mabub returned in the tone he used toward europeans i am a pathan thou art a saib and the son of a sahib lurgan sahib has a shop among the european shops all simbler knows it ask there and friend of all the world he is one to 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 begins the great game chapter eight kim by rogered kipling this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information

or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellis. Chapter 9 Part 1 Sadoaks was the son of Yelleth the Wise, chief of the Raven clan. Itswut 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, to luqually dance, to tickle it swuthed the bear.

Oregon legend. Kim flung himself wholeheartedly upon the next turn of the wheel. He would be a Saib again for a while. In that idea, so soon as he had reached the broad road under similar town hall, he cast about for one to impress. A Hindu child, some ten years old, squatted under a lamppost. Where is Mr. Lurgan's house? demanded Kim.

I do not understand English, was the answer, and Kim shifted his speech accordingly. I will show. Together they set off through the mysterious dusk, full of the noises of a city below the hillside, and the breath of a cool wind in diodar, crowned a jaco, shouldering the stars. The house-lights scattered on every level made, as it were, a double firmament. Some were fixed, Others belong 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 flushed with the main road. No door stayed them but a curtain of beaded reeds that split up the lamplight beyond. "'He is come,' said the boy, in a voice little louder than a sigh, and vanished.

Kim felt sure that the boy had been posted to guide him from the first, but, putting a bold face on it, parted the curtain. A black-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 light from a tray before him, threaded them on a glancing silken string, and hummed to himself the while. Kim was conscious that beyond the circle of light the room was full of things that smelt like all the temples of all the east. A whiff of musk, a puff of sandalwood, and a breath of sickly jessamine oil caught his open nostrils. "'I am here,' said Kim at last, speaking in the vernacular. The smells made him forget that he was to be a saib.

79, 80, 81. The man counted to himself, stringing pearl after pearl so quickly that Kim could scarcely follow his fingers. He slid off the green shade, and looked fixedly at Kim for a full half-minute. The pupils of the eye dilated and closed at a pimperix, as if at will. There was a fakir in the Taxali gate who had just this gift, and made money by it. especially when cursing silly women. Kim stared with interest. His disreputable friends could further twitch his ear, almost like a goat, and Kim was disappointed that this new man could not imitate him.

Do not be afraid, said Lurgen Saib suddenly. Why should I fear? Thou wilt sleep here to-night, and stay with me till it is time to go again to Nuklau. It is an order. It is an order. order," Kim repeated. "'But where shall I sleep?'

"'Here, in this room.' Lurgan Saib waved his hand toward the darkness behind him. "'So be it,' said Kim composedly. "'Now?' He nodded and held the lamp above his head. As the light swept them, they leapt out from the walls a collection of Tibetan devil-dance masks,

hanging above the fiend-embroidered draperies of those ghastly functions. Horned masks, scowling masks, and masks of idiotic terror. In a corner a Japanese warrior mailed and plumed, menaced him with a halberd, and a score of lances and candors and cutars gave back the unsteady gleam. But what interested Kim more than all these things, he had seen devil-dance masks at the Lahore Museum, was a glimpse of the soft-eyed Hindu child who had left him in the doorway,

sitting cross-legged under the table of pearls, with a little smile on his scarlet lips. I think that Lurgan Saib wishes to make me afraid, and I am sure that 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? "'Lug and Saib pointed to a native quilt in a corner by the loathsome masks, "'picked up the lamp, and left the room black. "'Was that Lurgan Saib?' Kim asked as he cuddled down. "'No answer.

"'He could hear the Hindu boy breathing, however, "'and guided by the sound, crawled across the floor, "'and cuffed into the darkness, crying, "'Give answer, devil! "'Is this the way to lie to a Saib?' From the darkness he fancied he could hear the echo of a chuckle. It could not be his soft-fleshed companion, because he was weeping.

So Kim lifted up his voice and called aloud, Lurgum-saib, O Lurgum-said! Is it an order that thy servant does not speak to me? It is an order. The voice came from behind him, and he started. Very good, but remember, he muttered as he re-sought the quilt, I will beat thee in the morning. I do not love Hindus. That was no cheerful night, the room being overfull of voices and music. Kim was waked twice by someone calling his name.

The second time he set out in search and ended by bruising his nose against a box that certainly spoke with a human tongue, but in no sort of human accent. It seemed to end in a tin trumpet, and to be joined by wires to a smaller box on the floor, so far at least as he could judge by touch, 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 bazaar might be good. But I am a Saib, and the son of a saib, and, which is twice as much as more beside, a student of Nuklau. Yes, Here he turned to English.

A boy of St. Xavier's. Damn Mr. Lurgan's eyes! It is some sort of machinery, like a sewing machine. Oh, it is a great cheek of him. We are not frightened, that way down at Luck now, no. Then, in Hindi, But what does he gain? He is only a trader.

I am in his shop. But Crichton Saib is a colonel, and I think Crichton Saib gave orders that it should be done. "'How I will beat that Hindu in the morning!' "'What is this?' The trumpet-box was pouring out a string of the most elaborate abuse that even Kim had ever heard in a high, uninterested voice that for a moment lifted the short hairs of his neck.

When the vile thing drew breath, Kim was reassured by the soft sewing-machine like whir. "'Chup!' be still, he cried, and again he heard a chuckle that decided him, "'Chup! Or I break your head!' The box took no heed. Kim wrenched at the tin trumpet, and something lifted with a click.

He had evidently raised a lid. If there were a devil inside, now was its time, for he sniffed. Thus did the sewing machines of the bizarre smell. He would clean that shaitan. He slipped off his jacket, and plunged it into the box's mouth. Something long and round bent under the pressure. There

was a whir, and the voice stopped, as voices must, if you ram a thrice-doubled coat onto the wax cylinder and into the works of an expensive phonograph. Kim finished his slumbers with a serene mind. In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Saib looking down on him. "'Ah,' said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to his Sahibdom. "'There was a box in the night that gave me bad talk, so I stopped it. "'Was it your box?' The man held out his hand. "'Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said.

"'Yes, it was my box. "'I keep such things because my friends the Rajas liked them. "'That one is broken, but it was cheap at the price. "'Yes, my friends, the kings are very fond of toys. And so am I sometimes. Kim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes. He was a Saib in that he wore Saib's clothes. The accent of his Urdu, the intonation of his English, showed that he was anything but the Saib. He seemed to understand what moved in Kim's mind ere the boy opened his mouth, and he took no pains to explain himself, as did Father Victor or the Lucknow Masters.

Sweetest of all, he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiatic side. "'I'm sorry you cannot beat my boy this morning. He says he will kill you with a knife or poison. He is jealous, so I have put him in the corner, and I shall not speak to him today. He has just tried to kill me. You must help me with the breakfast. He is almost too jealous to trust just now.' Now a genuine impulted Saib from England would have made a great to-do over this tale. Lurgan Saib stated it as simple as Mabub Ali was used to record his little affairs in the north. The back veranda of the shop was built out over the sheer hillside, and they looked down into their neighbour's chimney-pots, as is the custom of Simla.

And even more than the purely Persian meal cooked by Lurgan Saib with his own hill, hands. The shop fascinated Kim. The Lahore Museum was larger, but here were more wonders. Ghost daggers and prayer wheels from Tibet, turquoise and raw amber necklaces, green jade bangles, curiously packed incense sticks in jars crusted over with raw garnets. The devil masks are overnight, and a wall full of peacock blue draperies, gilt figures of Buddha. and little portable lacquer altars, Russian samovars with turquoises on the lid, eggshell china sets in quaint octagonal cane boxes, yellow ivory crucifixes, from Japan of all places in the world, so Lurgen Saib said,

carpets in dusty bales smelling atrociously pushed back behind torn and rotten screens of geometrical work. Persian water jugs for the hands after meals, dull copper incense burners neither Chinese nor Persian, with freezes of fantastic devils running around 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 thrown into the room,

leaving a clear space only round the rickety deal table where Lurgen Saib worked. "'These things are nothing,' said his host, following Kim's glance. "'I buy them because they are pretty, and sometimes I sell. If I like the buyers, 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 dothed. diamond here and there. Kim opened his eyes. Oh, they are quite well, those stones. It will not

hurt them to take the sun. Besides, they are cheap, but with six stones it is very different. He piled Kim's plate anew. There is no one but me can doctor a sick pearl or re-blue turquoises. I grant you opals. Any fool can cure an opal. But for a sick-pull, but for a sick-pearl. But for a sick-pearl, Pearl, there is only me. Suppose I were to die. Then there would be no one. Oh, no, you cannot do anything with jewels. It will be quiet enough if you understand a little about the turquoise someday. He moved to the end of the veranda to refill the heavy, porous clay water jug from the filter. Do you want drink? Kim nodded. Lurgan Saib, 15 feet off, laid one hand on the jar.

The next instant it stood at Kim's elbow, fall to within half an inch of the brim, the white cloth only showing by a small wrinkle where it had slid into place. "'Wa!' said Kim, in most utter amazement. "'That is magic!' Lurgan Saib'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 the floor. Kim looked intently. Lurgen Saib laid one hand gently on the nape of his neck, stroked it twice or thrice, and whispered, Look, it shall come to life again, piece by piece. First the big piece shall join itself to two others on the right and the left. On the right and the left, look! To save his life, Kim could not have turned his head. The light touch held 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, and above them the shadowy outline of the entire vessel. He could see the veranda through it, but it was thickening and darkening with each beat of his pulse. Yet the jar, how slowly the thoughts came, the jar had been smashed before his eyes. Another wave of pricking fire raced down his neck as Lurgum Saib moved his hand. "'Look, it is coming into shape,' said Lurgen Saib. So far Kim had been thinking in Hindi, but a tremor came on him, and with an effort like that of a swimmer before sharks, who holds himself half out of the water,

his mind leapt up from a darkness that was swallowing it and took refuge in the multiplication table in English. "'Look, it is coming into shape,' whispered Lurgan Saib. The jar had been smashed. Yes, smashed. Not the native word. He would not think of that, but smashed, into fifty pieces, and twice three was six, and thrice three was nine, and four times three was twelve. He clung desperately to the repetition. The shadow outline of the jar cleared like a mist after rubbing eyes. There were the broken shards. There was the spilt water drying in the sun, and through the cracker, of the veranda showed all ribbed, the White House wall below, and thrice twelve was thirty-six. Look, is it coming into shape? asked Lurgen-Sahib. But it is smashed, smashed, he gasped. Lurgen-Saibe had been muttering softly for the last half-minute. Kim wrenched his head aside.

Look, Dach-ho, it is there as it was there. It is there as it was there, said Lurgen-Lar. Lurgum, watching Kim closely while the boy rubbed his neck. But you are the first ever many who has ever seen it so. He wiped his broad forehead. Was that more magic? Kim asked suspiciously. The tingle had gone from his veins. He felt unusually wide awake.

No, that was not magic. It was only to see if there was a flaw in a jewel. Sometimes very fine jewels will fly all to pieces if a man holds them in his hand and knows the proper way. That is why one must be careful before one sets them. Tell me, did you see the shape of the pot? 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?

Oh, I knew it was broken, and so I think that was what I thought, and it was broken. Hmm. 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 should run away. And now you are not afraid, eh? Not now. Lergim Saib looked at him more closely than ever. I shall ask Mabub Ali, not now but some days later, he muttered. I am pleased with you, yes, I am pleased with you. No.

You are the first that ever saved 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 pile of 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 me again in my breakfast, and make me cook it twice. Coupie, Coupie, Nain! Never, never, no, came the broken answer. and whether will he kill this other boy. Cooby! Cooby, nine! What do you think he will do? He turned suddenly on Kim.

Oa, I do not know. Let him go, perhaps. Why did he want to poison you? Because he is so fond of me. Suppose you were fond of someone, and you saw someone come, and the man you were fond of was more pleased with him than he was with you.

"'What would you do?' Kim thought. "'Lergan repeated the sentence slowly in the vernacular. "'I should not poison that man,' said Kim reflectively. "'But I should be that boy if that boy was fond of my man. "'But first I would ask that boy if it were true.' "'Ah, he thinks everyone must be fond of me.' "'Then I think he is a fool.' "'Hereest thou,' said Logan Saib to the shaking shoulders.

The Saib's son, thinks thou art a little fool. Come out, and next time thy heart is troubled, do not try white arsenic quite so openly. Surely the devil Dacim was lord of our table-cloth that day. It might have made me ill child, and then a stranger would have guarded the jewels. Come!' The child, heavy-eyed with much weeping, crept out from behind the bale, and flung himself passionately at Lurgan Saib's feet, with a little. in extravagance 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 sent him away!' He indicated Kim with a backward jerk of his bare heel. "'Not yet, not yet. In a little while he will go away again. But now he is at school, at a new Madrisha, 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 Lurgen Saib. "'Let them come from thy hand, for he may say that I knew them before.' "'Gently, gently,' the man replied, and from a drawer under the table dealt a half-handful of clattering trifles onto the tray. "'Now,' said the child, waving an old newspaper, "'look on them as long as thou wilt, stranger. Count, and if need be handle.

One look is enough for me,' he turned his back proudly. "'But what is the game? When thou hast counted and handled, and are sure thou canst remember them all, I cover them with this paper, and thou must tell over the tally to Lurgan Saib. I will write mine.' "'Oha!'

The instinct of competition waked in his breast. He bent over the tray. There were but fifteen stones on it. "'That is easy,' he said after a minute. The child slipped the paper over the winking jewels and scribbled in a native account book. "'There are under that paper five blue stones,

one big, one smaller, and three small,' said Kim, all in haste. "'There are four green stones and one with a hole in it. Then there is one yellow stone that I can see through, and one like a pipe-stem. There are two red stones, and I made the count fifteen, but two I have forgotten. No, give me time. One was of ivory, little and brownish, and give me time. One, two, Logan Saib counted him out up to ten. Kim shook his head. "'Here my count,' the child burst in, trilling with laughter.

"'First, two are flawed sapphires, one of two ruttees, and one of four, as I should judge. "'The four rutty sapphire is chipped at the edge. "'There is one Turkestan turquoise, plain with black veins, and there are two inscribed, "'one with a name of God in guilt, and the other being cracked across, for it came out of an old ring, "'I cannot read. "'But we have now all five blue stones, four, floored emeralds there are, but one is drilled in two places, and one is a little carving. "'There waits,' said Logan Saib impassively. "'Three, five, five, and four root-tees, as I judge it.

There is one piece of old greenish pipe amber, and a cut topas from Europe. There is one ruby of Burma, of two rites, without a floor, and there is a ballast ruby flawed of two rutses. There is a carved ivory from China representing a rat, sucking an egg, and there is at last, aha, a ball of crystal, as big as a bean, set on a gold leaf. He clapped his hands at the close. "'He is thy master,' said Lergan, smiling. "'Hah! He knew the names of the stones,' said Kim, flushing. "'Try again, 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 will leave the open-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 playing with tweezers and knives and scissors is too little.' "'Learn first. Teach, l' "'said,' said Lergan Saib. "'Is he thy master?'

"'Truly. But how is it done?' "'By doing it many times over till it is done perfectly, for it is worth doing.' The Hindu boy in highest feather actually patted came on the back. "'Do not despair,' he said. "'I myself will teach thee.' "'And I will see that thou art well taught,' said Lergan Saib, still speaking in the vernacular. For except my boy here, it was foolish of him to buy so much

white arsenic when, if he had asked, I could have given it. Except my boy here, I have not in a long time met with one better worth teaching. And there are ten days more, ere thou canst return to Naclough, where they teach nothing at the long price. We shall, I think, be friends. Part 1. Kim by Roger Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellis. Chapter 9, Part 2 They were a most mad ten days, but Kim enjoyed himself too much to reflect on their crazy In the morning they played the jewel game, sometimes with veritable stones, sometimes with piles of swords and daggers, sometimes with photographs of natives. Through the afternoons he and the Hindu boy would mount guard in the shop, sitting dumb behind a carpet-bail or a screen, and watching Mr. Lurgan's many and very curious visitors. There were small Rajas, escorts coughing in the veranda, who came to buy curiosities, such as phonographs and mechanical toys.

There were ladies in search of necklaces, and men, it seemed to Kim, but his mind may have been vitiated by early training, in search of the ladies. Natives from independent and feudatory courts, whose ostensible business was the repair of broken necklaces, rivers of light poured out upon the table. but whose true end seemed to be to raise money for angry Maharani's or young Rajas. There were babos whom Lourgan Saib talked with austerity and authority, but at the end of each interview he gave them money in coined silver and currency and currency notes. There were occasional gatherings of long-coated theatrical natives who discussed metaphysics in English and Bengali to Mr. Lorgan's great edification. He was always interested in religions.

At the end of the day, Kim and the Hindu boy, whose name varied at Lugan's pleasure, were expected to give a detailed account of all that they had seen and heard, their view of each man's character, as shown in his face, talk and manner, and their notions of his real errand. After dinner Lugan Saib's fancy turned more to what might be called dressing up, in which game he took a most informed. interest. He could paint faces to a marvel with a brush-dab here and a line there, changing them past recognition. The shop was full of all manner of dresses and turbans, and Kim was apparelled variously as a young

Mohammedan of good family, an oilman, and once, which was a joyous evening, as the son of an old landowner, in the fullest of full dress. Lug and Saib had a hawk's eye to determine. the least floor in the makeup. And lying in a worn teak-wood couch would explain by the half-hour together how such and such a cast talked or walked or coughed or spat or sneezed, and since hows matter little in this world the why of everything. The Hindu child played this game clumsily. That little mind, keen as an icicle where tally of jewels was concerned, could not temper itself to any. enter another's soul. But a demon in Kim woke up and sang with joy, as he put on the changing

dresses, and changed speech and gesture therewith. Carried away by enthusiasm, he volunteered to show Lurgen Saib one evening how the disciples of a certain cast of Fakir, old Lahore acquaintances, begged dolls by the roadside, and what sort of language he would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair and to a woman without avail. Lurgan Saib laughed immensely and begged Kim 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 time entered a hulking, obese babu, whose stockinged legs shook with fat,

and Kim opened on him with a shower of wayside chaff. Lurgen Saib, this annoyed Kim, watched the Babu and not the play. "'I think,' said the barbou heavily, lighting a cigarette, "'I am of opinion that it is most extraordinary and efficient performance. "'Except that you had told me I should have opined that you were pulling my legs. How soon can he become approximately efficient chain-man, because then I shall indent for him. That is what he must learn at luck now.

Then order him to be jolly damn quick. Good night, Lugam!' The Babu swung out with the gate of a bogged cow. When they were telling over the day's list of visitors, Lurgan Saib asked Kim who he thought the man might be. "'God knows,' said Kim cheerily. The tone might almost have deceived Mabu. 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 of compelling truth. "'I think—I—I think he will want me when I come from the school, but—confidentially, as Logan Saib nodded approval—I—I—I—I—I think—he will want me when I come from the school—but—' confidentially, as Logan Saib nodded approval. I do not understand how he can wear many dresses and talk many tongues. "'Thou wilt understand many things later. He is a writer of tales for a certain colonel. His honour is great, only in Simler, and it is noticeable that he has no name, but only a number and a letter that is a custom among us.' "'And is there a price upon his head, too, as upon M—' 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-painted veranda behind that which was the old theatre in the lower bazaar, and whispered through the shutters, Harichanda Mukerji bore the bad news 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 was told?' He smiled merrily at Logan Saib's very beard. "'Ah, that is 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 the pay is the least part of the work.

From time to time God calls his men to be born, and thou art one of them, who have a lust to go abroad at the risk of their lives and discover news. Today it may be of far-off things, tomorrow of some hidden mountain, and the next day of some nearby men who have done a foolishness against the state. These souls are 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, a desirable must be a business that braisons the heart of a Bengali.

"'True, but the days go slowly for me. I am yet a boy, and it is only within two months I learned to write Angrizi. Even now I cannot read it well. And there are yet years and years and long years before I can be even a chain man.' "'Have patience, friend of all the world,' Kim startled the title. "'Would I had a few of the years that irked thee so? I have proved the inn several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my report to the Colonel Saib." Then, changing suddenly into English, with a deep laugh, "'By Jovo, O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you, and you must not become proud, and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow and be a good little boy and mind your

book, as the English say. And perhaps next holidays, if you care, you can come back to me.' Kim's face 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 the rear of a calcutonga. His companion was the whale-like baboo, who, with a fringed shawl wrapped round his head

and his fat, open-work stockinged left leg tucked under him, shivered and grunted in the morning chill. How comes it to you? that this man is one of us, thought Kim, considering the jelly back as they jolted down the road, and the reflections threw himself into most pleasant daydreams. Lurgen Saib had given him five rupees, a splendid sum, as well as the assurance of his protection if he worked. Unlike Mabub, Lurgen Saib had spoken most explicitly of the 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,

and a price upon his head. Someday he would be all that and more. Some day he might be almost as great as Mabub Ali. The house-tops of his search should be half India. He would follow kings and ministers, as in the old days he followed Vakil's and lawyer's touts across Lahore city for Mabub Ali's Meantime there was the present and not at all unpleasant fact of St. Xavier's immediately before him. There would be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday adventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur, had boasted that he would go to war with a rifle against the headhunters. That might be, but it was certain that young Martin had not been blown half across the forecourt of Apatiala palace by an explosion of fireworks, nor had he. Kim fell to telling himself the story of his own

adventures through the last three months. He could paralyse St. Xavier's, even the biggest boys who shaved with the recital, were that permitted? But it was, of course, out of the question. There would be a price upon his head in good time, as Lug and Saib had assured him, and if he talked foolishly now, not that. Not only would that price never be set, but Colonel Crichton would cast him off, and he would be left to the wrath of Lurgen Saib and Mub Ali for the short space of life that would remain to him. So I should choose Delhi for the sake of a fish, was his proverbial philosophy. It behooved him to forget his holidays.

There would always remain the fun of inventing imaginary adventures, and, as Lurgen Saib had said, work. Of all the boys hurrying back to St. Xavier's from Sakuur in the sands of Gali beneath the palms, none was so full with virtue as Kimball O'Hara, gigating down to Ambala, behind Harry Chandermukaji, whose name on the books of one section of the ethnological survey was R-17. And if additional spur were needed, the Babu supplied it. After a huge meal at Calca, spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school? Then he, an M.A. of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of education. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin, and wordsworth excursion. All this was Greek to Kim, French too was vital, and the best was to be

picked up at Chandonagour a few miles from Calcutta. Also, a man might go far, as he would, himself had done by strict attention to plays called Lear and Julius Caesar, both much in demand by examiners. Lear was not so full of historical allusions as Julius Caesar. The book cost four honours, and could be bought second-hand in Bobazar for two. Still, more importantly than Wordsworth, or the eminent author's Burke and Hare, was the art and science of menseration. A boy who had passed his examination in these branches, for which, by the way, there were no cram-books, could, by merely marching over a country with a compass and a level and a straight eye, carry away a picture of that country which might be sold for large sums in coined silver. But as it was occasionally inexpedient to carry about measuring chains, a boy would do well to know the precise length of his own foot-pace, so that when he was deprived of what Harry Chanda called

Adventious AIDS, he might still tread his distances. To keep count of thousands of paces, Harry Chander's experience had shown him nothing more valuable than a rosary of 81 or 108 beads. for it was divisible and subdivisible into many multiples and sub-multibles. Through the volleying 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 could tuck away in his head, and by the look of the large wide world unfolding itself before him,

it seemed the more a man knew, the better for him. said the Babu when he had talked for an hour and a half, "'I hope some day to enjoy your official acquaintance. Add interim, if I may be pardoned that expression, I shall give you this beetle box, which is highly valuable article and cost me two rupees only four years ago.' It was a cheap, heart-shaped thing

with three compartments for carrying the eternal beetlenut, lime, and pan-leaf. but it was filled with little tabloid bottles. That is reward of merit for your performance in character of that holy man. You see, you are so young you think you will last forever, and not take care of your body. It is great nuisance to go sick in the middle of business. I am fond of drugs myself, and they are handy to cure poor people, too. These are good departmental drugs, quinine and so on. I give it to you for you for.

souvenir. Now, good-bye. I have urgent private business here by the roadside.' He slipped out noiselessly as a cat on the Ambala Road, hailed a passing cart, and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the brass beetle-box in his hands. The record of a boy's education interests few, save his parents, and, as you know, Kim was an orphan. It is written in the books of St. Xavier's in Partibus that a report of King's progress was forwarded at the end of each term to Colonel Crichton and to Father Victor, from whose hands duly came the money for his schooling. It is further recorded in the same books that he showed a great aptitude for mathematical studies as well as map-making, and carried away a prize, the life of Lord Lawrence, tree-calf, two voles, nine rupees, eight anna's, for proficiency therein, and the same term played in the St. Xavier's Eleven against the Alligur-Mohmedan college, his age being 14 years and 10 months. He was also re-vaccinated, from which we may assume

that there had been another epidemic of smallpox at Lucknow about the same time. Pencil notes in the edge of an old muster-roll recall that he was punished several times for conversing with improper persons, and it seems that he was once sentenced to heavy pains for absenting himself for a day in the company of a street-begger. That was when he got over the gate, and pleaded with the llama through a whole day down the banks of the Gumpty to accompany him on the road next holidays, for one month, for a little week, and the llama set his face as a flint against 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 wisdom of the Saibs, and then he would see. The hand of friendship must in some way have averted the whip of calamity. For six weeks later, Kim seems to have passed an examination in elementary surveying, with great credit, his age being fifteen years and eight months. From this date, the record is silent. His name does not appear in the year's batch of those who entered the subordinate survey of India, but against it stands the words, Removed on Appointment.

Several times in those three years, cast up at the temple of the Tirthankas in Benares, the llama a little thinner and a shade yellower, if that were possible, but gentle and untainted as ever. Sometimes it was from the south that he came, from south of Tuticorin, whence the wonderful fireboats go to Ceylon where are priests who know Pali. Sometimes it was from the wet green west, and the thousand cotton-factory chimneys that rim Bombay. And once from the north, where he had doubled back eight hundred miles to talk for a day with the keeper of the images in the wonder-house.

He would stride to his cell in the cool-cut marble, the priests of the temple were good to the old man. Wash off the dust of travel, make prayer, and depart for luck now, well accustomed now to the ways of the rail, in a third-class carriage. Returning, it was noticeable, as his friend the keeper pointed out to the head priest, that he ceased for a while to mourn the loss 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,

mysterious chela, whom no man of the temple had ever seen, yet he had followed the traces of the blessed feet throughout all India. The curator has still in his possession a most marvellous account of his wanderings and meditations. There remained nothing more in life but to find the river of the arrow. Yet it was shown to him in his dreams that it was a matter and not to be undertaken with any hope of success, unless that seeker had with him one chela appointed to bring the event to a happy issue, and versed in great wisdom, such wisdom as the white-haired keeper of images possess. For example, here came out the snuff-gord, and the kindly Jane priests made haste to be silent.

Long and long ago, when Devadatta was king of Benares, Let all listen to the Jataka. An elephant was captured for a time by the king's hunters, and ere he broke free, be ringed with a grievous leg iron. Still, this he strove to remove with hate and frenzy in his heart, and hurrying up and down the forests, besought his brother elephants to wrench it asunder. 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 be broken by any bestial power. And in a thicket, Newborn, wet with the moisture of birth, lay a day-old cough of the herd, whose mother had died. The fetid elephant, forgetting his own agony, said, If I do not help this suckling,

it will perish under our feet. So he stood above the young thing, making his legs buttresses against the uneasy moving herd, and he begged milk of a virtuous cow, and the cough throve, and the ringed elephant was the cough's guide and defense. Now the days of an elephant, let all listen to the jataka,

are 35 years to his full strength, and through 35 rains the ringed elephant befriended the younger, and all the while the feta ate into the flesh. Then one day the young elephant saw the half-buried iron, and turning to the elder said, What is this? "'It is even my sorrow,' said he who had befriended him. Then that other put out his trunk,

and in the twinkling of an eyelash abolished the ring, saying the appointed time has come. So the virtuous elephant, who had waited temperately and done kind acts, was relieved at the appointed-time. time by the very calf whom he had turned aside to cherish. Let all listen to the jataka, for the elephant was Ananda, and the cough that broke the ring was none other than the lord himself. Then he would shake his head benignly, and over the ever-clicking rosary point out how free that elephant-calfe was from the sin of pride.

He was as humble as a chelar, who, seeing his master sitting in the dust outside the gates of learning, overlept the gates, though they were locked, and took his master to his heart in the presence of the proud-stomached city. Rich would be the reward of such a master and such a chelor, when the time came for them to seek freedom together. So did the lama speak, coming and going across India, as softly as a bat. A sharp-tonged old woman in a house among the fruit-trees behind Saranapur honoured him as the woman honoured the prophet. But his chamber was by no means upon the wall. In an apartment of the forecourt, overlooked by cooing doves, he would sit, while she laid her side her useless veil, and chatted of spirits and fiends of Kulu,

of grandchildren unborn, and of the free-tongued brat who had talked to her, in the resting place. Once too he strayed alone from the grand trunk road below Umbala to the very village whose priest had tried to drug him. But the kind heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight through the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Ristledars door. Here was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old soldier asked him why the friend of the stars had gone that way only six days before. "'That may not be,' said the llama. "'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 dawn after foolish talk with my granddaughter. He grows apace, but he is the same friend of the stars, as brought me true word of the war. Have you parted?' "'Yes and no,' the Lama replied. "'We have not altogether parted, but the time is not ripe that we should take the road together.

He acquires wisdom in another place. We must wait.' "'All one. But if it were not the boy, how did he come to speak so continually of thee?' "'And what said he? asked the Lama eagerly. Sweet words.

And hundred thousand, that thou art his father and mother and such all. Pity that he does not take the queen's service, he is fearless. This news amazed the Lama, who did not then know how religiously Kim kept to the contract made with Mabubali, and perforce ratified by Colonel Crichton. There is no holding the young pony from the game,

said the horse-dealer when the colonel pointed out that vagabonding over India in holiday time was absurd. If permission be refused to go and come as he chooses, he will make light of the refusal. Then who is to catch him? Colonel Saib only once in a thousand years as a horse born so well fitted for the game as this our colt, and we need men. End of Chapter 9 Kim by Roger Kipling.

This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Kim, by Rajad Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus. Chapter 10 Your Tearsall's too long at Hack, sire. He's no IAS but a passage-hawk that footed ere we caught him, dangerously free of the air. faith were he mine as mines the glove he binds to for his tirings i'd fly him with a makehawk he's in yarraq plumed to the very point so weathered give him the firmament god made for him and what shall take the air of him Gow's watch. Logan Saib did not use as direct speech, but his advice tallied with Mabub's, and the upshot was good for Kim. He knew better now than to leave Lucknow City in native garb, and if Mab were anywhere within the reach of a letter, it was to Mabub's camp, he headed, and made his change under the Potharn's wary eye.

Could the little survey paint-box that he used for map tinting in term time have found a tongue to tell of holiday doings, he might have been expelled? Once Mabub and he went together as far as the beautiful city of Bombay with three truckloads of tram horses, and Mabub nearly melted when Kim proposed to sail in a Dow across the Indian Ocean to buy Gulf Arabs, which he understood from a hanger-on of the dealer Abdul-Raman, fetched better prices than mere caboolis. He dipped his hand into the dish

with that great trader when Mabub and a few co-religionists were invited to a big Hajd dinner. They came back by way of Karachi by sea when Kim took his first experience of seasickness on the forehatch of a coasting steamer, well-persuaded he had been poisoned. The Barbub's famous drug-bubes, box proved useless, though Kim had restocked it at Bombay.

Mabub had business at Quetta, and there Kim, as Mabub admitted, earned his keep, and perhaps a little over, by spending four curious days as Scullion in the house of a fat commissariat sergeant, from whose office-box, in an auspicious moment, he removed a little vellum ledger which he copied out. It seemed to deal entirely with cattle and camel-sails, by moonlight, lying behind an outhouse, all through one hot night. Then he returned the ledger to its place, and, at Mabub's word, left that service unpaid, rejoining him six miles down the road, the clean copy in his bosom. "'That soldier is a small fish,' Mabub Ali explained. But in time we shall catch the larger one.

He only sells oxen at two prices, one for himself and one for the government, which I do not think is a sin. Why could I not 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 seek their way up from Quetta to the north. The game is so large that one sees but a little at a time. "'Aho,' said Kim, and held his tongue. That was in the monsoon holidays after he had taken the prize for mathematics. The Christmas holidays he spent, deducting ten days for private amusements, with Lurgen-Sahib,

where he sat for the most part in front of a roaring wood fire. Jack O'Rode was four feet deep in snow that year, and, the small Hindu had gone away to be married, helped Lurgan to thread pearls. He made Kim learn whole chapters of the Koran by heart, till he could deliver them with the very roll and cadence of a mullah. Moreover, he told Kim the names and properties of many native drugs, as well as the runes proper to recite when you administer them. in the evenings he wrote charms on parchment, elaborate pentagrams crowned with the names of devils, Mura and Awen the champion of kings, all fantastically written in the corners. More to the point, he advised Kim as to the care of his own body, the cure of fever fits, and simple remedies of the road. A week before it was time to go down, Colonel Crichton Saib, this was unfair,

sent Kim a written examination paper that concerned itself solely with rods and chains and links and angles. Next holidays he was out with Mabub, and here, by the way, he nearly died of thirst, plodding through the sand on a camel to the mysterious city of Bikaneer, where the wells are four hundred feet deep, and lined throughout with camelbone. It was not an amusing trip from Kim's point of view, because, in defiance of the contract, the Colonel ordered him to make a map of that wild, walled city. And since Mohammed and horseboys and pipe tenders

are not expected to drag survey chains round the capital of an independent native state, Kim was forced to pace all his distances by means of a bead rosemary. He used the compass for bearings as occasions served, after dark chiefly, when the camels had been fed, and, by the help of his little survey paint-box of six colour cakes and three brushes, he achieved something not remotely unlike the city of Jaisalmere. Mab laughed a great deal, and advised him to make up a written report as well, and in the back of the big account book that lay under the flag.

of Mabu's pet saddle, Kim, fell to work. It must hold everything that thou hast seen or touched or considered, right as though the Djangilat Saib himself had come by stealth with a vast army, outsetting to war. How great an army! Oh, half a lack of men! Folly! Remember how few and bad were the wells in the sand.

Not a thousand thirsty men could come. nearby here?" Then write that down. Also, all the old breeches in the walls, and whence the firewood is cut, and what is the temper and disposition of the king. I come here till all my horses are sold. I will hire a room by the gateway, and thou shalt be my accountant. There is a good lock to the door."

The report in its unmistakable St. Xavier's running script and the brown, yellow, and lake-dorbed map was on hand a few years ago. A careless clerk filed it with the rough notes of E23's second Seistan Survey. But by now the pencil characters must be almost illegible. Kim translated it, sweating under the light of an oil lamp, to Mabub the second day of their return journey. The pathan rose and stooped over his dappled saddlebags. "'I knew it would be worthy address of honour, and so I made one ready,' he said, smiling. "'Were I Amir of Afghanistan, and some day we may see him, I would fill thy mouth with gold.' He laid the garments formally at Kim's feet. There was a gold-embroidered Peshwar turban cap rising to a cone, and a big turban cloth,

ending in a fringe of gold. Then there was a Delhi-embroidered waistcoat to slip over a milky white shirt, fastening to the right, ample and flowing, green pyjamas with twisted silk waist-string, and that nothing may be lacking, Russia leather slippers, smelling divinely with arrogantly curled tips.

Upon a Wednesday, and in the morning, to put on new clothes is auspicious, said Mabob solemnly. But we must not forget the wicked folk in the world, so he capped all the splendour that was taking Kim's delighted breath away with a mother-of-pearl, nickel-plated, self-extracting, point four-five-o revolver. I had thought of a smaller bore, but reflected that this takes government bullets. A man can always come by those, especially across the border. Stand up and let me look.'

He clapped Kim on the shoulder. May you never be tired, Pathan! Oh, the hearts to be broken! Oh, the eyes under the eyelashes, looking sideways! Kim turned about, pointed his toes, stretched, and felt mechanically for the moustache that was just beginning. Then he stooped towards Mabub's feet to make proper acknowledgement with fluttering, quick-pating hands. His heart too full for words.

Mabub forestalled and embraced him. "'My son,' said he, "'what need of words between us. But is not the little gun a delight! All six cartridges come out at one twist. It is born in the bosom next the skin, which, as it were, keeps it oiled. Never put it elsewhere, and please God, thou shalt someday kill a man with it.

"'Hi my,' said Kim ruefully, "'if a Saib kills a man, he is hanged in the 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 madrisha, I must return it. They do not allow little guns. Thou wilt keep it for me?

Son, I am wearied of that madrisha, where they take the best years of a man to teach him what he can only learn upon the road. The folly of the Saibs has neither top nor bottom. No matter. Maybe thy written report shall save the further bondage. And God he knows we need men more and more in the game. They marched, jaw-bound against blowing sand, across the salt desert, to Jodhpur, where Mabub and his handsome nephew Habib Ula,

did much trading. And there sorrowfully in European clothes, which he was fast outgrowing, Kim went second-class to St. Xavier's. Three weeks later, Colonel Crichton, pricing Tibetan ghost daggers at Lurgan's shop, faced Mabub Ali openly mutinous. Lurgan Saib operated as support in reserve. The pony is made, finished, mouthed and paced, Saib. From now on day by day he will lose his manners if he has kept a tricks. Drop the rain on his back and let go, said the horse-dealer.

we need him but he is so young mabub not more than sixteen is here when i was fifteen i had shot my man and begot my man you impenitent old heathen chryton turned to lorgan the black beard nodded assent to the wisdom of the afghan's dyed scarlet i should have used him long ago said lorgan the younger the better that is why I always have my really valuable jewels watched by a child. You sent him to me to try. I tried him in every way. He is the only boy I could not make sea things. "'In the crystal? In the ink-pool?' demanded Mabub. "'No, under my hand, as I told you. That has never happened before. It means that he is strong enough. But you think it skittles, Colonel Crichton, to make any anyone do anything he wants, and that is three years ago. I have taught him a good deal since,

Colonel Crichton. I think you waste him now. Hmm, maybe you're right, but as you know, there is no survey work for him at present. Let him out, let him go, Mabub interrupted. Who expects any cult to carry heavy weight at first? Let him run with the caravans, like our white camel-coats. For luck, I would take him out myself, but— "'There is a little business where he would be most useful in the south,' said Lurgan, with particular suavity, dropping his heavy-blued eyelids. "'E23 has that in hand,' said Crichton quickly. "'He must not go down there, besides he knows no turkey.

"'Only tell him the shape and the smell of the letters we want. and he will bring them back, Logan insisted. Now, that is a man's job, said Crichton. It was a rye-necked matter of unauthorized and incendiary correspondence between a person who claimed to be the ultimate authority in all matters of the Mohammedan religion throughout the world and a younger member of a royal house who had been brought to book for kidnapping women within British territory.

The Muslim Archbishop had been emphatic and over-arrogant. The young prince was merely sulky at the curtailment of his privileges, but there was no need he should continue a correspondence which might someday compromise him. One letter, indeed, had been procured, but the finder was later found dead by the roadside in the habit of an Arab trader, as E23 taking up the work duly reported. These facts and a few others not to be published made both Mabob and Crichton shake their heads. "'Let him go out with his red llama,' said the horse-dealer with visible effort. "'He is fond of the old man. He can learn his paces by the rosary at least.'

"'I have had some dealings with the old man by letter,' said Colonel Crichton, smiling to himself, "'with a gows here. "'Up and down the land, as he has these three years, he seeks a river of healing. "'God's curse upon all,' Mabub checked himself. "'He beds down at the temple of the Tirthankars, or at Budagaya when he is in from the road. "'Then he goes to see the boy at the madrisha, as we know, 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 dealings with him. We have watched him for three years.

Red Llamas are not so common in Hind that one loses track. Baboos are very curious, said Lergan meditatively. Do you know what Hari Babu really wants? He wants to be made a member of the Royal Society by taking ethnological notes. I tell you, I tell him about the llama everything which Mabub and the boy have told me. Harry Babu goes down to Banaris at his own expense, I think. I don't, said Crichton briefly. He had paid Harry's travelling expenses out of a most lively curiosity to learn what the llama might be. And he applies to the llama for information on llamaism and devil dances and spells and charms,

several times in these few years. Only virgin! I could have told him all that years ago. I think Harry Babu is getting too old for the road. He likes better to collect manners and customs information.

Yes, he wants to be an F-R-S. Harry thinks well of the boy, doesn't he? Oh, very indeed. We have had some pleasant evenings at my little place. But I think It would be waste to throw him away with honey on the ethnological side.

Not for a first experience. How does that strike you, Mababab? Let the boy run with the llama for six months. After that we can see. He will get me 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 Krook.

Crichton half to himself. He can go with the Lama, and if Hari Babu cares to keep an eye on them, so much the better. He won't lead the boy into any danger as Mab would. Curious his wish to be an F-R-S, very human too. He is the best on the ethnological side, Harry. No money and no preferment would have drawn Crichton from his work on the 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 by ingenuity and the help of friends, but to the best of his belief, nothing save work. Papers representing a life of it took a man into the society,

which he had bombarded for years with monographs on strange Asiatic cults and unknown customs. Nine men out of ten would flee from a Royal Society soire in extremity of boredom. But Crichton was the tenth, and at times his soul yearned for the crowded rooms in Easy London, where silver-haired, bald-headed gentlemen, who know nothing of the army, move among spectroscopic experiments, the lesser plants of the frozen thunders, electric flight-measuring machines, and apparatus for slicing. into fractional millimeters the left eye of the female mosquito. By all right and reason, it was the Royal Geographical that should have appealed to him,

but men are as chancey as children in their choice of playthings. So Crichton smiled and thought the better of Hadi Babu, moved by like desire. He dropped the ghost dagger and looked up at Mabub. How soon can we get the colt from the stable? said the horse-dealer. reading his eyes. "'Hm—' "'If I withdraw him by order now, "'what will he do, think you?

"'I have never before assisted "'at the teaching of such a one.' "'He will come to me,' said Mabu promptly. "'Lurgan Saib and I will prepare him for the road.' "'So be it then. "'For six months he shall run at his choice. "'But who will be his sponsor?' "'Lergan slightly inclined his head.

"'He will be his head. not tell anything, if that is what you are afraid of, Colonel Crichton?' "'It's only a boy, after all.' "'Yes, but first he has nothing to tell, and secondly he knows what would happen. Also, he is very fond of Mabub, and of me a little.' "'Will he draw pay?' demanded the practical horse-dealer. "'Food and water allowance only are 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 are administered by a few men who do not call for vouchers or present itemized accounts. Mabub's eyes lighted with almost a Sikh's love of money. Even Lurgan's impassive face changed. He considered the years to come when Kim would have been entered and made to the great game that never ceases day and night throughout India. He foresaw honour and credit in the mouths of a chosen few, coming to him from his pupil.

Lurgan Saib had made E23 what E23 was, out of a bewildered, impertinent, lying little north-west province man. But the joys of these masters was pale and smoky, beside the joy of Kim, when St. Xavier's head called him aside, with word that Colonel Crichton had sent for him. I understand, O'Hara, that he has found you a place as an assistant chain-man in the canal department. That comes of taking up mathematics. It is great luck for you, for your only sixteen, but of course you understand that you do not become Pucker, permanent, till you have passed the ultimate examination.

So, you must not think you are going out into the world to enjoy yourself, or that your fortune is made. There is a great deal of hard work before you. Only if you succeed in becoming pucker, you can rise, you know, to 450 a month. Whereat the principal gave him much good advice as to his conduct and his manners and his morals. And others, his elders, who had not been wafted into billets, talked only as angry. Anglo-Indian lads can of favouritism and corruption. Indeed, young Casillet, whose father was a pensioner at Channua, hinted very broadly that Colonel Crichton's interest in Kim was directly paternal,

and Kim, instead of retaliating, did not even use language. He was thinking of the immense fun to come, of Mabub's letter of the day before, all neatly written in English, making appointment for that afternoon in a house, the very name of which would have crisp the principal's hair with horror," said Kim to Maboub in Lucknow railway station that evening above the luggage scales. "'I feared lest, at the last, the roof would fall on me and cheat me. Is it indeed all finished on my father?' Mabub snapped his fingers to show the utterness of that end, and his eyes blazed like red coals. where is the pistol that I may wear it?

Softly, a half-year, to run without heel ropes. I begged that much from Colonel Crichton-Saibe. Add twenty rupees a month. Old red hat knows that thou art coming. I will pay thee dasturi, commission, on my pay for three months, said Kim gravely. Yay, two rupees a month, but first we must get rid of these. He plucked his thin linen trousers and dragged as his collar.

"'I have brought with me all that I need on the road. My trunk has gone up to Lurgan Saib's.' "'Who sends his salams to thee?' "'Saiib?' "'Lurgan Saib is a very clever man, but what dost thou do?' "'I go north again, upon the great game. What else? Is thy mind still set on following the old red hat?' "'Do not forget he made me that I am, though he did not know it. Year by year he sent the money that taught me.'

"'I would have done as much had it struck my thick head,' Mabub growled. "'Come away, the lamps are lit now, and none will mark thee in the bazaar. We go to Hanifa's house.' On the way thither Mabob gave him much the same sort of advice as his mother gave to Lemuel, And, curiously enough, Mabub was exact to point out how Hanifa and her likes destroyed kings. "'And I remember,' he quoted maliciously, "'one who said, "'thrust a snake before a harlot, "'and a harlot before a pathan, Mabub Ali. "'Now, accepting as to pathan's, of whom I am one,

"'all that is true. "'Most true is it, in the greek, great game, for it is by means of women that all plans come to ruin, and we lie out in the dawning with our throats cut. So it happened to such a one,' he gave the reddest particulars. "'Then why?' Kim paused before a filthy staircase that climbed to the warm darkness of an upper chamber, in the ward that is behind Azimullah's tobacco shop. Those who know it, call it the bird cage. It is so full of whisperings and whistling and chirruppings. The room, with its dirty cushions and half-smoked hookers, smelled abominably of stale tobacco. In one corner lay a huge

and shapeless woman clad in greenish gauzes, and decked brow, nose, ear, neck, wrist, arm, waist, and ankle with heavy native jewelry. When she turned it was like the clashing of copper pots. A lean cat in the balcony outside the window mewed hungrily. Kim checked, bewildered at the door-curtain. "'Is that the new stuff, Mabob?' said Hanifa lazily, scarcely troubling to remove the mouthpiece from her lips. "'Oh, Bactanos!' Like most of her kind, she swore by the gins. "'Oh, Bactanus! He is very good to look a-pactanus!' "'That is part of the selling of the horse,' Mabub explained to Kim, who laughed.

"'I have heard that talk since my sixth day,' he replied, squatting by the light. "'Wither does it lead?' "'To protection. Tonight we change thy colour. This sleeping under roofs has blanched thee like an almond. But Hanifa has the secret of a colour that catches. No painting. of a day or two. Also, we fortify thee against the chances of the road. That is my gift to thee, my son. Take out all the metals on thee, and lay them here. Make ready, Hanifa. Kim dragged forth his compass, serve a paint-box, and the new-filled medicine-box. They had all accompanied his travels, and, boylike, he valued them immensely. The woman rose slowly, and moved the move

with her hands a little spread before her. Then Kim saw that she was blind. "'No, no,' she muttered. "'The pathan speaks truth. My colour does not go in a week or a month, and those who I protect are under strong guard. When one is far off and alone, it would not be well to grow blotched and leprous of a sudden,' said Mabub. When thou wast with me, I could oversee the matter. Besides, a pathan is a fair skin. Strip to the waist now, and look how thou art whitened.

Hanifa felt her way back from an inner room. It is no matter. She cannot see. He took a pewter bowl from her ringed hand. The dye-staff showed blue and gummy. Kim experimented on the back of his wrist. with a dab of cotton wool. But Hanifa heard him. "'No, no!' she cried. "'The thing is not done thus. But with the proper ceremonies, the coloring is the least part.

I give thee the full protection of the road!' "'Jadu, magic,' said Kim, with a half-start. He did not like the white, sightless eyes. Mabub's hand on his neck bowed him to the floor, 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 clish clash of her jewellery for many minutes a match lit up the darkness he caught the well-known purr and fizzle of grains of incense then the room filled with smoke heavy aromatic and stupefying through growing growls he heard the names of devils Of Zulbazan, son of Eblis, who lives in bazaars, and paros, making all the sudden lewd wickedness of wayside halts, of Dulhahn, invisible about mosques, the dweller among the slippers of the faithful, who hinders

folks from their prayers. Of Musput, lord of lies and panic. Hanifa now whispering in his ear, now talking as from an immense distance, touched him with horrible soft fingers. But Mabub's grip never shifted from his neck till, relaxing with a sigh, the boy lost his senses. "'Allah! How he fought! We should never have done it but for the drugs. That was his white blood, I take it,' said Mabub testily. "'Go on with the Dawat!' invocation. Give him full protection. "'O, hearer, thou that hearest with ears be present. Listen, O'Hira!' Hanifa moaned, her dead eyes turned to the west.

The dark room filled with moanings and snortings. From the outer balcony a ponderous figure raised a round bullet-head and coughed nervously. "'Do not interrupt this ventriloqual necromancy, my friend,' it said in English. "'I, oh, pine, it is very disturbing to you, "'but no enlightened observer is jolly well upset.' "'I will lay a plot for their ruin, oh prophet, "'bear with the unbelievers, let them alone a while.' "'Hanifa's face turned to the northward, worked horribly, "'and it was though voices from the ceiling answered her.

"'Hari Babu returned to his notebook, "'balanced on the window-sill, but his hand shook. Hanifa, in some sort of drugged ecstasy, wrenched herself to and fro, as she sat cross-legged by Kim's still head, and called 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 beside himself. He knoweth that which is in the dry land, and his own. in the sea, again broke out the unearthly whistling responses.

"'I apprehend it is not all malignant in this operation,' said the Babu, watching the throat muscles quiver and jerk as Hanifa spoke with tongues. "'It is not likely that she had killed a boy. If so, I decline to be witness at the trial. What was the latest hypothetical devil mentioned?' "'Baboo-G,' said Maboo in the vernacular. I have no regard for the devils of the Hind, but the sons of Eblus are far otherwise, and whether they are jamily, well affected, or jollily, terrible.

They love not Gaffirs. Then you think I had better go, said Haribabu, half-rising. They are, of course, dematerialise phenomena, Spencer says. Hanifa's crisis passed, as these things must, in a paroxysm of howling, with a touch of froth at the lips. She lay spent and motionless beside Kim, and the crazy voices ceased. "'Wah, that work is done. May the boy be better for it, and Hanifa is surely a mistress of Dawat.

Help haul her aside, Babu. Do not be afraid.' "'How am I to fear the absolutely non-existent?' said Harry Babu, talking English to restore himself. It is an awful thing still to dread the magic that you contemptuously investigate, to collect folklore for the Royal Society, with a lively belief in all powers of darkness. Mabub chuckled.

He had been out with hurry on the road air now. Lear does finish the colouring, said he. The boy is well protected, if the lords of the air have ears to hear. I am a Sufi, freethinker. 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 see that old red hat does not lead him beyond our reach. I must get back to my horses. All right, said Harry Babu. He is at present curious spectacle. About third cockcrow, Kim woke. after a sleep of thousands of years. Hanifa in her corner snored heavily, but Mabub was gone. "'I hope you were not frightened,' said an oily voice at his elbow. "'I superintended the entire operation which was most interesting from ethnological point of view.

It was high-class dowat.' "'Ah,' said Kim, recognising Haribu, who smiled ingratiatingly, "'And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume. "'I am not in the habit of officially carrying such gods to subordinate, "'but,' he giggled, "'your case is noted as exceptional on the books. "'I hope Mr. Lorgam will take note my action.' "'Kim yawned and stretched himself.

"'It was good to turn and twist within loose clothes once again. "'What is this?' He looked curiously at the heavy duffel stuff loaded with the sense of the far north. "'Oh, that is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service of lamiaeastic llama. "'Complete in every particular,' said Haribou, rolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. "'I am of opinion. It is not your old gentleman's precise religion, but rather sub-variant of same.

I have contributed rejected notes to Asiatic quarterly review on these subjects. Now it is curious that the old gentleman himself is totally devoid of religiosity. He is not a damn particular. Do you know him? Haribabu held up his hand to show that he was engaged in the prescribed rights that accompanied tooth-cleaning and such things among decently bred Bengalis. Then he recited in English an Arya Samaj prayer of a theistical nature and stuffed his mouth with pan and beetle.

Oh, yes, I have met him several times of Benares and also a Budagaya to interrogate him under religious points and devil-worship. He is pure agnostic, same as me. Hanifa stirred in her sleep, and Haribabu jumped nervously to the copper incense burner, all black and discoloured in morning light, rubbed the finger in the accumulated lamp black, and drew it diagonally across his face. "'Who has died in thy house?' asked Kim in the vernacular.

"'None, but she may have the evil eye, that sorceress,' the babu replied. "'What dost thou do now, then?' "'I will set thee on thy way to Benares, "'if thou goes thither, and tell thee what must be known by us.' "'I go.' "'At what hour runs the terrain?' he rose to his feet, looked round the desolate chamber, and at the yellow-wax face of Hanifa as the low 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 the name of her devils. It was Mabub's desire.' "'In English, he is highly obsolete, I think, to indulge in such superstitious. Why, it is all ventriloquy. Barely speak, eh? Kim snapped his fingers mechanically to avoid whatever evil, Mabub he knew, meditated none, might have crept in through Hanifa's ministrations, and Harry giggled once more. But as he crossed the room, he was careful not to step in Hanifa's blotched squat shadow on the boards, which is, when their time is on them, can lay hold of the heels of a man's soul if he does that.

"'Now you must well listen,' said the Babu, when they were in the fresh air. "'But of the ceremonies which we witnessed, they include supply of efficient amulet to those of our department. If you fill in your neck, you will find one small silver amulet, very cheap. That is ours. Do you understand?' "'Oh, yes, a howadilly.' A heartlifter, said Kim, feeling at his neck.

"'Hanifa, she makes them for two rupees, twelve anas, with, oh, all sorts of exorcisms. They are quite common, except they are partially black enamel, and there is a paper inside each one full of names of local saints and such things. That is Hanifa's lookout, you see. Hanifa makes them only 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 unofficial, of course, but convenient for subordinates. Colonel Crichton, he does not know. He is European. The turquoise is wrapped in the paper. Yes, that is Rotorawi station. Now, suppose you go with the llama or with me, I hope, some day or with Mabob.

Suppose we get into damn tight place. I am a fearful, man, most fearful. But I tell you, I have been in damn tight places more than hairs on my head. You say, I am son of the charm. Very good? I do not quite understand.

We must not be heard talking English here. That is all right. I am only Babu showing off my English to you. We baboos talk English to show off, said Horry, flinging his shoulder-cloth jauntily. As I was about to say, son of the charm, that means you may be a member of the Sat Bahai, 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.

Very good, Sat-Bah! has many members, and perhaps before they jolly will cut your throat, they may give you just a chance for 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 specific organization, you see. You say then when you are in tight place, I am son of the charm, and you get perhaps a... Your second wind. That is only in extreme circumstances, or to open negotiations with a stranger. Can you quite see? Very good.

But suppose now I, or any one of the department, came to your dress quite different. You would not know me at all unless I chose, I bet you. Someday I will prove it. I will come as Ladakhi trader, or 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 very poor man can buy a duckwise or a tarquian.' "'That is kitchery, vegetable curry,' said Kim.

"'Of course it is. You say, "'Let me see the tarquian.' 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 a talkian. You stop a little between those words, to look. That is the 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 Tarcan, but always with that little stop in the words. It is very 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 Tarcan, if you want to transact official purpose, business with a strange man. Of course, at present you have no official business. You are, aha, supernumerary on probation. That's 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-English, you see. The llama he expects you, because I have demi-officially informed him that 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 goodbye, my dear fellow, and I hope you, ah, will come out topside all right. "'Hadi 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 good, rosary and ghost dagger—' Mr. Logan 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. End of Chapter 10 Kim by Rudyard Kipling This is a Libravox recording All Libravox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer

Please visit Libravox.org Kim by Rudyard Kipling Read by Adrian Pretzelis Chapter 11 Part 1 Give the man who is not made to his trade Swords to fling and catch again Coins to ring and snatch again 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 be rayed, 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 needs and sure his power, bind the spell, or loose the laugh. But a man who, etc. The jugglers' song, Opus 15, followed a sudden natural reaction. Now I am alone, all alone, he thought.

In 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 amazement, 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, wrapped from all other thoughts, his hands folded in lap, and pupils contracted to pinpoints. 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 the 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 from 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? With a ghost thou.' "'Toward Kashi, Benares.' "'There are no gods there. I have proved them. I go to Pyrag, Alibar, for the fifth time, seeking the road to Enlighten

"'What faith art thou?' "'I too am a seeker,' said Kim, using one of the llama's pet words. "'Though,' he forgot his northern dress for the moment, "'though Allah alone knoweth what I seek.' The old fellow slipped the Baragie's crutch under his armpit and sat down on a patch of ruddy leopard-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 whither do we all travel." Kim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he 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 particularly filthy city, though it was pleasant to find how his cloth was respected. least one-third of the population praise eternally to some group or other of the many million deities, and so reveres every sort of holy man. Kim was guided to the temple of the Tirthankhars, about a mile outside the city, near Sanath, by a chance met Punjabi farmer, a cambot from Jalandorway,

who had appealed 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 of the narrow, stinking streets, much like his own pet bull at home. Aye, I know the Punjab. My mother was a Paharin, but my father came from Amritsra, by Jandala, said Kim, oiling his ready tongue for the needs of the road.

Jandala, Jalandur, oh-ho, then we be neighbours in some sort, as it were. He nodded tenderly to the wailing child in his arms. "'Whom dost thou serve?' "'A most holy man at the temple of the Tirthankars.' "'They are all most holy and most greedy,' said the Jats, with bitterness. "'I have walked the pillars and trodden the temples till my feet are flayed, and the child is no wit better, and the mother being sick too. "'Hash then, little one!'

"'We changed his name when the fever came. "'We put him in girls' clothes. "'There was nothing we did not do except—' "'I said to his mother when she bundled me off to Bonares. "'She should have come with me. "'I said Shaki Swara Sultan would serve us best. "'We know his generosity, "'but these down-country gods are strangers.'

The child turned on the cushion of the huge corded arms and looked at Kim through heavy eyelids. "'And was it all worthless?' Kim asked with easy interest. "'Worthless! All worthless!' said the child, lips cracking with fever. "'The gods have given him a good mind at least,' said the father proudly. "'Do think he should have listened so cleverly. yonder is thy temple now i am a poor man many priests have dealt with me but my son is my son and if a gift to thy master can cure him i am at my very wits end kim considered for a while tingling with pride three years ago he would have made a prompt profit on the situation and gone his way without a thought but now the very respect the jat paid him proved that he was a man Moreover, he had tasted fever once or twice already, and knew enough to recognize starvation

when he saw it. Call him forth, and I will give him a bond on my best yoke, so that the child is cured." Kim halted at the carved outer door of the temple. A white-clad Oswald Banker from Ashmir, his sins of usury knew wiped out, asked him what he did. I am Chela to Teshu Lama, and Holy One from Botiyaal, within there. He bade me come, I wait, tell him. Do not forget the child, cried the importunate jat over his shoulder, and then he bellowed in Punjabi.

Oh, holy one, oh disciple of the Holy One, oh God's above all the worlds, behold affliction, sitting at the gate. That cry is so common in benjamin. that the passers never turned their heads. The Oswald, at peace with mankind, carried the message into the darkness behind him, and the easy, uncounted eastern minutes slid by, for the Lama was asleep in his cell, and no priest would wake him. When the click of his rosary again broke the hush of the inner court, where the calm images of the Arhat stand, a novice whispered, "'The chela is here,' and the old man strode forth, forgetting the end of that prayer.

Hardly had the tall figure shown in the doorway, then the jat ran before him, and lifting up the child, cried, "'Look upon this holy one, and if the God's 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 that he spoke far clearer urdu than long ago under zamzamar but the father would allow 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 may i cure holy one what have they made the a healer wait here said the the llama, and he 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 little beetle-box. He had dreamed dreams at school of returning to the llama as a Saib, of chaffing the old man before he revealed himself, Boy's dreams all.

There was more drama in this abstracted, brow-puckered search through the tabloid bottles, with a pause here and there for thought and a muttered invocation between wiles. Quinine he had in tablets, and dark brown meat lozenges—beef, most probably. That was not his business. The little thing would not eat, but it sucked at a lozange 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, the other three in water. After he has drunk the milk, give him this. It was the half of a quinine pill, and wrap him warm. Give him the water of the other three, and the other half of this white pill when he wakes. Meantime, here is another brown medicine that he may suck at on the way home.

"'God's, what wisdom,' said the cambore, snatching. It was as much as Kim could remember of his own treatment in a bout of autumn malaria, if you accept the patter that he had added to impress the llama. "'Now go! Come again in the morning!' "'But the price! The price!' said the Jat, and threw back his sturdy shoulders. "'My son is my son. Now that he will be whole again! How shall I go back to his mother and say, I took help by the wayside, and did not even give a bowl of curds in return?' they are all alike these jats said kim softly the jats stood on his dung-hill and the king's elephants went by oh driver said he what will you sell those little donkeys for The Jat burst into a roar of laughter, stifled with apologies to the Lama.

It is the saying of my own country, the very talk of it. So are we Jats all. I will come to-morrow with the child, and the blessing of the gods of the homesteads, who are good little gods, be on you both. Now, son, we grow strong again. Do not spit it out, little princeling. King of my heart, Do not spit it out. We shall be strong men, wrestlers and club-wheelerers by morning. He moved away, crooning and mumbling. The llama turned to Kim, and all the 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, oh friend of all the world.

"'I was made wise by thee Holy One,' said Kim, forgetting the little play just ended, forgetting St. Saviars, forgetting his white blood, forgetting even the great game, as he stooped Muhammadan fashion to touch his master's feet in the dust of the Jane Temple. "'My teaching I owe 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 passed to the inner court, where the afternoon sun sloped golden across. Stand that I may see so, he peered critically.

It is no longer a child but a man ripened in wisdom, walking, and a physician. I did well, I did well when I gave thee up to the armed man on that black night. dost thou remember our first day under Zam'sama?' "'Aye,' said Kim, "' dost thou remember when I leapt off the carriage the first day I went to? Their gates of learning? Truly. And the day that we ate the cakes to—'all together at the back of the river by Nuklau. Aha!

Many times hast thou begged for me, but that day I begged for thee. Good reason, quoth Kim, I was then a scholar in the gates of learning and attired as a Saib. Do not forget, Holy One, he went on, playfully. I am still a Saib by thy favor. True and a Saip in most high esteem, come to myself, Chella.

How is that known to thee? The llama smiled. First by means of letters from the kindly priest whom we met in the camp of armed men, but he is now gone to his own country, and I sent the money to his brother. Colonel Crichton, who had succeeded to the trusteeship when Father Victor went to England with the Mavericks, was hardly the chaplain's brother. But I do not well understand the Saib's letters. They must be interpreted to me. I chose a shore away. Many times when I returned from my search to this temple, which has always been a nest to me, there came one seeking enlightenment, a man from Le.

That has been, he said, a Hindu, but wearied of all those gods. The llama pointed to the Ahats. A fat man, said Kim, a twinkle in his eye. Very fat, but I perceived in a little his mind was wholly given up two useless things such as devils and charms, and the form and fashion of our tea-drinkings in the monasteries, and by what road we initiated the novices. A man abounding in questions, but he was a friend of thine, Chella. He told me that thou wast on the road too much honour as a scribe,

and I see thou art a physician. yes that i am a scribe when i am a saib but it is set aside when i come as thy disciple i have accomplished the years appointed for a as it were a novice said the lama nodding his head art thou freed from the schools i would not have thee unripe i am all free in due time i take service under the government as a scribe "'Not as a warrior, that is well.' "'But first I come to wander with thee. "'Therefore I am here. "'Who begs for 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 to another of Hind have I travelled afoot and in the terrain, A great and wonderful land. But here when I put in is though I were in my own Baltial!' He looked round at the little clean cell complacently. A low cushion gave him a seat, on which he had disposed himself in the cross-legged attitude of the Bodhisat, emerging from meditation. A black teakwood table not twenty inches high set with copper teacups was before him.

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 giving me these a year since, he said, following Kim's eye. When one is far from one's own land, such things carry remembrance, and we must reverence the Lord, for that he showed the way, see! He pointed to a curiously built mound of coloured rice, crowned with a fantastic metal ornament.

When I was abbot in my own place, before I came to better knowledge, I made that offering daily. It is the sacrifice of the universe to the Lord. Thus do we of Botiyaal offer all the world daily to the excellent law. And I do it even now, though I know that the excellent world. one is beyond all pinchings and pattings. He snuffed from his gourd. "'It is well done, Holy One,' Kim murmured, sinking at ease on the cushions, very happy and rather tired.

"'And also,' the old man chuckled, "'I write pictures of the wheel of life, three days to a picture. I was busied on it, or it may be I shut my eyes a little, when they brought word of thee. It is good to have thee here. I will show thee my art, not for pride's sake, but because thou must learn. The sibes have not all this world's wisdom." He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow Chinese paper, the brushes, and a slab of Indian ink.

In cleanest, severest outlines, 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, and all the chances of human life. Men say that the Bodhisat himself, first drew it, with grains of rice upon dust,

to teach his disciples the course. cause of things. Many ages have crystallized it into a most wonderful convention, crowded with hundreds of little figures, whose every line carries a meaning. Few can translate the picture parable. There are not twenty in all the world who can draw it surely without a copy. Of those who can both draw and expound are but three. I have a little learned to draw, said Kim, but this is a marvel beyond marvels. I have written it for many years, said the Lama. Time was when I could write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next.

I will teach thee the art after due preparation, and I will show thee the meaning of the wheel. We take the road, then? The road and our search I was but waiting for thee. It was made plain to me in a hundred dreams, notably one that came upon the night of the day that the gates of learning first shut, that without thee I should never find my river. Again and again, as thou know'st,

I put this from me, fearing an illusion. Therefore, I would not take thee with me that day at luck now, when we ate the cakes. I would not take thee till the time was right and auspicious. From the hills to the sea, from the sea to the hills have I gone, but it was vain. Then I remembered the sea. the Jataka. He told Kim the story of the elephant with the leg-iron, as he had told it so often to the Jane priests. "'Further testimony is not needed,' he ended serenely. "'Thou was sent for an aid. That aid removed. My search came to naught. Therefore we will go out

again together, and our search is sure. With a go we? What matters, friend of all the world? The search I say is sure. If need be, the river will break from the ground before us. I acquired merit when I sent thee to the gates of learning, and gave thee the jewel that is wisdom. thou didst return i saw even now a follower of saccharamundi the physician whose orders are many in bautiel

there it is sufficient we are together and all things are as they were friend of all the world friend of the stars my chela then they talked of matters But it was noticeable that the Lama never demanded any details of life at St. Xavier's, nor showed the faintest curiosity as to the manners and customs of Saibs. His mind moved all in the past, and he revived every step of their wonderful first journey together, rubbing his hands and chuckling, till it pleased him to curl himself up into the sudden sleep of old age. Kim watched the last dusty sunshine fade out of the court, and played with his ghost-dagger and rosary. The clamour of Benares, oldest of all earth's cities, awake before the gods, day and night, beat round the walls as the seas roar round a breakwater. Now and again a Jane priest

crossed the court with some small offering to the images, and swept the path about him, lest by chance he should take the life of a living thing. A lamp twinkled, and there followed the sound of a prayer. Kim watched the stars as they rose one after another in the still, sticky dark, till he fell asleep at the foot of the altar. That night 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 llama, also waking from dreams, would have fared forth on pilgrimage. The Jat will be here at the light. I am well answered. In my haste, I would have done a wrong. He sat down on the cushions and returned to his rosary. Surely old folk are as children, he said pathetically. They desire a matter.

behold it must be done at once or they fret and weep many times when i was upon the road i have been ready to stamp with my feet at the hindrance of an ox-cart in the way or a mere cloud of dust it was not so when i was 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 or young, sick or sound, Knowing or unknowing, Who can rein in the effect of that cause?

Does the wheel hang still If a child spin it or a drunkard? Jela, this is a great. and terrible world. I think it good, Kim yawned. What is there to eat? I have not eaten since yesterday even. I had forgotten thy need yonder is good,

potty-ar-tee and cold rice. We cannot walk far on such stuff. Kim felt all the Europeans lust for flesh meat, which is not accessible in a Jane temple. yet instead of going out at once with the begging bowl he stayed his stomach on slabs 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 said feel here his skin is fresh and new he esteemed the sod lozenges and took milk with greed he drew the cloth from the the child's face, and it smiled sleepily at Kim. A little knot of Jane priests, silent but all observant, gathered by the temple door. They knew, and Kim knew that they knew, how the old Lama had met his disciple. Being courteous folk, they had not obtruded themselves overnight by presence, word, or gesture,

wherefore Kim repaid them as the sun rose. "'Thank the gods of the Jane's, brother,' he said, not knowing how. these gods were named, the fever is indeed broken. Look, see! The llama beamed in the background upon his hosts of three years. Was there ever such a chela? He follows our lord the healer! Now the Jains officially recognize all the gods of the Hindu creed, as well as the lingam and the snake. They wear the bramitical thread, they adhere to

to every claim of Hindu caste law. But because they know and loved the Lama, because he was an old man, because he sought the way, because he was their guest, and because he catalogued long of nights with the head priest, as free-thinking a metaphysician has ever split one hair into seventy, they murmured assent. "'Remember,' Kim bent over the child, "'this trouble may come again.' "'Not if thou hast the proper speck!' "'Well,' said the father, "'but in a little while we go away.'

"'Through,' said the llama to all the Janes. "'We go together upon the search, "'whereof I have often spoken. "'I waited till my chelah was ripe. "'Behold him, we go north. "'Never again shall I look upon this place of my rest, "'oh, people of good will.' but i am not a beggar the cultivator rose to his feet clutching the child be still do not trouble the holy one a priest cried

go kim whispered meet us again under the big railway bridge and for the sake of all the gods of our punjaub 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 sad-coloured sweeping robes, one hand on his rosary and the other in the attitude of benediction, faithfully copied from the llama. An English observer might have said that he looked rather like the young saint of a stained-glass window, whereas he was but a growing lad, faint with emptiness. Long and formal were the farewells. and thrice renewed. The seeker, he who had invited the llama to that haven from far away Tibet, a silver-faced hairless aesthetic, took no part in it, but meditated, as always,

alone among the images. The others were very human, pressing small comforts upon the old man, a beetle-box, a fine new iron pen-case, a food-bag and such like, warning him against the dangers of the world without, and prophesying a happy end to the search. Meanwhile, Kim, lonelier than ever, squatted on the steps, and swore to himself in the language of St. Xavier's. "'But it is my own fault,' he concluded. "'With Mabub I ate Mabub's bread, or Lurgen Saib's, at St. Xavier's three meals a day. Here I must jolly well look out for myself, besides, I am not.

not in good training. How, I could eat a plate of beef now! Is it finished, Holy One? The llama, both hands raised, intoned a final blessing in ornate Chinese. I must lean on thy shoulder, said he as the temple gates closed. We gross, dear, I think. The weight of a six-foot man is not light to steady through miles of crowded streets, and Kim loaded down with bundles and packages for the way,

was glad to reach the shadow of the railway bridge. "'Here we eat,' he said resolutely, as the cumber, blue-robed and smiling, hove in sight, a basket in one hand and the child on the other. "'Fall two holy ones!' he cried from fifty yards. They were by the shoal under the first bridge span, out of sight of hungry priests. rice and good curry, cakes all warm and well-scented with hing, Asafedita, curds and sugar.

King of my fields, this to the small sun, let us show these holy men that we Jats of Jalandur can pay a service. I have heard that Jains would eat nothing that they had not cooked, but truly, he looked away politely over the broad river. Where there is no eye, there is no caste. "'And we,' said Kim, turning his back and heaping a leaf platter for the llama, "'are beyond all casts.' "'They gorged themselves on the good food in silence, "'nor till he had licked the last of the sticky sweet stuff "'from his little finger did Kim note that the cambo was too girt for travel.

"'If our roads lie together,' he said roughly, "'I go with thee. "'One does not often feel. find a worker of miracles, and the child is still weak. But I am not altogether a reed. He picked up his lathie, a five-foot male bamboo, ringed with bands of polished iron, and flourished it in the air. The jats are called quarrelsome, but that is not true, except when we are crossed, we are like our own buffaloes. So be it, said Kim. A good stick. A good stick. is a good reason.

The llama gazed placidly upstream, where in long-smudged perspective, the ceaseless columns of smoke go up from the burning gats by the river. Now and again, despite all municipal regulations, the fragment of a half-burned body bobbed by on the full current. "'But for thee,' said the Cambo, to Kim, drawing the child into his hairy breast, I might today have gone thither with this one. The priests tell us that Banaris is holy, which none doubt, and desirable to die in. But I do not know their gods, and they ask for money, and when one has done one worship, a shaved-head vows, it is of none effect, except one to another.

Wash here, wash there. Poor drink, love, and scatter flowers, but always pay the priest. no the Punjab for me and the soil of the Jalandur doab for the best soil in it I have said many times in the temple I think that if need be the river will open at our feet we will therefore go north said the llama rising I remember a pleasant place set about with fruit trees where one can walk in meditation, and the air is cooler there. It comes from the hills, and the snow of the hills." "'What is the name?' said Kim. "'How should I know? Dest thou not know that was after the army rose out of the earth and took thee away. I abode there in meditation in a room against the dove-cock. except when she talked eternally.

Oh, ho! the woman from Kulu. That is by Saharanpur, Kim laughed. How does the spirit move thy master? Does he go afoot for the sake of past sins? The Jack demanded cautiously. It is a far cry to Delhi. No, said Kim. I will beg ticket for the terrain.

one does not own to the possession of money in India. Then in the name of the gods, let us take the fire-carriage. My son is best in his mother's arms. The government has brought on us many taxes, but it gives us one good thing, the terrain that joins friends and unites the anxious. Our wonderful matter is the terrain. End of Chapter 11, Part 1.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling This is a Libravox recording All Libravox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit Libravox.org Kim by Rudyard Kipling Read by Adrian Pretzellis Chapter 11 Part 2

They all piled into it a couple of hours later And slept through the heat of the day The Cambo plied Kim with ten thousand questions as to 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 flat northwestern landscape, and to talk to the changing mob of fellow passengers. Even today, tickets and ticket clippings are dark oppression to Indian rustics. They do not understand why, when they have paid for a magic piece of paper, strangers should punch great pieces out of the charm. So long and furious are the

debates between travellers and Eurasian ticket collectors. Kim assisted at two or three with grave advice, meant to darken counsel, and to show off his wisdom before the llama and the admiring Cambo. But at Somna Road the fates sent him a matter to think upon. There tumbled into the compartment as the train was moving off, a mean, lean little person, a marata, as 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 leg was bandaged. He told them that a country cart had upset and nearly slain him. He was going to Delhi, where his son lived. Kim watched him closely. If, as he asserted, he had been rolled over and over on the 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 cart could not cast a man into such extremity of terror. As with shaking fingers he knotted up the torn cloth about his neck, he laid bare an amulet of the kind called Keeper Up of the Heart. Now, amulets are common enough, but they are not generally strung on square-platted copper wire, and still fewer amulets bear black enamel on silver. There were none except the Cambo and the llama in the compartment, which luckily was of an old type with solid ends. Kim made as to scratch in his bosom, and thereby lifted his own amulet. The Maratha's face changed altogether at the sight, and he disposed the amulet fairly on his breast. "'Yes,' he went on to the Cambo,

"'I was in haste, and the cart, driven by a bastard, "'bound its wheel in a water-cut, "'and besides the harm done to me, "'there was lost a full dish of Tarkian. "'I was not a son of the charm, a lucky man, that day.' "'That was a great loss,' said the Cambo, "'withdrawing interest. "'His experience of Benares had made him suspicious,

Who cooked it? said Kim. A woman! The Maratha raised his eyes. But all women can cook Tarquian, said the Cambo. It is a good curry as I know. Oh yes, it is a good curry, said the Maratha. And cheap, said Kim, but what about caste? Oh, there is no caste when men go look for Tarquian, the Marata replied. in the prescribed cadence.

Of whose service art thou? Of the service of this holy one, Kim pointed to the happy drowsy llama, who woke up with a jerk at the well-loved word. Ah, he was sent from heaven to aid me. He is called friend of all the world. He is also called friend of the stars. He walks as a physician,

his time being right. "'Great is his wisdom!' "'And a son of the charm,' said Kim, under his breath, "'as the Cambo made haste to prepare a pipe, lest the Marata should beg. "'And who is that?' the Marata asked, glancing sideways nervously. "'One whose child I—we have cured, who lies under great depth to us. "'Sit by the window, man from Jalandur. here is a sick one.

I have no desire to mix with chance-met-waistrous. My ears are not long. I am not a woman wishing to overhear secrets. The Jat slid himself heavily into a far corner. Aren't though anything of a healer? I am ten leagues deep in calamity, cried the Marata, picking up the queue. This man is cut and bruised all over. "'I go about to cure him,' Kim retorted.

"'None interfered between thy babe and me.' "'I am rebuked,' said the Cambo meekly. "'I am thy debtor for the life of my son. "'Thou art a miracle worker. I know it.' "'Show me the cuts.' Kim bent over the Maharata's neck, his heart nearly choking him, for this was the great game with a vengeance.

"'Now tell thy tale swiftly, brother, while I say a charm. I came from the south where my work lay. One of us they slew by the roadside. Has thou heard? Kim shook his head. He, of course, knew nothing of E23's predecessor slain down south in the habits of an Arab trader.

Having found a certain letter which I was sent to seek, I came away. I escaped from the city and ran to Mahau. So sure was I that now. knew I did not change my face. At Mahau, a woman brought charge against me of theft of jewelry in that city which I had left. Then I saw the cry was out against me. I ran from Maho by night, bribing the police, who had been bribed to hand me over without questions to my enemies in the south. Then I lay in old Chittor city a week, a penitent in a temple, but I could not get rid of

the letter which 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 Chitore, look you, I was all in King's country. For Cota to the east is beyond the Queen's Law, and east again like Jaipur and Gwalior. Neither love spies, and there is no justice. I was hunted like a wets.

but I broke through at Bandakoui, where I heard there was a charge against me of murder in the city I had left of the murder of a boy. 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 names are blotted from the book. That is all. At Bandakoui, where lives one of us, I thought to slip the scent by changing my face, and so made me a marata. Then I came to Agra, and would have turned back to Chitur to recover the letter. So sure I was I had slipped them. Therefore, I did not send a tar, telegram, to anyone 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 hail me to the courts then and there. Oh, they are clever in the South. He recognized me as his agent for cotton.

May he burn in hell for it. And was thou? Oh, fool! I was the man they sought for the matter of the letter. I ran into the Flesher's ward, and came out by the house of the Jew, who feared. a riot and pushed me forth. I came afoot to Somna Road. I had only money for my ticket to Delhi. And there, while I lay in a ditch with a fever, one sprang out of the bushes and beat me and cut me and searched me from head to foot, with an earshot of the terrain it was. Why did he not slay

the out of hand? They are not so foolish. If I am taken in Delhi at the insistence of law, upon a proven charge of murder, my body is handed over to the state that desires it. I go back guarded, and then I die slowly for an example to the rest of us. The South is not my country. I run in circles, like a goat with one eye. I have not eaten for two days. I am marked. He touched the filthy bandage on his leg. So they will know me at Delhi. Thou art safe in the terrain at least.

Live a year at the great game, and tell me that again. The wires will be 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, and thou art useless. Kim knew enough of native methods of attack, not to doubt that the case would be deadly complete, even to the corpse. The Marata twitched his fingers with pain from time to time.

The Cambo in his corner glared sullenly. The llama was busy over his beads, and Kim, fundling doctor fashion at the man's neck, thought out his plan between invocations. Hast thou a charm to change my shape? Else I am dead! Five, ten minutes alone. If I had not been so pressed, then I might.

Is he cured yet, miracle worker? said the Cambo, jealously. "'Thou hast chanted long enough.' "'Nay, there is no cure for his hurts, as I see, except he sit for three days in the habits of a Beiragi.' This is a common penance, often imposed 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 Cambo could not keep his tongue from deriding his church. Will thy son be a priest then? It is time he took more of my quinine. We Jats are all buffaloes, said the Cambo, softening anew. Kim rubbed a fingertip of bitterness on the child's trusting little lips. I have asked for nothing, he said sternly to the father, except food. Does thou grudge me that? I go to heal another man. Have I they leave, prince? Up flew the man's huge paws in supplication. "'Nay, nay, do not mock me thus.' "'It pleases me to cure this sick one.

Thou shalt acquire merit by aiding. What colour ash is there in thy pipe-bowl? White? That is auspicious. Was there raw turmeric among thy foodstuffs?' "'Aye, aye.' "'Open thy bundle.' It was the usual collection of small oddments.

bits of cloth, quack medicines, cheap farings, a cloth full of utter, greyish, rough-ground native flower, twists of down-country tobacco, tawdry pipe-stems, and a packet of curry stuff, all wrapped in a quilt. Kim turned it over with the air of a wise warlock, muttering a Mohammedan invocation. "'This is wisdom, I learn from the Saibs,' he whispered to the llama. and here, when one thinks of his training at Lourgens, he spoke no more than the truth. There is a great evil in this man's fortune, as shown by the stars which troubles him. Shall I take it away? Friend of the stars, thou hast done well in all things.

Let it be at thy pleasure. Is it another healing? Quick, quick, gasped the Maratha. "'The train may stop. A healing against the shadow of death,' said Kim, mixing the canvose flour with the mingled charcoal and tobacco ash in the red earth bowl of the pipe. E.23, without a word, slipped off his turban and shook down his long black hair. "'That is my food, priest,' the Jat growled. "'A buffalo in the temple, hast thou dared to look even thus far?'

said Kim. I must do mysteries before fools, but have a care for thine eyes. Is there a film before them already? I save the babe, and for return thou! Oh, shameless! The man flinched at the direct gaze,

for Kim was wholly in earnest. Shall I curse thee, or shall I— He picked up the outer cloth of the bundle and threw it over the bowed head. Dare so much as to think of, a wish to see, and, and even I cannot save thee. Sit, be dumb. I am blind, dumb, forbear to curse. Come, child, we will play a game of hiding. Do not for my sake look from under the cloth. I see hope, said E23. What is they scheme? This comes next, said Kim, plucking the thin body shirt.

E23 hesitated, with all a northwest man's dislike of bearing his body. "'What is cast to a cut throat?' said Kim, rending it to the waist. "'We must make thee a yellow sardu all over, strip, stripped swiftly, "'and shake thy hair over thy eyes while I scatter the ash. "'Now a cast mark on thy forehead.' He drew from his bosom the little survey paint-box and a cake of Crimson Lake. "'Art thou only a beginner?' said E-23, laboring literally for the dear life as he slid out of his body wrappings and stood clear in the loincloth, while Kim splashed a noble cast-mark on the ash-smeared brow.

"'But two days entered to the game, brother,' Kim replied. "'Smear more ash on the bosom. "'Has thou met a physician of sick pearls?' He switched out his long, tight-rolled turban cloth, and with swiftest hands rolled it over and about his loins into the intricate devices of a sardu-sincture. "'Ha, dost thou know his touch, then?' He was my teacher for a while.

We must bar thy legs. Ashcure's wounds. Smear it again. "'I was his pride once, but thou art almost better. The gods are kind to us. Give me that. It was a tin box of opium pills among the rubbish of the Jats bundle. E23 gulped down a half-handful. They are good against hunger, fear and chill. And they shall make the eyes red, too, he explained. Now I shall have heart to play the game. We lack only Asadu's tongs. What of the old clothes?

Kim rolled them small and stuffed them into the slack folds of his tunic. With a yellow ochre paint-cake he smeared the legs and the breast, great streaks against the background of flour, ash, and turmeric. The blood on them is enough to hang thee, brother. Maybe, but no need to throw them out of the window. It is finished. His voice thrilled with a boy's pure delight in the game. "'Turn around and look, O Jat.' "'The gods protect us,' said the hooded combo,

"'emerging like a buffalo from the reeds. "'But whither went the Marata? What hath's thou done?' Kim had been trained by Lurgan Saib, and E-20 through by virtue of his business, was no bad actor. In place of the tremulous shrinking trader, there lulled against the corner, an all but naked, ash-smeared, arthur, dusty-haired sardu.

His swollen eyes, opium takes quick effect on an empty stomach, luminous with insolence and bestial lust. His legs crossed under him, Kim's brown rosary round his neck, and a scant yard of worn, flowered chintz on his shoulders. The child buried his face in his amazed father's arms. Look up, princeling. We travel with wall,

but they will not hurt thee. Oh, do not cry. What is the sense of curing a child one day and killing him with fright the next? The child will be fortunate all his life. He has seen a great healing. When I was a child, I made claymen and horses. I have made them too.

Sirbanus, he comes in the night and makes them all 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 arm's shake. Oh, chicken man, said Kim, and even the abashed Jat laughed.

I have done a healing on this poor trader. He must forgive his gains and his account books and sit by the wayside three nights to overcome the malignity of his enemies. The stars are against him. The fewer the money lenders, the better, I say, but Sadoo or Sadoo, he should pay for my stuff on his shoulders. So, but that is thy child on thy shoulder, given over to the burning ghat not two days ago. There remains one thing more.

I did this charm in thy presence, because need was great. I changed his shape and his soul. Nonetheless, if by any chance, O man from Jalandur, thou rememberest what thou hast seen, either among the elders sitting under the village tree, or in thine own house, or in company of thy priest, when he blesses thy cattle, a moraine will come among the buffaloes, and a fire in thy thatch, and rats in thy corn-bin, and the curse of our gods upon thy fields, that they may be barren before thy feet and after thy ploughshare. This was part of an old curse picked up from a fakir at the Taksali gate in the days of Kim's innocence. It lost nothing by repetition.

Cease, holy one, in mercy cease, cried the jant. Do not curse the household. I saw nothing, I heard nothing. I am thy cow. And he made to grab at Kim's bare foot, beating rhythmically on the carriage floor. But since thou hast been permitted to aid me in the matter of a pinch of flour, and a little opium and such trifles as I have honoured by using in my art, so will the gods return a blessing, and he gave it at length to the man's immense relief. It was one that he had overheard from Luggen Saib. The llama stared through his spectacles as he had not stared at the business of a disguisement. "'Friend of the stars,' he said at last,

"'thou hast a quiet great wisdom. "'Beware that it does not give birth to pride. "'No man having the law before his eyes speaks hastily of any matter "'which he has seen or encountered.' "'No, no, no, indeed,' cried the farmer, "'fearful lest the master should be minded to improve on the pure, dupil. E23, with relaxed mouth, gave himself up to the opium that is meat, tobacco, and medicine to the spent Asiatic. So, in a silence of awe and great miscomprehension, they slid into Delhi about

lamplighting time. End of Chapter 11. Kim. By Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librovox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis. Chapter 12 Part 1 Who hath desired the sea, the sight of saltwater 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 and no showing the same, his sea and the same neath all showing, his sea that his being fulfills, so and no otherwise, so and no otherwise hillmen desire their hills. The Sea and the Hills I have found my heart again, said E23 under the cover of the platform's tumult. Hunger and fear make men dazed,

Or I might have thought of this escape before. I was right. They come to hunt for me. Thou hast saved my head. A group of yellow-trousered Punjab policemen headed by a hot and perspiring young Englishman parted the crowd about the carriages. Behind them, inconspicuous as a cat, ambled a small fat person, who looked like a lawyer's tout. See the young Saib, reading from a paper. My description is in his hand, said E23.

They go carriage by carriage, like fisher-folk, netting a pool. When the procession reached their compartment, E-23 was counting his beads with a steady jerk of the wrist. while Kim jeered at him for being so drugged as to lost the ringed fire-tongs which are the Sardu's distinguishing mark. The llama, deep in meditation, stared straight before him, and the farmer, glancing furtively, gathered up his belongings. "'Nothing here but a parcel of holy-boleys,' said the Englishman aloud, and passed on amid a ripple of uneasiness, for native police mean extortion to the native all India over. The trouble now, whispered E.23, lies in sending a wire as to the place where I hid that letter I was sent to find.

I cannot go to the TAR office in this disguise. Is it not enough I have saved thy neck? Not if the work be left unfinished. Never did the healer of sick pearls tell thee so? "'Come's another Saib, ha!' "'This was a tallish, sallowish district superintendent of police, "'belt, helmet, polished, spurs and all, "'stratting and twirling his dark moustache.'

"'What fools are these police Saibs?' said Kim, genially. "'E23 glanced up under his eyelids. "'It is well said,' he muttered in a changed voice. "'I go to drink water, keep my place.' He blundered out almost into the Englishman's arms, and was badly worded in clumsy Urdu. "'I'm not! You drunk! You mustn't bang about as though Delhi station belonged to you, my friend!' E23, not moving a muscle of his countenance, answered with a stream of the filthiest abuse, at which Kim naturally rejoined. It reminded him of the drummer-boys and the barrack sweepers at Umbala

in the terrible time of his first schooling. My good fellow, the Englishman drawled. Nicol Jow, go back to your carriage. Step by step, withdrawing deferentially and dropping his voice, the yellow Sardu clom back onto the carriage, cursing the DSP to remotest posterity by, here Kim almost jumped, by the curse of the Queen's Stone,

by the writing under the Queen's Stone, stone and by an assortment of gods with holy new names. "'I don't know what you're saying,' the Englishman flushed angrily, but it's some piece of blasted impertinence. Come out of that!' E-23, affecting to misunderstand, gravely produced his ticket, which the Englishman wrenched angrily from his hand. "'Oh, Zalum! What oppression!' growled the Jat from his corner. all for the sake of a jest, too.

He had been grinning at the freedom of the Sardu's tongue. Thy charms do not work well to-day, holy one. The Sardu followed the policeman, fawning and supplicating. The ruck of passengers busy with their babies and their bundles had not noticed the affair. Kim slipped out behind him, for it flashed through his head that he had heard this angry, stupid Saib "'dis cursing loud personalities to an old lady near Umbala three years ago.' "'It is well!' the Sardu whispered, jammed in the calling, shouting and bewildered press, a Persian greyhound beneath his feet, and a cage full of yelling hawks,

under charge of a Rajput falconer in the small of his back. "'He has gone now to send word of the letter which I hid. "'They told me he was in Peshwar. I might have known that he is like the crop. He was at the Ford. He has saved me from my present calamity, but I owe my life to thee. Is he also one of us? Kim ducked under Mewa camel-driver's greasy armpit, and cannoned off a covey of jabbering Sikh matrons. Not less than the greatest. We are both fortunate. I will make report to him of what thou hast done. I am safe under his protection. He bored through the edge of the crowd besieging the carriages and squatted 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 a breathing space, and Strickland Saib has pulled me to land. We may work together at the game yet. Farewell. Kim hurried to his carriage, elated, bewildered,

but a little nettled, in that he had no key to the secrets about him. I am only a beginner at the great game, that is sure. I could not have leapt into safety, as did the Sadu. He knew it was darkest under the lamp. I could not have thought to tell news under pretence of cursing. How clever was the Saib! No matter. I saved the life of one. Where is the Cambo gone, Holy One?

he whispered as he took his seat in the now-crowned compartment. A fear gripped him, the llama replied with a touch of tender malice. He saw thee change the maratador Sadu in the twinkling of an eye as a protection against evil. That shook him. Then he saw the Sadu fall sheer into the hand. of the polis all the effect of thy art then he gathered up his son and fled for he said that thou dischanged a quiet traitor into an impudent bandier of words with saibs and he feared a like fate where is the sadu with the polis said kim yet i save the Cambo's child.

The llama snuffed blandly. Oh, Chela, see how thou art ovest taken. Thou dis cure the Cambo's child solely to acquire merit.

But thou didst put a spell on the Maratha with prideful workings. I watched thee. And with sidelong glances to bewilder an old man and a foolish farmer! Whence calamity and suspicion!" Kim controlled himself with an effort beyond his years. Not more than any other youngster did he like to eat dirt or

to be misjudged, but he saw himself in a cleft stick. The train rolled out of Delhi into the night. "'It is true,' he murmured. I have offended thee, I have done wrong. It is more, Chella. Thou hast loosed and act upon the world, as a stone thrown into a pool, so spread the consequences. Thou canst not tell how far.

This ignorance was well both for Kim's vanity and for the Lama's peace of mind, when we think that there was then being handled in its similar a code-wire, reporting the arrival of E-23 at Delhi, and, more important, the whereabouts of a letter he had been commissioned to abstract. Incidentally, an over-zealous policeman had arrested, on a charge of murder done in a far southern state, a horribly indignant Adjmere Cottonbroker, who was explaining himself to a Mr. Strickland on Delhi platform, while E-23 was paddling through byways into the locked heart of Delhi City. In two hours several telegrams had reached the angry minister of a southern state,

reporting that all trace of a somewhat bruised Marata had been lost. And by the time the leisurely train halted at Saranapur, the last ripple of the stone Kim helped to heave was lapping against the steps of a mosque in far-away room. where it disturbed a pious man at prayers. The llama made his in ample form near the dewy Bougainvillea trellis, near the platform, cheered by the clear sunshine, and the presence of his disciple.

"'We will put these things behind us,' he said, indicating the brazen engine and the gleaming track. "'The jolting of the terrain, though a wonderful thing, has turned my bones to water we will use clean air henceforward let us go to the cooler woman's house said kim and stepped forth cheerily under the bundles early next morning siranapurway is clean and well scented he thought of the other mornings at st xavier's and it topped his already thrice-heaped contentment where is all this new haste born from wise men do not run about like chickens in the sun we have come hundreds upon hundreds of course already and till now i have scarcely been alone with thee an instant how canst thou receive instructions all

jostled of crowds. How can I, whelmed by a flux of talk, meditate upon the way? Her tongue grows no shorter with the years, then, the disciples smiled. Nor her desire for charms. I remember once when I spoke of the wheel of life, The Lama fumbled in his bosom for his latest copy. She was only curious about the devils that besieged children. She shall acquire merit by entertaining us in a little while at an after occasion, softly, softly. Now we will wander loose foot, waiting upon the chain of things,

The search is sure. So they travelled very easily across and among the broad, bloomful fruit-garden, by way of Aminabad, Sahigand, Akrola of the Ford, and little Poohulessa, the line of the Saewaleks always to the north, and behind them again the snows. After long sweet sleep under the dry stars, came the lordly leisurely passage, through a waking village, begging bowl held forth in silence, but eyes roving in defiance of the law, from sky's edge to sky's edge. Then would Kim return soft-footed through the dust to his master under the shadow of a mango tree, or the thinner shade of a white dune cirrus, to eat and drink

at ease. At midday after talk and a little wayfaring they slept. Meeting the world refreshed, when the air was cooler. Night found them adventuring into new territory. Some chosen village spied three hours before, across the fat land, and much disgust upon the road. There they told their tale, a new one each evening so far as Kim was concerned, and there they were made welcome, either by priest or headman, after the custom of the kindly east. When the shadow shortened and the Lama leaned more heavily upon Kim, there was always the wheel of life to draw forth, to hold flat under wiped stones, and with a long straw to expound cycle by cycle. There sat the gods on high, and they were dreams of dreams. Here was our heaven and the world of the demigods,

horsemen fighting among the hills. Here were the agonies done upon the beasts, souls, souls ascending or descending the ladder, and therefore not to be interfered with. Here were the hells hot and cold, and the abodes of tormented ghosts. Let the chalus study the troubles that came from overeating, bloated stomach, and burning bowels. Obediently then, with bowed head and browned finger alert to follow the pointer, did the chelah study. But when they came to the human world, busy and profitless, that is just above the hells, his mind was distracted, for by the roadside trundled the very wheel itself, eating, drinking, trading, marrying, and quarrelling, all warmly alive. Often the llama

made the living pictures the matter of his text, bidding Kim to ready, note how the flesh takes a thousand to thousand shapes, desirable or detestable, as men reckon, but in truth, of no account either way, and how the stupid spirit bond slave to the hog, the dove, and the serpent, lusting after betel-nut, a new yoke of oxen, women, or the favour of kings, is bound to follow the body through all the heavens and all the hells, and strictly round again. Sometimes a woman or a poor man watching the ritual, it was nothing else, when the great yellow chart was unfolded, would throw a few flowers or a houndful of cowries upon its edge it suffice these humble ones that they had met a holy one who might be moved to remember them in his prayers cure them if they are sick said the lama when kim's sporting instincts woke cure them if they have fever but by no means work charms remember what

befell the marata. Then all doing is evil? Kim replied, lying out under a big tree at the fork of the doone 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 action was unbefitting a Saib, and I am a Saib. friend of all the world the lama looked directly at kim i am an old man pleased with shows as are children

To those who follow the way, there is neither black nor white, Hind nor Botial. We be all souls seeking escape. No matter what thy wisdom learned among Saibs, when we came to my river, thou wilt be freed from all illusion at my side. hi my bones ache for that river as they ached in the terrain but my spirits sit above my bones waiting the search is sure 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, whence came, there is much wealth as men counted in Boti-Yarl,' the Lama returned with composure. In my own place I have the illusion of honour. I ask for that I need. I am not concerned with the account. That is for my monastery. Aye, the black high seats in the monastery, and the novices, all in order.

And he told stories, tracing with a finger in the dust, of the immense and sumptuous ritual of avalanche-guarded cathedrals, of processions and devil-dances, of the changing of monks and nuns into swine, of holy cities fifteen thousand feet in the air, of intrigue between monastery and monastery, of voices among the hills and of the mysterious mirage that dances on dry snow. He spoke even of Lassa and of the Delai Lama, whom he had seen and adored. Each long, perfect day rose behind Kim for a barrier to cut him off from his race and his mother tongue. He slipped back to thinking and dreaming in the vernacular, and mechanically followed the Lama's ceremonial observable. at eating, drinking, and the like. The old man's mind turned more and more to his monastery, as his eyes turned to the steadfast snows. His river troubled him nothing. Now and again, indeed, he would gaze long and long at a tuft or a twig, expecting he said, the earth to cleave and

deliver its blessing. But he was content to be with his disciple, at ease in the temperate wind that comes down from the dune. This was not Ceylon, nor Budagaya, nor Bombay, nor some grass-tangled ruins that he seemed to have stumbled upon two years ago. He spoke of those places as a scholar removed from vanity, as a seeker walking in humility, as an old man wise and temperate, illumining knowledge with brilliant insight. Bit by fit, disconnectedly, each tale called up by some wayside. thing, he spoke of all his wanderings up and down hind, till Kim, who had loved him without reason, now loved him for fifty good reasons. So they enjoyed themselves in high felicity, abstaining, as the rule demands, from evil words, covetous desires, not overeating, nor lying in high beds,

nor wearing rich clothes. Their stomachs told them the time, and the people brought them their food, as the saying is. They were lords of the villages, Ova Minabad, Sahigand, Jakrola of the Ford, and Little Fulessa, where Kim gave the soulless woman a blessing.

But news travels fast in India, and too soon shuffled across the crop land, bearing a basket of fruits with a box of cabul grapes and gilt oranges, a white-whiskered servitor, a lean, dry, oria,

begging them to bring the honour of their presence to his mistress, distressed in her mind that the Lama had neglected her so long. "'Now do I remember!' the Lama spoke as though it were a wholly new proposition. "'She is virtuous, but an inordinate talker!' Kim was sitting on the edge of a cow's manger, telling stories to a village-smith's children. she will only ask for another son for her daughter i have not forgotten her he said let her acquire merit send word that we will come they covered eleven miles through the fields in two days and were overwhelmed with attentions at the end for the old lady held a fine tradition of hospitality to which she forced her son in two days and were overwhelmed with attentions at the end for the old lady held a fine tradition of hospitality to which she forced her son in who was under the thumb of his women-folk, and brought peace by borrowing of the money-lender.

Age had not weakened her tongue or her memory, and in the hearing of not less than a dozen servants, she paid Kim compliments that would have flung European audiences into unclean dismay. "'But thou still art the shameless beggar-brat of the prow, she shrilled. "'I have not forgotten thee. wash ye and eat the father of my daughter's son is gone away awhile so we poor women are dumb and useless for proof she harangued the entire household unsparingly till food and drink were brought and in the evening the smoke-scented evening copper-dun and turquoise across the fields it pleased her to order her palanquin to be set down in the untidy forecourt by smoking torchlight, and there, behind, not too closely drawn curtains, she gossiped. "'Had the Holy One come alone, I should have received him otherwise, but with this rogue,

who can be too careful?' "'Maharani,' said Kim, choosing, as always, the ampliest title. "'Is it my fault that none other than a Saib, a Polis Saib, called the Maharani, whose face He, "'Jut! That was on the pilgrimage, when we travel. Thou know'st the proverb.' "'Called the Maharani a breaker of hearts and a dispenser of delights?' "'To remember that time was true, so he did. That was in the time of the bloom of my beauty.' She chuckled like a contented parrot above the sugar-lump. "'Now tell me of thy goings and comings. As much as my

as may be without shame. How many maids, and whose wives hang upon thine eyelashes? Ye hail from Manares? I would have gone there again this year, but my daughter, I have only two sons. Fai! Such is the effect of these low plains. Now in Kulu men are elephants.

But I would ask the Holy One, stand aside rogue, a charm against most lamentable windy collocks, that did mango time overtake my daughter's eldest. Two years back, he gave me a powerful spell. Oh, holy one, said Kim, bubbling with mirth at the llama's rueful face. 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 no means work charms remember what befell the marata that was two rains ago she wearied me with her continued importunity the lama groaned as the unjust judge had groaned before him thus it comes take note my chela that even those who would follow the way are thrust aside by idle women. Three days through, when the child was sick, she talked to me. Aye, 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 the gods, 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. Oh, Chela, if thou desertest me, I am all alone. He found his milk teeth easily at any rate, said the old lady,

but all priests are alike. Kim coughed severely. Being young, he did not approve of it. her flippancy. To importune the wise out of season is to invite calamity. "'There is a talking miner,' the thrust came back with the well-remembered snap of the jewelled forefinger, over the stables which has picked up the varied tone of the family priest. "'Maybe I forget honour to my guests. But if ye had seen him double his fists into his belly, which was like a half-grown gourd and cry,

Here is the pain, ye would forgive. I am half-minded to take the Hakeem's medicine. He sells it cheap, and certainly it makes him as fat as Shiv's own bull. He does not deny remedies, but I doubted for the child, because of the inauspicious colour of the bottles. The llama, under cover of the monologue, had found faded out into the darkness toward the room prepared. "'Thou hast angered him belike,' said Kim.

"'Not he. He is wearied, and I forgot being a grandmother. None but a grandmother should ever oversee a child. Mothers are only fit for bearing. Tomorrow, when he sees how my daughter's son is grown, he will write the charms. Then, too, he can judge of the new Hakeem's drugs.' Who is the Hakim, Maharani? A wanderer, as thou art, but a most sober Bengali from Dhaka,

a master of medicine. He relieved me of an oppression after meat by means of a small pill that wrought like devil unchained. He travels about now, vending preparations of great value. He has even papers printed in Angriese, telling what things he has done,

for weak-backed men and slack women. He has been here four days, but hearing ye were coming, Hakeems and priests are snake and tiger the world over, he has, I take it, gone to cover. While she drew breath after this volley, the ancient servant, sitting unrebute on the edge of the torchlight, muttered, "'This house is a cattle-pound, as it were, for all charlatans and priests.

let the boy stop eating mangoes but who can argue with a grandmother he raised his voice respectfully sahiba the hakeem sleeps after his meat he is in the quarters behind the dovecot kim bristled like an expected terrier to outface and down talk a calcutta taught bengali a voluble dakar drug vendor would be a good game it was not seemly that the lama and incidentally himself should be thrown aside for such a one. He knew those curious, bastard English advertisements at the backs of native newspapers. St. Xavier's boys sometimes brought them in by stealth to snigger over among their mates, for the language of the grateful patient recounting his symptoms is most simple and revealing. The Uriar, not anxious to play off one parasite against the other, slunk away towards Dovecot. Yes, said Kim, with measured scorn.

Their stock in trade is a little coloured water, and a very great shamelessness. Their prey are broken-down kings and overfed Bengalis. Their profit is in children who are not yet born. The old lady chuckled. Do not be envious. Charms are better, eh? I never again said it.

See that thy holy one, writes me a good amulet by the morning. None but the ignorant deny. A thick, heavy voice boomed through the darkness as a figure came to rest, squatting. None but the ignorant deny the value of charms. None but the ignorant deny the value of medicine. A rat found a piece of turmeric, said he,

I will open a grocer's shop, Kim retorted. Battle was fairly joined now, and they heard the old lady stiffened to attention. The priest's son knows the names of his nurse and three gods, says he, 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 went on,

I am but a teacher of the alphabet. I have learned all the wisdom of the Saibs. The Saibs never grow old. They dance and they play like children when they are grandfathers. A strong-backed breed, piped the voice inside the palanquin. I have, too, our drugs which loosened humours of the head in hot and angry men. Zinner, well compounded when the moon stands in the proper house.

Lear low earths I have, alpan from China, that makes a man renew his youth and astonish his household. Saffron from Kashmir, and the best Aslep of Fulip of Fyna, 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 ink in which a charm is written, but hot and rending drugs, which descend and wrestle with the evil. Very mightily they do so, sighed the old lady. The voice launched into an immense tale of misfortune and bankruptcy. studied with plentiful petitions to the government. But for my fate which overrules all I had been now in government employ.

I bear a degree from the great school at Calcutta, whither may be the son of this house shall go. He shall indeed. If our neighbour's brat can in a few years make an F.A.' First arts, she used the English word, of which she had heard so often. "'How much more shall children clever as some that I know "'bear away prizes at rich Calcutta?'

"'Never,' said the voice, "'have I seen such a child, born in an auspicious hour, "'and but for that colic which, alas, "'turning into black colours may carry him off like a pigeon, "'dest into many years he is enviable.' "'Hi, my!' said the old lady, To praise children is inauspicious, or I 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 we know.

The child's father is away too, and I must be Chowcadar, watchman. In my old age, up, up! Take up the palanquin. Let the Hakeem and the young priest settle between them, whether charms or medicine most avail. Oh, worthless people. Fetch tobacco for the guests, and round the homestead I go. The palanquin reeled off, followed by straggling torches, and a horde of dogs. Twenty villages know the Saiba, her failings, her tongue, and her large charity. Twenty villages cheated her after immemorial custom, but no man would have stolen or robbed within her jurisdiction for any gift under heaven. Nonetheless, she made a great parade of her formal inspections,

the riot of which could be heard halfway to Masuri. End of Chapter 12 Part 1. Kim, by Roger Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis. Chapter 12 Part 2 Kim relaxed as one auger must when he meets another. The Hakeem, still squatting, slid over his hooker with a friendly foot, and Kim pulled at the good weed. The hangers-on expected grave professional debate, and perhaps a little free doctoring.

"'To discuss medicine before the ignorant is of one piece with teaching the peacock to sing,' said the Hakeem. "'True courtesy,' Kim echoed, "'is very often in attention. "'These, be it understood, were company manners designed to impress. "'Hi, I have an ulcer on my leg,' cried Ascalian. "'Look at it.' "'Get hence, remove,' said the Hakeem. "'Is it the habit of the place to pester-honoured guests? "'E crowding like buffaloes.'

"'If the Saiba knew,' Kim began, "'Aye, aye, come away. "'They are meat for our mistress. "'When her young Shetan's collics are cured, "'perhaps we poor people may be suffered to—' "'The mistress fed thy wife "'when thou wast in jail for breaking the money-lender's head. "'Who speaks against her?'

"'The old servitor curled his white. moustaches savagely in the young moonlight. "'I am responsible for the honour of this house! Go!' And he drove the underlings before him. Said the Hakeem hardly more than shaping the words with his lips, "'How do you do, Mr. 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 quiet backwater of life. He was not prepared for Harry Babu. It annoyed him, too, that he'd been hoodwinked. "'Aha! I told you at luck now, Risergum. How I shall rise again, and you shall not know me! But how much did you bet, eh?' He chewed leisurely upon a few cardamam seeds, but he breathed uneasily. "'But why come here, Baboo-ji?' "'Ah! That is—' the question, as Shakespeareath it, I come to congratulate you on your extraordinary,

efficient performance at Delhi. Oh, I tell you, we were all proud of you. It was very neat and handy. Our mutual friend, he is an old friend of mine. He has been in some damn tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me, I tell Mr. Lurgum, and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the department is pleased. For the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride. It can be a deadly pitfall, nonetheless, of departmental praise, ensnaring praise from an equal of work appreciated by fellow workers. Earth has nothing on the same plane to compare with it. But, cried the Oriental in him, Baboos do not travel far to retail compliments. "'Tell thy tale, Babu,' he said authoritatively.

"'Oh, it is nothing. Only I was at Simler, when the wire came in about what our mutual friend said he had hidden, and old Crichton—' he looked to see how Kim would take this piece of audacity. "'The Colonel Saib,' the boy from St. Xavier's corrected, "'of course. He found me at a loose string, and I had to go down to Chito to find that beastly letter. I do not like the South. Too much railway travel. But I drew good travelling allowance. Ha-ha! I meet our Mutual at Delhi on the way back. He lies quiet just now, and says Sardu disguise suits him to the ground. Well, I hear what you have done so well, so quickly, upon the instantaneous spur of the moment. I tell our mutual, you take the Bali-Ban. You take the Bally-Ban.

by Jove, it was splendid. I come to tell you so. Hmm? 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 beat upon a drum. Kim's next sentence was in the vernacular. How dost thou follow us? Oh, ha! That was nothing. I know from our mutual friend that you go to Saranpur. So I come on, red llamas are not inconspicuous persons. I buy myself my drug-box, and I am very good doctor, really.

I go to a crolla of the Ford and hear all about you, and I talk here and talk there. All the common people know what you do. I knew when the hospitable old lady sent the Dooley. They have great recollections of the old llama's visits here. I know old ladies cannot keep their hands from medicine. So I am a doctor, and you hear my talk? I think it is very good. My word, Mr. O'Hara, they know about you and the Lama for fifty miles, the common people.

So I come. Do you mind?' "'Baboo-Gee,' said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face. "'I am Sahib. My dear Mr. 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 from simla and change their dress for the sake of a few sweet words i am not a child talk hindi and let us get to the yoke of the egg thou art here speaking not one word of truth in ten why art thou here give a straight answer "'That is so very disconcerting of the Europeans, Mr. O'Hara. "'You should know a heap better at your time of life.'

"'But I want to know,' said Cam, laughing. "'If it is the great game, I may help. "'How can I do anything if you book, babble, all round the shop?' "'Hari Babu reached for the pipe and sucked it till it gurgled again. "'Now I will speak in vernacular. "'You sit tight, Mr. O'Hara. it concerns the pedigree of a white stallion. Still?

That was finished long ago. When everyone is dead, the great game is finished, not before. Listen to me till the end. There were five kings who prepared a sudden war three years ago when thou wast given the stallion's pedigree by Mabub Ali. Upon them, because of that news, and ere they were ready, fell our army. Aye, eight thousand men with guns, I remember that night. But the war was not pushed.

That is the government custom. The troops were recalled because the government believed the five kings were cowed. And it is not cheap to feed men among the high passes. Hillas and Bunah, Rajas with guns, undertook for a price to guard the passes against all coming from the north. They protested both fear and friendship. He broke off with a giggle into English. Of course, I tell you this unofficially to elucidate political situation, Mr. O'Hara.

Officially I am debarred from criticising any action of superiors. Now I go on. This pleased the government, anxious to avoid expense, and a bond was made for so many rupees a month, that Hillas and Bunah should guard the passes, as soon as the state's troops were withdrawn. At that time, it was after we two met, I, who had been selling tea in Le,

became a clerk of accounts in the army. When the troops were withdrawn, I was left behind to pay the coolies who made new roads in the hills. This road-making was part of the bond between Bunah, Hillas, and the government. So, and then? tell you, it was jolly beastly cold up there too after summer, said Haribabu confidently.

I was afraid these Bunah men would gut my throat every night for the pay-chest. My native seapoy guard, they laughed at me. By Jove, I was such a fearful man. Never mind that. I go on quiloquially. I send word many times that these two kings were sold to the north. And Mabub al-Lah, I said, I said word many times that these two kings were sold to the north. and Mabub Ali, who was yet farther north, amply confirmed it. Nothing was done, only my feet were frozen and a toe dropped off. I sent word that the roads for which I was paying money to the diggers were being made for the feet of strangers and enemies.

For the Russians, the thing was an open jest among the coolies. Then I was called down to tell what I knew by speech of tongue. Mabub came south too. See the end? Over the passes this year after snow melting. He shivered afresh. Come two strangers under cover of shooting wild goats. They bear guns, but they bear also chains and levels and compasses. Oh, the things get clearer. They are well received by Hillas and Bunah. They make great promises. They speak as the mouthpiece of a Kaiser with gifts. Up the valleys, down the valleys they go, saying, here is a place to build a breastwork. Here can you pitch a fort. Here can you hold the road against an army. The very road for which I paid out the rupees monthly. The government knows,

but does nothing. The three other kings, who were not paid for guarding the passes, tell them by runner of the bad faith of Boonah and Hillas. When all the evil is done, look you, when those two strangers with the levellers and compasses make the five kings to believe that a great army would sweep up the passes tomorrow or the next day, hill people are, oh fools! Comes the order to me, Haribabu. Go north and see what those strangers do.

I say to Crichton sob, "'This is not a lawsuit that we go about to collect evidence.' "'Hurry returned to his English with a jerk. "'By Jove, I say, "'what the deuce do you not issue "'demy official orders to some brave man "'to poison them for an example. "'It is, if you permit the observation,

"'most reprehensible laxity on your part.' "'And Colonel Crichton, he laughed at me. "'It is all your beastly English pride. "'You think no one dare conspire. That is all Tommy rot. Kim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so far as he understood it, in his quick mind. Then now goes forth to follow the strangers. No, to meet them.

They are coming in too similar to sell their horns and heads to be dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusively sporting gentlemen, and they are allowed special facilities by the government. 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 do all sorts of things with black people, of course. They are Russians, and highly unscrupulous people.

I do not want to consort with them without a witness. Will they kill thee? Oh, that is nothing. I am good enough Herbert Spencerian I trust to meet the little thing like death, which is all in my fate, you know. But they may beat me. Why? Harybabu snapped his fingers with irritation.

Of course I shall affiliate myself to their camp in supernumerary capacity, or perhaps interpreter, or person mentally impotent and hungry, or some such thing. Then I must pick up what I can, I suppose. That is easy for me as playing Mr. Doctor to the old lady. only only you see mr o'hara i am unfortunately asiatic which is serious detriment in some respects and also so i am bengali a fearful man god made the hare and the bengali what shame said kim quoting the proverb it was process of evolution i think from primal necessity but the fact remains in all the suey bone I am awfully fearful. I remember once they wanted to cut off my head on the road to Lassa. No, I have never reached Lasser. I sat down and cried Mr. O'Hara, anticipating Chinese tortures.

I do not suppose these two gentlemen will torture me, but I like to provide for possible contingency with European assistance in emergency. He coughed and spat out the cardamoms. It is purely unofficial intent, to which you say, no, Babu. If you have no pressing engagement with your old man, perhaps you might divert him. Perhaps I can seduce his fancies. I should like you to keep in departmental touch with me till I find those sporting coves. I have great opinion of you since I met my friend at Delhi, and also I will embody your name in my official report when Mattie.

is finally adjudicated. It will be a great feather in your cap. That is why I come, really. Hmm, the end of the tale I think is true. But what of the forepart? About the Five Kings, Oh, there is ever so much truth in it. A lot's more than you would suppose, said Harry earnestly.

You come, eh? I go from here straight down into the doom. It is very verdant and painted meads. I shall go to Masuri, to good old Masuri Praha, as the gentlemen and ladies say. Then by Rambor in Tuchini, that is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold, but we must wait for them. I went to walk with them to Simla. You see, one Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well.

I have friends in Chandonangur. He would certainly rejoice to see the hills again, said Kim meditatively. All his speech these ten days past has been of little else. If we go together— Oh, we can be quite strangers on the road, if your llama prefers. I shall just be four or five miles ahead. There is no hurry for hurry. That is a European pun, ha-ha.

And you come after. there is plenty of time. They will plot and survey and map, of course. I shall go to-morrow, and you the next day if you choose, eh? You go think on it till morning. By Jove, it is nearly morning now.' He yawned ponderously, and with never a civil word, lumbered off to his sleeping place. But Kim slept little, and his thoughts ran in Hindustani. "'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 part of the great game. From the south, God knows how far, came up the Marata, playing the great

game in fear of his life. Now I shall go far and far into the north, playing the great game. Truly it runs like a shuttle throughout all Hind, and my share and my joy! He smiled to the darkness. I owe to the llama here. also to Mabub Ali, also to Crichton Saib, but chiefly to the Holy One. He is right, a great and a wonderful world, and I am Kim, Kim, Kim, alone, one person, in the middle of it all. But I will see these strangers with their levels and chains. What was the upshot of last night's babel? said the llama after his orisons.

there came a strolling cellar of drugs a hanger-on of the sahibas him i abolished by arguments and prayers proving that our charms are worthier 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 he fumbled at his pen-case in the plains said kim are always too many people in the hills as i understand there are fewer all the hills and the snows upon the hills the lama tore off a tiny square of paper fit to go in an amulet but what dost thou know of the hills they are very close kim thrust open the door and looked at the long peaceful line of the himalayas flushed in morning gold except in the dress of a sahib i have never set foot of among them. The llama snuffed the wind wistfully. If we go north, Kim put the question to the waking sunrise, would not much midday heat be avoided by walking among the lower hills at least? Is the charm made, Holy One? I have written the names of seven silly devils, not one of whom is worth

a grain of dust in the eye. Thus do foolish women drag us from the way." Hari Babu came out from behind the dovecot, washing his teeth with ostentatious ritual. Full-fleshed, heavy-horned, bull-necked, and deep-voiced. He did not look like a fearful man. Kim signed almost imperceptibly that matters were in good train, and when the morning twillette was over, Haribabu, in flowery speech, came to do honour to the llama. They ate, of course, apart, and afterwards the old lady, more or less veil behind a window, returned to the vital business of green mango collics in the young. The llama's knowledge of medicine was, of course, sympathetic only.

He believed that the dung of a black horse mixed with sulphur, and carried in a snake-skin, was a sound remedy for cholera. But the symbolism interested him far more than the science. Haribabu deferred to these views with enchanting politeness, so that the Lama called him a courteous physician. Haribabao replied that he was no more than inexpert dabbler in the mysteries. But at least he thanked the gods, therefore, he knew when he sat in the presence of a master.

He himself had been taught by the Saibs, who do not consider expense in the lordly halls of Calcutta. But as he was ever first to acknowledge, there lay a wisdom behind earthly wisdom, the high and lonely law of meditation. Kim looked on with envy. The haribabao of his knowledge, oily, effusive, and nervous, was gone.

Gone, too, was the brazen drug vendor of overnight. They remained polished, polite, attentive, a sober, learned son of experience and adversity, gathering wisdom from the Lama's lips. The old lady confided to Kim that these rare levels were beyond her. She liked 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? She liked men and women, and she spoke of them, of kinglets she had known in the past, of her own youth and beauty, of the depredations of leopards and the eccentricities of love Asiatic, of the incidents of taxation, rack-renting, funeral ceremonies, her son-in-law, this by illusion easy to be followed, the care of the young

and the age's lack of decency. And Kim, as interested in the life of this world, as she soon to leave it, squatted with his feet under the hem of his robe, drinking it all in. While the llama demolished one after another, every theory of body-curing put together by Haribabu. At noon the babu strapped up his brass-bound drug-box, took his patent-leather shoes of ceremony in one hand, a gay, blue and white umbrella in the other, and set off northwards to the doon, where he said he was in demand among the lesser kings of those parts. We will go in the cool of the evening, Chella, said the llama. That doctor, learned in physic and courtesy,

affirms that the people among these lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need of a teacher. in a very short time so says the hakeem we come to cool air and the smell of pines you go to the hills and by kulu road oh thrice happy shrilled the old lady but that i am a little pressed with the care of the homestead i would take palanquin but that would be shameless and my reputation would be cracked "'Oh, I know the road. Every march of the road I know. Ye will find charity throughout. It is not denied to the well-looking. I will give orders for provision, a servant to set you forth upon your journey. No? Then I will at least cook ye good food.'

"'What a woman is the Saiba,' said the white-bearer, when a tumult rose by the kitchen quarters. "'She has never forgotten a friend. "'She has never forgotten an enemy in all her years. "'And her cookery—' "'He rubbed his slim stomach. "'There were cakes, there were sweet meats, "'there was cold fowl stewed to rags with rice and prunes,

"'enough to burden Kim like a mule. "'I am old and useless,' she said. "'None now love me and none respect, "'but there are few to compare with me when I call. call on the guards and squat to my cooking pots. Come again, old people of goodwill. Holy one and disciple, come again. The room is always prepared.

The welcome is always ready. See, the woman, do not follow thy chaylor too openly. I know the woman of Kulu. Take heed chelah, lest he run away when he smells his hills again. Hi! Do not tilt the rice bag upside down. Bless the household, Holy One. forgive thy servant her stupidities.

She wiped her red old eyes on a corner of her veil, and clucked, throatily. Woman, 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 the shows of this life, but nonetheless Last jailer, she is virtuous, kindly, hospitable, of a whole and zealous heart. Who shall say she does not acquire merit?' "'Not I, holy one,' said Kim, re-slinging the bountiful provision on his shoulders. "'In my mind, behind my eyes, I have tried to picture such and one

altogether freed from the wheel, desiring nothing. "'Causing nothing, a nun, as it were.' "'I'd, oh, imp!' The llama almost laughed aloud. "'I cannot make the picture. "'Nor I, but there are many, many millions of lives before her. "'She will get wisdom a little. "'It may be in each one.'

"'And will she forget how to make stews with saffron upon that road?' "'Dye, my! mind is set on things unworthy, but she has skill. I am refreshed all over. When we reach the lower hills, I shall be yet stronger. The Hakeem spoke truly to me this morn when he said a breath from the snows blows away twenty years from the life of a man. We will go up into the hills, the high hills, up to the sound of the snow waters and the sound of the trees for a little while. The Hakeem said that at any time we may return to the plains, for we do no more than skirt the pleasant places.

The Hakeem is full of learning, but he is in no way proud. to him, when thou was talking to the Saiba of a certain 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. Upon consideration, I marveled that I had not thought of such a simple remedy. "'Dest thou tell him of thy search?' said Kim, a little jealously. He preferred to sway the Lama by his own speech, not through the wiles of Haribabu. "'Assuredly, I told him of my dream, and of the manner by which I had acquired merit by causing thee to be taught wisdom.' "'Thou dost not say I was a Saib?'

"'What need! I have told thee many times we be but too.' soul-seeking escape. He said, and he is just therein, that the river of healing will break forth even as I dreamed at my feet, if need be. Having found the way, seest thou, that shall free me from the wheel, need I travel to find a way about the mere fields of the earth, which are illusion. that were senseless. I have my dreams, night upon night, repeated. I have the Jakarta, and I have thee friend of all the world. It was written in thy horoscope that a red bull on a green field, I have not forgotten, should bring thee to honor.

But who but I? I saw that prophecy accomplished. Indeed, I was the instrument. Thou shalt find me my river, being in return the instrument. The search is sure. He set his ivory yellow face, serene and untroubled,

toward the beckoning hills, his shadow, shouldering fast before him in the dust. End of Chapter 12. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus.

Chapter 13, Part 1 Who hath desired the sea the immense contemptuous surges? the shudder the stumble the swerve ere the star-stabbing boughsprit emerges the orderly clouds of the trades and the ridged roaring sapphire thereunder unheralded cliff lurking floors and the headsels low-volving 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 cywallicks and the half-tropical doone left masori behind them and his own and headed north along the narrow hill roads. Day after day they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day after day Kim watched the llama return to a man's strength. Among the terraces of the doone he had leaned on the boy's shoulder, ready to profit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to

To Masuri, he drew himself altogether as an old hunter, faces a well-remembered bank, and where he should have sunk exhausted, swung his long draperies about him, drew a deep double lung full of the diamond air, and walked as only a hill-man can. Kim, planes bred and planes fed, sweated and panted astonished. "'This is my country!' said the land. "'Beside soot-sen, this is flatter than a rice-field!' And with steady driving strokes from the loins, he strode upwards. But it was on the steep downhill marches, three thousand feet in three hours,

that he went utterly away from Kim, whose back arched with holding back, and whose big toe was nigh cut off by his grass sandal-string. through the speckled shadow of the great Deodar forests, through oak feathered and plumed with ferns, birch, Ilex, rhododendron, and pine, out on the bare hillside slippery sunburnt grass, and back into the woodlands coolth again, till oak gave way to bamboo and palm of the valley, the llama swung untiring. Glancing back in the twilight at the huge ridges behind him, and the faint, thin line of the road whereby they had come,

he would lay out with a hillman's generous breadth of vision, fresh marches for the morrow, or, halting in the neck of some uplifted pass that gave on Speetty and Kulu, would stretch out his hands yearningly towards the high snows of the horizon. In the dawns they flared, windy red above stark blue,

as Kedarnath and Badrinath kings of that wilderness took the first sunlight. All day long they lay like malt and silver under the sun, and at evening put on their jewels again. At first they breathe temporarily upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawled over some gigantic hogs-back, but in a few days, at a height of nine or ten thousand feet those breezes bit. And Kim kindly allowed a village of Hillman to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket coat. The llama was mildly surprised that anyone should object to the knife-edged breezes, which had cut the years off his shoulders.

These are but the lower hills, Chela. There is no cold till we come to the true hills. Air and water are good, and the people are devout enough, but the food is very bad. Kim growled. And we walk as though we were mad, or English. It freezes at night, too. Oh, little may be, 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 six feet wide that snaked among the mountains, but the llama being Tibetan could not refrain from shortcuts over spurs and the rims of gravel-strewn slopes. As he explained to his limping disciple, a man bred among mountains can prophesy the course of a mountain road,

and though low-lying clouds might be a hindrance to a short-cutting stranger, they made no earthly difference to a thoughtful man. Thus, after long hours of what would be reckoned very fair mountaineering in civilised countries, they would pant over a saddleback, sidle past a few landslips, and drop through forest at an angle of forty-five, onto the road again. Along their track lay the villages of the hill-folk, marred and earth huts, timbers now and then rudely carved with an axe, clinging like swallows nests against the steeps, huddled on tiny flats, half-way down a three thousand-foot glissade, jammed into a corner between cliffs that funneled and focused every wandering blast,

or, for the sake of summer pasture, cowering down on a neck that in winter would be ten feet deep in snow. And the people, the sallow, greasy, duffle-clad people, with short, bare legs and faces almost esquimaux would flock out and adore. The plains, kindly and gentle, had treated the llama as a holy man among holy men, but the hills worshipped him as one in the confidence of all their devils. Theirs was an almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with a nature worship fantastic as their own landscapes, elaborate as the terracing of their tiny fields. but they recognised the big hat, the clicking rosary, and the rare Chinese texts for great authority, and they respected the man beneath the hat.

"'We see thee come down over the black breasts of youa,' said a bettar who gave them cheese, sour milk, and stone hard bread one evening. "'We do not use that often, except when carving cows stray in summer. There is a summer wind amongst those stones that casts men down on the stillest day. But what should such folk care for the devil of Iwer? Then did Kim, aching in every fibre, dizzy with looking down, footsore with cramping desperate toes in inadequate crannies, Take joy in the day's march.

Such joy as a boy of St. Xavier's, who had won the quarter mile on the flat might take in the praises of his friends. The hills sweated the G and sugar-suet off his bones. The dry air, taken sobbingly at the head of cruel passes, firmed and built out his upper ribs, 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 the Lama said, They were freed from its visible temptations. Except the grey eagle and an occasional far-seen bear, Grubbing and rooting on the hillside, a vision of a furious painted leopard met at dawn in a still valley devouring a goat, and now and again a bright-coloured bird. They were alone with the winds and the grass singing under the wind.

The women of the smoky huts over whose roofs the two walked, as they descended the mountains were unlovely and unclean, wives of many husbands, and afflicted with Goethe. The men were woodcutters, when they were not farmers, meek, and of an incredible simplicity. But that suitable discourse might not fail, fate sent them, overtaking and overtaken on the road, the courteous Dakar physician, who paid for his food in ointments good for Goethe, and councils that restore peace between men and women. He seemed to know these hills as well as he knew the hill dialects, and gave the Lama the lie of the land towards Ladek and Tibet.

He said they could return to the plains at any moment. Meanwhile, for such as loved mountains, yonder road might amuse. This was not at all revealed in a breath, but at evening encounters on the stone threshing floors when patients disposed of the doctor would smoke and the llama snuff, while Kim watched the wee cows grazing on the housetops, or threw his soul after his eye across the deep blue gulfs between range and range. And there were talks apart in the dark woods, when the doctor would seek herbs,

and Kim, as a budding physician, must accompany him. "'You see, Mr. O'Hara, I do not know what the judge. deuce and all I shall do when I find our sporting friends, but if you will kindly keep within sight of my umbrella, which is a fine fixed point for cadastral survey, I shall 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 bare skin.' "'Oh, that is my strong points. There is no hurry for hurry.' They were at Le not so long ago.

They said they had come down from the Karakarum with their heads and horns and all. I am only afraid they will have sent back all their letters and compromising things from Le in too Russian territory. Of course, they will walk away as far to the east as possible, just to show that they were never among the western states. You do not know the hills? He scratched with a twig on the earth. Look, they should have come in by Serinaga or Abotabad. That is their short road.

Down the river by Banji and Astor. But they have made mischief in the west, so he drew a furrow from left to right. They march, and they march away east to Le. Ah, it is cold there, and down the Indus to Hanle. I know that road. And then down, you see, to Bush. Shahar and Cheney Valley. That is ascertained by process of elimination,

and also by asking questions from people that I cure so well. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing impressions, so they are well known from far off. You will see me catch them somewhere in Cheney Valley. Please keep your eye on the umbrella. It nodded like a wind-blowing hair bell down the valleys, and round the mountain sides, and in due time the llama and Kim, who steered by compass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at even tide.

We came by such and such a way! The llama would throw a careless finger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expand itself in compliments. They crossed the snowy pass in cold moonlight, when the llama, mildly chaffing Kim, went through up to his own. his knees like a bactrian camel, the snow-bred shag-haired sort, that come into the Kashmir Sarai. They dipped across beds of light snow and snow-powdered shale, where they took refuge from a gale in a camp of Tibetan hurrying down tiny sheep, each laden with a bag of borax. They came out

upon grassy shoulders, still snow speckled, and through forest to grass anew. for all their marchings kedanath and badrinath were not impressed and it was only after days of travel that kim uplifted upon some insignificant ten thousand-foot hummock could see that a shoulder-knot or horn of the two great lords had ever so slightly changed outline at last they entered a world within a world a valley of leagues where the high hills were fashioned of the mere rubble and refuse from off the knees of the mountains. Here one day's march carried them no farther. It seemed that the dreamer's cloaked pace bears him in a nightmare. They skirted a shoulder painfully for hours, and, behold, it was but an outlying boss in an outlying buttress of the main pile. A rounded meadow revealed itself when they had reached it for a vast table-land running far into the valley.

Three days later it was a dim fold in the earth to the southward. Surely the gods live here, said Kim, beaten down by the silence and the appalling sweep and dispersal of the cloud-shadows after rain. This is no place for men. Long and long ago, said the llama as to himself, It was asked of the Lord whether the world were everlasting. To this the excellent one returned no answer. When I was in Ceylon, a wise seeker confirmed that,

from the gospel which is written in Pali. Certainly, since we know the way to freedom, the question were unprofitable. But look, and no illusion, chela. These are the true hills. They are like my hills, by soot-send. Never were such hills. Above them, still enormously above them,

earth towered away towards the snow-line, where from east to west across hundreds of miles, ruled as with a ruler, the last of the bold birches stopped. Above that, in scarps and blocks upheaved, the rocks strove to fight their heads above the white smother. Above these again, changeless since the world's beginning, but changing to every mood of sun and cloud, lay out the eternal snow. They could see blots and blurs on its face, where storm and wandering, woollywai, got up, up to dance. Below them as they stood, the forest slid away in a sheet of blue-green for mile upon mile. Below the forest was a village in its sprinkle of terraced fields and steep grazing grounds.

Below the village they knew, through a thunderstorm worried and growled there for the moment, a pitch of twelve or fifteen hundred feet gave to the moist valley where the streams gather that are the mothers of young Sutlouge. As usual, the llama had led Kim by cow-track and by-road, far from the main route along which Haribabu, that fearful man, had bucketed three days before through a storm, to which nine Englishmen out of ten, would have given full right of way.

Harry was no game-shot, the snick of a trigger made him change colour, but, as he himself would have said, he was fairly efficient stalker, and he had raked the huge valley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, the white-of-worn canvas tents against green carries far.

Haribabu had seen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing floor of Zieglau, 20 miles away as the eagle flies, and 40 by road, that is to say two small dots, which one day were just below the snowline, and the next had moved downwards, perhaps six inches on the hillside. Once cleaned out and set to the work, his fat bare legs could cover a surprising amount of ground, and this was the reason why, while Kim and the Lama lay in a leaky hut at Zieglau till the storm should be overpassed, an oily, wet, but all was smiling Bengali, talking the best of English with the vilest of phrases,

was ingratiating himself with two sudden and rather rheumatic foreigners. He had arrived, revolving many wild schemes, on the heels of a thunderstorm, which had split a pine over against their camp, and so convinced a dozen or two forcibly impressed baggage coolies, the day was inauspicious for further. travel that with one accord they had thrown down their loads and gibbed. They were subjects of a hill-rasha who farmed out their services, as is the custom, for his private gain. And, to add to their personal distresses, the strange Saibs had already threatened them with

rifles. The most of them knew rifles and Saibs of old. They were trackers and shikaris of the northern valleys, keen after bear and wild goat, but they had never been thus treated in their lives. So the forest took them 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 another means of securing a welcome. He wrung out his wet clothes, slipped on his patent leather shoes, opened the blue and white umbrella, and with mincing-gates and a heart beating against his tonsils, appeared as, agent for his royal highness, the Raja of Rampur, gentlemen.

What can I do for you, please? The gentlemen were delighted. One was visibly French, the other Russian, but they spoke English not much inferior to the baboos. They begged his kind offices. Their native servants had gone sick at Le. They had hurried on, because they had hurried on, because they were anxious to bring the spoils of the chase to Simla air the skins grew moth-eaten.

They bore a general letter of introduction, the babu-salam to it orientally, to all government officials. No, they had not met any other shooting parties en route. They did for themselves. They had plenty of surprise, they only wished to push on as soon as might be. At this he waylaid a cowering hill-man among the trees, and after three minutes talk and a little silver, one cannot be economical upon state service, though Harry's heart bled at the waist, the eleven coolies and the three hangers-on reappeared.

At least the barboo would be a witness to their oppression. My royal master, he will be much annoyed, but these people are only common people, and grossly ignorant. If your honours will kindly overlook, unfortunately, affair, I shall be much pleased. In a little while rain will stop, and we can then proceed. You have been shooting, eh? That is fine performance. He skipped nimbly from one kilter to the next, making pretense to adjust each conical basket. The Englishman is not, as a role familiar with the Asiatic, but he would not strike across the wrist, a kindly barbue who accidentally upset a kilter

with a red oil-skin top. On the other hand, he would not press drink upon a babu, were he never so friendly, nor would he invite him to meet. The strangers did all these things, and asked many questions, about women mostly, to which Hudi had returned gay and unstudied answers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid, like to gin, and then more, and in a little time his gravity departed. from him. He became thickly treasonous and spoke in terms of sweeping indecency of a government

which had forced upon him a white man's education and neglected to supply him with a white man's salary. He babbled tales of oppression and wrongs till the tears ran down his cheeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing love songs of Lower Bengal and collapsed upon a wet tree trunk. Never was so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappily thrust upon aliens. "'There are all just of that pattern,' said one sportsman to the other in French. "'When we get into India proper, thou wilt see. I should like to visit his Raja. One might speak the good word there. It is possible 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, his companion replied. For my own part, I wish our reports had been sent back from Hillas, or even Le. The English post is better and safer. Remember, we are given all facilities, and name of God. They gave them to us, too. Is it unbelievable stupidity? It is pride, pride that deserves and will receive punishment.

Yes, to fight a fellow continental in our game is something. There is risk attached, but these people, bah, it is too easy. Pride, all pride, my friend. Now, what the deuce is good of Chandonagur being so close to Calcutta and all, said Harry, snoring open-mouthed on the sudden moss, "'If I cannot understand their French, they talk so particularly fast, "'it would have been much better to cut their beastly throats.' "'When he presented himself again, he was racked with a headache, "'penitant and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might have been indiscreet. "'He loved the British government.

"'It was the source of all prosperity and honour, "'and his master at Rumpur held the very same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him, and to quote past words, till step by step, with depreciating smirks, oily grins, and leers of infinite cunning, the poor babu was beaten out of his defences, and forced to speak truth. When Luragum was told the tale later, he mourned aloud that he could not have been in the place of the stubborn, inattentive coolies, who, with grass-mats over their heads and the raindrops puddling in their footsteps waited on the weather.

All the Saibs of their acquaintance, rough-clad men joyously returning year after year to their chosen gullies, had servants and cooks and orderlies very often hillmen. These Saibs travelled without any retinue. Therefore they were poor Saibs and ignorant, for no Saib in his senses would follow a Bengali's advice. Bet the Bengali, appearing from somewhere, had given them money, and could make shift with their dialect. Used to comprehensive ill-treatment from their own colour, they suspected a trap somewhere, and stood by to run if occasion 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 in pride, walking behind the foreigners in humility. His thoughts were many and various. The least of them would have interested his companions beyond words.

But he was an agreeable guide, ever keen to point out the beauties of his royal master's domain. He peopled the hills with anything they had a mind to slay, thar, ibex, or macur, and bear by Alicia's allowance. He discoursed of botany and ethnology with unimpeachable inaccuracy, and his store of local legends, he had been a trusted agent of the state for fifteen years, remember, was inexhaustible. Decidedly this fellow is an original,

said the taller of the two foreigners. He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier. He represents in Little India in transition, the monstrous hybridism of East and West, the Russian replied, it is we who can deal with Oriental, He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other, but he has a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen, he confided to me last night, said the other.

Under the striped umbrella, Haribabu was straining ear and brain to follow the quick-poured French, and keeping both eyes on a kilter full of maps and documents, an over-large one with a double-red oil-skin colour. He did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to know what to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he had stolen it. He thanked all the gods of Hindustan and Herbert Spencer that there remained some valuables to steal. End of Chapter 13, Part One. Kim. By Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus.

Chapter 13 Part 2 On the second day the road rose steeply to a grass spur above the forest, and it was here about sunset that they came across an aged llama, but they called him a bonds, sitting cross-legged above a mysterious chart held down by stones, which he was explaining to a young man, evidently a neophyte, of singular though unwashen beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted half a march away, and Kim had suggested a halt till it came up to them. "'Ha!' said Harry Babu, resourceful as pushing boots.

"'That is eminent 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, low across 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 a religion, the first teacher. and the first a disciple. Is he a Buddhist?' "'Of some debased kind,' the other asked.

"'There are no true Buddhists among the hills. But look at the folds of his drapery. Look at his eyes. How insolent! Why does this make one feel that we are so young a people?' The speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. "'We have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere. That, do you understand, is what disquietes me.' He scowled the placid face and the monumental calm of the pose.

"'Have patience. We shall make your mark together, we and you young people. Meantime, draw his picture.' The babu advanced loftily, his back out of all keeping with his deferential speech, or his wink towards Kim. "'Holy one, these be Saibs. My medicines cured one of a flux, and I go into Simla to oversee his recovery. They wish to see their picture. To heal the sick is always good.

This is the wheel of life, said the llama. The same I showed thee in the heart at Ziegler when the rain fell. And to hear the expounded. The llama's eyes lightened at the prospect of new leaf. listeners. To expound the most excellent way is good. Have they any knowledge of Hindi, such as had the keeper of images? A little maybe. Hereat, simply as a child engrossed with a new game, the llama threw back his head and began the full-throated invocation of the Doctor of Divinity ere he opens the full doctrine. The strangers.

leaned on their alpenstocks and listened. Kim, squatting humbly, watched the red sunlight on their faces, and the blend and parting of their long shadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious girt-in belts that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book at St. Xavier's Library. The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico was its name? Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Summichrist of that tale, and very unlike the highly unscrupulous folk of Harry Babu's imaging. The coolies, earth-coloured and mute, crouched reverently some twenty or thirty yards away, and the babu, the slack of his thin gear snapping like a marking flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of happy proprietorship. These are the men, Harry whispered,

as the ritual went on, and the two whites followed the grass-blade, sweeping from hell to heaven and back again. All their books are in the large kilter with the red top. Books and reports and maps, and I have seen a king's letter that either Hillas or Bunah has written. They guarded most carefully. They have sent nothing back from Hillis-O-Lay, that is sure. Who is with them? Only the Bigakouleves. "'They have no servants. They are so close they cook their own food. "'But what am I to do? Wait and see. If any chance comes to me, "'Thou wilt know where to seek for the papers.' "'This were better in Mabub Ali's hands than a Bengalis,' said Kim, scornfully.

"'There are more ways of getting to a sweetheart than butting down a wall.' "'See here! The hell are pointed for us. Avarice and greed, flanked upon the one side by desire, and on the other by weariness. The llama warmed to his work, and one of the strangers sketched him in the quick, fading light. "'That is enough,' the man said at last, brusquely. "'I cannot understand him, but I want that picture. He is a better artist than I. Ask him if he will sell it.' He says, no, sir, the Babu replied. The llama, of course, would no more have parted with his chart to a casual wayfarer

than an archbishop would pawn the holy vessels of the cathedral. All Tibet is full of cheap reproductions of the wheel, but the llama was an artist, as well as a wealthy abbot in his own place. Perhaps in three days or four or ten, if I perceived that the Saip is 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 hakeem he wishes it no for money the lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the wheel the russian on his side saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over a dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees and snatched half-gestingly at the chart, which tore in the Lama's grip. A low murmur of horror went up from the coolies, some of whom were speedy men,

and by their lights good Buddhists. The Lama rose at the insult. His hand went to the heavy iron pencase, that is the priest's weapon, and the babu danced in agony. No, you see! You see why I wanted witnesses. These are highly unscrupulous people. Oh, sir, sir, you must not hit Holy Man. J. La, he has defiled the written word. It was too late. Before Kim could ward him off, the Russians struck the old man full on the face. Next instant he was rolling over and over downhill with Kim at his throat. The blow had waked every unknown Irish devil in the boy's blood, and the sudden fall of his enemy did the rest. The llama dropped to his knees, half stunned. The coolies, under their loads, fled up the hill as fast as plainsmen ran across the level. They had seen

sacrilege unspeakable, and it behooved them to get away before the gods and devils of the hills took vengeance. The Frenchman ran towards the llama, fumbling at his revolver with some notion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting stones, Hillman, are very straight shots, drove him away, and a coolie from O'Chung snatched the llama into the stampede. All came about as swiftly as the sudden mountain darkness. "'They have taken the baggage and all of the guns,' yelled the Frenchman, firing blindly into the twilight. "'All right, sir, all right, don't shoot. I go to rescue,' said Harry, pounding down the slope, cast himself bodily upon the delighted and astonished Kim,

who was banging his breathless foe's head against the boulder. "'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the babu in his ear. "'They have the baggage. The papers are in the kilter with the red top. But look through all. Take their papers, and especially the muras, "'Kessler,' King's letter. "'Go! The other man comes!' Kim tore up hill. A revolver bullet rang on a rock by his side,

and he cowered partridge-wise. "'If you shoot!' shouted Harry. "'They will descend and annihilate us. "'I have rescued the gentleman, sir. "'This is particularly dangerous.' "'By Jove!' Kim was thinking hard in English. "'This is damn tight place, but I think it is self-defense.

He felt in his bosom for Mabub's gift, and uncertainly, save for a few practice shots in the Bickaneer Desert, he had never used the little gun, pulled trigger. What did I say, sir? The baboos seemed to be in tears. Come down here, 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 hurried upward through the gloom swearing like a cat or a country bread. "'Did they wound thee, Cheela?' called the llama above him. "'No, and thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted furs. "'Unhurt! Come away! We go with these folks, too, Shamblay, under the snow!'

"'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. I have got the Saib's guns, all four, let us go down. He struck the Holy One, we saw it, our cattle will be barren, our wives will cease to bear, the snows will slide upon us as we go home, atop of all other oppression too. The little fur clump filled with clamouring cooies, panic-stricken, and in their terror, capable of anything. The man from O. Chung clicked the 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 llama, his hand over his brow. "'For that very reason,' was the reply. "'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye acquire merit by obedience. Wait, and we will all go to Shamley together, the man insisted. For a moment, not just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader, the llama hesitated. Then he rose to his feet and laid a finger on the man's shoulder.

"'Has thou heard? I say there shall be no killing. I who was abbot of Suchzen? Is it any lust of thine to be reborn as a rat or a snake under the eaves? A worm in the belly of the most mean beast? Is it thy wish to? The man from O Chung fell to his knees, for the voice boomed like a Tibetan devil gong.

Aye, aye, cried the speedy man. curse us do not curse us it was but his zeal holy one put down the rifle fool anger evil on evil there will be no killing let the priest-haters go in bondage to their own acts just and sure is the wheel swerving not the hair they will be borne byrown 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 hush under the pines. I was tempted to loose the bullet, and truly, in Tibet, there would have been a heavy and a slow death for them. He struck me across the face upon the flesh.

He slid to the ground, breathing heavily, and Kim could hear the overdriven heart pump and check. Have they hurt him to the death? said the O-Chung man, while the others 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 kilters! The Saibs may have a medicine.'

"'Oh, ho! Then I know it,' said the Ocheng man, with a laugh. "'Not for five years was a Yanklin Saib's Shikari without knowing that medicine. I, too, have tasted it. Behold!' He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap whiskey, such as is sold to explorers at Lech. and cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth. "'So did I, when Yanklin, Saib, twisted his foot beyond Astor? "'Aha! I have already looked into their baskets, "'but we will make a fair division at Shumler.

"'Give him a little more. It is good medicine. "'Feel his heart goes better now. "'Lay his head down and rub a little on his chest. "'If he had waited quietly while I accounted for the Saibs, "'This would never have come. "'But perhaps the Saibs may chase us here. "'Then it would not be wrong to shoot them with their own guns, eh?' "'One is paid, I think, already,' said Kim, between his teeth.

"'I kicked him in the groin as we went downhill. "'Would I had killed him!' "'As well as to be brave, or one does not live in rampour,' "'said one whose hut lay within a few miles of the Rajas's rickety palace. When we get a bad name among the Saibs, none will employ us as Shikari's anymore. Oh, but these are not ungrisi Saibs, not merry-minded men like Fustum Saib or Yanklin Saib. They are foreigners. They cannot speak angriisi as do Saibs. Here the llama coughed and sat up, groping for the Rosary.

There shall be no killing, he murmured. Just is the wheel, evil. On evil! Nay, holy one, we are all here. The Ochung man timidly patted his feet. Except by thy odour, no one shall be slain. Rest a while. We will make a little camp here,

and later, as the moon rises, we go to Shamlek under the snow. After a blow, said a speedy man, senticiously, it is best to sleep. There is, as it were, a dizzy, at the back of my neck and a pinching in it. Let me lay my head on thy lap, Chela. I am an old man, but not free from passion.

We must think of the cause of things. Give him a blanket. We dare not light a fire, lest the Sahib see. Better get away to Shemla. None will follow us to Shambly. This was the nervous Rampoor man. I have been Fustum Saib's shikari, and I am Yanklin Saib's Shikari. I should have been with Yanklin Saib now, but for this accursed Beegar, the Corvei.

Let two men watch below with their guns, lest the Saibs do more foolishness. I shall not leave this holy one. They sat down a little apart from the llama, and, while listening a while, passed round a water-pipe, whose receiver was an old Day and Martin blacking bottle. The glow of the red charcoal as it went from hand to hand lit up the narrow blinking eyes,

the high Chinese cheekbones and the bull throats that melted away into the dark duffle folds round their shoulders. They looked like coobolds from some magic mime, gnomes of the hills in conclave. And while they talked, the voices of the snow waters around them

diminished one by one, as the night frost choked and clogged the runnels. "'How he stood up against us,' said a speedy man admiring. "'I remember an old Abex, out, lacked away, "'that DuPont Sahib missed on a shoulder-shot, seven seasons back, "'standing up just like him. "'Dupont-saib was a good Shakiri.' "'Not as good as Yanklin Saib,' the old chung man,

"'took a pull at the whiskey bottle and passed it over. "'Now hear me, unless any other. man thinks he knows more. The challenge was not taken up. We go to Shamla when the moon rises. There we will fairly divide the baggage between us. I am content with this new little rifle and all its cartridges. Are the bears only bad on thy holding? said a mate, sucking at his pipe. No, but musk-pods are worth six rupees apiece now, and thy women can have the canvas of the tents and some of the cooking gear. We will do all that at Shamblech before dawn. Then we all go our ways, remembering that we have never seen or taken service with these

Saibs, who may indeed say we have stolen their baggage. That is well for thee, but what will Araraja say? Who is to tell him? These Saibs, who cannot speak our talk, or the Babu, who, for his own ends, gave us money, will he lead an army against us, What evidence will remain, that we do not need we shall throw on Chamle-Midden, where no man has yet set foot. Who is at Chamle this summer? The place was only a grazing centre of three or four huts. The woman of Chamle. She has no love for Saibs, as we know. The others can be pleased with little presents, and here is enough for us all. He patted the fat sides of the nearest basket. But, but—I. I

I have said they are not true Saibs. All their skins and heads were bought in the bazaar at Le. I know the marks. I showed them to ye last march. True, they were all bought skins and heads. Some had even the moth in them. That was a shrewd argument, and the O-Chang man knew his fellows. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall tell Yanklin Saib,

who is a man of merry mind, and he will laugh. We are not doing any wrong to any Saibs whom we know. They are priest-beaters. They frightened us. We fled. Who knows where we dropped the baggage? Do you think Yanklin Saib will permit down-country police to wander all over the hills, disturbing his game? It is a far cry from Simler to Chinni,

and farther from Shamle to Shamley-Midden. So be it, but I carry the big kilter, the basket with the red top that the Saibs packed themselves every morning. Thus it is proved, said the Shambly man adroitly, that they are Saibs of no account. Whoever heard of Faustum Saib, or Yanklin Saib, or even little Peel Saib, that sits up at nights to shoot Sirot. I say, whoever heard of these Saibs coming into the hills

without a down-country cook and a bearer, and and all manner of well-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in their tale. How can they make trouble? What of the kilter? Nothing. But it is full of the written word, books and papers in which they wrote, and strange instruments as of worship. Shamly Midden will take them all.

True, but how if we insult the Saib's gods thereby? I do not like to handle the written word in that fashion, and their brass idols are beyond my comprehension. It is no plunder for simple hill-folk. The old man still sleeps, hissed. We will wake his chela. The Ochung man refreshed himself and swelled with the pride of leadership. "'We have here,' he whispered, "'a kilter whose nature we do not know.' "'But I do,' said Kim, cautiously. The llama drew breath in natural easy sleep. and Kim had been thinking of Harry's last words.

As a player of the great game, he was disposed just then to reverence the babu. "'It is a kilter with a red top full of very wonderful things, not to be handled by fools.' "'I said it, I said it!' cried the bearer of that burden. "'Thinkest thou it will betray us?' "'Not if it be given to me. I can draw out its magic, otherwise it will do great harm.' "'A priest always takes his share.'

Whiskey was demoralizing the O-Chung man. "'It is no matter to me,' Kim answered with the craft of his mother country. "'Share it among you, and see what comes.' "'Not I. I was only jesting. Give the order. There is more than enough for us all. We go our way from Chamle in the dawn.' They arranged and rearranged their artless little plans for another hour, while Kim shivered with cold and pride. The humour of the situation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul.

Here were the emissaries of the dread power of the north, very possibly as great in their own land as Mabub or Colonel Crichton, suddenly smitten helpless. One of them, he privately knew, would be lame for a time. They had made promises to kings. Tonight they lay out somewhere below him, chartless, foodless, tentless, gunless, except for Haribabu, guideless. And this collapse of their great game, Kim wondered to whom they would report it,

this panicky bolt into the night had come about through no craft of Haris or contrivance of Kim's, but simply beautifully, and inevitably as the capture of Mabu's fakir friends by the zealous young policeman at Umbala. They are there with nothing, and by Jove it is cold. I am here with all their things. Oh, they will be angry. I am sorry for Haribabu. Kim might have saved his pity, for though at that moment the Bengali suffered acutely in the flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. A mile down the hill on the edge of the pine forest, two half-frozen men, one powerfully sick at intervals, were varying mutual recriminations with the most poignant abuse of the babu, who seemed distraught with terror. They demanded a plan of action. He explained that they were very lucky to be alive, that their coolies, if not then, stalking them, had passed beyond recall,

that the Raja, his master, was ninety miles away, and so far from lending them money and a retinue for the similar journey, would surely cast them into prison if he had heard that they had hit a priest. He enlarged on this sin and its consequences till they bad him changed the subject. Their one hope, he said, was unostentatious flight from village to village till they reached civilization, and, for the hundredth time, dissolved into tears, he demanded of the high stars, why the Saibs had beaten the holy man! Ten steps would have taken Hari into the creaking gloom utterly beyond their reach,

to the shelter and food of the nearest village, where glib-tonged doctors were scarce. But he preferred to endure cold, belly pinch, bad words, and occasional blows in the company of his honoured employers. Crouched against the tree-trunk, he sniffed dolefully. "'And have you thought?' said the uninjured man hotly. "'What sort of spectacle we shall present wandering through these hills among these Aborigines?' "'Huddy Babu had thought of little else for some hours, "'but the remark was not to his address. "'We cannot wonder, I can hardly walk,' groaned Kim's victim.

"'Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in loving kindness, sir. "'Otherwise—' "'I promised myself a peculiar pleasure "'in emptying my revolver into that young bonds "'when next we meet,' was the unchristian answer. "'Revolvers?' vengeance, bonzes? Horry crouched lower.

The war was breaking out afresh. Have you no consideration for our loss? The baggage! He could hear the speaker literally dancing on the grass. Everything we bore, everything we have secured, our gains, eight months' work. Do you know what that means? Decidedly, it is we who can deal with Orientals. Oh, you have done well!

They fell to it in several tongues, and Hari smiled. Kim was with the kilters, and in the kilters lay eight months of good diplomacy. There was no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted. For the rest, Hari could so stage-manage the journey through the hills, that Hillas, Bonar, and 300 miles of hill-roads should tell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own coolies are little respected in the hills, and the hillman has a very keen sense of humour. If I had done it myself, thought Harry,

it would not have been better, and by Jove, now I think of it, of course, I arranged it myself. How quick I have been. Just when I run down hill, I thought it. The outrage was accidental, but only me could have worked it, for all it was damn well worth. Consider the moral effect upon these ignorant people, no treaties, no papers, no written documents at all, 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 in space simultaneously. That is axiomatic. End of Chapter 13. Kim. By Roger Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzellus. 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 a sign. Prayer is all the worlds and mine. The prayer. At moonrise the cautious coolies got underway.

The llama, refreshed by his sleep and the spirit, needed no more than Kim's shoulder to bear him along, a silent, swift-striding man. They held the shale-sprinkled grass for an hour, swept round the shoulder of an immortal cliff, and climbed into a new country, entirely blocked off from all sides. of Cheney Valley. 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 few soil and timber huts. Behind them, for hill-fashioned they were perched on the edge of all things, the ground fell sheer two thousand feet, to shamlich-midden, where never yet man has set foot. The men made no motion to divide the plunder till they had seen the llama bedded down in the best room of the place, with Kim shampooing his feet, Mohammedan fashion. We will send food, said the Ochung man, and the red-topped kilter.

By dawn there will be none to give evidence one way or the other. If anything is not needed in the kilter, see him. Here!" He pointed through the window, opening into space that was filled with moonlight reflected from the snow, and threw out an empty whiskey 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 eyes that shone like yellow opals. From the enormous pit before him, white peaks lifted themselves yearning to the moonlight.

The rest was as the darkness of interstellar space. These, he said slowly, are indeed my hills. Thus should a man abide, perched above the world, separated from delights, "'Sittering vast matters.' "'Yes, if he has a chelor to prepare tea for him, "'and to fold a blanket for his head, and to chase out carving cows.' "'A smoky lamp burned in a niche, but the full moonlight beat it down, "'and by the mixed light, swooping above the food-cups and bags,

"'Kim moved like a tall ghost. "'Aye, but no.' 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 Saibs from the death. they deserved a hundred times. The lesson is not well learned, Chella. The llama came to rest on a folded blanket,

as Kim went forward with his evening routine. The blow was but a shadow upon a shadow, evil in itself. My legs wearier paced these latter days. It meant evil in it. me, anger, rage, and a lust to return evil. These wrought in my blood, woke tumult in my stomach, and dazzled my ears. Here he drank scalding block tea ceremonially, taking the hot-cup from Kim's hand. Had I been passionless, the evil blow would have done only

bodily evil, a scar or a bruise, which is illusion. But my mind was not abstracted, for rushed in straightway a lust to let the speedy men kill. In fighting that lust, my soul was torn and wrenched beyond a thousand blows. Not till I had repeated the blessing, He meant the Buddhist beatitudes. Did I achieve calm? But the evil planted in me by that moment's carelessness works out to its end. Just is the wheel, swerving not a hair. Learn the lesson, Jaila. It is too high for me, Kim muttered.

I am still all shaken. I am glad I hurt the man. I felt that, sleeping upon my knees in the wood below, it disquieted me in my dreams, the evil in thy soul, working through to mine. Yet on the other hand, he loosed his rosary, I have acquired merit by saving do. lives, the lives of those that wronged me. Now I must see into the cause of things. The boat of my soul staggers. Sleep and be strong, that is wisest. I meditated.

There is a need greater than thou knowest. Till for the one hour after. hour as the moonlight paled on the high peaks, and that which had been belted blackness on the sides of the far hills showed as tender green forest, the llama stared fixedly at the wall. From time to time he groaned. Outside the barred door, where discomfited kind came to ask for their old stable, Shamley and the coolies gave itself up to plunder and riotous living. The O-Chung Man was their leader, and once they had opened the Saib's tinned foods and found that they were very good, they dared not turn back. Shumle Kitchen Midden took the dunnage.

When Kim, after a night of bad dreams, stole forth to brush his teeth in the morning chill, a fair-coloured woman with turquoise-studied headgear drew him aside. The others have gone. They left thee—this kilter, as the promise was. I do not love Saibs, but thou wilt make us a charm in return for it. We do not wish little Chamler to get a bad name on account of the accident. I am the woman of Chamle." She looked him over with bold, bright eyes, unlike the usual furtive glance of his.

hill women. Assuredly, but it must be done in secret. She raised the heavy kilter like a toy, and slung it into her own hut. Out and by the door, let none come near till it is finished, said Kim. But afterwards we may talk. Kim tilted the kilter on the floor, a cascade of survey instruments, books, diaries, letters, maps, and queerly scented native correspondence. At the very bottom was an embroidered bag

covering a sealed, gilded and illuminated document such as one king sends to another. Kim caught his breath with delight and reviewed the situation from a Saib's point of view. The books I do not want, besides they are logarithms, survey, I suppose. He laid them aside. The letters I do not have.

understand, but Colonel Crichton will. They must all be kept. The maps—they draw better maps than me, of course. All the native letters—oh, and particularly the Marasla—' he sniffed the embroidered bag. That must be from Hillas, Obuna, and Haribabu spoke truth, by Jove. It is a fine hall. I wish Harry could know. The rest must go out of the window. He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a theodolite. But, after all, a Saib cannot very well steal, and the things might be inconvenient evidence later. He sorted out every scrap of manuscript, every map, and the native letters. They made one softish slab.

The three locked, feral-backed books, with fine, I've worn pocket-books, he put aside. The letters and the maraslarsla I must carry inside my coat and under my belt, and the handwritten books I must put into the food-bag. It will be heavy. No, I do not think that there is anything more. If there is, the coolies have thrown it down the cood. So that is all right.

Now, you go to, he repacked the kilter with all he meant to lose, and hove it up onto the window. A thousand feet below lay a long, lazy, round-shouldered bank of mist, as yet untouched by the morning sun. 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-eddy thinned the cloud. No, I don't think anyone will go after you. The wheeling-basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodalite hit a jutting cliff edge and exploded like a shell. The books, inkstands, paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a few seconds like a swarm of bees. Then they vanished.

And though Kim, hanging half out of the window, strained his young ears, never a sound came up from the gulf. Five hundred, a thousand rupees could not buy them, he thought sorrowfully. It was very wasteful, but I have all their other stuff, everything they did, I hope. Now, how the deuce am I to tell Haribabu, and what the deuce am I to do? And my old man is sick. I must tie up the letters in oil-skin. That is something to do first, else they will get all sweated. And I am all alone. He bound them into a neat package, swedging down the stiff, sticky oil.

skin at the corners, for his roving life had made him as methodical as an old hunter in matters of the road. Then, with double care, he packed away the 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 a little patter-talk. The woman laughed at his confusion irreverently.

None, for thee. Thou canst cast a spell by a mere winking of an eye, but think of us poor people, when thou art God. They were all too drunk last night to hear a woman. Thou art not drunk? I am a priest. Kim had recovered himself, and the woman, being aught but unlovely,

thought best to stand on his office. I warned them that the Saibes will be angry and will make an inquisition and a report to the Raja. There is also the babu with them. Clarks have long tongues. Is that all thy trouble? The plan rose fully formed in Kim's mind, and he smiled ravishingly.

Not all, quothed the woman, putting out a hard brown hand, all covered with turquoises set in silver. I can finish that in a breath, he went on quickly. The babu is the very Hakeem, thou hast heard of him, who was wandering among the hills by Zyglau. I know him. He will tell for the sake of a reward. Saibs cannot distinguish one hillman from another, but baboos 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 women make the law. love, tore a leaf from a notebook, and with a patient indelible pencil, wrote in gross shikast, the script that bad little boys use when they write dirt on walls. I have everything they have written, their pictures of the country and many letters, especially the maraslars. Tell me what to do. I am at Shumlich under the snow. The old man is sick. take this to him it will altogether shut his mouth he cannot have gone far indeed no they are still in the forest across the spur our children went to watch them when the light came and have cried the news as they moved Kim looked his astonishment, but from the edge of the sheep pasture floated a shrill,

kite-like trill. A child, tending cattle, had picked it up from a brother or sister on the far side of the slope that commanded Cheney Valley. My husbands are all out there gathering wood, she drew a handful of walnuts from her bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat. Kim affected blank ignorance. Thou not know the meaning of the walnut priest? She said coyly, 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 the babu, and say it was sent by the son of the charm. I—truly, truly, truly, by you. a magician who is like a Saib. Nay, a son of the charm, and ask if there be any answer. But if he offer a rudeness, I am afraid. Kim laughed.

He is, I have no doubt, very tired and very hungry. The hills make cold bedfellows. Aye, my—it was on the tip of his tongue to say mother, but he turned it to sister. "'Thou art a wise and witty woman. By this time all the villages know what has befallen the Saibs, eh?' "'True. "'News was at Ziegla by midnight, "'and by tomorrow should be a cotcar.

"'The villages are both afraid and angry.' "'No need. "'Tell the villagers to feed the Saibs "'and pass them on in peace. "'We must get them quietly away from our viz. valleys. To steal is one thing, to kill another. The Babu will understand, and there will be no after complaints. Be swift. I must tend my master when he wakes. So be it. After service, thou hast said, comes the reward. I am the woman of Shamlech, and I hold from the Raja. I am no common bearer of babes.

"'Shamla is thine. Who fed horn and hide? Milk and butter, take or leave?' She turned resolutely uphill, her silver necklaces clicking on her broad breast to meet the morning sun fifteen hundred feet above them. This time Kim thought in the vernacular as he waxed down the oil-skin edges of the packets. "'How can a man follow the way, or the great game, when he is so always pestilence? "'What can't a man follow the way, or the great game, when he is so always pestisest, by women. There was the girl at Acrola of the Ford, and there was the Scullion's wife behind the dovecot, not counting the others. 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, which might do for down-country, but in the manner of a prince. Shamlich's summer population is only three families, four women and eight or nine men. They were all full of tinned meats and mixed drinks, from ammoniated quinine to white vodka, for they had taken their full share of the overnight loot. The neat continental tents had been cut up and shared long ago, and there were patent aluminium saucepins abroad.

But they considered the Lama's presence a perfect safeguard against all consequences, and impenitently brought Kim of their best, even to a drink of chung, the barley-beer that comes from Ladakhwe. Then they thawed out in the sun, and sat with their legs hanging over infinite abysses, chattering, laughing, and smoking. They judged India and its government solely from their experience of wandering Saibs, who had employed them or their friends as Shikaris. Kim heard tales of shots missed upon Ibex, Surro, Omakur, by Saib's twenty years in their graves, every detail lighted from behind like twigs on tree-tops seen against lightning. They told him of their little diseases, and, more important, the diseases of the diseases of their tiny, shore-footed cattle,

of trips as far as Kotgar, where the strange missionaries live, and beyond, even to marvellous Simler, where the streets are paved with silver, and anyone look you can get service with the Saibs who ride about in two-wheeled carts, and spend money with a spade. Presently, grave and aloof,

walking very heavily, the Lama joined himself to the chatter under the eaves, and they gave him great room. The thin air refreshed him, 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 channeled, and pitted with little patches of brush,

forests each a day's dark march. Behind the village, Shamler Hill, itself cut off all view to southward, it was like sitting in a swallow's nest under the eaves of the roof of the world from time to time the lama stretched out his hand and with a little low-voiced prompting would point out the road to speed and north across the perungla beyond where the hills lie thickest lies dechen he meant hanley the great monastery star chan rass chen built it and of him there runs this tale whereupon he told it a fantastic piled narrative of bewitchment and miracles that set shamlayer gasping turning west a little he speared for the green hills of kulu and sought kalung under the glaciers for thither came i in the old days from leigh i came over the baralachi yes yes we know it said the far-faring people of chamle and i slept two nights with the priests of galang these are hills of my delight shadows blessed above all other shadows

There my eyes opened on this world. There my eyes were open to this world. There I found enlightenment. And there I gird my loins for my search. Out of the hills I came the high hills and the strong winds. Oh, just is the wheel. He blessed them in detail. The great glaciers.

the naked rocks, the piled moraines and tumbled shale, dry upland, hidden salt lake, age-old timber, and fruitful water-shot valley, one after the other, as a dying man blesses his folk, and Kim marvelled at his passion. "'Yes, yes, there is no place like our hills,' said the people of Shamlich, and they fell to wondering how a man could live in the hot, terrible plains, where the cattle ran as big as elephants, unfit to plough on a hillside, where village touches village, they had heard, for a hundred miles, where folk went about stealing in gangs, and what the robbers spared, the police carried utterly away. So the still forenoon wore through, and at the end of it, Kim's messenger dropped from the steep pasture

as unbreadthed as when she had set out. I sent a word to the Hakeem, Kim explained while she made reverence. He joined himself to the idolaters. Nay, I remember he did a healing upon one of them. He has acquired merit, though the healed employed his strength for evil. Just is the wheel. What of the hakeem! I feared that thou hast been bruised, and I knew he was wise.

Kim took the waxed walnut-shell, and read in English on the back of his note. Your favour received. Cannot get away from present company at present, but shall take them into Simler, after which hope to rejoin you. Inexpedent to follow angry gentlemen. return by same road you came and will overtake. Highly gratified about correspondence due to my forethought. He says, Holy One, that he will escape from the idolaters and will return to us.

Shall we wait a while at Shamlech, then? The llama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head. That may not be, Cheila, for my bones out. Outward, do I desire it, but it is forbidden. I have seen the cause of things. Why, when the hills give thee back thy strength day by day? Remember we were weak and fainting down below there in the dune. I became strong to do evil and to forget.

A brawler and a swashbuckler. Upon the hillside was I. Kim bit back a smile. Just and perfect is the wheel swerving not a hair. When I was a man a long time ago, I did pilgrimage to Guru Chuan among the poplars, he pointed Botanwards, where they keep the sacred horse.

Quiet, be quiet, said she. Shamlek all arow. He speaks of Jamlin'intkour, the horse that can go round the world in a day. I speak to my jailer only, said the llama, in gentle reproof, and they scattered like frost on south-eaves of a morning. I did not seek truth in those days, but the talk of doctrine, all illusion. I drank the beer and ate the bread of Guru Chuan. Next day one said, We go out to fight Sangor Gutok down the valley to discover, Mark again how lust is tied to anger,

Which abbot shall bear rule in the valley And take 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 fought under the poplars, both abbots and all the monks,

and one laid open my forehead to the bone, see! He tilted back his cap and showed a puckered silvery scar. Just and perfect is the wheel. Yesterday the scar itched, and after fifty years, I recalled how it was dealt, and the face of him who dealt it, dwelling a little in illusion.

Follow that which thou did see, strife and stupidity. This is the wheel. The idolaters blow fell upon the scar. Then I was shaken in my soul. My soul was darkened, and the boat of my soul rocked upon the waters of illusion. Not till I came to Chamlech, could I meditate upon the cause of things,

or trace the running grassroots of evil. i strove all the long 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 mubub alie's phrase slipped out unawares in the dawn the lama went on more gravely ready rosary clicking between the slow sentences Came enlightenment. It is here. I am an old man. Hillbred, hill fed, never to sit down among my hills.

Three years I traveled through Hind, but can earth be stronger than Mother Earth? My stupid body yearned to the hills and the snow of the hills from below there. I said, and it is true, my search is sure. So at the Kulu woman's house, I turned Hillwood, over-persuaded by myself. There is no blame to the hakeem.

He, following desire, foretold that the hill-yred that the hill-yel. that the hills would make me strong. They strengthened me to do evil, to forget my search. I delighted in life and the lust of 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 high hills. I made a mock of thee when thy breath came short under jamnotry. 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 I loved thee for thy new strength. More than once I remember, he rested his cheek dolefully on his hand. I sought thy praise and the Hakeems for the mere strength of my legs. Thus evil followed evil till the cup was full, just is the wheel.

All hind for three years did me all honour. From the fountain of wisdom in the wonderhouse too, he smiled. A little child, playing by a big gun. The world prepared my road. And why? Because we loved thee. It is only the fever of the blow. I myself am still sick and shaken.

No, it was because I was upon the way. Turned as our senen symbols, to the purpose of the lore. I departed from that ordinance. the tune was broken, followed the punishment. In my own hills, on the edge of my own country, in the very place of my evil desire, comes the Buffet here, he touched his brow.

As a novice is beaten when he misplaces the cups, so am I beaten, who was abbot of Suchsen? No word, look you, but a blow, Jaila. But the Saibs did not know thee, Holy One? We were well-matched. Ignorance and lust meant ignorant and lust upon the road, and they begat anger. The blow was a sign to me, who am no better than a straitiac, that my place is not here.

Who can read the cause of an act is halfway to freedom. Back to the path, says the blow. The hills are not made for thee. Thou canst not choose freedom, and go in bondage to the delight of life. Would that we had never met that cursed Russian? Our Lord himself cannot make the wheel swing backward, and for my merit that I had acquired,

I gain yet another sign. He put his hand in his bosom, and drew forth the wheel of life. Look, I considered this after I had meditated. There remains untoward by the idolater, no more than the breadth of life. my fingernail. I see. So much then is the span of my life in this body. I have served the wheel all my days. Now the wheel serves me. But for the merit I have acquired in guiding thee upon the way, there would have been added to me yet another life ere I had found.

my river. Is that plain, Chela? Kim stared at the brutally disfigured chart. From left to right diagonally, the rent ran, from the eleventh house where desire gives birth to the child, as it is drawn by the Tibetan's, across the human and animal worlds, to the fifth house, the empty house of the senses. The logic was unanswerable. Before our lord one inch, one inch, The Lama folded all away with reverence. He was tempted. I too have been tempted. But it is finished.

The arrow fell in the plains, not in the hills. Therefore, what make we hear? Shall we at least wait for the Hakeem? I know how long I shall live in this body. What can a Hakeem 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 felt that he too needed rest. "'That is lawful. "'Let us eat and go. "'The arrow fell in the plains, "'but I ye...

yielded to desire, make ready jailer. Kim turned to the woman with the turquoise headgear, who had been idly pitching pebbles over the cliff. She smiled very kindly. I found him like a straight buffalo in a cornfield, Dubbo. Snorting and sneezing with cold. He was so hungry that he forgot his dignity and gave me sweet words. The Saibs have nothing.

She flung out an empty palm. One is very sick about the stomach. They work. Kim nodded with a bright eye. I spoke to the Bengali first, and to the people of a nearby village after. The Saibs will be given food as they need it, nor will the people ask money.

The plunder is already distributed. The babu makes lying speeches to the Saibs. 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 is no matter. Now, as to walnuts, after service comes reward. I have said the village is thine.

It is my loss, Kim began. Even now I had planned desirable things in my heart which— There is no need to go through the compliments proper to these occasions. He sighed. deeply. But my master, led by a vision, Ah, 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 be crossed, he replied impressively. His curses shake the hills. Pity they did not save him from a broken. head. I heard that thou wast the tiger-hearted one who smote the Saib. Let him dream a little longer. Stay! Hill-woman, said Kim, with austerity that could not harden the outlines 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 than men and women? A priest is a priest. He says,

says he will go upon this hour. I am his chelah, and I go with him. We need food for the road. He is an honoured guest in all the villages, but—' He broke into a pure boy's grin. The food here is good. Give me some. What if I do not give it to thee? I am the woman of this village. Then I curse thee a little, not greatly, but enough to remember. He could not help smiling. "'Thou hast cursed me already by the down-dropped eyelash and the uplifted chin. Curses? Why should I care for mere words?' she clenched her hands upon her bosom. "'But I would not have thee go in anger, thinking hardly of me, a gatherer of cow-dung and grass, at Shamlech, but still a woman of substance.' "'I think nothing,' said Kim,

"'but that I am grieved to go, "'for I am very weary, "'and that we need food. "'Here is the bag.' "'The woman snatched it angrily. "'I was foolish,' she said. "'Who is thy woman in the plains? "'Fair or black?

"'I was fair once. "'Laughest thou, "'once long ago, if thou canst believe, "'Asaib looked upon me with favour. "'Once long ago I wore European closed at the mission house yonder, she pointed toward Kotgar. Once long ago I was Colistian and spoke English. As the Saib speak it, yes, my Saib said he would return and wed me.

Yes, wed me. He went away. I had nursed him when he was sick, but he never returned. Then I saw that the gods of the Calistians lied. I went back to my own people. I have never set eyes on a Saib since. Do not laugh at me, the fit is past, little priestling. Thy face and thy walk, and thy fashion of speech,

put me in mind of my Saib, though thou art only a wandering mendicant, to whom I give a dole. Curse me? Thou canst neither curse nor bless. She set her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly. Thy gods are lies, thy works are lies, thy works are lies, thy words are lies.

There are no gods under all the heavens, I know it. But for a while I thought it was my Saib come back, and he was my God. Yes, once I made music on a piano in the mission house at Kotgar, now I give arms to priests who are heathen. She wound up with the English word and tied the mouth of the brimming-backer. bag. "'I wait for thee, Cheela,' said the Lama, leaning against the door-post. The woman swept the tall figure with her eyes.

"'He, walk, he cannot cover half a mile, where the wet old bones go.' At this, Kim, already perplexed by the Lama's collapse and foreseeing the 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. Will thou carry him on thy shoulders? I go to the plains. None must hinder my return. I have wrestled with my soul till I am strengthless.

The stupid body is spent, and we are far from the plains. Behold! she said simply, and drew aside to let Kim see her own utter helplessness. "'Curse me! Maybe it will give him strength. Make a charm. Call on thy great God. Thou art a priest!' she turned away.

The llama had squatted limply, still holding by the doorpost. One cannot strike down an old man that he recovers again like a boy in a night. Weakness bowed him to the earth, but his eyes that hung on Kim were a line. and imploring. "'It is all well,' said Kim. "'It is the thin air that weakens thee. In a little while we go. It is the mountain sickness.

I too am a little sick at stomach.' And he knelt and comforted with such poor words as came first to his lips. Then the woman returned more erect than ever. "'Thigh God's useless, eh? Try mine. I am the woman of Sharmlech.' She hailed hoarsely, and they came out of a cow-pen, her two husbands, and three others with a duly, the rude native litter of the hills, that they use for carrying the sick, and for visits of state.

"'These cattle!' she did not condescend to look at them, "'Are thine, for so long as thou shalt need.' "'But we will not go similar way, we will not go near the Saibs,' cried the first husband. "'They will not run away as well. the others did, nor will they steal baggage. Two I know for weaklings. Stand to the pent-pole, Sonu and Tari. They obeyed swiftly. Lower now, and lift in that holy man. I will see to 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. It balances better so.

"'Oh, holy one, thy hills are kinder than our plains,' cried Kim, relieved, as the llama tottered to the litter. "'It is a very king's bed, 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 thou money for the road?' She beckoned Kim to her heart, and stooped above a battered English-shed, cash-box under her cot. "'I do not need anything,' said Kim, angered where he should have been grateful.

I am already rudely loaded with favours. She looked up with a curious smile, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "'At least thank me. I am foul-faced and a hill-woman, but as thy talk goes, I have a quiet merit. Shall I show thee how the Saibs render thanks?' and her hard eyes softened. "'I am but a wandering priest,' said Kim, his eyes lighting in answer. "'Thou needst neither my blessings nor my curses.'

"'Nay! But for one little moment "'Thou canst overtake the duly in ten strides. "'If thou wast a Saib, shall I show thee what thou wouldst do?' "'How if I guessed, though?' said Kim, "'am putting his arm around her waist, he kissed her on the cheek. adding in English, "'Thank you very much, my dear.' Kissing is practically unknown among Asiatics,

which may have been the reason 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 heathen priests. "'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 by one. You will come back again. Goodbye. And thee, God bless you. Half an hour later, as the creaking litter jolted up the hill path that leads southeasterly from Shamlich, Kim saw a tiny figure at the hut door, waving a white rag. She has a quiet merit above all others, said the alarm.

for to set a man upon the way to freedom is half as great as though she herself had found it. Hmm, said Kim, thoughtfully, considering the past. It may be that I have acquired merit also. At least she did not treat me like a child. He hitched the front of his robe, where lay the slab of documents and maps, restowed the precious food-bag at the lama's feet, laid his hand on the litter's edge, and buckled down to the slow pace of the grunting husbands. "'These also acquire merit,' said the llama after three miles.

"'More than that, they shall be paid in silver,' quoth Kim. The woman of Shamlich had given it to him, and it was only fair, he argued, that her men should earn it back again. End of Chapter 14. To the triple crown I'd not bow down, but this is a different thing. I'll not fight with powers of air. Century, pass him through. Drawbridge let fall, he's the lord of all. The dreamer whose dream came true.

The Siege of the Fairies. Two hundred miles north of Cheney, on the blue shale of Ladakh, Lies Yanklin Saib, the merry-minded man, spy-glassing wrathfully across the ridges for some signs of his pet trafficker, a man from O'Chung. But that renegade, with a new man-licker rifle and two hundred cartridges, is elsewhere, shooting musk-deer for the market, and Yanklin Saib will learn next season how very ill he has been. Up the valleys of Bouchar, the far-beholding eagles of the Himalayas, swerve at his new blue-and-white-gord umbrella. Hurries a Bengali, once fat and well-looking, now lean and weather-worn. He has received the thanks of two foreigners of distinction, piloted not unskilfully to Mashabra Tunnel, which leads to the great and gay capital of India.

It was not his fault that, blanketed by wet mills, He conveyed them past the telegraph station and the European colony of Kotgar. It was not his fault, but that of the gods, of whom he discoursed so engagingly that he led them into the borders of Nahan, where the Raja of that state mixed up tock-thew for deserting British soldiery. Haribabu explained the greatness and glory in their own country of his companions, till the drowsy kinglet smiled. He explained it to everyone who asked many times aloud variously.

He begged food, arranged accommodation, proved a skillful leech for an injury of the groin, such a blow as one might receive, rolling down a rock-covered hillside in the dark, and in all things indispensable. The reason of his friendliness did him credit. With millions of fellow serfs, he had learned to look upon Russia, as the great deliverer from the north. He was a fearful man. He had been afraid that he could not save his illustrious employers from the anger of an excited peasantry. He would have just as Leif hit a holy man as not, but he was deeply grateful and sincerely rejoiced that he had done his little

possible toward bringing their venture to, barring the lost baggage, a successful issue. He had forgotten the blows, denied that blows had been dealt that unseemingly first night under the pines. He asked neither pension nor retaining fee, but if they deemed him worthy, would they write him a testimonial? It might be useful to him later if others, their friends, came over the passes. He begged them to remember him in their future greatnesses, for he opined subtly that he, even he, Mahendra Laldut, M.A., of Calcutta, had done the state some service. They gave him a certificate, praising his courtesy, helpfulness, and unerring skill as a guide. He put it in his waist-belt and sobbed with emotion.

They had endured so many dangers together. He led them at high noon, a long crowded Simla-Mal to the Alliance Bank of Simla, where they wished to establish their identity, thence he vanished like a dawn cloud on Jacko. Behold him, too fine drawn to sweat, too pressed to vaunt the drugs in his little brass-bound box, ascending shamless slope, a just man made perfect. Watch him, or Babudom laid aside,

smoking at noon on a cot, while a woman with turquoise-studied headgear points south-easterly across the bare grass. Litters, she said, do not travel as fast as single men, but his birds should now be in the plains. The holy man would not stay, though Lispeth pressed him. The babu groans heavily, girds up his huge loins, and is off again. He does not care to travel after dusk, but his day's marches, there is none to enter them in a book, would astonish folk who mock and at his race. Kindly villagers, remembering the Dakar drug vendor of two months ago, give him shelter against evil spirits of the wood. He dreams of Bengali gods, university textbooks of

education, and the Royal Society, London, England. Next dawn, the bobbing blue and white umbrella goes forth. On the edge of Doon, Masuri well behind them, and the plains spread out in golden dust before, rests a worn litter, in which, all the hills know it, lies a sick llama who seeks a river for his healing. Villages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, but not only has the llama given them blessings, but his disciple good money. Full one-third Saib's prices. Twelve miles a day has the duly travelled, as the greasy, dubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few Saib's use. Over the Nilang Pass, in storm, when the driven snow-dust filled every fold of the impassive llama's drapery, between the black

horns of Raiang, where they heard the whistle of the wild goats through the clouds, pitching and strained on the shale below, hard-held between shoulder and clenched jaw, when they rounded the hideous curves of the cut road under Bagirati, swinging and creaking to the steady jog-trot of the descent into the valley of the waters, pressed along the steamy levels of that locked valley, up, up and out again, to meet the roaring gusts off Kedarnath, set down of mid-days in the dun gloom of kindly oak forests, passed from village to village in dawn chill,

when even devotees may be forgiven for swearing at impatient holy men, or by torchlight, when the least fearful think of ghosts, the Dooley has reached her last stage. The little hill-folk sweat in the modified heat of the lower Siwaliks, and gather round the priests for their blessing and their wage. Ye have acquired merit! says the llama. Merit greater than you're knowing,

and ye will return to the hills, he sighs. Surely the high hills as soon as may be. The bearer rubs his shoulder, drinks water, spits it out again, and readjusts his grass sandal. Kim, his face is drawn and tired, pays very small silver from his belt,

heaves out the food bag, crams an oil-skin packet, they are holy writings, into his bosom, and helps the llama to his feet. The peace has come again into the old man's eyes, and he does not look for the hills to fall down and crush him, as he did that terrible night when they were delayed by the flooded river. The men pick up the dully and swing out of sight between the scrub clumps. The llama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas. "'Not with you, oh, blessed among all hills, fell the arrow of our Lord. And never shall I breathe your ears 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 a course a day, for the search is sure, but the bag weighs heavy. "'I, 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 shoulders bore all the weight of it, the burden of an old man, the burden of the heavy food-bag with the locked books,

the load of the writings on his heart, and the details of the daily routine. He begged in the dawn, set blankets for the llama's meditation, held the weary head on his lap through the noonday heats, fanning away the flies till his wrists ached, begged again in the evenings, and rubbed the llama's feet

who rewarded him with promise of freedom, today, tomorrow, or at furthest the next day. Never wore such a chela. I doubt at times whether Ananda more faithfully nursed our lord. And thou art a Saip? When I was a man a long time ago, I forgot that.

now i look upon thee often and every time i remember that thou art a saib it is strange thou hast said there is neither black nor white why plague me with this talk holy one let me rub the other foot it vexes me i am not a saib i am thy chela and my head is heavy on my shoulders patience a little we reach freedom together then thou and i upon the far bank of the river will look back upon our lives as in the hills we saw our day's marches laid out behind us perhaps i was once a saib was never a saib like thee i swear it i am certain the keeper of the images in the wonder-house was in past life a very wise abbot but even his spectacles do not make my eyes see there fall shadows when i would look steadily No matter. We know the tricks of the poor stupid carcass, shadow changing to another shadow. I am bound by the illusion of time and space. How far came we today in the flesh? Perhaps half a cuss? Three quarters of a mile, and it was a weary march.

Half a course, 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. Jaila, hast thou never a wish to leave me? Kim thought of the oil-skin packet and the books in the food-bag. If someone duly authorised would only take delivery of them, the great game might play itself for aught he then cared. He was tired and hot in his head,

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 when I have learned to love. Thou are 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 the goat's milk this morn, saying that thou wast a little feeble and wouldst need a litter. I beat myself in my mind that I did not do it when we entered the dune. We stay in this place till the litter returns. I am content. she is a woman with the 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 my heart is very heavy for my many carelessness towards thee an hysterical catch rose in his throat i have walked thee too far i have not picked good food always for thee. I have not considered the heat. I have talked to people on the road and left thee alone.

I have—I have—I am I—but I love thee, and it is all too late. I was a child. Oh, why was I not a man?' Overborne by strain, fatigue, and the weight beyond his years, Kim broke down and sobbed at the llama's feet. What to do is here, said the old man gently. Thou hast never stepped a hair's breath from the way of obedience. Neglect me? Child, I have lived on thy strength, as an old tree lived on the lime of a new wall. Day by day, since Sharmlech down, I have storked.

I have stolen strength from thee. Therefore, not through any sin of thine, art thou weakened. It is the body, the silly, stupid body that speaks now. Not the assured soul. Be comforted. No, at least the devils that thou fightest.

They are earth-born, children, of illusion. We will go to the woman from Gulu. She shall acquire merit in housing us and specially intending me. Thou shalt run free till strength returns. I had forgotten the stupid body. If there be any blame, I bear it. But we are too close to the gates of deliverance two-way blame. I could praise thee, but what need? In a little, in a very little, we shall sit beyond all needs.' So he petted and comforted Kim with wise sores and grave texts, on that little understood beast our body, who, being but a delusion, insists on posing as the soul, to the darkening of the way and the immense multiplication of unnecessary devils. Hi, my, let us talk of the woman from Kulu.

Think you she will ask for another charm for her grandsons. When I was a young man, a very long time ago, I was plagued with these vapors, and some others, and I went to an abbot, a very holy man, and a seeker of the truth, though then I knew it not. Sit up and listen, child of my soul, my tale was told, said he to me, Jaila, know this. There are many lies in the world, and not a few liars, but there are no liars like our. bodies, except it be 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 llama's feet and sat about the tea-making. "'Thou leanst on me and the body, holy one, "'but I lean on thee for some other things. "'Dust know it?' "'I have guessed, maybe,' "'and the llama's eyes twinkled. "'We must change that.' "'So when, with scufflings and scrapings

"'and a hot air of importance, "'paddled up nothing less than the Saiba's pet palanquin, "'sent twenty miles with that same grizzled old oria servant in charge, and when they reached the disorderly order of the long, white, rambling house, behind Sir Rannapur, the llama took his own measures. Said the Saiba cheerily from an upper window after compliments, "'What is the good of an old woman's advice to an old man? I told thee, I told thee, holy one, to keep an eye upon the chela. How didst thou do it? 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 nose down, 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 just, said the llama. What time is done? That time is done. we are here upon great matters a sickness of soul took me in the hills and him a sickness of the body since then i have lived upon his strength eating him children together young and old she sniffed but for bore to make any new jokes may this present hospitality restore thee hold a while and 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 go on inspection round the farm, she won to the meat of the matter, explained low-voicedly by the llama. The two old heads nodded wisely together. Kim had reeled to a room with a cot in it, and was

dozing suddenly. The llama had forbidden him to set blankets or to get food. I know, I know, who but I, she cackled. We who go down to the burning gats clutch at the hands of those coming up from the river of life with full water jars. Yes, brimming water jars. I did the boy wrong. He lent thee his strength. It is true that the old eat the young 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 do not ask who cooked this now if it was stored up for my grandson he that had the belly pain to think the holy one remembers that i must tell his mother it is most singular honour He that had the belly pain straight away the Holy One remembered, she will be proud. My jailer is to me, as is our son to the unenlightened. Say grandson, rather, mothers have not the wisdom of our years. If a child cries, they say the heavens are falling. Now a grandmother is far enough separated from the pain of bearing and the pleasure of giving the 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 was here may be I offended in pressing for charms. "'Sis, thar,' said the llama, using that form of address a Buddhist monk may sometimes employ towards a nun, "'If charms comfort thee, They are better than ten thousand doctors. I say, if they comfort me, I who was abbot of Such-Sin, will make as many as thou may's desire.

I have never seen thy face. That even the monkeys who steal our loquots count for a gain. But as he who sleeps there said, He nodded at the shut door of the guest chamber across the forecourt. "'Thou hast a heart of gold. And he is in the spirit of my very grandson to me.' "'Good. I am the holy one's cow.' This was pure Hinduism, but the llama never heeded.

"'I am old. I have born sons in the body. "'Oh, once I could please men. now I can cure them.' He heard her armlets tinkle as though she bared arms for action. "'I will take over the boy and dose him and stuff him and make him whole.

Hi, my, we old people know something yet.' Wherefore, when Kim, aching in every bone, opened his eyes and would go to the cook-house to get his master's food, he found strong coercion about him an availed old figure at the door flanked by the grizzled man-servant, who told him very precisely the things he was on no account to do. "'Thou must have? Thou shalt have nothing. What a locked box in which to keep holy books?

Oh, that is another matter. Heavens forbid I 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 shall, shut away Mabub's pistol, the oil-skin packet of letters, and the locked books and diaries with a groan of relief. For some absurd idea their weight on his shoulders was nothing to their weight on his poor mind. His neck ached under it of nights. "'Thine is a sickness uncommon in youth these days since young folk have given up tending to their betters. The remedy is sleep, and certain drugs,' said the Saiva. And he was glad to give himself up

to the blankness that half menaced and half soothed him. She brewed drinks in some mysterious Asiatic equivalent to the still room, drenches that smelt pestilently, and tasted worse. She stood over Kim till they went down, and inquired exhaustively after they had come up. She laid a taboo upon the forecourt, and enforced it by means of an armed man. It was true he was seventy-odd, that his scabbarded sword ceased to, and he had been. at the hilt, but he represented the authority of the sahiba, and loaded wains, chattering servants, calves, dogs, hens, and the like, fetched a wide compass by those parts. Best of all, when the body was cleared, she cut out from the mass of poor relations that crowded

the back of the buildings, household dogs, we name them, a cousin's widow skilled in what Europeans who know nothing about it call massage. and the two of them, laying him east and west, that the mysterious earth currents which thrill the clay of our bodies might help and not hinder, took him to pieces all one long afternoon, bone by bone, muscle by muscle, ligament by ligament, and lastly, nerve by nerve. Needed to irresponsible pulp, half hypnotised by the perpetual flick, and readjustment of the uneasy chuders that veiled. their eyes, Kim slid ten thousand miles into slumber, thirty-six hours of it, sleep that soaked like rain after drought. End of Chapter 15, Part 1. Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org.

Kim by Rudyard Kipling, read by Adrian Pretzelis. Chapter 15 Part 2, The last section. Then she fed him, and the house spun to her clamour. She caused fowls to be slain. She sent for vegetables, and the sober, slow-thinking gardener, nigh as old as she, sweated for it. She took spices and milk and onion, and, with a little fish from the brooks, anon limes for sherbetts, fat quails from the pits,

then chicken-livers upon a skewer, with spiced 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 the strength out of a man and those who put it back. Once I was that one. Now I am this. Nay, do not play the priestling with me. Mine was but a jest. If it does not hold good now, it will when thou take'st the road again. Cousin, this to the poor relation, never wearied of extolling her patroness's charity. He is getting our bloom on the skin of a new-curried horse. Our work is like polishing jewels to be thrown.

to a dance girl, eh?" Kim sat up and smiled. The terrible weakness had dropped for him like an old shoe. His tongue itched for free speech again, but a week back the lightest word clogged it like ashes. The pain in his neck—he must have caught it from the llama, had gone with the heavy denue aches and the evil taste in the mouth. The two old women a little, but not much more careful about their veils now, clucked as merrily as the hens that entered pecking through the open door.

"'Where is my holy one?' he demanded. "'He hear him. "'The holy one is well,' she snapped viciously. "'Though that is none of his merit, "'new I a charm to make him wise, "'I'd sell my jewels and buy it. "'To refuse good food that I cooked myself "'and go roving into the fields

"'for two nights on an empty belly and to tumble into a brook at the end of it. Can you call that holiness? Then, when he has nearly broken what thou hast left of my heart with anxiety, he tells me that he has a quiet merit. Oh, how like are all men? No, that was not it.

He tells me that he is freed from all sin. I could have told him that before he wetted himself all over. He is well now. This happened a week ago, but burn me such holiness. A babe of three would do better. Do not fret thyself for the Holy One. He keeps both eyes on thee when he is not wading our brooks.

I do not remember to have seen him. I remember that the days and nights passed like bars of white and black, opening and shutting. I was not sick. I was but tired. A lethargy that comes by right, some few score years later, but it is done now. Marani, Kim began, but led by the look in her eye, changed it to the title of plain love.

Mother, I owe my life to thee. How shall I make thanks? Ten thousand blessings upon thy house, and—' The house be unblessed. It is impossible to give exactly the old lady's word. Thank the gods as a priest, if thou wilt, but thank me. if thou carest as a son heaven's above have i shifted thee and lifted thee and slapped and twisted thy ten toes to find texts flung at my head somewhere a mother must have borne thee to break her heart what use thou to her son i had no mother my mother said kim she died they tell me when i was young ay my then none can say i have robbed her any right if, when thou takes the road again, and this house is but one of a thousand used for shelter and forgotten, after an easy-flung blessing.

No matter, I need no blessings, but—but—she stamped her foot at the poor relation. Take up the trays to the house. What is the good of stale food in the room? O woman of ill-omen? I have born a son in my time, too, but he died—wimpered. the bowed sister figure behind the Choudre. Thou know'st he died. I only waited for the order to take away the tray. It is I that am the woman of ill omen,

cried the old lady penitently. We go down to the chatris. The big umbrellas above the burning gats, where the priests take their last dues. Clatch hard at the bearers of the Chatees. Water jars, young folk, full of the pride of life, she meant, but the pun is clumsy. When one cannot dance in the festival, one must e'n look out of the window, and grandmothering takes all a woman's time. Thy master gives me all the charms I now desire for my daughter's eldest,

by reason is it that he is wholly free from sin. The hakeem is brought very low, these days. He goes about poisoning my servants, for lack of their betters. What, Huckie, mother? That very Dakar man, who gave me the pill which rent me in three places, he cast up like a strayed camel a week ago, vowing that he and thou had been blood-brothers together up Kulaway, and feigning great anxiety for thy health. He was very thin and hungry, so I gave orders to have him stuffed to 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 save himself from an apoplexy. He is so full of anxiety for thy health, that he sticks to the cookhouse door and stays himself with scraps. He will keep. We shall never get rid of him. Send him here, mother. The twinkle returned to Kim's eye for a flash. and I will try. I'll send him, but to chase him off is an ill turn.

At least he had the sense to fish the Holy One out of the brook, thus as the Holy One did not say, acquiring merit. He is a very wise, Hakeem. Send him mother. Priest, praising priest, a miracle. If he is any friend of thine, ye squabbled at your last meeting, I'll hail him here with horse. ropes and and give him a cast dinner afterwards, my son. Get up and see the world. This lying a bed

is the mother of seventy devils, my son, my son. She trotted forth to raise a typhoon off the cockhouse, and almost on her shadow rolled in the babu, robed as to the shoulders like a Roman emperor, jowled like Titus, bareheaded with new patent leather shoes in highest condition of fat, exuding joy and salutations. By Jove, Mr. O'Hara, I am jolly glad to see you. I will kindly shut the door. It is a pity you are sick. Are you very sick? The papers, the papers from the kilter, the maps, and the Maralsa. He held out the key impatiently, for the present need on his. soul was to get rid of the loot. "'You are quite right.

"'That is correct departmental view to take. "'Have you got everything?' "'All that was handwritten in the kilter I took, "'the rest I threw down the hill.' "'He could hear the keys great in the lock, "'the sticky pull of the slow-rending oil-skin, "'and a quick stuffing of papers. "'He had been annoyed out of all reason

"'by the knowledge that they lay below him "'through the sick idle days, a burden incommunicable. For that reason, the blood tingled through his body when hurry, skipping elephantinely,

shook hands again. This is fine. This is finest, Mr. O'Hara. You have, ha-ha, swiped the whole bag of tricks, locks, stocks, and barrels.

They told me it was eight months' work, all gone up the spouts. By jove, how they beat me. Look, here is a letter from the Hillas. He intoned a line or two of court Persian, which is the language of authorised and unauthorized diplomacy. Mr. Rajah Saib has just about put his foot in the holes.

He will have to explain officially how the deucinol he is writing love letters to the Tsar. And they are very clever maps. And there is three or four prime ministers of these parts implicated by the correspondence, by Garza, The British government will change the succession in Hillas and Bunah and nominate new heirs to the throne. Treasonmost base. Do you not understand? Eh? Are they in my hands? said Kim.

It was all he cared for. Just you jolly well bet yourself they are. He stowed the entire trove about his body as only Orientals can. They are going up to the office too. The old lady thinks I am a. permanent fixture here, but I shall go away with the straight off immediately. Mr. Lurgum will be proud man. You are officially subordinate to me, but I shall embody your name in my verbal report.

It is a pity we are not allowed written reports. We Bengalis excel in the exact science. He tossed back the key and showed the box empty. Good. That is good. I was very tired. my holy one was sick too. And did he fall into? Oh yes, I am his good friend, I tell you. He was behaving very strange when I came down after you, and I thought perhaps he might have the papers. I followed him on his medications and to discuss ethnological points also. You see, I am very small person here nowadays, in comparison with all his charms. By Jove, O'Hara, do you know he is

afflicted with infirmity of fits? Yes, I tell you, cataleptic too, if not also epileptic. I found him in such a state under a tree in articulum mortum, and he jumped up and walked into a brook, 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 has undergone transfer. information?' The baboo tapped his forehead knowingly. I took notes of his statement for Royal Society, in posse. You must make haste, and be quite well, and come back to Simla, and I will tell you all my tail at Lourgens.

It was splendid. The bottoms of their trousers were quite torn, and, oh, Nathan Raja, he thought they were European soldiers deserting. Oh, the Russians! How long were they with thee? One was a Frenchman, or days and days. Now all the hill people believe all Russians are beggars by Jove. They had not one damn thing that I did not get them. And I told the common people,

Oh, such tales and anecdotes. I will tell you at all Lourgens when you come up. We will have a night out. It is a feather in both our caps, yes, and they gave me certificate. That is creaming joke. You should have seen them at the Alliance Bank identifying themselves. And thank Almighty God you got their papers so well. You did not laugh very much, but you shall laugh when you are well.

Now I will go straightway to the railway and get out. You shall have all sorts of credits for your game. When do you come along? We are very proud of you, though you gave us great frights, and especially Mabub. Aye, Mabub, and where is he? Selling horses in this vicinity, of course. Here? Why? Speak slowly.

There is a thickness in my head still. The baboo looked shyly down his nose. Well, you see, I am a fearful man, and I do not like responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I did not know where Ducon or the papers were, and if so, how many? So, when I had come down here, I slipped in private wire to Mabub. He was at Meirut for races, and I tell him how case stands. He comes up with his men, and he consorts with the llama. And then he calls me a fool, and it's very rude.

But wherefore? Where for? That is what I ask. I only suggest that if anyone steals the papers, I should like some good, strong, brave men to rob them back again. You see, they are vitally important, and Mabub Ali, he did not know where you were. Mabab Ali to rob the Saiba's house? Thou art mad, Babu, said Kim with indignation. I wanted the papers, suppose she had stole them.

It was only practical suggestion, I think. You are not pleased, eh? A native proverb, unquotable, showed the blackness of Kim's disapproval. Well, Harry shrugged his shoulders. "'There is no accounting for the taste. "'Mabub was angry, too. "'He has sold horses all about here, "'and he says old lady is pucker, thorough,

"'old lady, and would not condescend to do such ungentlemanly things. "'I do not care. "'I have got the papers, "'and I was very glad of moral support from Mabub. "'I tell you, I am fearful man, "'but somehow or other, the more fearful I am, "'the more damn tight places I guess, I get into. So I was glad you came with me to Cheney, and I am glad Mabu was close by.

The old lady, she is sometimes very rude to me, and my beautiful pills. Allah be merciful, said Kim on his elbow, rejoicing. What a beast of wonder is a babu, and that man walked alone if he did walk with robbed and angry foreigners. Oh, that was nothing after they had done beating me, but if I lost the papers, it was pretty jolly serious. Mabub, he nearly beat me too, and he went and consorted with the Lama no end. I shall stick to ethnological investigations hence forwards. Now, goodbye, Mr. O'Hara. I can catch 4.25 p.m. to Umbala if I am quick. It will be good times, when we all tell the tale up at Mr. Lourgens. I shall report you officially better.

Goodbye, my dear fellow. "'And when next you are under the emotions, please do not use the Mohammedan terms with the 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, he returned to the humble Dakar quack. "'He robbed them,' thought Kim, forgetting his own share in the game. He tricked them. He lied to them like a Bengali. They gave him a chit, a testimonial. He makes them a mock at the risk of his life.

I would never have gone down to them after the pistol shots, and then he says he is a fearful man. And he is a fearful man. I must get into the world again. At first his legs bent like bad pipe-stems, and the flood and rash of the sunlit air dazzled him. He squatted by the white wall and the mind rummaging, among the incidents of the long-duly journey, the llama's weakness, and, now that the stimulus

of talk was removed, his own self-pity, of which, like the sick, he had a great store. The unnerved brain edged away from all the outside, as a raw horse once rowled, sideless from the spur. It was enough, amply enough, that the spoil of the kilter was away, off his hands, out of his possession. He tried to think of the llama, to wonder why he had stumbled into a brook, but the bigness of the world seen between the forecourt gates swept linked thought aside. Then he looked upon the trees and the broad fields with the thatch huts, hidden among the crops, looked with strange eyes, unable to take up the size and proportion and use of things, stared for a still half-hour. All that, while he felt, though he could not put it into words,

that his soul was out of gear with its surroundings, a cog-wheel, unconnected with any machinery, just like the idle cog-wheel of a cheap Baha'ea sugar-crusher laid by in a corner. The breezes fanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the populated house behind, robbles, orders, and reproofs, hit on dead ears. "'I am Kim! I am Kim! And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again and again. He did not want to cry, had never felt less like crying in his life, but of a sudden, easy stupid tears trickled down his nose, and with an almost audible click, he felt the wheels of his being lock up anew on you on the

the world without. Things that rode meaningless on the eyeball an instant before slid into proper proportion. Roads were meant to be walked upon, houses to be lived in, cattle to be driven, fields to be tilled, and men and women to be talked to. They were all real and true, solidly planted upon the feet, perfectly comprehensible, clay of his clay, never more, nor less. He shook himself like a dog with a flea in its ear, and rambled out of the gate. Said the Saiba, to whom watchful eyes reported this move, "'Let him go. I have done my share. Mother earth must do the rest. When the Holy One comes back from meditation, tell him.' There stood an empty bullet-cart on a little knoll, half a mile away

with a young Banyan tree behind, a lookout, as it were, a look-out, as it were, a above some new ploughed levels, and his eyelids bathed in soft air grew heavy as he neared it. The ground was good, clean dust. No new herbage that living is half-way to death already, but the hopeful dust that holds the seeds of all life. He felt it between his toes, patted it with his palms, and, joint by joint, sighing luxuriously, laid him down full length in the shadow of the wooden-pinned cart. And Mother Earth was as faithful as the Saiba. She breathed through him to restore the poise he had lost, lying so long in a cot cut off from her good currents. His head lay powerless upon her breast, and his opened hands surrendered to her

strength. The many-rooted tree above him, and even the dead man-handled wood beside, knew what he sought. as he himself did not know. Hour upon hour, he lay deeper than sleep. Towards evening, when the dust of returning kind, made all the horizon smoke, came the llama and Mabub Ali, both afoot walking cautiously, for the house had told them where he had gone. Allah! What a fool's trick to play an open country!

muttered the horse-dealer. He could be shot a hundred-tie-hundred-tie-hundred-tie. but this is not the border." "'And,' said the Lama, repeating a many times told tale, "'never was such a chela, temperate, kindly wise of ungrudging disposition, "'a merry heart upon the road, never forgetting learned, truthful, "'gertious great is his reward.' "'I know the boy, as I have said.'

And he was all of those things? Some of them. But I have not yet found a red-hats charm for making him overly truthful. He has certainly been well nursed. The Saiba is a heart of gold, said the llama earnestly. She looks upon him as her son. Hmm. Half Hind seems that way disposed.

I only wished to see the boy had come to no harm and was a free agent. As thou knowst he and I were old friends in the first days of your pilgrimage together. That is a bond between us, the llama sat down. We are at the end of the pilgrimage. No thanks to thee thine was not cut off from good and all a week back. I heard what the Saiba said to thee. When we bore thee up on the cot, Mabub laughed and tugged his newly-dyed beard. I was meditating upon other matters that died. It was the Hakeem from Dakar broke my meditation.

Otherwise, this was in push-to for decency's sake, Thou wast have ended thy meditations upon the sultry side of hell, being an unbeliever, and an idolater for all thy child's simplicity. But now, red hat, what is to be done? This very night! The words came slowly, vibrating with triumph. This very night, he will be as free as I am, from all daint of sin assured as I,

when he quits this body of freedom. from the wheel of things. I have a sign. He laid his hand above the torn chart in his bosom. That my time is short, but I shall have safeguarded him throughout the years. Remember, I have reached knowledge, as I told thee only three nights back.

It must be true, as the Tira priest said, when i stole his cousin's wife that i am a sufi a freethinker for here i sit said mabub to himself drinking in blasphemy unthinkable i remember the tale on that den he goes to janitor la aden the gardens of eden but how wilt thou slay him or drown him in that wonderful river from which the babu dragged thee i was dragged from no river said the lama simply thou hast forgotten what befell i found it by knowledge oh i true stammered mabub divided between high indignation and enormous mirth i had forgotten the exact turn what happened, thou didst find it knowingly. And to say that I would take life is not a sin, but a madness simple. My chelah aided me to the river. It is his right to be cleansed from sin with me.

Aye, he needs cleansing, but afterwards, old man, afterwards. What matter under all the other? the heavens. He is sure of Nibban, enlightened as I am. Well said, I had a fear he might mount Muhammad's horse and fly away. Nay, he must go forth as our teacher. Ah, now I see. That is the right gate for the colt. Certainly he must go forth as a teacher. He is somewhat urgent. urgently needed as a scribe by the state for instance. To that end, he was prepared. I acquired merit in that I gave arms for his sake.

A good deed does not die. He aided me in my search. I aided 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 have attained freedom at the end, the rest is illusion. What matter? When I must have him with me beyond bark in six months?

I came up with ten lame horses and three strong-backed men, thanks to that chicken of a babu, to break a sick boy by force out of a man. old Trot's house. It seems that I stand by while our young Saib is hoisted into Allah knows what of an idolaters heaven by means of an old red hat. And I am reckoned of something of a player of the game myself. But the madman is fond of the boy, and I must be very reasonably mad, too. What is the prayer? said the llama as the ruff pushed to rumbled into the 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 my horses. It grows dark. Do not wake him. I have no wish to hear him call the master. But he is my disciple. What else? He has told me. Mabub choked down his touch of splil. and rose laughing. I am not altogether of thy faith, red hat. If so small a matter concerns thee. It is nothing, said the llama. I thought not.

Therefore, it will not move thee, sinless, new washed, and three parts drowned to boot, when I call thee a good man, a very good man. We have talked together some four or five evenings now, and for all I am a horse-copper, I still, as the saying is, See holiness beyond the legs of a horse. Ye can see, too, how our friend of all the world put his hand in thine at the first. Use him well, and suffer him to return to the world as a teacher,

when thou hast bathed his legs, if that is the proper medicine for the cult. Why not follow thou way thyself? and so accompany thou boy." Mabub stared stupefied at the magnificent insolence of the demand, which across the border he would have paid with more than a blow. Then the humour of it touched his worldly soul. Softly, softly, one foot at a time, as the lame gilding went over the umbala jumps. I may come to paradise later. I have workings that way, great motions. And I have workings that way, great motions. I owe them to thy simplicity.

Thou hast never lied? What need? Oh, Allah hear him. What need in thy world? Nor ever harmed a man? Once with a pencase, before I was wise. So I think the better of thee. Thy teachings are good.

Thou hast turned one man I know from the path of strife. He laughed. immensely. He came here open-minded to commit a decoity, a house robbery with violence. Yes, to cut, rob, kill, and carry off what he desired. Ah, great foolishness. Oh, a black shame, too. So he thought, after he had seen thee, and a few others, male and female, so he abandoned it, and now he goes to beat a big fat baboo-man. i do not understand allah forbid it some men are strong in knowledge red hat thy strength is stronger still keep it i think thou wilt if the boy be not a good servant pull his ears off with a hitch of his broad boccariot belt the pathans swaggered off into the gloaming and the lama came down from his clouds so far as to look at the broad back

That person lacks courtesy and is deceived by the shadow of appearances. But he spoke well of Maitela, who now enters upon his reward. Let me make the prayer. Wake, oh, fortunate above all born of women, wake it is found! Kim came up from those deep wells, and the Lama attended to her. his yawning pleasure, duly snapping fingers to head off evil spirits. "'I have slept a hundred years. Where? Holy one! Has thou been here long? I went out to look for thee, but—' He laughed drowsily. I slept by the way. I am all well now. Has thou eaten? Let

us go to the house. It is many days since I tended thee. And the Saiba fed thee well? Who shampooed thy legs, and what of the weaknesses, the belly in the neck, and the beating in the ears? Gone, all gone, dost thou not know? I know nothing, but that I have not seen in the monkey's age. Know what? Strange the knowledge did not reach out to thee when all my thoughts were the word. I cannot see the face, But the voice is like a gong.

Has the Saiba made a young man of thee by her cookery? He peered at the cross-legged figure, outlined jet black against the lemon-coloured drift of light. So does the stone boaty-sat sit, who looks down upon the patent self-registering turnstiles of the Lahore Museum. The llama held his piece. Except for the click of the rosary and afflate clop-clop of Mabub's retreating feet, The soft, smoky silence of evening in India wrapped them close.

"'Hear me! I bring news!' But let us outshot the long yellow hand, compelling silence. Kim tucked his feet under his robe edge obediently. "'Hear me! I bring news! The search is finished! Comes now the reward!' Thus, when we were among the hills I lived on thy strength till the young branch bowed and nigh broke. When we came out of the hills I was troubled for thee and for other matters which I held in my heart. The boat of my soul lacked direction. I could not see into the cause of things.

So I gave the over to the virtuous woman altogether. I took no food, I drank no water. Still, I saw not the way. They pressed food upon me and cried at my shut door. So I removed myself to a hollow under a tree. I took no food, I took no water. I sat in meditation two days and two nights abstracting my mind, in breathing and out-breathing in the required manner. Upon the second night so great was my reward.

The wise soul loosed itself from the silly body and went free. This I have never before attained, though I have stood on the threshold of it. Consider, for it is a marvel. A marvel indeed. Two days and two nights without food? Where was the Saiba? said Kim under his breath. Yay, my soul went free, and wheeling like an eagle, Thor indeed, that there was no desul. 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. At that point, exalted in contemplation, I saw all hind from Ceylon in the sea to the hills, and my own painted rocks at Sootson. I saw every camp and village to the least where we have ever rested. I saw them at one time and in one place, for they were within the soul.

By this I knew the soul had passed beyond the illusion of time and space and of things. By this I knew that I was free. I saw thee lying in thy cot, and I saw thee falling down hill under the idolater, at one time in one place in my soul, which as I say had touched the great soul. Also I saw the stupid body of Teshu Lama lying down, and the Hakim from Dhaka kneel beside shouting, in its ear. Then my soul

was all alone. And I saw nothing, for I was all things, having reached the great soul. And I meditated a thousand, thousand years

passionless, well aware of the causes of all things. Then a voice cried, what should shall come to the boy if thou are dead. And I was shaken back and forth in myself with pity for thee, and I said, I will return

to my chela, lest he missed the way. Upon this my soul, which is the soul of Deshulama, withdrew itself from the great soul with strivings and yearnings and wretchings. Agonies not to be told As the egg from the fish As the fish from the water As the water from the cloud As the cloud from the thick air

So poured forth So leaped out So drew away So fumed up the soul of Teshulama From the great soul Then a voice cried the river Take heed to the river

river, and I looked down upon all the world, which was as I had seen it before, in one time, in one place, and I saw plainly the river of the arrow at my feet. At that hour my soul was hampered by some evil or other, whereof I was not wholly cleansed, and it lay upon my own. And it lay upon my and coiled round my waist. But I put it aside, and I cast forth as an eagle in my flight for the very place of the river. I pushed aside world upon world for thy sake.

I saw the river below me, the river of the arrow, and descending the waters of it closed, over me and behold i was again in the body of dashu lama but free from sin and the hakeem from daka bore up my head in the waters of the river it is here it is behind the mangotopia even here ala karim oh well that the babu was by was thou very wellest thou very well What? Why should I regard? I remember the Hakeeb was concerned for the body of Dashulama. He hailed it out of the holy water in his hands, and there came afterwards thy horse-seller from the north with a cot and men, and they put the body on the cot and bore it up to the Saiba's house. What said the Saiba? I was meditating in that body and did not hear.

So thus the search is ended. For the merit I have acquired, the river of the arrow is 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 third. threshold of freedom to free thee from all sin, as I am free and sinless. Just is the wheel. Certain is our deliverance. Come! He crossed his hands on his lap and smiled,

as a man may, who has won salvation for himself and his beloved. Chapter 15 and End of Kim by Rudyard Kipling.