My fellow Americans this has been a busy week of diplomatic activity for America I've addressed the United Nations and the International Monetary Fund and World Bank meetings and met with a dozen world leaders among them were the new leader of our neighbor to the north Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney and As you know Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko To the delegates at the UN I emphasized America's dedication to world peace Through confident and stronger alliances and a constructive dialogue with our adversaries I told them of the importance we attached to seeking peaceful solutions to regional conflicts plaguing many nations and the need for democratic principles in human freedom as the foundation for a more prosperous peaceful world At the IMF and World Bank I reported that an American economic renaissance is underway Leading the rest of the world from the darkness of recession toward brighter days of renewed hope and global prosperity World economic growth today is nearly twice what it was four years ago and Inflation in the industrial countries is half of what it was The growing economic independence of our world is creating a ripple effect of good news for those countries committed to sensible Policies policies which allow the magic of the marketplace to create opportunities for growth and progress Free from the dead weight of government interference and misguided protectionism But we can't build an enduring prosperity unless peace is secure Our relations with the Soviet Union have been at the center of my attention and yesterday I met with Foreign Minister Gromyko at the White House for a thorough exchange of views I've said from the outset of my public life that a successful US policy toward the Soviet Union Must rest on realism strength and a willingness to negotiate Last January I spelled out clearly for our goals for US Soviet relations to reduce and eventually Eliminate the threat and use of force in resolving disagreements to reduce the vast stockpiles of armaments in the world especially nuclear arms and to establish a working relationship between our two countries marked by a greater understanding in Our meeting yesterday we covered all issues which separate us and while I told Mr. Gromyko of our disappointment that his country walked out of the Geneva nuclear arms reduction talks last year We remain ready to discuss the entire family of arms control issues as soon as they are It's in both our interest that these talks commence promptly and that progress be made Our two countries have no more solemn responsibility than to reduce the level of arms and to enhance understanding Mr. Gromyko and I also discussed major trouble spots in the world And I told him that it's vital for us to exchange views and help find lasting solutions to these regional disputes We didn't seek to gloss over the hard issues that divide our two countries We were not looking to paper over these differences Indeed, I made plain to Mr. Gromyko what it is about Soviet behavior that worries us and our allies But they were useful talks. I made it clear that we Americans have no hostile intentions toward his country And that we're not seeking military superiority over the USSR I told him if your government wants peace then there will be peace And I said that the United States has committed to move forward with the Soviet Union Toward genuine progress in resolving outstanding issues Pursuing peace prosperity and democracy are not new goals They've been at the heart of an American foreign policy that down through the years has sought to promote Individual freedom and human progress in the world. I think one great change has taken place in the world over the last four years The tide of freedom has begun to rise again Four years ago American influence and leadership were ebbing Our defenses were neglected Our economy was collapsing and other countries were being undermined by communist supported insurgencies Today our economy is vibrant Our strength is being restored Our alliances are solid and peace is more secure Now the Soviets will return home to ponder our exchanges And while they know they will not secure any advantages from inflexibility They will get a fair deal if they seek the path of negotiation and peace Until next week, thanks for listening.


CHAPTER XIII. 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 lama. But they called him a bonz, sitting cross-legged above a mysterious chart held down by stones which he was explaining to a young man, evidently a near-fight, of singular though unwashened beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted half a march away, and Kim had suggested a halt till it came up to them. Ah! said Hari Babu, resourceful as push-and-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 bare-headed in the wash of the afternoon sunlight, low across the gold-coloured grass. The sullen coulis, 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 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 younger people? The speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. We have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere. That, do you understand, is what disquites me. He scowled at the placid face, and the monumental calm of the pose. Of 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 beast-saibs! My medicines cured one of a flux, and I go into similar to oversee his recovery. They wish to see their picture. To heal the sick is always good. This is the will of life, said the lama. The same I showed thee in the heart at Ziggler when the rain fell. And to hear thee expound it. The lama's eyes lightened at the prospect of new 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. Here at, simply as a child engrossed with a new game, the lama 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 Gertin belts that reminded him haisily 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. Summicrast of that tale and very unlike the highly unscrupulous folk of Haribabu's imaging. The coulis, earth-colored 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.  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 Hillis or Buna has written. They guarded most carefully. They have sent nothing back from Hillis or Le, that is sure. Who is with them? Only the bigar coulis. 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 Mahbub Ali's hands than a Bengali's," said Kim scornfully. There are more ways of getting to a sweetheart than butting down a wall. See here the hell appointed for avarice and greed flanked upon the one side by desire and on the other by weariness. The lama 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 lama, 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 to bet is full of cheap reproductions of the wheel, but the lama was an artist, as well as a wealthy abbot in his own place. Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Saib 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, hakim!" He wishes it, no, for money.  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 pen-case, 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, sasa, you must not hit Holy Man!" Jaila! He has defiled the written word! It was too late. Before hakim could ward him off, the Russians struck the old man full on the face. Next instant he was rolling over and over downhill with kirm 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 lama dropped to his knees, half stunned. The Coolies, under their loads, fled up the hill as fast as planesmen ran across the level. They had seen sacrilege unspeakable, and had behooved them to get away before the gods and devils of the hills took vengeance. The Frenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with some notion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting stones, Hillman, our very straight shots, drove him away, and a coolie from Oh Chung snatched the lama 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 Hari, 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 specially the Murasla, 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 Hari, "'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 damned tight place, but I think it is self-defense.' He felt in his bosom for Mahbub's gift, and, uncertainly, save for a few practice shots in the Bikaneer Desert he had never used the little gun, pulled Trigger. "'What did I say, sir?' The babu 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, Cheyla?' called the lama above him. "'No, and thou?' he dived into a clump of stunted furs. "'Unheard. Come away. We go with these folks to Chamle under the snow.' "'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. "'I have got the Sahib's guns all for. 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 coulis, 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 lama, his hand over his brow. "'For that very reason,' was the reply. "'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, he acquires merit by obedience.' "'Wait, and we will all go too shumly together,' the man insisted. "'For a moment, not just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader,' the lama 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 Abbott of Suitsen. "'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 too?' The man from O' Chung fell to his knees, for the voice boomed like a Tibetan devil-gong. "'Aye, aye,' cried the speedy man, "'do not curse us, do not curse us. "'It was but his zeal, holy one. Put down the rifle, fool!' "'Anger, evil, unevil, 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 born many times in torment.' His head drooped, and he leaned heavily on Kim's shoulder. "'I have come near to great evil-chailor,' he whispered in that dead hush under the pines. "'I was tempted to lose the bullet, and truly, in Tibet, there would have been a heavy and a slow death for them.  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-chang 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 O-chang man with a laugh. "'Not for five years was I yankling Saibs' chikari without knowing that medicine. "'I too have tasted it. Behold!' He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap whisky, such as is sold to explorers at Le, and cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth. "'So did I when yankling Saib twisted his foot beyond our store. "'A-ha! I have already looked into their baskets, but we will make a fair division at Shamaleh. "'Give him a little more. It is good medicine. "'Feel his heart goes better now.  "'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, for one does not live in Rampour,' said one whose heart lay within a few miles of the Rajah's rickety palace. "'When we get a bad name among the Saibs, none will employ us as Shekaris any more. "'Oh! But these are not un-greasy Saibs, not merriminded men like Fustam Saib or Yanklin Saib. They are foreigners. They cannot speak un-greasy as do Saibs.' "'Hear the llama coughed and sat up, groping for the rosary.' "'Dare shall be no killing,' he murmured. "'Just is the wheel, evil on evil!' "'Nay, holy one, we are all here.' The old chung man timidly patted his feet. "'Except by thy order, no one shall be slain. Rest awhile. "'We will make a little camp here, and later, as the moon rises, we go to Shamlech under the snow. "'After a blow,' said a speedy man, senticiously, "'it is best to sleep.' "'There is, as it were, a dizziness 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 Saibs see.' "'Better get away to Shamlech. None will follow us to Shamlech.' "'This was the nervous Rampour man.' "'I have been Fustam Saib's shikari, and I am Yanklin Saib's shikari. "'I should have been with the Yanklin Saib now, but for this accursed Bigar, the Corvay. "'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 lama, and, while listening a while, passed round a water-pipe whose receiver was an old Dayan 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 cheek-bones, and the bull-throats that melted away into the dark duffel 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 round 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 Ibex, out, locked away, that Dupont Saib, 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 heal 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 Shamla 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 our Raja 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 Shamla-midden, where no man has yet set foot. Who is at Shamla this summer?' The place was only a grazing-center of three or four huts. "'The woman of Shamla! She has no love for Saibs as we know. The others can be pleased with little presence, and here is enough for us all.' He patted the fat sides of the nearest basket. "'But, but, I have said they are not true Saibs. All their skins and heads were bought in the bazaar at Le. I know their 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 similar to Chinni, and farther from Shamla to Shamla-midden.' "'So be it. But I carry the big kilter, the basket with the red top that the Saibs pack themselves every morning. Thus it is proved,' said the Shamlay man adroitly, "'that they are Saibs of no account, who ever heard of Fostom Saib, or Yanklin Saib, or even little Peel Saib that sits up at night to shoot Saroe. I say, who ever 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.' Shamla-midden will take them all.' "'True. But how if we insult the Saibs' 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. Hist! We will wake his chela.' The odd-chug 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 lama drew breath in natural, easy sleep, and Kim had been thinking of Hari'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, "'think as though 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 odd-chug 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 away from Shamle 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 Kims, but simply beautifully and inevitably as the captor of Mabu's Faqir friends by the zealous young policeman at Umballa. 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, would pass beyond recall, that the Rajah, his master, was ninety miles away and so far from lending them money and a retinue for the similar journey, which 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 bade him change the subject. Their one hope, he said, was an ostentatious 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 Sahibs 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-tongued doctors were scarce. But he preferred to endure cold, belly-pinch, bad words and occasional blows in the company of his honored 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? Hari 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 un-Christian answer. Revolvers? Vengeance? Bondses? Hari crouched lower. The war was breaking out afresh. Have you no consideration for our loss? The baggage, 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, Bonner, and three hundred 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 Hari, it would not have been better, but by Jove, now I think of it, of course, I arranged it myself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran down Hill, I thought it. The outrage was accidental, but only me could have worked it for all it was damn well worth.  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. CHAPTER XIV 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. His prayer is all the worlds and mine. THE PRAYER In moon-rise the cautious coolies got under way. The lama, 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 Chinney 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-fashion they were perched on the edge of all things, the ground fell sheer, two thousand feet, to Shamlik Midden, where never yet man has set foot. The men made no motion to divide the plunder till they had seen the lama bedded down in the best room of the place, with Kim shampooing his feet, Mohammedan fashion. We will send food," said the O'Chung 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 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 the light considering vast matters. Yes, if he has a chailer 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 now 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 has saved the Sa'ibs from the death they deserved a hundred times.' "'The lesson is not well learned, chailer.' The lama came to rest on a folded blanket, as Kim went forward with his evening routine.  My legs weary apace these latter days. It meant evil in 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 straight way 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 blessings,' 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 will swerving not the hair.' "'Learn the lesson, Jailer.' "'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 evil in thy soul working through to mine. Yet on the other hand,' he loosed his rosary, "'I have acquired merit by saving two lives, the lives of those that wronged me. Now I must see into the cause of things both of my soul-staggers. Sleep and be strong, that is wisest. I made it dead. There is our need greater than thou knowest.' Till the dawn, 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 and showed as tender green forest, the lama 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, Shamlech and the Coolies gave itself up to plunder and riotous living. The O'Chung man was their leader, and once they had opened the Sahib's tinned foods and found that they were very good, they dared not turn back. Shamlech Kitchen Midden took the donege. When Kim, after a night of bad dreams, stole forth to brush his teeth in the morning chill, a fair-coloured woman with turquoise-studded headgear drew him aside. The others have gone. They left thee this kilter as the promise was. I do not love Sahib's, but thou wilt make us a charm in return for it. We do not wish little Shamlech to get a bad name on account of the accident. I am the woman of Shamlech." She looked him over with bold bright eyes, unlike the usual furtive glance of 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 clearly 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 Sahib'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 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-ho!—and particularly the Marasla! He sniffed the embroidered bag. That must be from Hillas Obuna, and Harry Babu 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 Sahib 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 five worn pocket-books, he put aside. The letters and the Marasla 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 cude. So that is all right.  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 do not think anyone will go after you. The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodolite hit a jutting cliff-edge and exploded like a shell. The books, ink-stands, 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 Harry Babu, 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 wrapped 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.  Thou art not drunk? I am a priest. Kim had recovered himself, and the woman, being ought but unlovely, thought best to stand on his office. I warn them that the saibs 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!" Quote the woman, putting out a hard brown hand, all covered with turquoise is set in silver. I can finish that in a breath, he went on quickly. The babu is the very Hakim. 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 babus 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 love, tore a leaf from a notebook, and with a patient indelible pencil, wrote in gross chicast, the script that bad little boys use when they write dirt on walls. I have everything they have written. They are pictures of the country and many letters. Especially the Marasla. Tell me what to do. I am at Shamlich under the snow. The old man is sick. Take this to him.  He cannot have gone far. Indeed, no. They are still in the forest across the spur. Ah, 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 at Tending Cattle had picked it up from a brother or sister on the far side of the slope that commanded Chinney 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 a blank ignorance. Does 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. Has 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.  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 bed-fellows. Hai, 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 Sahibs, eh? True. News was at Ziggler by midnight, and by tomorrow should be a Kotkar. The villages are both afraid and angry. No need. Tell the villagers to feed the Sahibs and pass them on in peace. We must get them quietly away from our 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 Rajah. I am no common bearer of babes. Shamlech 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 pestered by women? There was the girl at Acrola of the Ford, and there was the Scullion's wife behind the dove-cott, 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. Well, that's 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. Shamlech'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 saucepans 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 chang, 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 Syibs, who had employed them or their friends as Shikaris. Kim heard tales of shots missed upon Ibex, Surro, or Makur by Syibs twenty years in their graves, every detail lighted from behind like twigs on treetops seen against lightning. They told him of their little diseases, and, more important, the diseases of their tiny, sure-footed cattle, of trips as far as Kotgar, where the strange missionaries live, and beyond, even to marvellous similar, where the streets are paved with silver, and any one look you can get service with the Syibs, 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, round and channeled, and pitted with little patches of brush, forests each a day's dark march. Behind the village, Shamla 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 voice prompting, would point out the road to speak south across the perungla. Beyond where the hills lie, thickest lies dead Chen, he meant Hanley, the great monastery. Star Chan Ras Chen built it, and of him there runs this tale, whereupon he told it, a fantastic piled narrative of bewitchment and miracles that set Shamlae a gasping. Turning west a little, he speared for the green hills of Kulu, and sought Kailang under the glaciers. For there there came I, in the old days, from there I came, over the Barolachi. Yes, yes, we know it, said the far-faring people of Shamlae. And I slept two nights with the priests of Kailang. These are hills of my delight. Shadows blessed above all other shadows.  There I found enlightenment, and there I girded 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 marveled at his passion. Yes, yes, there is no place like our hills, said the people of Shamlae, 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 plow 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 unbreathed as when she had set out. I sent a word to the Hakim, 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 Hakim? 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 similar. After which hope to rejoin you. Inexpident 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 lama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head. That may not be, Cheyla, for my bones 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 botan woods, where they keep the sacred horse. Quiet, be quiet, said Shamlech all around. He speaks of Jamlin Nintkor, the horse that can go round the world in a day. I speak to my Cheyla only, said the lama, 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 Sengor Guttok 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 Sengor Guttok. I went and we fought a day. But how, holy one, with our long pen cases, as I could have shown, I say we fought under the poplars both Abbot 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.  Follow that which thou deceit, 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 Shamlich could I meditate upon the cause of things or trace the running grass-roots 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 Mobu Ali's phrase slipped out unawares. In the dawn the lama went on more gravely, ready rosary clicking between the slow sentences. Came in light and meant it is here I am an old man. Hillbred, hill-fed, never to sit down among my hills. Three years I travelled through Hind, but can earth be stronger than mother earth?  I said, and it is true, my search is sure. So at the Kulu woman's house I turned Hillbred over persuaded by myself there is no blame to the Hakim. He, following desire, foretold 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 amok of thee when thy breath came short under jam notry. I gested 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 Hakim's and 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.  The world prepared my road. And why? Because we loved thee. It is only the fever of the blow.  No, it was because I was upon the way. Turned as our CNN symbols to the purpose of the law. 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 Buffett 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, Jailer. But the Sybes did not know thee, Holy One? We were well matched.  The blow was a sign to me who am no better than a strayed yak 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 a quiet I gain yet another sign. He put his hand in his bosom and drew forth the wheel of life. I considered this after I had meditated. There remains untoward by the idolater no more than the breath of 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 Tibetans, across the human and animal worlds to the fifth house, the empty house of the senses, the logic was unanswerable. Before our Lord won enlightenment 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 here? Shall we at least wait for the Hakim? I know how long I shall live in this body. What can a Hakim 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 yielded to desire. Make ready, Chela. 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 de babu, snorting and sneezing with cold. He was so hungry that he forgot his dignity and gave me sweet words. The sahibs 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 sahibs 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 sahibs. Why does he not leave them? Out of the greatness of his heart.  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 sahib. 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. Thou gods be good to us, since when have men and women been other than men and women? A priest is a priest. He says he will go upon this hour. I am his chailer, 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, a Saib looked upon me with favour. Once long ago I wore European clothes at the mission-house yonder. She pointed toward Kotgar. Once long ago I was Colistian and spoke English. As the Saib speaketh, 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 Colistians lied. I went back to my own people. I have never set eyes on a Saib since. Do not laugh at me, the fittest past little pristling.  Curse me! Thou canst neither curse nor bless. She set her hands on her hips and laughed bitterly.  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 a 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-bag. I wait for thee, Chela," 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 Saib'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.  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 lama had squatted limpely, 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 alive 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.  And he knelt and comforted with such poor words as came first to his lips. Then the woman returned more erect than ever. Thy god's useless, eh? Try mine. I am the woman of Shamlech. She hailed hoarsely and they came out of a cowpen her two husbands and three others with a duly. The rude native litter of the hills that they used for carrying the sick and for visits of state. These cattle! She did not condescend to look at them. Ah, thine! for so long as thou shalt need. But we will not go similar way. We will not go near the Saebes," cried the first husband. They will not run away as the others did. Nor will they steal baggage. To I know for weaklings. Stand to the pentpole, 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 lama 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 hut and snooped above a battered English 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 sahib's render thanks? And her hard eyes softened. I am but a wandering priest," said Kim, his eyes lighting in answer. It is neither my blessings nor my curses. Nay! But for one little moment thou canst overtake the duly in ten strides. If thou wasst a sahib, shall I show thee what thou wouldst do. How if I guessed, though," said Kim, and 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 in 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. Good-bye, and thee God bless you. Half an hour later, as the creaking litter jolted up the hill-path that leads south-easterly from Shamlech, Kim saw a tiny figure at the hot door, waving a white rag. She has a quiet merit above all others," said the lama. For to set a man upon the way for 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 a quiet 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, his hand on the litter's edge and buckled down to the slow pace of the grunting husbands. These also are quiet merit," said the lama after three miles. More than that they shall be paid in silver," quote Kim. The woman of Shamlech had given it to him, and it was only fair, he argued, that her men should earn it back again. End of Chapter 14 PART 1. CHAPTER XV. I'd not give room for an emperor. I'd hold my road for a king. To the triple crown 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 Chini, on the blue shale of Ladakh, lies Yanklin Saib, the merry minded man spy-glossing 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 Bousha the far-beholding eagles of the Himalayas swerve at his new blue-and-white gored 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 unskillfully to Masha-Bratunnel, which leads to the great and gay capital of India. It was not his fault that, blanketed by wet mists, he conveyed them past the telegraph station and the European colony of Kotkar. It was not his fault, but that of the gods, of whom he discourse so engagingly, that he led them into the borders of Nahan, where the raja of that state mixedook them 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 skilful 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 leaf 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, Mahendro Laldut M.A. of Karkata 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, along crowded, similar mile, 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 shamly slope, a just man made perfect. Watch him, or Babudom laid aside, smoking at noon on a cot, while a woman with turquoise-studded 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 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 Dune, Missouri 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 lama who seeks a river for his healing. Villages have almost come to blows over the honor of bearing it, but not only had the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good money. Full one-third Saib's prices. Twelve miles a day has the dually traveled, as the greasy rubbed pole ends show, and by roads that few Saibs use. Over the Nilang Pass, in storm, when the driven snow-dust filled every fold of the impassive lama's drapery, between the black horns of Reang, 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 Dune 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 dually has reached her last stage. The little hill-folk sweat in the modified heat of the lower sywhilics, and gather round the priests for their blessing and their wage, ye have acquired merit, says the lama, 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-sandle.  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 dually, and swing out of sight between the scrub-clumps. The lama raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas. Not with you! O 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 planes. Here, O hearabouts, 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 lama'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 lama's feet, who rewarded him with promise of freedom, to-day, to-morrow, or at furthest the next day. There was such a chala! I doubt at times whether Ananda more faithfully nursed our lord. And thou art a saib? 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 chala, and my head is heavy on my shoulders. Patience, alito! 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 Wonderhouse was in past life a very wise abort. But even his spectacles do not make my eye see. There fall shadows when I would look steadily. No matter.  Shadow changing to another shadow. I am bound by the illusion of diamond space. How far came we to day in the flesh? Perhaps half a curse? Three quarters of a mile, and it was a weary march. Half a curse? 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 bead so heavy. Chala hast thou never a wish to leave me? Kim thought of the oil-skin packet and the books in the food bag. If some one duly authorised would only take delivery of them the great game might play itself for ought he then cared. He was tired and heart 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 art 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 morning, saying that thou was the little feeble and which 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 carelessnesses 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—hi, my—but I love thee, and it is all too late. I was a child. Oh, why was I not a man? Overborn by strain, fatigue, and the weight beyond his years, Kim broke down and sobbed at the lama's feet. What a to-do is here, said the old man gently. Thou hast never stepped his 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 shamlech down, I have stolen strength from thee. Therefore, not through any sin of thine art thou weakened.  No, at least the devils that thou fight this. They are earth-born children of illusion. We will go to the woman from Kulu. She shall acquire merit in housing us, and especially intending me. Thou shalt run free till strength returns.  If there be any blame, I bear it. But we are too close to the gates of deliverance to weigh 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 sika 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 lama's feet, and sat about the tea-making. Now leanst on me and the body, holy one, but I lean on thee for some other things. Does know it? I have guessed, may be, and the lama'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 sahiba'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 Saranapur, the lama took his own measures. Said the sahiba 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 Jaila. How disthow'd 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, five-five, and a priest too. Kim looked up, over weary to smile, shaking his head in denial. Do not jest, said the lama. 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 lama. The two old heads nodded wisely together. Kim had reeled toward room with a cot in it, and was dozing suddenly. The lama 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. Do haas many times a quiet merit. My merit? What is it? Old bag of bones making curries for men who do not ask, who cooked this? Now, if it were stored up for my grandson. To think the Holy One remembers that, I must tell his mother, it is most singular honor. 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 maybe I offended in pressing for charms. This thar, said the lama, 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 abit of such sin, will make as many as thou mayest desire. I have never seen thy face, that even the monkeys who steal our loquats 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 lama 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. I, my! We old people know something yet. Wherefore, when Kim, aching in every bone, opened his eyes, and would go to the cookhouse 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 shut away Mabu'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. Their remedy is sleep, and certain drugs, said the Saeba. 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 at the hilt, but he represented the authority of the Saeba, and loaded wanes, 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 but 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 hypnotized by the perpetual flick and readjustment of the uneasy chudeurs 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


Let's check this out. Let's check this out. And there we are. Nice, nice, nice. Hi everyone. This is Chichou. Welcome to my channel and welcome to another patio garden livestream. Nice, nice, nice. Loving these, loving these. This is I think third one this month. And today, today, today, today is June 26th, 2022. I hope you're all doing well. We live in amazing times and we're here to just chill, talk about whatever we want to chill and whatever we want to talk about and smoke a nice Cuban cigar. I grab the Sancho Panza Balacostas again. Okay, I want to pick this up yesterday.  And then it's good like this, maximum two days. I wouldn't keep it more than maybe three days if we're going camping or something. But usually a day is perfect. Two days is my limit to a certain degree. Three days is still okay. Okay. Rage Laugh Out Loud 306. Welcome to our live stream. Hello, hello. Hope you're doing well. As for snacks, guys, I got some mandarin and apples. Fruit and cigars go amazing together. Eat healthy, hydrate. First time chat. Strong as one, two, three, nine, seven. What are your thoughts on Roe versus Wade? We're going straight into the business. We're going straight into the business because we're chilling and talking about Roe versus Wade. We're them bakery munchies. No bakery. I'm trying to take it easy on the bakery munchies. I've been going crazy on my partner's sourdough bread, homemade organic sourdough bread. So I go through binges. That being said, that being said, I did hit it up two days ago. I had some big pastries. I already ate them up. Done deal. Nicholas, how are you doing? Hope you're doing well. Finally, Twitch notified me. What's up, Chicho and chat. Hello, Nicholas. Hope you're doing well. Snack wise, I had the apples and mandarin. My partner just made me some iced coffee with oat milk. Okay. And you can just shake, mix it up.  I'm not going to mix it up too close. I'll give you the look on it. Looks amazing. Tastes fantastic with honey. Sweetened with honey. Okay. I'm just going to mix this up. So we get it all going in. And it's hot here. It's like very hot. Yesterday was like 28, 29 degrees Celsius, I believe. And we went for a walk and came back. We were exhausted. Right. And today it's going to be about the same, 26, 27 iced coffee. I'm going to have a sip. Salute gang. Coffee and cigars. Oh my God. Amazing together. Amazing together. Yeah, I'm not a huge cup. I love coffee, but I could go ballistic on it. So I refrain from drinking, introducing coffee into a routine. It's a delicacy for me. I love it though, man. It's not good for the system. The amount you can drink or I can drink. Oh my God. Are we doing finished, dude? Hello, hello, Cheryl. How are you doing? Hi gang. Hi Chicho. Hello, Cheryl. Welcome, welcome on charter day. Say Chicho and chat. Hope you're having a great weekend. Indeed, indeed, indeed. What up Chicho? Baby night five. How are you doing? It's 31 Celsius for you guys. Yeah, we're high 20s here. And it's hot. It's hot. I changed my hat to a lighter hat that I have nice and green, chill, lighter color shirt, cool drinks. I got some vodka that I had in the freezer. It's sort of thawing now. Vodka you can keep in the freezer. And I'm gonna have it on the rocks. Indeed, indeed. On the rocks, on the rocks. Hot water like this. On the rocks. Okay. I'm just gonna let it cool down and just melt the ice away. And sort of dilute the vodka and cool it down. It'll be a nice drink. And of course always have water. Water handy. A little sip of water. Liz, how are you doing? Welcome, welcome to our live stream. Weep of Forge. Respectable, respectable. I hope so. I hope everyone's respectable. MC Mike, how are you doing?  I want a coffee in a cigar. I know. I've been looking forward to this live stream, man. As soon as I set it up, I'm like, oh man, today I'm gonna go chill in the patio, smoke a cigar and chat with people. This is fantastic. First time chat. Svattigral. Hello from Slovakia. Hello, Slovakia. Hope you're doing well. Love your green patio. Thank you very much. Here, let me give you a full view on it right now. Let me give you a full view on it. This is, this is our patio. I got two kitty cats here. One sleeping here. It's super hot for them. And another one's over there in the shade. So you got two kitty cats here as well. Okay. These are, these are grapes. These are all grapes that are coming. It took me, it took me about, because they're the neighbors grapes and they were coming in from the side and I slowly started directing them coming up the steps here and I built this wall here and I brought, so it took about five years to get at this stage. Coming all away from the bottom. So grapes grow really fast in the right environment, right? And they give plenty grapes. Plenty grapes. I'm gonna harvest these grapes when they, two rounds of harvesting. When they're raw, we pick the raw grapes.  When you put them in meats, they give a nice tangy flavor to meats, especially chickens. Chicken amazing with this stuff, right? And then when they're ripened, we harvest them as well. So we're gonna get a load coming in. Like there's lots. And I have another grape vine from a pot coming here. And this grape vine is special. It's my grandmother, brother from Iran. So a long time ago. Baby Nights, it's 35 Celsius here. Youch. Dubb BXY. Good morning Chico. Hope you are doing well indeed. Indeed. Thank you, Lord Bar Ciccio. My man, what's happening? Smogun is a guard. Let's start the, start the cigar. Let's start the cigar. I went with a Sancho Panza, Bellacosos again, the torpedoes. Okay, because I'm just gonna close the sub so we don't lose the moisture in there because you can reuse those as well. Sancho Panza, Bellacosos, torpedoes. Okay. The last one we smoked, it's got a vein here. Serious vein, where is that vein? Serious vein. Well, it looks bigger on camera than it doesn't. But what you want to do with cigars, you want to squish them. Go along. And you want to make sure there's no knots and there shouldn't be in the cigar, right? Because all the leaves are rolled like this, parallel like this. So the draw is smooth, right? If there are any knots in there, the smoke is not smooth. So if you do get any cigars that have knots in them, hopefully your Cubans at this level, you won't. It'll be rare. Like one and I don't know what, right? But I have seen knots in other cigars, but sometimes it's a little tight. You want to squish that, loosen that up a little bit, right? And you shouldn't hear any crunching. If you hear crunching, it means the cigars dried up, right? I want to get some butane, okay? And I filled up my torch lighter. Fantastic torch lighter. I've had this for 20 years, right? Or this one maybe, this one maybe 15 years, right? Japanese made, very well made, crazy well made. Okay. And got the cigar cutter. So I'm going to give this a nice cut while I catch up with the chat. Finished 32 here. Wow, wow. It's Finland. It's supposed to be cold, yeah. But summertime, right? Finland, you guys get about the same type of weather we do on the west coast of Canada, I think. Enjoy my friend. Make it a wonderful day in the Cheryl. I've been doing a lot of work on the road lately and I've gotten in the bad habit of picking up frozen mocha with peanut butter and oatmeal. Oh my god, sounds so delicious. So freaking good. But word of caution, brain freeze when you're driving are not fun or safe or safe. And these types of drinks contain calories up the yin and yang, right? MC Mike and Joey Chichou, you freaking earned it. Thanks brother. Loving the patio live streams, why do I want me too? Me too, man. Dub X, Y. I'm going to cut this. I'm going to give it a nice cut. Nice enough cut, right? See that? That's not bad. That's a good smoke, right? There's a little bit of thickness there in that one but I think that's just from the cut. Might be a little bit of a step. And here's the end of it, right? Some people keep these. I don't. To a certain degree, I wish I had, I don't know how many I would have right now. It'd be an insane amount. It'd be an insane amount. I love this time of year in BC. Yeah, wish it was like this for more than two months. Yeah, dub me too, me too. July gang, if you're ever going to visit the west coast of Canada, if you like the sun, the swim, the green, the fruits, the vegetables, the berries, hiking, just nature and stuff, July, August is a great time to be in BC. Be careful with these torchlighters, they burn instant, right? Nicholas Chichou, don't forget to try a waterman in liqueur before summer. Oh, Choo-choo-choo dad and Nicholas. For some reason, I've stayed away from the liqueurs for a last little while. I just haven't desired the sweetness of it. The liqueurs really come in when I'm making fresh liqueurs. I get into them summertime, we'll get into them. We'll do a liqueur stream in a patio for sure. Just set it all up and clean up the liqueurs and see what we've got to make this summer, all right? But I've been more enjoying the straight-up neat or on the rocks. Salute, gang. Salute. Joe Aquatic. Good afternoon. 88 degrees Fahrenheit in Connecticut. Nice, nice. 88 degrees Fahrenheit. What does that turn out to? That's around mid-twenties Celsius, I believe, isn't it? Cheryl, if I ever get to road trip to BC, is there any chance I could have a clipping 100% of the grape? Cheryl, 100%. It's and it's giving grapes as well. I gave it a little bit last year. You can get as many clippings as you want of different things we got. Baby Knight, did you ever grow your own tobacco and yeah, yeah, smoke it? If you did, how was it? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've grown. I got a jar, a couple jars, three jars of tobacco. We're not growing tobacco this year. I grew it last year as well and you can hang it and dry it. I'm not here. It's light tobacco, white tobacco. So I'm not a cigarette smoker, so I've smoked it a little bit but I just keep it and I give it as a gift to friends. I have friends that have and do smoke and every now and then as a special gift I give them a little bit of just a bag of the tobacco we've grown. Tobacco is beautiful. Beautiful plants. Beautiful plants. Alligar, watch Paul McCartney last night. What a surprise guest at the end. What was a surprise guest? It wasn't Zelinsky. Oh my God, was it? I saw a thing that was flying the Ukrainian flag. Is that clown still alive? Paul McCartney. Who should have bit the dust? Crazy. MC Maijcicho. What's your opinion on Cuban cigars like Monte Cristo, Cojiba, Romeo, Juliet, etc. Cojiba, they're all fantastic depending on the gauge, the brand. Cojiba's overpriced. Cojiba I've smoked a lot. It's got a great woody smoky flavor on the strong side but it's overpriced. You can get the same caliber cigar as any of the Cojiba. Cojiba's at anywhere between 20 to 30%, even 40% less in price. Last time I bought a Cojiba was a long time ago, so I don't know the prices of Cojiba's. For example, this torpedo, Sancho Panza, I pay in Canada with taxes and everything's ridiculous, like $38. Cojiba, same, would probably cost me around 50, 50 plus dollars. And it's quality fantastic, same. You wouldn't be able to tell the difference unless you've got a special tongue for a cigar. Well, you could tell the difference but you couldn't tell. You wouldn't, you would just consider them taste different, right? Caliber, same. Cubano more bueno. Cubano more bueno at Lark Park. Oh, Cali, I bet his heart. Around 90s. Ouch. I snag some nice cigars from the Dominican Republic. Simtron. Yeah, Dominican has some fantastic cigars. Same with Honduras. A few different countries have really nice cigars. So much to do here in the sun as well. Cali, Cali, and BC, you mean? Yeah, BC, dub, yeah, yeah, yeah. And gang, do not, do not forget. One of the greatest human beings in terms of what they have accomplished for humanity, what they have done humanity, not in terms of who they are, in terms of their character, how they treat people, if they use the right words, if they're politically correct and all that bullshit, superficial bullshit, right? One of the most important human beings ever, really, that has been a warrior for humanity has been tortured for the last 10 plus years, right? And as of right now, he has been stripped naked, thrown into solitary confinement in the UK. Okay. Continuation of the torture that is endured for the last 10 years by centralized power, right? And it's a very dangerous period, right? Because this person, which is Julian Assange, represents the freedom that we are fighting for, right? So do not, do not, do not forget that we have to work towards freeing Julian Assange. And that is becoming more and more difficult. There's no doubt, right? However, we have to, I don't want to say that he's on the verge of being executed. I hope not, right? We'll disappear where we won't hear from him ever again, right? I hope not, right? But we have to honor what he has done. There is no doubt, right? If you have an ounce of integrity, you have to honor what Julian Assange has sacrificed, which is basically his life, right? So we have to work towards, really, towards freeing Julian Assange, because he is a publisher, a journalist that is working for humanity, trying to reveal war crimes, okay, trying to bring transparency, accountability of capitalist power to humanity, something that we desperately need in our societies. Okay. If you want further information, see wikileaks.org, defend.wikileaks.org, and we do have a Julian Assange and Wikileaks playlist on SensorTube, and you can get a sort of a good feel of what the struggle is about. Okay. So again, salut to Julian Assange. Salut to one of the greatest human beings to ever walk this earth.   And we have to honor him. Okay. To Julian. Finish, dude. It's going to be 35 degrees Celsius next week, and it's 25 to 35, yeah, negative 25 to 35 in winter. Yikes. In, uh, you have more of a temperature where you are in Finland than of, uh, uh, Ontario and Quebec. On the west coast of Canada, where the fluctuations are more mild, we don't get to negative 25, negative 35 here. Cheryl, oh, I don't think I mentioned to you that my nephew is heading to University of Washington in fall. I've already warned him. He may have us crashing his room. Nice. I forgot how far apart everything there is, though. Was surprised it was five to six hours to near, uh, nearest you guys. I also thought a run up to Whistler would be fun, but there's so, yeah, it's a serious trek. It's a few hours, and border crossing. Can't believe I forgot how bug the Pacific Northwest. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Dark Bark. I used to smoke not anymore, but I enjoy watching other smokes, especially cigars, especially cigars. I'm actually a very, sort of on a fanatical level anti-cigarette smoker. I detest cigarette smoking, right? I actually have told friends that once they picked up smoking, I told them that I couldn't hang around them as much as I did before because they smoked cigarettes and I hated the smell. So I actually detest cigarette smoking, but cigars is a different game, right? Cigars is a different game. Delicious iced coffee. So nice torn between the vodka and iced coffee. Vocalist, how are you doing?  Are you pro or anti-abortion? I'm pro, bodily autonomy.  No centralized power, no other individual has the right to come up to me and say what I can or cannot do to my body.  Anybody that thinks they have the right to come to anybody else and tell them what they can do to their bodies is the enemy of humanity. I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't agree with suicide, for example, right?  Does that mean I'm pro-suicide? No, definitely not. Does that mean I'm pro-freedom, bodily autonomy? 100%. Controller Zen. Many of you may not know this, but chichu has a mass, this immense fortune by importing humans into Canada. And I'm not just talking about scars. Hilarious controller Zen. By the way, gang, I can honestly tell you, intellectually, intellectually, I have had the most intellectual conversations, okay, during my travels, the limited number of countries I've traveled to, okay, the most intelligent conversations I have had, they've been in two countries, okay, Cuba and Ireland. Those two places, I know I haven't gone everywhere, I haven't talked to everyone and stuff like this, the two of the countries that just regular Joe Blow walk into a cafe, walk into a bar, walk into a restaurant, walk down the street, has been Cuba and Ireland. Thank you very much for the follow, scorgi. Appreciate it. Chemical fire, what are you doing? I like the smell of most cigars, I don't smoke though. Yeah, the smell of cigars is amazing. It does linger though on your clothes and stuff. Sven, how are you doing? Welcome back, welcome back. I love how chill you are and intelligent. I know I don't know much, that's my intelligence level, right?  Thank you. And successful in my opinion, some people have friends that have millions and millions of dollars and the ones that know me well, they realize I've built my life the way I want to build it, right? So, but if you look at it on paper, it may not look successful to Wall Street, but to Bob Marley, Bob Marley would call me rich, right? Bob Marley would call me rich. And if you want to know what I'm referencing, look up a video online where an interviewer asks Bob Marley, Marley, are you rich? And Marley goes laugh. Wait a second, he starts thinking, what do you mean by rich? And the interviewer asks him, can you go to the bank and withdraw a million dollars? Marley laughs and goes, no man, no man. But I am rich, I have friends, I have family, I have health, I have this, I have this, I have this. Vocalist, I saw an article that says Jelaine Maxwell is on suicide watch. Indeed. Is she gonna get abstained? Is she? I don't know. Could they pull it off twice? You're shitting me, right? People are demonstrating Roe versus Wade. My right, my body, my right. Wait a second, where were you when we were injecting little children with this shit? My body, oh, oh. And then Jelaine Maxwell, guess Epstein. Who's Jelaine Maxwell? I don't know who Jelaine Maxwell is. My body, my body. Fools, fools, fools. And on that note, and on that note, gang, maybe we'll even upload this part to SensorTube. But from now on, the rest of this live stream is not going to be loaded on SensorTube gang. Doink. If you are watching this video on SensorTube after the live stream is done, which is being held on June 26, 2022, I'll even think about uploading the previous stuff. I don't know what we've talked about so far, right? But the Jelaine Son stuff is important. That censorship free goes on everywhere, right?  It will, however, go on Butchute. We will rumble and odyssey in its entirety. Okay. Censorship free platforms. And if you want to join these live streams live as they're happening, we're on Twitch, twitch.tv.com. For those of you that are supporting this work on Twitch gang, thank you very much for the support. Mods, thank you for being here, taking care of business and providing information and participating in discussions and everyone really. For those of you who don't want to follow this work, you can follow the work on Patreon, subscribe star, or sub-stack. All the links will be in the description of this video. For those of you who are supporting this work on Patreon gang, thank you very much for the support. It is in large part because of the support we're getting on Patreon and Twitch that we're able to do what it is that we are doing.  For live streams, when I don't walk around and we don't have any visuals, I do upload the audio to soundcloud.com. I was thinking of hooking up the lapel mic to do that as well, but I might walk around and I already did, so I'm not going to log myself in. Okay, but you can find podcasts on SoundCloud of 100 plus 130 plus live streams we've done, I guess, podcasts we've done, and they should be available on your favorite podcasting platform, including Spotify, iTunes, and Google Play. And we do have a Gilded server, you're definitely welcome to join us on Gilded, sort of our forum where we can participate in discussions, share information, ask questions, and help other people. I'm going to take these down again and continue with the chat and see where we're at. Nicholas's politics is good. So Nicholas is asking, is this a chill stream or politics? Politics is good. Politics is good. We're smoking cigars. When you're smoking cigars, we can talk about anything you want. If someone asked about Roe vs Wade, I don't know if I answered them or not. I'm going to scroll down.