CHAPTER III. Ye voice of every soul that clung to life that strove from rung to rung when Diva Datta's rule was young the warm wind brings to Kamakura. Buddha at Kamakura. Behind them an angry farmer brandished a bamboo pole. He was a market gardener, ironed by caste, growing vegetables and flowers for Umbala city, and well Kim knew the breed. Such an warn, said the lama, disregarding the dogs, is impolite to strangers in temperate of speech and uncharitable. Be warned by his demeanour, my disciple. Oh, shameless beggars! shouted the farmer. Be gone! Get hence! We go! the lama returned, with quiet dignity. We go from these unblessed fields.  If the next crops fail, thou canst only blame by that own tongue. The man shuffled uneasily in his slippers.  And by what sign disthou know that we would beg from the omali, said Kim, tartly, using the name that a market gardener least likes? All we sought was to look at that river beyond the field there. River for sooth! the man snorted. What city do you hail from, not to know a canal cut? It runs as straight as an arrow, and I pay for the water, as though it were molten silver. There is a branch of a river beyond. But if ye need water, I can give that, and milk. Nay, we will go to the river! said the lama, striding out. Milk and a meal! the man stammered as he looked at the strange tall figure. I would not draw evil upon myself or my crops, but beggars are so many in these hard days. Take notice! the lama turned to Kim. He was led to speak harshly by the red mist of anger, that clearing from his eyes he becomes courteous and of an affable heart. May his fields be blessed! Beware not to judge men too hastily, O farmer! I have met holy ones who would have cursed thee from hearthstone to buyer, said Kim to the abashed man. Is he not wise and holy? I am his disciple. He cocked his nose in the air loftily, and stepped across the narrow field-borders with great dignity. There is no pride, said the lama after a pause. There is no pride among such as follow the middle way. But thou hast said he was low-caste and discourteous. Low-caste I did not say, for how can that be which is not? Afterward he amended his discourtesy. I forgot the offence. Moreover, he is as we are, bound upon the wheel of things, and he does not tread the way of deliverance. He halted at a little runlet among the fields and considered the hoof-pitted bank. Now how will thy know thy river? said Kim, squatting in the shade of some tall sugar-cane. When I find it, an enlightenment will surely be given. This, I feel, is not the place. O littlest among the waters, if only thou couldst tell me where runs my river, and be thou blessed to make the fields bare. Look, look! Kim sprang to his side and dragged him back. A yellow and brown streak glided from the purple rustling stems to the bank, stretched its neck to the water, drank and lay still. A big cobra with fixed littlest eyes. I have no stick! I have no stick! said Kim. I will get me one and break his back. Why, he is upon the wheel as we are, a life ascending or descending, very far from deliverance. Great evil must the soul have done that is cast into this shape.  No native training can quench the white man's horror of the serpent. Let him live out his life! The coiled thing hissed, and half opened its hood. May thy release come soon, brother! the lama continued placidly. Asked thou knowledge by chance of my river? Never have I seen such a man as thou art, Kim whispered, overwhelmed. Do the very snakes understand thy talk? Who knows? He passed within a foot of the cobra's poised head. It flattened itself amongst the dusty coils. Come, thou! he called over his shoulder. Not I, said Kim, I go round. Come, he does no hurt! Kim hesitated for a moment. The lama backed his order by some droned Chinese quotation which Kim took for a charm. He obeyed and bounded across the rivulet, and the snake indeed made no sign. Never have I seen such a man. Kim wiped the sweat from his forehead, and now with a goey. That is for thee to say, I am old and a stranger far from my own place. But that the real carriage fills my head with noises of devil drums, I would go in it to Benares now. Yet by so going we may miss the river. Let us find another river. Where the hardwork soil gives three and even four crops a year, through patches of sugarcane, tobacco, long white radishes, and knoll coal, all that day they strolled on, turning aside to every glimpse of water, rousing village dogs and sleeping villages at noonday, the lama replying to the volleyed questions with an unswerving simplicity. They sought a river, a river of miraculous healing. Had any one knowledge of such a stream? Sometimes men laughed, but more often heard the story out to the end, and offered them a place in the shade, a drink of milk and a meal. The women were always kind, and the little children as children are the world over, alternately shy and venturesome. Evening found them at rest under the village tree of a mud-walled mud-roofed hamlet, talking to the headman as the cattle came in from the grazing grounds, and the women prepared the day's last meal. They had passed beyond the belt to market gardens round Hungry Umballa, and were among the mile-wide green of the staple crops. He was a white-bearded and affable elder, used to entertaining strangers. He dragged out a string bed-stead for the lama, set warm cooked food before him, prepared him a pipe, and the evening ceremonies being finished in the village temple sent for the village priest. Kim told the older children tales of the size and beauty of Lahore, of railway travel, and such like city things, while the men talked slowly as their cattle chewed the cud. I cannot fathom it, said the headman at last to the priest. How redest thou this talk? The lama, his tale told, was silently telling his beads. He is a seeker, the priest answered. The land is full of such. Remember him who came only last month, the Fakir with the tortoise? I, but that man had right and reasoned, for Krishna himself appeared in a vision promising him paradise without the burning pyre if he journeyed to Prayag. This man seeks no god who is within my knowledge. Peace! He is old. He comes from far off, and he is mad. The smooth-shaven priest replied. Hear me! he returned to the lama. Three coasts, six miles, to the westward runs the great road to Calcutta. But I would go to Benares. To Benares. And to Benares also. It crosses all streams on this side of the hind. Now, my word to thee, holy one, is rest here till to-morrow. Then take the road. It was the grand trunk-road, he meant, and test each stream that overpasses it, for as I understand the virtue of thy river lies neither in one pool nor place, but throughout its length. Then if thy gods will, be assured that thou wilt come upon thy freedom. That is well said. The lama was much impressed by the plan. We will begin to-morrow, and a blessing on thee for showing old feet such a near road. A deep sing-song Chinese half-chant closed the sentence. Even the priest was impressed, and the headmen feared an evil spell, but none could look at the lama's simple, eager face and doubt him long. Seize thou, my chayla," he said, diving into his snuff-gourd with an important sniff. It was his duty to repay courtesy with courtesy. I see and hear the headman rolled his eye where Kim was chatting to a girl in blue as she laid crackling thorns on a fire. He also has a search of his own. No river, but a bull. Yea, a red bull, on a green field, will someday raise him to honor. He is, I think, not altogether of this world. He was sent of a sudden to aid me in this search. His name is Friend of All the World. The priest smiled. Oh, there, Friend of All the World. He cried across the sharp smelling smoke. What out thou? This holy one's disciple, said Kim. He says, Thou art a but, a spirit. Can buts eat? said Kim with a twinkle, for I am hungry. It is no jest, cried the lama. A certain astrologer of that city whose name I have forgotten. That is no more than the city of Umballa, where we slept last night. Kim whispered to the priest. Aye, Umballa was it. He cast a horoscope and declared that my chayla should find his desire within two days. But word said he of the meaning of the stars, Friend of All the World. Kim cleared his throat and looked around at the village graybeards. The meaning of my star is war, he replied pompously. Somebody laughed at the little tattered figure strutting on the brickwork plinth under the great tree. Where a native would have laid down, Kim's white blood set him on his feet. Aye, war, he answered. That is a sure prophecy, rumbled a deep voice, for there is always war along the border, as I know. It was an old withered man who had served the government in the days of the mutiny, as a native officer in a newly raised cavalry regiment. The government had given him a good holding in the village, and though the demands of his sons now graybitted officers on their own account had impoverished him, he was still a person of consequence. English officials, deputy commissioners even, turned aside from the main road to visit him, and on those occasions he dressed himself in the uniform of ancient days, and stood up like a ramrod. But this shall be a great war, a war of eight thousand. Kim's voice shrilled across the quick gathering crowd, astonishing himself. Red coats or our own regiment? The old man snapped, as though he were asking an equal. His tone made men respect Kim. Red coats? said Kim at a venture. Red coats and guns. But the astrologer said no word of this, cried the lama, snuffing prodigiously in his excitement. But I know the word has come to me, who am this Holy One's disciple. There will rise a war, a war of eight thousand red coats. From Pindi and Peshwa they will be drawn. This is sure. The boy has heard bizarre talk, said the priest. But he was always by my side, said the lama. How should he know? I did not know. He will make a clever juggler where the old man is dead, matted the priest to the headman. What new trick is this? A sign. Give me a sign. Thundered the old soldier suddenly. If there were war my sons would have told me. When all is ready thy sons doubt not will be told. But it is a long road from thy sons to the man in whose hands these things lie. Kim warmed to the game, for it reminded him of experiences in the letter-carrying line, when, for the sake of a few pice, he pretended to know more than he knew. But now he was playing for larger things, the sheer excitement and the sense of power. He drew a new breath and went on. Old man, give me a sign. Do underlings order the goings of eight thousand red coats and guns? No. Still the old man answered as though Kim were an equal. Does thou know who he is, then, that gives the order? I have seen him. To know again? I have known him since he was a lieutenant in the top corner, the artillery. A tall man, a tall man with black hair walking thus? Kim took a few paces in a stiff wooden style. Aye, but that any one may have seen. The crowd were breathless still through all this talk. That is true, said Kim, but I will say more. Look now, first the great man walks thus, then he thinks thus. Kim drew a forefinger over his forehead and downwards till it came to rest by the angle of the jaw. Anon he twitches his fingers thus. Anon he thrusts his hat under his left armpit. Kim illustrated the motion and stood like a stork. The old man groaned, inarticulate with amazement, and the crowd shivered. So, so, so, but what does he when he is about to give an order? He rubs the skin at the back of his neck thus. Then falls one finger on the table, and he makes a small sniffing noise through his nose, and he speaks, saying, Loose such and such a regiment, call out such guns. The old man rose stiffly and saluted. Four, Kim translated into the vernacular the clinching sentences he had heard in the dressing room at Umballa. Four, says he, we should have done this long ago. It is not war, it is a chastisement. Enough, I believe. I have seen him thus in the smoke of battle, seen and heard. It is he. I saw no smoke. Kim's voice shifted to the rapt sing-song of the wayside fortune-teller. I saw this in darkness. First came a man to make things clear, then came horseman, then came he standing in a ring of light. The rest followed, as I have said. Old man, have I spoken truth? It is he. Past doubt it is he. The crown drew a long quavering breath, staring alternately at the old man, still at attention, and ragged Kim against the purple twilight. Said I not, said I not he was from the other world, cried the lama proudly. He is the friend of all the world, he is the friend of the stars. At least it does not concern us, a man cried. O thou young soothsayer, if the gift abides with thee at all seasons, I have a red-spotted cow, she may be the sister to thy bull for all I know. Or I care, said Kim, my stars do not concern themselves with thy cattle. Nay, but she is very sick, a woman struck in. My man is a buffalo, or he would have chosen his words better. Tell me if she will recover. Had Kim been at all an ordinary boy, he would have carried on the play. But one does not know Lahore City, and least of all the faquirs by the Taksali gate for thirteen years without also knowing human nature. The priest looked at him sideways, something bitterly a dry, belighting smile. Is there no priest then in the village? I thought I had seen a great one even now, cried Kim. Hi, but the woman began. But thou and thy husband hoped to get the cow cured for a handful of thanks. The shot told, they were notoriously the closest fisted couple in the village. It is not well to cheat the temples, give a young calf to thine own priest, and unless thy gods are angry past recall, she will give milk within a month. A master beggar art thou, heard the priest approvingly. Not that cunning a forty years could have done better, surely thou hast made the old man rich.  Does one grow rich on that? And, as thou can't see, he is mad, but it serves me while I learn the road at least. He knew what the fakirs at the Taksali gate were like when they talked among themselves, and copied the very inflection of their lewd disciples. Is his search then truth or a cloak to other ends? It may be treasure. He is mad, many times mad, there is nothing else. Here the old soldier hobbled up and asked if Kim would accept his hospitality for the night. The priest recommended him to do so, but insisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the temple, at which the lama smiled geilously. Kim glanced from one face to the other, and drew his own conclusions. Where is the money, he whispered, beckoning the old man off into the darkness? In my bosom, where else? Give it me quietly and swiftly, give it me. But why? Here is no ticket to buy. Am I thy chayla, or am I not? Do I not safeguard thy old feet about the ways? Give me the money, and at dawn I will return it. He slipped his hand above the lama's girdle, and brought away the purse. Be it so, be it so. The old man nodded his head, this is a great and terrible world. I never knew there were so many men alive in it. Next morning the priest was in a very bad temper, but the lama was quite happy, and Kim had enjoyed a most interesting evening with the old man, who brought out his cavalry sabre, and balancing it on his dry knees, told tales of the mutiny, and young captains thirty years in their graves, till Kim dropped off to sleep. Certainly the air of this country is good, said the lama. I sleep lightly as do all old men, but last night I slept unwaking till broad day. Even now I am heavy. Drink a draught of hot milk, said Kim, who had carried not a few such remedies to opium smokers of his acquaintance. It is time to take the road again. The long road that overpasses all the rivers of Hind, said the lama gaily, let us go, but how thinkest thou, O Chailor, to recompense these people, and especially the priest for their great kindness? Truly they are butparast, but in other lives maybe they will receive enlightenment. A rupee to the temple? The thing which is no more than stone and red paint, but the heart of man we must acknowledge when and where it is good. Holy one, has thou ever taken the road alone? Kim looked up sharply, like the Indian crows so busy about the fields. Surely, child, from Kulu to Pathenkot, from Kulu where my first Chailor died. When men were kind to us we made offerings, and all men were well disposed throughout all the hills. It is otherwise in Hind, said Kim dryly, their gods are many armed and malignant, let them alone. I would set thee on thy road for a little friend of all the world, thou and thy yellow man. The old soldier ambled up the village street, all shadowy in the dawn, on a gaunt scissor-hocked pony. Last night broke up the fountains of remembrance in my so dried heart, and it was a blessing to me. Truly there is war abroad in the air, I smell it, see, I have brought my sword. He sat long-legged on the little beast, with the big sword at his side, hand-dropped on the pommel, staring fiercely over the flat lands towards the north. Tell me again how he showed in thy vision, come up and sit behind me. The beast will carry, too. I am this holy one's disciple, said Kim, as they cleared the village gate. The villagers seemed almost sorry to be rid of them, but the priest's farewell was cold and distant. He had wasted some opium on a man who carried no money. I am not much used to holy men, but respect is always good. There is no respect in these days, not even when a commissioner Sahib comes to see me. But why should one whose star leads him to war follow a holy man? But he is a holy man, said Kim earnestly, in truth and in talk and in act holy. He is not like the others. I have never seen such and one. We be not fortune-tellers or jugglers or beggars. Thou art not that I can see, but I do not know that other. He marches well, though. The first freshness of the day carried the lama forward with low, easy, camel-like strides. He was deep in meditation, mechanically clicking his rosary. They followed the rutted and worn country road that wound across the flat between the great dark green mango groves, the line of the snow-capped Himalayas faint to the eastward. All India was at work in the fields, to the creaking of well-wheels, the shouting of ploughmen behind their cattle, and the clamour of the crows. Even the pony felt the good influence and almost broke into a trot, as Kim laid a hand on the stirrup-leather. It repents me that I did not give a rupee to the shrine, said the lama on the last bead of his eighty-one. The old soldier growled in his beard, so that the lama for the first time was aware of him. She kissed out the river too, he said, turning. The day is new, was the reply. What need of a river to save water at before sundown? I come to show thee a short lane to the big road. That is a courtesy to be remembered, O man of good will, but why the sword? The old soldier looked as abashed as a child, interrupted in his game of make-believe. The sword, he said, fumbling it. Oh, that was a fancy of mine, an old man's fancy. Truly the police orders are that no man must bear weapons throughout the hind, but he cheered up and slapped the hilt. All the constables hear about no me. It is not a good fancy, said the lama, what profit to kill men? Very little, as I know, but if evil men were not now and then slain, it would not be a good world for weaponless dreamers. I do not speak without knowledge who have seen the land from deli south awash with blood. What madness was that, then? The gods who sent it for a plague alone know. A madness ain't into all the army, and they turned against their officers. It was the first evil, but not past remedy if they had then held their hands, but they chose to kill the sahib's wives and children. Then came the sahib's from over the sea, and called them to most strict account. Some such rumour, I believe, reached me once long ago.  What manner of life has thou led not to know the year? A rumour, indeed, all earth new and trembled. Our earth never shook but once upon the day that the excellent one received enlightenment. I saw deli shake at least, and deli is the navel of the world. So they turned against women and children. That was a bad deed for which the punishment cannot be avoided. Many strove to do so, but with very small profit. I was then in a regiment of cavalry. It broke. Of six hundred and eighty sabers stood fast to the assault. How many think you? Three, of whom I was one. The greater merit. Merit, we did not consider it merit in those days. My people, my friends, my brothers fell from me. They said, the time of the English is accomplished. Let each strike out in a little holding for himself. But I had talked with the men of Sabraan, of Chilean Walla, of Moodki, and Ferozashar. I said, abide a little, and the wind turns. There is no blessing in this work. In those days I rode seventy miles with an English memsape, and her babe on my saddle-bow. Whoa! that was a horse-fit for a man. I placed them in safety, and back came I to my officer, the one that was not killed of our five. Give me work, said I, for I am an outcast among my own kin, and my cousin's blood is wet on my sabre. Be content, he said. There is great work forward. When this madness is over, there is a recompense. Ah, there is a recompense when the madness is over surely, the lama muttered half to himself. They did not hang medals in those days on all who by accident had heard a gun fired. In nineteen pitched battles was I, in six and forty skirmishes of horse, and in small affairs without number, nine wounds I bear, a medal and four clasps, and the medal of an order for my captains, who are now generals, reminded me when the case Sir E. Hind had accomplished fifty years of her reign, and all the land rejoice they said, Give him the order of British India, I carry it upon my neck now. I have also my jag here, holding, from the hands of the state, a free gift to me and mine. The men of the old days, they are now commissioners, come riding to me through the crops, high upon horses, so that all the village sees, and we talk out the old skirmishes, one dead man's name leading to another. And after, said the lama, oh afterwards they go away, but not before my village has seen. And at the last what wilt thou do?  And after? Let the gods order it, I have never pastored them with prayers. I do not think they will pester me. Look, you I have noticed in my long life, that those who eternally break in upon those above with complaints and reports and bellowings and weepings are presently sent for in haste, as our colonel used to send for slack-jawed-down countrymen who talk too much. No, I have never worried the gods, they will remember this, and give me a quiet place where I can drive my lance in the shade and wait to welcome my sons. I have no less than three ristled our mages all in the regiments. And they are likewise bound upon the wheel, go forth from life to life, from despair to despair, said the lama below his breath, hot, uneasy, snatching. Aye, the old soldier chuckled three ristled our mages in three regiments. Gamblers a little, but so am I. They must be well-mounted, and one cannot take the horses as in the old days one took women. Well, well, my holding can pay for all. How thinkest thou? It is a well-watered strip, but my men cheat me. I do not know how to ask, save at the lance's point. Ah, I grow angry, and I curse them, and they feign penitence, but behind my back I know they call me a toothless old ape. Has thou never desired any other thing? Yes, yes, a thousand times, a straight back, and a close-cleaning knee once more, a quick wrist and a keen eye, and the marrow that makes a man. Ah, the old days, the good days of my strength. That's strength, it's weakness. It has turned so, but fifty years since I could have proved it otherwise. The old soldier retorted, driving his stirrup edge into the pony's lean flank. Ah, I know a river of great healing. I have drank ganja water to the edge of dropsy. Oh, she gave me was a flux, and no sort of strength. It is not ganja, the river that I know washes from all taint of sin. Ascending the far bank, one is assured of freedom.  Thou hast clung to thy way, rendering fidelity, when it was hard to give in that black year, of which I now remember other tales. Enter now upon the middle way, which is the path to freedom. Hear the most excellent law, and do not follow dreams. Speak then, old man, the soldier smiled, half saluting. We be all babblers at our age. The lama squatted under the shade of a mango, whose shadow played checker-wise over his face. The soldier sat stiffly on the pony, and Kim, making sure there were no snakes, lay down in the crotch of the twisted roots. There was a drowsy buzz of small life in hot sunshine, a cooing of dove, and a sleepy drone of well-wheels across the fields. Slowly and impressively the lama began. At the end of ten minutes the old soldier slid from his pony to hear better, as he said, and sat with the reins round his wrist. The lama's voice faltered. The periods lengthened. Kim was busy watching a gray squirrel. When the little scolding bunch of fur close press to the branch disappeared, preacher and audience were fast asleep, and the old officer's strong cut head pillowed on his arm. The lama's thrown back against the tree-bowl, where it showed like yellow and ivory. A naked child, totalled up, stared, and moved by some quick impulsive reverence, made a solemn little obeisance before the lama.  And Kim laughed at the sprawling chubby legs. The child, scared and indignant, yelled aloud. Hi! Hi! said the old soldier, leaping to his feet. What is it? What orders? Is it? A child. I dreamed it was an alarm. Little one, little one, do not cry. Have I slept? That was discourteous indeed. I fear. I am afraid, roared the child. What is it of fear? Two old men and a boy. How wilt thou ever make a soldier, princeling? The lama had waked two. But taking no direct notice of the child, clicked his rosary. What is that? said the child, stopping a yell midway. I have never seen such things. Give them me. Aha! said the lama, smiling, and trailing a loop of it on the grass. This is a handful of cardamoms. This is a lump of gee. This is millet and chilies and rice. A supper for thee and me. The child shrieked with joy, and snatched the dark glancing beads. Oh-hoo! said the old soldier. Whence touched thou that song, despiser of this world? I learned it in Pathancourt, sitting on a doorstep, said the lama, shyly. It is good to be kind to babes. As I remember before sleep came upon us, thou hast told me that marriage and bearing were darkeners of the true light, stumbling blocks upon the way. Do children drop from heaven in thy country? Is it the way to sing them songs? No man is perfect, said the lama gravely, recalling the rosary. Run out to mother, little one. Hear him, said the soldier to Kim. He is ashamed for that he has made a child happy. There was a very good householder lost in thee, my brother. Hi, child! He threw it apice. Sweet meats are always sweet. And as the little figure caped away into the sunshine, they grow up and become men. Holy one, I grieve that I slept in the midst of thy preaching. Forgive me! We be but two old men, said the lama. The fault is mine. I listen to thy talk of the world and its madness. And one fault led to the other. Hear him! What harm did I God suffer from play with a babe? And that song was very well sung. Let us go, and I will sing thee the song of Nicholsane, before Delhi, the old song. And they fared out from the gloom of the mango-tope, the old man's high, shrill voice ringing across the field. As wail by long-drawn wail, he unfolded the story of Nicholsane, Nicholson, the song that men sing in the Punjab to this day. Kim was delighted, and the lama listened with deep interest. Aye, Nicholsane is dead. He died before Delhi. Lances of the North take vengeance for Nicholsane. He quaved it out to the end, marking the trills with the flat of his sword on the pony's rump. And now we come to the big road, said he, after receiving the compliments of Kim, for the lama was markedly silent. It is long since I have ridden this way, but thy boys' talks stirred me, see, holy one, the great road which is the backbone of all Hind. For the most part it is shaded, as here, with four lines of trees, the middle road all hard takes the quick traffic. In the days before rail carriages, the Sahibs travelled up and down here in hundreds. Now there are only country carts and such like. Left and right is the rougher roads for the heavy carts, grain and cotton and timber, fodder, lime and hides. A man goes in safety here, for every few coats is a police station. The police are thieves and extortioners. I myself would patrol it with cavalry, young recruits under a strong captain. But at least they do not suffer any rivals. All carts and kinds of men move here. Look, brahmin's and chumas, bankers and tinkers, barbers and boonies, pilgrims and potters, all the world going and coming. It is to me as a river from which I am withdrawn like a log after a flood. And truly the Grand Trunk Road is a wonderful spectacle. It runs straight, bearing without crowding India's traffic for fifteen hundred miles, such a river of life as nowhere else exists in the world. They looked at the green-arched shade-flect length of it, the white breadth speckled with slow-paced folk, and the two-roomed police station opposite. Who bears arms against the law? A constable called out, laughingly as he court-sighted the soldiers' sword.  It was because of police I brought it, was the answer. Does all go well in Hind? Ristal Dar Saib all goes well.  This is the road of Hindustan. All men come by this way. Son of a swine, is the soft part of the road meant for thee to scratch thy back upon, father of all the daughters of shame and the husband of ten thousand virtuous ones.  Thy aunts have never had a nose for seven generations. Thy sister, what owls folly told thee to draw thy carts upon the road. A broken wheel, then take a broken head and put the two together at leisure. The voice and a venomous whip-cracking came out of a pillar of dust fifty yards away, where a cart had broken down. A thin, high, cathioir mare with eyes and nostrils of flame, rocketed out of the jam, snorting and wintzing as a driver bent her across the road in chase of a shouting man. He was tall and grey-bearded, sitting the almost mad beast as a piece of her, and scientifically lashing his victim between plungers. The old man's face lit with pride. My child, he said briefly, and strove to rein the pony's neck to a fitting arch. Am I to be beaten before the police? cried the carter. Justice! I will have justice! Am I to be blocked by a shouting ape who upsets ten thousand sacks under a young horse's nose? That is the way to ruin a mare. He speaks the truth, he speaks the truth, but she follows her man close, said the old man. The carter ran under the wheels of his cart, and thence threatened all sorts of engines. They are strong men, thy sons, said the policemen, serenely picking his teeth. The horsemen delivered one last vicious cut with his whip, and came on at a canter. My father! he reigned back ten yards and dismounted. The old man was off his pony in an instant, and they embraced as do father and son in the East. Good luck! she is never a lady. But the cursidest queen alive, Trixie, wincing in JD, kittled to lead or drive. Greet her! she's hailing a stranger. Meet her! she's basking to leave. Let her alone for a shrew to the bone, and the hussy comes plucking your sleeve. Lagesse, lagesse, o fortune, give or hold at your will. If I have no care for fortune, fortune must follow me still. The wishing-caps. Then, lowering their voices, they spoke together. Kim came to rest under a tree, but the lama tugged impatiently at his elbow. Let us go on! the river is not here. Hi, my! have we not walked enough for a little? Our river will not run away. Patience, and he will give us a dole. This, said the old soldier suddenly, is the friend of the stars. He brought me the news yesterday, having seen the very man himself in a vision, giving orders for the war. Hmm! said his son, all deep in his broad chest. He came by a bizarre rumour, and made profit of it. His father laughed. At least he did not ride to me begging for a new charger, and the gods knowed how many rupees. Are thy brothers' regiments also under orders? I do not know. I took leave, and came swiftly to the encase. In case they ran before thee to beg, oh gamblers and spend-thrifts all, but thou hast never yet ridden in a charge, a good horse is needed there truly, a good follower, and a good pony also for the marching. Let us see, let us see! he thrummed on the pommel. This is no place to cast accounts in, my father. Let us go to thy house. At least pay the boy, then. I have no pice with me, and he brought auspicious news. Oh, friend of all the world, a war is towards as thou hast said. Nay, as I know, thee war! returned Kim, composedly. Eh! said the lama, fingering his beads, all eager for the road. My master does not trouble the stars for hire. We brought the news, bear witness, we brought the news, and now we go. Kim half-crooked his hand at his side. The sun tossed a silver coin through the sunlight, grumbling something about beggars and jugglers. It was a four-anna piece, and would feed them well for some days. The lama, seeing the flash of metal, droned a blessing. Go thy way, friend of all the world! piped the old soldier, wheeling his scrawny mount. For once in all my days I have met a true prophet who was not in the army. Father and son swung round together, the old man sitting as erect as the younger. A Punjabi constable in yellow linen trousers slouched across the road. He had seen the money pass. Pult, he cries in impressive English. Know ye not that there is a tarkas of two anas ahead, which is four anas on those who enter the road from this side-road. It is the order of the sirkar, and the money is spent for the planting of trees and the beautification of the ways. And the bellies of the police, said Kim, skipping out of arms-reach. Consider for a while, man with a mud-head, think ye we came from the nearest pond like the frog thy father-in-law. Hast thou ever heard the name of thy brother? And who was he? Leave the boy alone! cried a senior constable, immensely delighted, as he squatted down to smoke his pipe in the veranda. He took a label from the bottle of bileti pani, soda-water, and, affixing it to a bridge, collected taxes for a month from those who passed, saying it was the sirkar's order. Then came an Englishman, and broke his head. Ah, brother, I am a town crow, not a village crow. The policeman drew back a bashed, and Kim hooted at him all down the road. Was there ever such a disciple as I? he cried merrily to the lama. All earth would have picked thy bones within ten miles of Lahore city, if I had not guarded thee. I consider, in my own mind, whether thou art a spirit sometimes, or sometimes an evil imp, said the lama, smiling slowly. I am thy chayla, Kim dropped into step at his side, that indescribable gate of the long-distance tramp all the world over. No, let us walk, muttered the lama, and to the click of his rosary they walked in silence, mile upon mile. The lama, as usual, was deep in meditation, but Kim's bright eyes were open wide. This broad, smiling river of life, he considered, was a vast improvement on the cramped and crowded Lahore streets. There were new people, and new sights at every stride, casts he knew, and casts that brought together out of his experience. They met a troupe of long-haired, strong-scented santsis, with baskets of lizards and other unclean food on their backs, their lean dog sniffing at their heels. These people kept their own side of the road, moving at a quick, furtive jog-trot, and all other casts gave them ample room, for the santsi is deep pollution. Behind them, walking wide and stiffly across the strong shadows, the memory of his leg-iron still on him, strode one newly released from the jail, his full stomach and shiny skin to prove that the government fed its prisoners better than most honest men could feed themselves. Kim knew that walk well, and made broad jest of it as they passed. Then an Akali, a wild-eyed, wild-haired Sikh devotee in the blue-checked clothes of his faith, with polished steel coits glistening in the cone of his tall blue turban, stalked past, returning from a visit to one of the independent Sikh states, where he had been singing the ancient glories of the Kalsa to college-trained princelings in top-boots and white-cored britches. Kim was careful not to irritate that man, for the Akali's temper was short and his arm quick. Here and there they met or were overtaken by the gaily-dressed crowds of whole villages turning out to some local fare.  One could see at a glance what each had brought, and if there were any doubt it needed only to watch the wives comparing brown arm against brown arm the newly purchased dull glass bracelets that come from the northwest. These merry-makers stepped slowly, calling one to the other and stopping to haggle with sweet-meat-sellers, or to make a prayer before one of the wayside shrines, sometimes Hindu, sometimes Musselman, which the low cast of both creeds share with beautiful impartiality. A solid line of blue rising and falling like the back of a caterpillar in haste would swing up through the quivering dust and trot past to a chorus of quick cackling. That was a gang of changars, the women who have taken all the embankments of all the northern railways under their charge. A flat-footed, big bosomed, strong-limbed, blue-petty-coated clan of earth-carriers, hurrying north on news of a job and wasting no time by the road. They belong to the caste whose men do not count, and they walked with squared elbows, swinging hips and heads on high as suits women who carry heavy weights. A little later a marriage procession would strike into the grand trunk with music and shoutings, and a smell of marigold and jasmine stronger even than the reek of the dust. One could see the bride's litter, a blur of red and tinsel, staggering through the haze, while the bridegroom's bereaved pony turned aside to snatch a mouthful from a passing fodder-cart. Then Kim would join the kentish fire of good wishes and bad jokes, wishing the couple a hundred sons and no daughters, as the saying is. Still more interesting and more to be shouted it was when a strolling juggler with some half-trained monkeys, or panting feeble bear, or a woman who tied goats' horns to her feet, and with those danced on a slack rope, set the horses to shying, and the women to shrill long-drawn quavers of amazement. The lama never raised his eyes. He did not note the moneylender on his goose-rumped pony, hastening along to collect the cruel interest, or the long-shouting, deep-voiced little mob, still in military formation, of native soldiers on leave rejoicing to be rid of their britches and putties, and saying the most outrageous things to the most respectable women in sight. Even the seller of Ganji's water, he did not see, and Kim expected that he would at least buy a bottle of that precious stuff. He looked steadily at the ground, and strode as steadily, hour after hour, his soul busied elsewhere. But Kim was in the seventh heaven of joy. The grand trunk at this point was built on an embankment to guard against winter floods from the foothills, so that one walked, as it were, a little above the country, along a stately corridor, seeing all India spread out to left and right. It was beautiful to behold the many yoked grain and cotton wagons crawling over the country roads. One could hear their axels complaining a mile away, coming nearer, till with shouts and yells and bad words, they climbed up the steep incline, and plunged on to the hard main road, Carter reviling Carter. It was equally beautiful to watch the people, little clumps of red and blue and pink and white and saffron, turning aside to go to their own villages, dispersing and growing small by twos and threes across the level plain. Kim felt these things, though he could not give tongue to his feelings, and so contented himself with buying peeled sugarcane and spitting the pith generously about his path. From time to time the lama took snuff, and at last Kim could endure the silence no longer. This is a good land, the land of the south, said he. The air is good, the water is good, eh? And they are all bound upon the wheel, said the lama, bound from life to life, to none of these has the way been shown. He shook himself back to this world. And now we have walked a weary way, said Kim. Surely we shall soon come to a parrao, a resting place.  Look, the sun is sloping. Who will receive us this evening? That is all one, the country is full of good folks, besides—he sunk his voice beneath a whisper—we have money. The crowd thickened as they neared the resting place which marked the end of their day's journey. A line of stalls selling very simple food and tobacco, a stack of firewood, a police station, a well, a horse trough, a few trees, and under them some trampled ground dotted with the black ashes of old fires, are all that mark a parrao on the grand shrunk, if you accept the beggars and the crows, both hungry. By this time the sun was delving broad golden strokes through the lower branches of the mango trees. The parakeets and doves were coming home in their hundreds. The chattering, gray-backed seven sisters, talking over the day's adventures, walked back and forth in twos and threes, almost under the feet of the travellers, and the shufflings and scufflings in the branches showed that the bats were ready to go out on the night picket. Swiftly the light gathered itself together, painted for an instant the faces and the cartwheels and the bullock's horns as red as blood. Then the night fell, changing the touch of the air, drawing a low, even haze like a gossamer veil of blue across the face of the country, and bringing out keen and distinct the smell of wood-smoke and cattle, and the good scent of wheat and cakes cooked on ashes. The evening patrol hurried out of the police station with important coffings and reiterated orders, and a live charcoal ball in the cup of a wayside carter's hooker glowed red, while Kim's eyes mechanically watched the last flicker of the sun on the brass tweezers. The life of the parole was like that of the Kashmir Sarai on a small scale. Kim dived into the happy Asiatic Disorder, which, if you only allow time, will bring you everything that a simple man needs. His wants were few, because, since the lama had no caste-scruples, cooked food from the nearest stall would serve. But, for luxury's sake, Kim brought a handful of dunk cakes to build a fire. All about, coming and going round the little flames, men cried for oil or grain or sweetmeats or tobacco, jostling one another, while they waited their turn at the well. And under the men's voices you heard from halted, shuttered carts the high squeals and giggles of women, whose faces should not be seen in public. Nowadays, well-educated natives are of opinion that when their women folk travel, and they visit a good deal, it is better to take them quickly by rail in a properly screened compartment, and that custom is spreading. But there are always those of the old rock who hold by the use of their forefathers, and above all there are always the old women, more conservative than the men, who toward the end of their days go on a pilgrimage. They, being withered and undesirable, do not, under certain circumstances, object to unveiling. After their long seclusion, during which they have always been in business touch with a thousand outside interests, they love the bustle and stir of the open road, the gatherings at the shrines, and the infinite possibilities of gossip with like-minded dowagers. Very often it suits a long-suffering family that a strong-tongued iron-willed old lady should disport herself about India in this fashion, for certainly pilgrimage is grateful to the gods. So all about India, in the most remote places as in the most public, you find some knot of grizzled servitors in nominal charge of an old lady who is more or less curtained and hid away in a bullock cart. Such men are staid and discreet, and when a European or high caste native is near, will net their charge with most elaborate precautions. But in the ordinary haphazard chances of pilgrimage the precautions are not taken. The old lady is, after all, intensely human, and lives to look upon life. Kim marked down a gaily ornamented roof, or family bullock cart, with a broided canopy of two domes, like a double-humped camel, which had just been drawn into the pearl. Eight men made its retinue, and two of the eight were armed with rusty sabers. Sure signs that they followed a person of distinction for the common folk do not bear arms. An increasing cackle of complaints, orders, and jests, and what to a European would have been bad language, came from behind the curtain. Here was evidently a woman used to command. Kim looked over the retinue critically. Half of them were thin-legged gray-beard auras from down-country. The other half were duffelclad, felt-hatted hillmen of the north, and that mixture told its own tale, even if he had not overheard the incessant sparring between the two divisions. The old lady was going south on a visit, probably to a rich relative, most probably to a son-in-law who had sent up an escort as a mark of respect. The hillmen would be of her own people, Kulu or Kungra folk. It was quite clear that she was not taking her daughter down to be wedded, or the curtains would have been laced home, and the guard would have allowed no one near the car. A merry and high-spirited dame thought Kim, balancing the dung-cake in one hand, the cooked food in the other, and piloting the lama with a nudging shoulder. Something might be made out of the meeting. The lama would give no help, but, as a conscientious chailer, Kim was delighted to beg for two. Chapter 4 Part 2 He built his fire as close to the cart as he dared, waiting for one of the escort to order him away. The lama dropped wearily to the ground, much as a heavy fruit-eating-backed cowherd, and returned to his rosary. Stand farther off, beggar! The order was shouted in broken Hindustani by one of the hillmen. Ha! It is only a pahari, a hillman, said Kim over his shoulder. Since one of the hill-asses owned all Hindustan, the retort was a swift and brilliant sketch of Kim's pedigree for three generations. Ah! Kim's voice was sweeter than ever, as he broke the dung-cake into fit pieces. In my country we call that the beginning of love-talk. A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the hillman on his metal for a second shot. Not so bad! Not so bad! said Kim with calm.  The orias laughed. The hillmen sprang forward threateningly. The lama suddenly raised his head, bringing his huge tamashanta hat into the full light of Kim's new-started fire. What is it? said he. The man halted as though struck to stone. I am saved from a great sin! he stammered. The foreigner has found him a priest at last! whispered one of the orias. Hey! Why is that beggar-brat not well beaten? the old woman cried. The hillmen drew back to the cart, and whispered something to the curtain. There was dead silence there in a muttering. This goes well, thought Kim pretending neither to see nor hear. When, when he has eaten, the hillmen fawned on Kim. It, it is requested that the Holy One will do the honour to talk to one who would speak to him. After he has eaten, he will sleep. Kim returned loftily. He could not quite see what new turn the game had taken, but stood resolute to profit by it. Now I will get him his food. The last sentence spoken loudly ended with a sigh of faintness. I, myself, and the others of my people will look to that if it is permitted. It is permitted, said Kim more loftily than ever. Holy One, these people will bring us food. The land is good, or the country of the south is good. A great and terrible world, mumble the lama, browsily. Let him sleep, said Kim, but look to it that we are well fed when he awakes. He is a very holy man. Again one of the Oreos said something contemptuously. He is not a fakir. He is not a downed country beggar. Kim went on severely addressing the stars. He is the most holy of holy men. He is above all castes, and I am his chailer. Come here, said the flat thin voice behind the curtain. And Kim came, conscious that eyes he could not see were staring at him. One skinny brown finger heavy with rings lay on the edge of the cart, and the talk went this way. Who is that one? An exceedingly holy one. He comes from far off. He comes from Tibet. We're in Tibet. From behind the snows, from a very far place, he knows the stars. He makes horoscopes. He reads nativities. He does not do this for money. He does it for kindness and great charity. I am his disciple. I am called also the friend of the stars. Thou art no hillman. Ask him. He will tell thee I was sent to him from the stars to show him an end to his pilgrimage.  Llamas I know, and to these I give reverence. But thou art no more a lawful chailer, than this my finger is the pole of this wagon. Thou art a casteless Hindu, a bold and unblushing beggar, attached be like to the holy one for the sake of gain. Do we not all work for gain? Kim changed his toll promptly to match that altered voice. I have heard, this was a bow drawn at a venture, I have heard, what hast thou heard? She snapped, wrapping with the finger. Nothing that I well remember, but some talk in the bazaars, which is doubtless a lie, that even Rajas, small hill Rajas, but none the less of good Rajput blood, assurately of good blood, that these even sell them more comely of their womenfolk for gain. Down south they sell them to Zemindars, and such all of Uda. If there be one thing in the world that the small hill Rajas deny, it is just this charge. But it happens to be one thing that the bazaars believe, when they discuss the mysterious slave-traffics of India. The old lady explained to Kim in a tense indignant whisper precisely what manner and fashion a malignant liar he was. Had Kim hinted this when she was a girl, he would have been pommeled to death that same evening by an elephant. This was perfectly true. Hi, I am only a beggar's brat, as the eye of beauty has said, he wiled in extravagant terror. I am beauty for a sooth. Who am I that thou should fling beggar in demons at me? And yet she laughed at the long-forgotten word. Forty years ago that might have been said, and not without truth. Aye, thirty years! But it is the fault of this gadding up and down hint that a king's widow must jostle all the scum of the land and be made a mock by beggars. Great Queen, said Kim promptly, for he heard her shaking with indignation. I am even what the Great Queen says I am, but none the less is my master holy. He has not yet heard the Great Queen's order that— Order! I order a holy one, a teacher of the law, to come and speak to a woman never. Pity my stupidity, I thought it was given as an order. It was not, it was a petition. Does this make all clear? A silver coin clicked on the edge of the cart. Kim took it and salamed profoundly. The old lady recognised that, as the eyes and ears of the lama, he was to be propitiated. I am but the holy one's disciple. When he is eaten, perhaps he will come. Oh, villain and shameless rogue! The jewelled forefinger shook itself at him reprovenly, but he could hear the old lady's cackle. Nay, what is it? he said, dropping into his most caressing and confidential tone, the one he well knew that few could resist. Is—is there any need of a son in thy family? Speak freely, for we priests— that last was a direct plagiarism from a fakir by the Taksali gate. We priests, thou art not yet old enough to— she checked the joke with another laugh. Believe me now and again, we women, oh priest, think of other matters than sons. Moreover, my daughter has borne her man-child. Two arrows in the quiver are better than one, and three are better still. Kim quoted the proverb, with a meditative cough, looking discreetly earthward. True, ah, true, but perhaps that will come. Certainly those down-country brahmins are utterly useless. I sent gifts and monies and gifts again to them, and they prophesied. Ah, brawled Kim with infinite contempt, they prophesied. A professional could have done no better. And it was not until I remembered my own gods that my prayers were heard. I chose an auspicious hour, and perhaps thy Holy One has heard of the abbot of the Lungcho Lamasari. It was to him I put the matter. And behold, in due time all came about as I desired. The brahmin in the house of the father of my daughter's son has since said that it was through his prayers, which is a little error that I will explain to him when we reach our journey's end. And so afterwards I go to Budagaya to make Sharadha for the father of my children. They're the go-wee. Doubly auspicious, chirp the old lady, a second son at least. Oh, friend of all the world! The lama had waked, and simply as a child bewildered in a strange bed called for Kim. I come, I come, Holy One! He dashed to the fire where he found the lama already surrounded by dishes of food, the hillmen visibly adoring him, and the Southerners looking sourly. Go back, withdraw! Kim cried.  They finished the meal in silence, each turned a little from the other, and Kim topped it with a native-made cigarette. Have I not said a hundred times that the South is a good land, here is a virtuous and high-born widow of a hill-raja on pilgrimage, she says, to Budagaya? She it is, sends us those dishes. And when thou art rested, she would speak to thee. Is this also thy work? The lama dipped deep into his snuff-gourd. Who else watched over thee since our wonderful journey began? Kim's eyes danced in his head as he blew the rank-smoke through his nostrils, and stretched him on the dusty ground. Have I failed to oversee thy comforts, Holy One? Ah, blessing on thee! The lama inclined his solemn head. I have known many men in my long life, and disciples not of you, but to none among men, if so be thou art woman born, has my heart gone out as it has to thee. Thoughtful, wise, and courteous, but something of a small imp! And I have never seen such a priest as thou. Kim considered the benevolent yellow face wrinkled by wrinkle. It is less than three days since we took the road together, and it is as though it were a hundred years. Perhaps in a former life it was permitted that I should have rendered thee some service. Maybe, he smiled, I freed thee from a trap, or having caught thee on a hook in the days when I was not enlightened, cast thee back into the river. Maybe, said Kim quietly. He had heard this sort of speculation again and again from the mouths of many whom the English would not consider imaginative. Now, as regards that woman in the bullock cart, I think she needs a second son for her daughter. That is no part of the way, said the lama, but at least she is from the hills, the hills, and the snow of the hills. He rose and stalked to the cart. Kim would have given his ears to come to, but the lama did not invite him. And the few words he caught were in an unknown tongue, for they spoke some common speech of the mountains. The woman seemed to ask questions which the lama turned over in his mind before answering. Now and again he heard the singsong cadence of a Chinese quotation. It was a strange picture that Kim watched between drooped eyelids. The lama very straight and direct, the deep folds of his yellow clothing slashed with black in the light of the parral fires, precisely as a knotted tree-trunk is slashed with the shadows of the low sun, addressed a tinsel and lacquered roof which burned like a many-coloured jewel in the same uncertain light. The patterns on the gold-worked curtains ran up and down, melting and reforming as the folds shook and quivered to the night wind. And when the talk grew more earnest the jewelled forefinger snapped out little sparks of light between the embroideries. Behind the cart was a wall of uncertain darkness speckled with little flames and alive, with half-court forms and faces and shadows. The voices of early evening had settled down to one soothing hum, whose deepest note was the steady chomping of the bullocks above their chopped straw, and whose highest was the tinkle of a Bengali dancing-girl sitar. Most men had eaten and pulled deep at their gurgling grunting-hookers, which in full blast sound like bullfrogs. At last the lama returned. A hillman walked behind him with a wadded cotton quilt and spread it carefully by the fire. She deserves ten thousand grandchildren, thought Kim. Nonetheless, but for me these gifts would not have come. A virtuous woman and a wise one.  The world is full of charity to those who follow the way. He flung a fair half of the quilt over Kim. And what said she? Kim rolled up in his share of it. She asked me many questions and propound in many problems, the most of which were idle tales, which she had heard from devil-serving priests who pretended to follow the way. Some I answered, and some I said were foolish. Many wear the robe, but few keep the way. True, that is true! Kim used the thoughtful conciliatory tone of those who wished to draw confidences. But by her lights she is most right-minded. She desires greatly that we should go with her to Budagaya, her road being ours as I understand for many days' journey to the southward. And? Patience a little. To this I said that my search came before all things. She had heard many foolish legends. But this great truth of my river she had never heard. Such are the priests of the lower hills. She knew the abbot of Longchow, but she did not know of my river, nor the tale of the arrow. And? I spoke therefore of the search, and of the way and of matters that were profitable. She desiring only that I should accompany her and make a prayer for a second son. Aha! We women do not think of anything save children, said Kim sleepily. Now, since our roads run together for a while, I do not see that we in any way, depart from our search, if so we accompany her, at least as far as— I have forgotten the name of the city. Oh, hey! said Kim, turning and speaking in a sharp whisper to one the oreos a few yards away. Where is your master's house? A little behind Sir Unpoor, among the fruit gardens. He named the village. That was the place, said the lama. So far, at least, we can go with her. Flies go to Caryon, said the aurea, in an abstracted voice.  The aurea grunted and held his peace. So then we go with her, holy one. Is there any reason against? I can still step aside and try all the rivers that the road over passes. She desires that I should come. She very greatly desires it. Kim stifled a laugh in the quilt. When once that imperious old lady had recovered from her natural oar of the lama, he thought it probable that she would be worth listening to. He was nearly asleep when the lama suddenly quoted a proverb. The husbands of the talkative have a great reward hereafter. Then Kim heard him snuff thrice and dozed off, still laughing. The diamond bright dawn woke men and crows and bullocks together. Kim sat up and yawned, shook himself and thrilled with delight. This was seeing the world in real truth. This was life as he would have it, bustling and shouting, the buckling of belts, the beating of bullocks, and creaking of wheels, lighting of fires, and cooking of food, and new sights at every turn of the approving eye. The morning mist swept off in a whirl of silver. The parrots shot away to some distant river in shrieking green hosts. All the well-wheels within his shot went to work. India was awake, and Kim was in the middle of it. More awake and more excited than any one, chewing on a twig that he would presently use as a toothbrush. For he borrowed right and left-handedly from all the customs of the country he knew and loved. There was no need to worry about food, no need to spend a cowrie at the crowded stalls. He was the disciple of a holy man annexed by a strong-willed old lady. All things would be prepared for them, and when they were respectfully invited, so to do, they would sit and eat. For the rest, Kim giggled here as he cleaned his teeth, his hostess would rather heighten the enjoyment of the road. He inspected her bullocks critically as they came up grunting and blowing under the oaks. If they went too fast, it was not likely, there would be a pleasant seat for himself along the pole. The lama would sit beside the driver. The escort, of course, would walk. The old lady, equally, of course, would talk a great deal, and by what he had heard that conversation would not lack salt. She was already ordering, haranguing, rebuking, and, it must be said, cursing her servants for delays. Get her her pipe! In the name of the gods, get her her pipe, and stop her ill-omined mouth! cried an oria, tying up his shapeless bundles of bedding. She and the parrots are alike. They screech in their dawn. The lead bullocks! Hi! Look to the lead bullocks! They were backing and wheeling as a grain cart's axle caught them by the horns. Son of an owl! Where dost thou go? This to the grinning carter. Aye, yey, yey! That within there is the Queen of Delhi, going to pray for a son, the man called back over his high load. Room for the Queen of Delhi and her Prime Minister, the grey monkey climbing up his own sword. Another cart, loaded with bark for a down country tannery, followed close behind, and its driver added a few compliments, as the Ruth Bullock's backed and backed again. From behind the shaking curtains came one volley of invective. It did not last long, but in kind and quality, in blistering, biting appropriateness, it was beyond anything that even Kim had heard. He could see the carter's bare chest collapse with amazement, as the man salamed reverently to the voice, leaped from the pole, and helped the escort haul their volcano onto the main road. Here the voice told him truthfully what sort of wife he had wedded, and what she was doing in his absence. Oh, Shabash! murmured Kim, unable to contain himself, as the man slunk away. Well done indeed!  But I have yet a wag left to my tongue, a word or two well spoken that serves the occasion, and still am I without my tobacco. Who is the one-eyed and luckless son of shame that has not yet prepared my pipe? It was hastily thrust in by a hillman, and a trickle of thick smoke from each corner of the curtains showed that peace was restored. If Kim had walked proudly the day before, disciple of a holy man, today he paced with tenfold pride in the train of a semi-royal procession, with a recognized place under the patronage of an old lady of charming manners and infinite resource. The escort, their heads tied up native fashion, fell in on either side the cart, shuffling enormous clouds of dust. The lama and Kim walked a little to one side, Kim chewing his stick of sugarcane, and making way for no one under the status of a priest. They could hear the old lady's tongue clack as steadily as a rice husker. She bade her escort tell her what was going on on the road, and so soon as they were clear of the prowl, she flung back the curtains and peered out, her veil a-third across her face. Her men did not eye her directly when she addressed them, and thus the proprieties were more or less observed. A dark, salawish district superintendent of police, fortlessly uniformed, an Englishman, trotted by on a tired horse, and, seeing from her retinue what manner of a person she was, chaffed her. O mother, he cried, do they do this in the Zananas? Suppose an Englishman came by and saw that their hats no-nose. What! she shrewd back. Thine own mother has no nose! Why say so then in the open road? It was a fair counter. The Englishman threw up his hand with the gesture of a man hit at sword-play. She laughed and nodded. Is this a faced-attempt virtuous side? She withdrew all her veil and stared at him. It was by no means lovely, but as the man gathered up his reins, he called it a moon of paradise, a disturber of integrity, and a few other fantastic epithets which doubled her up with mirth. That is a nut-cut! A rogue, she said. O police constables are nut-cuts! But the police-wallers are worse. Hi, my son! Thou hast never learned all that since Thou comes from Belate, from Europe. Who suckled thee?  Keep thy beauty under a shadow, dispenser of delights. And he was gone. These be the sort. She took a fine judicial tone and stuffed her mouth with pan. These be the sort to oversee justice. They know the land and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe, suckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worse than their pestilence. They do harm to kings. Then she told a long, long tale to the world at large of an ignorant young policeman who had disturbed some small hill-rager, a ninth cousin of her own, in the matter of a trivial land-case, winding up with a quotation from a work by no means devotional. Then her mood changed, and she bade one of the escort ask whether the lama would walk alongside and discuss matters of religion. So Kim dropped back into the dust and returned to his sugar-cane. For an hour or more the lama's tamashanta showed like a moon through the haze. And from all he heard, Kim gathered that the old woman wept. One of the orias half-apologised for his rudeness overnight, saying that he had never known his mistress of so bland a temper, and he ascribed it to the presence of the strange priest. Personally he believed in Brahmins, though like all natives he was acutely aware of their cunning and their greed. Still when Brahmins, but irritated with begging demands the mother of his master's wife, and when she sent them away so angry that they cursed the whole retinue, which was the real reason of the second offside bullet-going lame, and of the pole breaking the night before, he was prepared to accept any priest of any other denomination in or out of India. To this Kim assented with wise nods, and bad the oria observed that the lama took no money, and that the cost of his and Kim's food would be repaid a hundred times in the good luck that would attend the caravan hence-forward. He also told stories of Lahore City, and sang a song or two which made the escort laugh. As a town-mouse well acquainted with the latest songs by the most fashionable composers, they are women for the most part, Kim had a distinct advantage over men from a little fruit village behind Saharanpur, but he let that advantage be inferred. At noon they turned aside to eat, and the meal was good, plentiful, and well served on plates of clean leaves, in decency, out of the drift of the dust. They gave the scraps to certain beggars, that all requirements might be fulfilled, and sat down to a long luxurious smoke. The old lady had retreated behind her curtains, but mixed most freely in the talk, her servants arguing with and contradicting her as servants do throughout the east. She compared the cool and the pines of the Kangra and Kulu Hills with the dust and the mangos of the south. She told a tale of some local gods at the edge of her husband's territory. She roundly abused the tobacco which she was then smoking, reviled all Brahmans, and speculated without reserve on the coming of many grandsons.


Everybody forced here up in 2023 blowman chrome baseball hobby 12 box case number 12 pick your team style You've got Alvin s with the rays Anton H Mets Bob C. Marlins Cream has the Astros Brad are A's Chris M. Royals Chun Wei Red Sox CJ Yankees Edward with the Rockies Gabriel C. Guardians Mariners and Giants Harry has the Reds and the Pirates Jeffrey H has the Orioles Dodgers and Braves Jonathan B. Cubs Jonathan L. White Sox Juan C. Rangers John Sting L with the Blue Jays Keith P. Cardinals Kengo has the Angels Leone Nationals Lee Won Diamondbacks Matthew and Phillies or NW Padres Philip and the Brewers Sean H. Tigers and Young Soo has the twins. Good luck everybody The next break is case number 13 case number 13 has the White Sox the Astros Twins Phillies and Ray's left so some good chases there Here we go. Super time. Super time. Super time. Just read your Sorry, Nicholas All right guys, so just a few more teams for PYT's here Lane is also live on fanatics refractor first auto 499 Axel Sench has mariners Do the first hit there for the mariners Because they McGill Cabrera refractor for the Tigers the 499 be dog. What's up, buddy? Are we doing today? Oh it is still morning, isn't it? Let's just start it earlier something yo injury base Edwin Diaz for the Mets World Baseball Classic flag to 499 First auto for the Dodgers Jesus Galiz That one's not quite. I mean, that's all right. It would drive Sean insane purple shimmer Jesus Jesus Galiz It's 250 for the Dodgers. I Mean our pricing is pretty spot-on.  Felton's pretty they have a few others as well 14, let's see Guardians have well-been Francisca. It's a good first bowman to get the Brewers have a few guys. Yeah Salas Jose Salas that time Got a Delgado nice pink fuchsia vaporwave for the Yankees to 199 Big prospects in 2023 Bowman Chrome Ethan Salas is the The big the big guy right now for the Padres 17 year old catching prospect who's already in double a Brand of IA for the Yankees Felene Celeste and for the Mariners You Andry Vargas is probably the second best for the Dodgers. I think he is Who else are missing Braila Guerrero for the Rays is solid open Francisca Guardians is good Caner Delgado is also pretty good for the Yankees Alvarez there Henry Bolt on the Invicta Justin Henry Molloyman Noi for the Tigers There's gonna be some people that do not know what the hell we're talking about Nice Jesus Basitas yellow first auto for the Yankees the 75 And then Lane's live alphanatics guys. He's got good pricing on some breaks over there We've got a wave refractor Tatis to 100 for the Padres Come on now air yord on refractor to 499 for the Astros First auto Union Garcia for the Dodgers Dodgers with a couple of nice cards so far First shimmer is Carter young for the Orioles Evan Carter Carter young boom Purple refractor to 250 James Wood for the Nationals Yeah, sounds like you'll end up being a pretty good MLB you don't even Come out of nowhere. Oh, yeah, this guy is actually hitting like 280 and good defense It's like fifth and a good lineup Okay Be done grabbing a spot appreciate you, buddy. Here we go young kill for nandes Invicta on number 13 right Volpe came to the league Guerrero first Astros Phillies raised left everybody first refractor auto Luke gold of 499 Tigers This one Tigers. That was the last spot purchased Pretty sure it was Good hit there. We got an REL Castro few shipping vapor wave to 199 first bowman twins Yeah twins have a lot of guys that chase. I think they have the most first bowman autos in the set Next is a purple Tamar Johnson to 250 pirates Okay refractor first auto Dodgers again Chris Newell the 499 It's probably the second best Dodger to hit. I think in this Ali's for like upside shimmer Jason Dominguez Yankees. I think They got a few guys though Elise Newell obviously after Vargas, I mean orange that looks sick. Do you drew Jones prospect process? Orange refractor 13 of 25 diamond backs. That's awesome. That's cool. Let's ask our card. That's our card That's our card It's like 2002 NASCAR this Sunday Talladega Mark Martin and Jeff Gordon pale junior Take to the track Like Where at First auto yours Resoluita for the Blue Jays wave the 100 Garrett Cole Yankees Come on box for show us a super first refractor for the Cubs is Ludwig Espinoza number to 499 nice Espinoza 401 to 499 base auto for Tampa Bay Johnny Pirron Salas base purple shimmer to 250 Kevin Perrata Mets Gold Christian Vasquez goes to the twins. He's still a twin. I think 49 to 50 gold Christian Vasquez for the twins two-time World Series winner Did you know that and 18 and 22 oh Dominal trade with a little trade Three to go case number 13 next Okay, I didn't think I'd get any crazier now the world's are calling up Kirstad. I just Didn't send me If you were to look at the Orioles alone, you'd be like what the heck is going on over there, man This is what it's like it's exceeding. It's like the same thing What do you wait what sit like to them calling up all the young guys? They're like 90 Oh, yeah, for sure first auto Davies Davidson Gutierrez for the Mets That's why the teams are starting to do it. They're like, oh, you mean The guys that we won't we'll call up because we're cheap are really good refactor to 499 Miguel Cabrera for the Tigers You guys who keep drafting at the top of the draft every year are really good You drive JJ blue day or worse Got Brian a break you on the world baseball classic flag. That's Ash was a break, right? Ash was a break there. It's the 499. There's your injury Vargas Purple refractor first auto Javier Sanoha to 250 for Miami Marlins Dude, what's Joe doing? Going through my fridge green shimmer a nice one here Rainer Arias for the Giants Nice card 75 and 99 that must be a Las Vegas Raiders fan Got a Colt Keith atomic for the Tigers fall league insert Colt Keith To 150 Everyone kept calling it out on it, too That was awesome. I went in the channel to last night Kyle was wearing the chain Far back to the jets. I Don't think they're too young to win. I Experience definitely plays a part, but it doesn't mean the Orioles can't win right experience is huge Especially when you're going up against a team like Houston if that ends up happening That's tough. Got Ellen Murphy and Victor for the Braves Doesn't mean they can't do it though at all First woman base auto for the Braves is Justin Henry. Maloy. Me. No Ash was last year didn't have a son of Aqua pink vapor wave a shim first moment of 125 pirates You got some better leadership Got a Michael Leroy over fractured a 499 for the Mariners First refractor auto for the White Sox is Christian Maynard a 499 Shimmer first is Jesus Kaba for the Phillies. I will say I don't have any other team, but I don't think anyone's been the Braves They're freaking Disgustingly stacked. They probably have the two best players in the National League right now Are these two best players of the plate Blue first is Andy Acevedo to 150 for the Nationals just like a seven-game series. That's just that's that's scary Guerrero For a lander, probably they're verlin have no trade. He probably said no to the Rangers There's probably like a push to like hey, maybe they want me back.  Obviously Showman returns to comes from World Series market down.  You know what I mean? Like those are the teams you can't beat like the Braves in 21 You can't you couldn't that was a team of destiny They've got like 80 wins like under 90 wins made the playoffs and then one of all the Krataya and Victor Get like a mix you know a mosh of different players together that You know oh redemption. I haven't seen a redemption yet this year. I Would assume that's an insert auto Chrome rookie autograph red Chrome rookie autograph red Corbin Oh my god diamond bags, let's go red to five rookie autograph.    That's so sick red Carol auto redemption Nl rookie of the year Probably one of the top three or four fielders fielding position players in the entire National League Blue refractor James Wood to 150 for the Nationals Holy cow that's a hit of the day so far. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's gonna look so sick The rookie design to I mean, it's everyone's design But the design looks so well with color Vaughn Grissom rookie magenta at 299 or fuchsia to 299 for Atlanta Endurance yarte nasty dude Miller first fuchsia pink vaporwave to 199 for the Marlins First auto for the Brewer's Dylan O'Rei Oh First on the auto first shimmer is espinoza for the Cubs Got first refractor for the Guardians victory stories to 499 Gatto Sanchez Yes, Lane slow got spots over on fanatics live We have a pretty good daily special over there on PYT hobby cases and random team choice cases That pricing will not be available after today The choice is the one that's a really good deal One second, let me text rich real quick. So rich Will be on fanatics tomorrow. I'm gonna list his stream and breaks when we're done here today Rich is on the fanatics live app tomorrow morning Stanton out of through 299 for the Yankees Speckle Merrill to 299 for the Brewer's All right, it's hammock is first moment auto Henry Chavilly for the twins to 100 Nice twins hit HG Chavilly as he signs is like an author fuchsia shimmer. You'll see galan the one 99 arrangers first parallel Eddie Rosario refractor to 499 or world baseball classic like the 499 sorry, oh So the Braves All right, so the Braves The random is here, right? All right, Jake blast to I know I'm sorry Drew Jones moment essentials for the Diamondbacks It's no big deal, but I'm gonna give you a hard time about it I Do with Sean all the time out of the Rutschman, but come on First auto Omari Daniel for the twins twins Got both hits of the box You see a lot of twins in this. They'll be the green is a Carlos Rodriguez green refractor to 99 who is Close Rodriguez Nicaragua you who's he was See a brew his brewers prospects that's him, right? That looks like it That's him His birthday That's a birthday. Yeah, that is him brewers on the Carlos Rodriguez greens and on the ice little prospect actually That's kind of cool. It's like a prospect world baseball classic card There's not a ton of those there's some of them in this but that's pretty cool. He's got it to 880 RA with a 108 whip It's pretty good Jake. That's really that's pretty damn good. He's got a save as well. That's weird There's pitching him wherever dude Because he also has like 15 wins and his career so weird Huh, it's nice. Oh, don't do that. Don't do that be Doug. It's almost Friday, man We'll get you something nice. I hope I hope Gotta pull super that I need I need to I need to add to my lead Can't let them catch up once I once I just once I start Sleeping it's over the path. I can't be like Tim Bay rays get this early lead and then Even like a tagging the race I just do it because I know Jake is just gonna like Care so much he's so mad at the rays Gonna invict the Mason hour you'd have not watched a lot of Red Sox July's recently then Not that's not this year, but last year. Oh boy. Oh boy Francisco Alvarez Retires every day Friday. Hey, there you go. There you go Dude, I'm gonna let Rich know that I want my my every day to be my Friday Marine first auto for the Royals Guerrero. Do know Green refractor Alec Thomas for the diamond backs on the world baseball classic flag green color match from Mexico, too That's pretty cool. Actually diamond backs nice green Dude a red would look disgusting on most of these cards Like a red Mookie Superfactors are really good, but Darling Starfield. Hey, there you go, dude I've been enjoying Starfield a lot and it starts off slow. It's every Bethesda game. It just takes a while to get like Your feet underneath you and like, you know know what to do a Celestine first purple nice card for Seattle the 250 First woman purple 202 of 250 first auto Ronald Hernandez for the Marlins Shimmer first is Raymond Mola for the Pirates Yellow Jacob Melton for the Astros is 75 Fired oh, I just saw two spots coming for a Star Wars later Astros sold in a break. I don't know if it was the next one or not. It was Phillies and rays left. Just Phillies and rays Yeah Come on. That's so awesome. That was all Jake. That was all Jake I'm just gonna repeat it every time I pull one now Guys special privacy on fanatics live right now with Lane There's choice random teams available as well as PYT's on sale over there And I just found out that rich is going live on the fanatics live app tomorrow Well, it's like gonna be official now, so I'll get those breaks listed this afternoon, but yeah ripping rich will be Breaking for the first time I'm just getting His debut of the week Rushman Caden Wallace and Victor Getting Starfield Jake First auto Freddie Michelle for the Twins. I know Joe and Chris and I were talking about it RPG space exploration type game Gunner Henderson iconic. We've got refractor Acuna at a 499 for the Braves It's a Vargas base Ronald Dusty cards give us something good here. It's an orange true orange Rookie Kodai Senga That's a pretty card right there pretty card pretty card 25 of 25 Mets color match. I think we should Very nice Kodai Senga Ace of the staff Kodai Senga Speckle first auto Henry Ramos a 299 for KC Yeah, since they traded away Tyler McGill shimmer Roderick Arias for the Yankees There was a McGill picture for someone else Would you be interested in purchasing a rookie touch from auto Tyler McGill? All right, it's base. I'll probably want like 154 or something South Fray like blue refractor. Oh, for right is that South Fray like Bonjour, no So 75 actually in the blue for the world baseball classic flag that goes to Milwaukee to Milwaukee World Baseball Classic To prospects as well for like I think technically still a prospect right now He won't be for long, but I think it sends to the minor just right now. He's still with qualify as a prospect John afternoon, sir Did the Rangers sweep the Blue Jays? Orange is a young kill Fernandez Invicta to 25 for Colorado Kilaradu Sheetah Sheetah one first auto is Sanoja again for the Marlins God pink fuchsia vaporwave is in it on Sanchez first to 199 40 Chicago Cubs Fuchsia is Ricky Mark Vientos for the Mets now to 299 What's the best series of the week for the baseball or the weekend? I should say We were fractured James Wood to 150 for the national Oh, yeah, I forgot. Okay after that because that one's obvious That's like two division rivals to the best teams in baseball fighting for the division after that Green refractor first auto Mets, Jonathan Enriquez 1099 do the Mets Doing well here numbered Vientos a gorgeous Senga and then my green first auto Rangers won the first three And dude Rangers are they need to turn around quick. So that would be a big obviously it's a big series over that They sweep that's huge Future shimmer Jackson Shorio out of 199 for the Brewers There's a solace base. We'll top of the solace Quantum of solace See what I did there next is a Denzel Clark Number two 499 world baseball classic flag Denzel Clark is wearing We're gonna check it. I think it is Oakland. It should be. I don't know if you don't think you went anywhere else Denzel Clark he is yep an Oakland a Let's see Marcus grabbing some football for later. See William grabbing the raise in case 15 See how the Dodgers that is a big series That's big for the Mariners Castillo Castillo lost this really big that that's really big for the Mariners right now So Philly's raised guys Philly's raised in the next one that ALS is crazy, man Ash was pulling away who could have thought the ashes win the AOS All right, come on now. There's a Michael Harris. It came to the league base auto Hayden Dunnhurst for the Royals Aqua first for the Nationals Edwin Solano to 125 Aqua 125 throws me off Maybe a bowman crying it's only a bowman chrome thing as in bowman and in tops Like chrome like a regular bowman or bowman draft. I think off was always the 199. That's what I thought Anything else kind of like crazy fracter Mariners Michael Arroyo to 499 Speckle first auto nice to 299 is Hans Montero for the Yankees Gold shimmer first and manual Bonilla for the Blue Jays the 50 nice card Jays and Speckle on the back of the break is a Colson Montgomery for the White Sox number to 299 In a solid space another cup snakes really just played All right, guys do a quick recap here 499 we got clerk Rosario, Abreu Diaz Arroyo Arroyo Alvarez Acunia Cabrera Cabrera East Thuris Espinoza Number to 299 is Meryl Montgomery Stanton von Grissom Vientos to 250 Parada galees to Mar Johnson James Wood Celestine to 199 you have Adan Sanchez Canard Elgato RDL Castro you can arrow Miller Jackson choreo. That's to Yeah, there's one 99 still Jackson choreo. You'll see go on to 150 James Wood James Wood Acevedo Colt Keith Shim to 125 a shim to 125 Solano to 100 Tatis and Garrett Cole to 99 Alec Thomas Carlos Rodriguez Rainer Arias 75 Sal Fralek and Jacob Melton to 50 Bonilla and Christian Vasquez to 25 Drew Jones prospect process and Invicta Yankees Fernandez right autos of Dunhurst Perron Sanoha Michelle Hernandez Maureen Daniel orei Maloy Gutierrez Zulueta Garcia galees to 499 we had Luke Gold Christian Mena Chris Newell Axel Sanchez to 299 Henry Ramos Hans Montero to 250 Javier Sanoha to 100 Henry Chavilly to 99 Yonatan Enriquez and a 75 Jesus Bastidas Orange to 25 rookie is Kodai Senga congrats to the Mets there. That's a really nice one and red refractor auto redemption Corbin Carroll for the Diamondbacks number to five on that one. That'll be sick what you get that in your hands Thanks again everybody 13s coming up