LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘A name we give him in Lahore city. “The Friend of all the World takes leave to go to his own places. He will come back upon the appointed day. Let the box and the bedding-roll be sent for; and if there has been a fault, let the Hand of Friendship turn aside the Whip of Calamity.” There is yet a little more, but——’

      ‘No matter, read.’

      ‘“Certain things are not known to those who eat with forks. It is better to eat with both hands for a while. Speak soft words to those who do not understand this that the return may be propitious.” Now the manner in which that was cast is of course the work of the letter-writer, but see how wisely the boy has devised the matter of it so that no hint is given except to those who know!’

      ‘Is this the Hand of Friendship to avert the Whip of Calamity?’ laughed the Colonel.

      ‘See how wise is the boy. He would go back to the Road again, as I said. Not knowing yet thy trade——’

      ‘I am not quite sure of that,’ the Colonel muttered.

      ‘He turns to me to make a peace between you. Is he not wise? He says he will return. He is but perfecting his knowledge. Think, Sahib! He has been three months at the school. And he is not mouthed to that bit. For my part, I rejoice: the pony learns the game.’

      ‘Ay, but another time he must not go alone.’

      ‘Why? He went alone before he came under the Colonel Sahib’s protection. When he comes to the Great Game he must go alone—alone, and at peril of his head. Then, if he spits, or sneezes, or sits down other than as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why hinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives in the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of Mazanderan.’

      ‘True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not desire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.’

      ‘He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,’ said Mahbub. ‘He is no fool. When his time is accomplished he will come to me. It is time the healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly—as Sahibs reckon.’

      This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mahbub had gone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim met him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him, was sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot to hear Mahbub’s gasp of amazement.

      ‘Oho! And where hast thou been?’

      ‘Up and down—down and up.’

      ‘Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.’

      ‘I stayed for a while with an old man near Umballa; anon with a household of my acquaintance in Umballa. With one of these I went as far as Delhi to the southward. That is a wondrous city. Then I drove a bullock for a teli (an oilman) coming north; but I heard of a great feast forward in Puttiala, and thither went I in the company of a firework-maker. It was a great feast’ (Kim rubbed his stomach). ‘I saw Rajahs, and elephants with gold and silver trappings; and they lit all the fireworks at once, whereby eleven men were killed, my firework-maker among them, and I was blown across a tent but took no harm. Then I came back to the rêl with a Sikh horseman, to whom I was groom for my bread; and so here.’

      ‘Shabash!’ said Mahbub Ali.

      ‘But what does the Colonel Sahib say? I do not wish to be beaten.’

      ‘The Hand of Friendship has averted the Whip of Calamity; but another time, when thou takest the Road it will be with me. This is too early.’

      ‘Late enough for me. I have learned to read and to write English a little at the madrissah. I shall soon be altogether a Sahib.’

      ‘Hear him!’ laughed Mahbub, looking at the little drenched figure dancing in the wet. ‘Salaam—Sahib,’ and he saluted ironically. ‘Well, art tired of the Road, or wilt thou come on to Umballa with me and work back with the horses?’

      ‘I come with thee, Mahbub Ali.’

      ▲▲▲

Chapter 8

      Something I owe to the soil that grew—

      More to the life that fed—

      But most to Allah Who gave me two

      Separate sides to my head.

      I would go without shirts or shoes,

      Friends, tobacco or bread

      Sooner than for an instant lose

      Either side of my head.

      ‘Then in God’s Name take blue for red,’ said Mahbub, alluding to the Hindu colour of Kim’s disreputable turban.

      Kim countered with the old proverb, ‘I will change my faith and my bedding, but thou must pay for it.’

      The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his horse. At a shop on the outskirts of the city the change was made, and Kim stood up, externally at least, a Mohammedan.

      Mahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked meal of the finest with almond-curd sweetmeats (balushai we call it) and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.

      ‘This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,’ said Kim, grinning as he squatted, ‘and assuredly they give no such victuals at my madrissah.’

      ‘I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.’ Mahbub stuffed himself with great boluses of spiced mutton fried in fat with cabbage and golden-brown onions. ‘But tell me first, altogether and truthfully, the manner of thy escape. For, O Friend of all the World,’—he loosed his cracking belt,—‘I do not think it is often that a Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there.’

      ‘How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing,’ said Kim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and the interview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali’s gravity went from him. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh.

      ‘Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healer of turquoises say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befell afterwards—step by step, omitting nothing.’

      Step by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as the full-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs.

      ‘I said,’ growled Mahbub Ali to himself, ‘I said it was the pony breaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already—except that he must learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and his compasses. Listen now. I have turned aside the Colonel’s whip from thy skin, and that is no small service.’

      ‘True.’ Kim puffed serenely. ‘That is all true.’

      ‘But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any way good.’

      ‘It was my holiday, Hajji. I was a slave for many weeks. Why should I not run away when the school was shut? Look, too, how I, living upon my friends or working for my bread, as I did with the Sikh, have saved the Colonel Sahib a great expense.’

      Mahbub’s lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache.

      ‘What are a few rupees’—the Pathan threw out his open hand carelessly—‘to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, not in any way for love of thee.’

      ‘That,’ said Kim slowly, ‘I knew a very long time ago.’

      ‘Who told?’

      ‘The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words, but plainly enough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in the te-rain when we went down to Lucknow.’

      ‘Be

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