Kim

tread the

flare to J

hen 'the he

ha at K

at Ka

d Ajaib-Gher-the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammah, that 'fire-bre

elhi Railway, and his Regiment went home without him. The wife died of cholera in Ferozepore, and O'Hara fell to drink and loafing up and down the line with the keen-eyed three-year-old baby. Societies and chaplains, anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but O'Hara drifted away, till he came across the woman who took opium and learned the taste from her, and died as poor whites die in India. His estate at death consisted of three papers-one he called his 'ne varietur' because those words were written below his signature thereon, and another his 'clearance-certificate'. The third was Kim's birth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious opium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was Kim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of magic-such magic as men practise

e will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the Colonel ridi

first, my father said, will come the two men making ready the ground for these matters

ll the World'; and very often, being lithe and inconspicuous, he executed commissions by night on the crowded housetops for sleek and shiny young men of fashion. It was intrigue,-of course he knew that much, as he had known all evil since he could speak,-but what he loved was the game for its own sake-the stealthy prowl through the dark gullies and lanes, the crawl up a waterpipe, the sights and sounds of the women's world on the flat roofs, and the headlong flight from housetop to housetop under cover of the hot dark. Then there were holy men, ash-smeared fakirs by their brick shrines under the trees at the riverside, with whom he was quite familiar-greeting them as they returned from begging-tours, and, when no one was by, eating from the same dish. The woman who looked after him insisted with tears that he should wear European clothes

door. The big Punjabi grinned tolerantly: he knew Kim of old. So did the water-carrier, sluicing water on the dry road from his goat-skin bag. So did Jawahir Singh, the Museum carpenter, bent over new packing-cases. So did everybody in sight except th

cried Abdullah, climbin

her stole the ghi,' sang Kim. 'All Mus

dered cap. His father was worth perhaps half a million st

oo. The Mussalmans pushed them of

ngy stuff like horse-blanketing, and not one fold of it could Kim refer to any known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long open-work iron pencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his hea

said Kim to h

' said Abdullah, fing

im; 'but he is no man of In

Lal, spying the rosary. 'See!

do not understand your talk.' The constable spoke P

Zam-Zammah, flourishing his bare heels. '

ys. He was old, and his woollen gaberdine still reek

that big house?' he s

m gave him no title-such as Lala or Mi

der House! C

above the door-

ut pay

t. I am no bank

t know.' Then, fingering his ros

re is your house? Have y

what know you? From the Hills where'-he sig

dly. Fook Shing had once chased him out of his

lman],' said l

r of Bhotiyal [Tibet]? I am no Khitai, but a Bhotiya [Tibetan

'I have not seen such a man.

nd I go to see the Four Holy Places before I die. Now do you, who are chi

thou e

orn, wooden begging-bowl. The boys nodded.

he sunlight. 'Is it true that there are many images in the Wonder House

. 'It is full of heathen bust

s house and there is no idolatry in it, but only a Sa

eat boys,' whis

but-parast [idolater],' sa

. Run to your mothers'

of statues and slabs crowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhist stupas and viharas of the North Country and now, dug up and labelled, made the pride of the Museum. In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a large alto-relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was r

lf,' the lama half sobbed; and under his br

Whom Maya held beneath her hea

Law is here also. My pilgrimage is w

anufacturers wing. A white-bearded Englishman was looking at the lama, who gravely tur

e,' smiling at the c

w Abbot of the Lung-Cho Monastery-gave it me,' stammered the l

here'-he glanced at the lama's face-'to gather knowledge. Come

-lined gallery. Kim laid himself down, his ear against a crack in the heat-sp

assery, the Such-zen, opposite the Painted Rocks, four months' march away. The Curator brought out a huge book of

h which we bring wood before winter. And thou-the English know of these things? He who is now Abbot of Lung-

the stones. Come and se

eside him, went through the collection with the reverence

familiar Greek convention, but delighted as a child at each new trove. Where the sequence failed, as in the Annu

In a few minutes the Curator saw that his guest was no mere bead-telling mendicant, but a scholar of parts. And they went at it all over again, the lama taking snuff, wiping his spectacles, and talking at railway speed in a bewildering mixture of Urdu and Tibetan. He had heard of the travels of the Chinese pilgrims, Fu-Hiouen and Hwen-Tsiang, and was anxious to know if there was any translation of their record. He drew in his breath as he turned helplessly over the pages of Beal and Stanislas Julien. ''Tis all here. A treasure locked.' Then he composed himself reverently to listen to fragments hastily rendered into Urdu. For the

which His foot had trod-to the Birthplace, even to Kapila; then to Mahabodhi,

mind that the Old Law was not well followed; being overlaid, as thou knowest, with devildom, charms

es with al

another desire'-the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the Curator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped on the table. 'Your scholars, by these books, have followed the Blessed Feet in all their wanderings; but there are things which they have not sought out. I know nothing-nothing do I know-but I go to free myself

d, wondering what

d at the test of the Bow, our Lord first breaking that which they

itten. I

ouched earth, there broke out a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our Lord's beneficence, and

ten,' said the

here is that River? Fountain of

, I do not know,'

man! I ask with my head between thy feet, O Fountain of Wisdom. We know He drew the bow! We know the arrow fell! We know

k you I would no

unheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream, may

know. I do

handsbreadth from the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not

dden-h

ut I'-he rose with a sweep of the soft thick

the Curator. 'But w

Seeker in secret, and from him haply I may learn. Maybe he will go with me to Buddh Gaya. Thence north and west to Kapilavas

t is a far cry to Delhi,

s amazed to see those tall poles by the side of the road snatching up and snatching up their threads,'-he illustrated the

re of thy road?'

ppointed persons despatch all to the appointed place. That much

at the mixture of old-world piety and mode

I come to the River of the Arrow. There is, moreover, a

good store of money somewhere about the

ela [disciple] who begged for me as the Rule demands, but halting in Kulu awhile a fever took him and he died. I have now no chela, but I will take the alms-bowl and

n together, thou and I. Here is a new book of white English paper: here be sharpened p

hed, but the power was almost exactly that of his own pai

n turned his head delightedly and wrinkled up his nos

never scratch. May they help thee

priest and priest-and now-' He fumbled at his belt, detached the open-work iron pincers, and laid it on th

these days; and the collector's heart in the Curator's bosom had gone ou

the Padma Samthora such as I used to make on silk at the lamassery. Yes-and o

h-pen Buddhist pictures which are, as it were, half written and half drawn. But the lama strode out, head high in

nce, and he meant to investigate further, precisely as he would have investigated a new building or a strange fest

eye fell on Kim. The inspiration of his pilgrimage had le

that gun,' said th

f. 'Sit under that gun if it please thee. When d

he moment, but it silenced Dunnoo, who knew that Kim's clear

thin?' said Kim affably, squatt

child. I bowed befor

od without emotion. He

t dost t

or drunk. What is the custom of charity in this tow

erb. The lama tried to rise, but sank back again, sighing for his disciple, d

of this city-all who are charitable.

d the old man ha

u. I know

aste vegetable-seller, which lay opposite the belt-t

ed yogi with thy beg

is a new priest in the city-a

d of new priests! They settle on our wares like flies. Is th

oly man]. But this priest is new. The Sahib in the Wonder House has t

the holy bull of Shiv. He has taken the best of a basket of onions alre

d straight for the shop, well knowing his privileges as a sacred beast, lowered his head, and puffed heavily along the line of baskets ere making his choice. Up

thrice over. Now, mother, a little rice and some

the back of the sh

undertone. 'It is good to give to the poor.' Sh

his fingers in the top of the mound. 'A little curry is good, and

h good, steaming vegetable curry, clapped a fried cake atop, and a morsel of clarified butter on t

zar the bull shall not come to thi

come out of a field to help thee? Now hold all straight and ask for the holy man's blessing upon me. Perhaps,

nd of the sentence, dodging pari

t the contents of the bowl. 'Eat now and-I will eat with thee. Ohe, bhisti!' he called to t

one skinful enough for such a pair? Drink

ve fashion; but the lama must needs pull out a cup from

, as the old man delivered in an unkno

ok snuff from a portentous wooden snuff-gourd, fingered his rosary awhile, and

they sell to students of the Punjab University who copy English customs. Then he smoked and thought, knees to chin, under the b

lerks and subordinates from the Government offices. He stared dizzily in all directions, but none looked at him save

boy, standing before him.

e] that is gone away from me

e of man was

o show me a road which I had lost. He led me into the Wonder House, and by his talk emboldened me to speak to the Keeper of the Images, so that I was cheered and made strong. And when I was

he Museum, and knew that the old man was speaking the truth, whi

a purpose. By this I know that I shall

rrow?' said Kim, wi

a. 'To none have I spoken of my search, save

ee in all this my life. I go with thee to Benares. And, too, I think that so old a man a

r-the River o

wast speaking to the English

de permitted. Such things fall sometimes-but I am

l help me.' Boylike, if an acquaintance had a scheme, Kim was quite ready with one of his own; an

child?' sa

nd so little-so used to truth-telling-may go out for the small matter of a river, it seemed to me that I too must go a-travelling. If it is o

Wheel from which I woul

will make me a king,' said Kim,

s upon the road,' the lama replied in the

eves are abroad. W

he order of his monastery, and though he slept on the groun

ir Serai,' said Kim, laughing at his pe

turn from Central Asia. Here were all manner of Northern folk, tending tethered ponies and kneeling camels; loading and unloading bales and bundles; drawing water for the evening meal at the creaking well-windlasses; piling grass before the shrieking, wild-eyed stallions; cuffing the surly caravan dogs; paying off camel-drivers; taking on new grooms; swearing, shouting, arguing, and chaffering in the packed square. The cloisters, reached by three or four masonry steps, made a haven of refuge around this turbulent sea. Most

isters to the far end, nearest therailway station, where Mahbub Ali, the horse-tra

as a gossip. Sometimes he would tell Kim to watch a man who had nothing whatever to do with horses: to follow him for one whole day and report every soul with whom he talked. Kim would deliver himself of his tale at evening, and Mahbub would listen with

mel on the nose. 'Ohe. Mahbub Ali!' He halted at

ilk carpet saddle-bags, pulling lazily at an immense silver hookah. He turned his head ve

t is far from Lahore to the P

t the begging-bo

etan; but ask my Baltis over yonder behind the camels. They may value your b

as nominally some sort of degraded Buddhist, fawned upon the priest, an

y, and the lama strode away, leavi

ttle Hindu, run away. God's curse on all unbeliever

ess, and thoroughly enjoying the situation; 'my fat

horses, I say. There must

ut am I a Hindu?'

of astonishment, but loo

ll the World,' said

pilgrimage together-to Benares, he says. He is quite mad,

k? Why come to me?' The voi

ilt sell many horses to the officers. They are very fine horses, these new ones: I have seen t

y. 'Thou hast never before lied to me.

will agree,' sa

understood the drift of Mahbub Ali's questions. '

-but t

a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have befallen the fortunate to who

his n

t ask. Is he n

village? Mussalman-Sikh Hi

f he is my chela-does-will-can anyone take him from me? for, look you

mong my Baltis,' said Mahbub Ali, and the

oming forward to the light again.

began, almost whispering: 'Umballa is on th

he does not know how

up hands as begging-the pedigree of the white stallion was not fully established, and that officer, who is now at Umballa, bade me make it clear.' (Mahbub here described the horse and the appearance of the officer.) 'So the message

hite stallion,' said Kim, wi

and some hard words as well.' A shadow passed behind

ity? Thy mother is dead. Thy father is de

t, greasy Mussalman bread to the boy. 'Go and lie down among my horse

. He smiled and thrust money and paper into his leather amulet-case. The lama, sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis, was already asleep in a corner of one of the stalls.

ties, explorers of nationalities other than English, and the guntrade-was, in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of 'information received' on which the Indian Government acts. But, recently, five confederated Kings, who had no business to confederate, had been informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage of news from their territories into British India. So those Kings' Prime Ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps, after the Oriental fashion. They suspected, among man

of C25; and even an Oriental, with an Oriental's views of the value of time, could see that the sooner it was in the proper hands the better. Mahbub had no particular desire to die by violence, because two or three family blood-feuds across the Border hung unfinished on his hands, and when these scores were cleared he intended to settle down as a more or less virtuous citizen. He had never passed the serai gate since his arrival two days ago, but had been ostentatious in sending telegrams to Bombay, where he banked some of his money; to Delhi, where a sub-partner of his own clan was selling horses to the agent of a Rajputana state; and to Umballa, where an Englishman was excitedly demanding the pedigre

f precaution, Kim had dropped on him, sent from Heaven; and, being as prompt as he was unscrupul

nt's interest as they wandered about India, the land of pilgrims;

nd the boy came to harm, the paper would incriminate nobody. And he would go up to Umballa leisurely and

, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time being. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie. That would have

dit who had waylaid his simple Balti in the matter of the telegrams. It was an utterly foolish thing to do; because they fell to drinking perfumed brandy against the Law of the Prophet, and Mahbub grew wonderfully drunk, and the gates of his

return to India with a whole sheep of Mahbub's bounty. A sleek young gentleman from Delhi, armed with a bunch of keys which the Flower had unshackled from the senseless one

arcass, 'that he is no more than a pig of an Afghan horse-dealer, with no thought except wo

it would be next his black heart,'

earched between the soles of his slippers as the Flower searched h

he pundit thoughtfully. 'They said, "Look if h

lice. There is Sikandar Khan, Nur Ali Beg, and Farrukh Shah a

n,' said the pundit. 'Tho

p. 'I earn my money. Farrukh Shah is a bear, Ali Beg a swashbuckler, and ol

not wink when they have outmanoeuvred an enemy, but as Mahbub Ali cleared his throat, tig

how many more there be upon the Road who have orders to test me-perhaps with the knife. So it stands that the boy must go to Umball

is own. His men lay there heavy with sle

went those who lay here last even-the

se at second cockcrow saying he would go t

' said Mahbub heartily, and climbed int

ed over letters, bills, and saddles-no mere burglar who ran a little knife sideways into the soles of Mahbub's slippers, or picked the seams of the saddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had

we go now. Those who search bags with knives may presently search bellies with knives. Surely there is a wom

, and they passed out of