The lama squatted obediently in a little hollow of the ground not a hundred yards from the hump of the mango-trees dark against the star-powdered sky . ` Stay till I call . ' Kim flitted into the dusk . He knew that in all probability there would be sentries round the camp , and smiled to himself as he heard the thick boots of one . A boy who can dodge over the roofs of Lahore city on a moonlight night , using every little patch and corner of darkness to discomfit his pursuer , is not likely to be checked by a line of well-trained soldiers . He paid them the compliment of crawling between a couple , and , running and halting , crouching and dropping flat , worked his way toward the lighted Mess-tent where , close pressed behind the mango-tree , he waited till some chance word should give him a returnable lead . The one thing now in his mind was further information as to the Red Bull . For aught he knew , and Kim 's limitations were as curious and sudden as his expansions , the men , the nine hundred thorough devils of his father 's prophecy , might pray to the beast after dark , as Hindus pray to the Holy Cow . That at least would be entirely right and logical , and the padre with the gold cross would be therefore the man to consult in the matter . On the other hand , remembering sober-faced padres whom he had avoided in Lahore city , the priest might be an inquisitive nuisance who would bid him learn . But had it not been proven at Umballa that his sign in the high heavens portended War and armed men ? Was he not the Friend of the Stars as well as of all the World , crammed to the teeth with dreadful secrets ? Lastly -- and firstly as the undercurrent of all his quick thoughts -- this adventure , though he did not know the English word , was a stupendous lark -- a delightful continuation of his old flights across the housetops , as well as the fulfilment of sublime prophecy . He lay belly-flat and wriggled towards the Mess-tent door , a hand on the amulet round his neck . It was as he suspected . The Sahibs prayed to their God ; for in the centre of the Mess-table -- its sole ornament when they were on the line of march -- stood a golden bull fashioned from old-time loot of the Summer Palace at Pekin -- a red-gold bull with lowered head , ramping upon a field of Irish green . To him the Sahibs held out their glasses and cried aloud confusedly . Now the Reverend Arthur Bennett always left Mess after that toast , and being rather tired by his march his movements were more abrupt than usual . Kim , with slightly raised head , was still staring at his totem on the table , when the Chaplain stepped on his right shoulder-blade . Kim flinched under the leather , and , rolling sideways , brought down the Chaplain , who , ever a man of action , caught him by the throat and nearly choked the life out of him .
XXXXX then kicked him desperately in the stomach .
Cow English Kim Lahore Mess-tent fulfilment housetops mango-tree padres shoulder-blade