` To think he should have listened so cleverly . Yonder is thy Temple . Now I am a poor man -- many priests have dealt with me -- but my son is my son , and if a gift to thy master can cure him -- I am at my very wits ' end . ' Kim considered for a while , tingling with pride . Three years ago he would have made prompt profit on the situation and gone his way without a thought ; but now , the very respect the Jat paid him proved that he was a man . Moreover , he had tasted fever once or twice already , and knew enough to recognize starvation when he saw it . ` Call him forth and I will give him a bond on my best yoke , so that the child is cured . ' Kim halted at the carved outer door of the temple . A white-clad Oswal banker from Ajmir , his sins of usury new wiped out , asked him what he did . ' I am chela to Teshoo Lama , an Holy One from Bhotiyal -- within there . He bade me come . I wait . Tell him . ' ` Do not forget the child , ' cried the importunate Jat over his shoulder , and then bellowed in Punjabi ; ' O Holy One -- O disciple of the Holy One -- O Gods above all the Worlds -- behold affliction sitting at the gate ! ' That cry is so common in Benares that the passers never turned their heads . The Oswal , at peace with mankind , carried the message into the darkness behind him , and the easy , uncounted Eastern minutes slid by ; for the lama was asleep in his cell , and no priest would wake him . When the click of his rosary again broke the hush of the inner court where the calm images of the Arhats stand , a novice whispered , ` Thy chela is here , ' and the old man strode forth , forgetting the end of that prayer . Hardly had the tall figure shown in the doorway than the Jat ran before him , and , lifting up the child , cried : ` Look upon this , Holy One ; and if the Gods will , he lives -- he lives ! ' He fumbled in his waist-belt and drew out a small silver coin . ` What is now ? '
The XXXXX 's eyes turned to Kim .
Ajmir Benares Jat Punjabi chela lama passers rosary starvation waist-belt