The holy man would not stay though Lispeth pressed him . The Babu groans heavily , girds up his huge loins , and is off again . He does not care to travel after dusk ; but his days ' marches -- there is none to enter them in a book -- would astonish folk who mock at his race . Kindly villagers , remembering the Dacca drug-vendor of two months ago , give him shelter against evil spirits of the wood . He dreams of Bengali Gods , University text-books of education , and the Royal Society , London , England . Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrella goes forward . On the edge of the Doon , Mussoorie well behind them and the Plains spread out in golden dust before , rests a worn litter in which -- all the Hills know it -- lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing . Villages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it , for not only has the lama given them blessings , but his disciple good money -- full one-third Sahibs ' prices . Twelve miles a day has the dooli travelled , as the greasy , rubbed pole-ends show , and by roads that few Sahibs use . Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust filled every fold of the impassive lama 's drapery ; between the black horns of Raieng where they heard the whistle of the wild goats through the clouds ; pitching and strained on the shale below ; hard-held between shoulder and clenched jaw when they rounded the hideous curves of the Cut Road under Bhagirati ; swinging and creaking to the steady jog-trot of the descent into the Valley of the Waters ; pressed along the steamy levels of that locked valley ; up , up and out again , to meet the roaring gusts off Kedarnath ; set down of mid-days in the dun gloom of kindly oak-forests ; passed from village to village in dawn-chill , when even devotees may be forgiven for swearing at impatient holy men ; or by torchlight , when the least fearful think of ghosts -- the dooli has reached her last stage . The little hill-folk sweat in the modified heat of the lower Siwaliks , and gather round the priests for their blessing and their wage . ` Ye have acquired merit , ' says the lama . ` Merit greater than your knowing . And ye will return to the Hills , ' he sighs . ` Surely . The high Hills as soon as may be . ' The bearer rubs his shoulder , drinks water , spits it out again , and readjusts his grass sandal . Kim -- his face is drawn and tired -- pays very small silver from his belt , heaves out the food-bag , crams an oilskin packet -- they are holy writings -- into his bosom , and helps the lama to his feet . The peace has come again into the old man 's eyes , and he does not look for the hills to fall down and crush him as he did that terrible night when they were delayed by the flooded river . The men pick up the dooli and swing out of sight between the scrub clumps .
The XXXXX raises a hand toward the rampart of the Himalayas .
England Hills Siwaliks days fall goats lama sandal snow-dust torchlight