At the very bottom was an embroidered bag covering a sealed , gilded , and illuminated document such as one King sends to another . Kim caught his breath with delight , and reviewed the situation from a Sahib 's point of view . ` The books I do not want . Besides , they are logarithms -- Survey , I suppose . ' He laid them aside . ` The letters I do not understand , but Colonel Creighton will . They must all be kept . The maps -- they draw better maps than me -- of course . All the native letters -- oho ! -- and particularly the murasla . ' He sniffed the embroidered bag . ` That must be from Hilas or Bunar , and Hurree Babu spoke truth . By Jove ! It is a fine haul . I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the window . ' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a theodolite . But after all , a Sahib can not very well steal , and the things might be inconvenient evidence later . He sorted out every scrap of manuscript , every map , and the native letters . They made one softish slab . The three locked ferril-backed books , with five worn pocket-books , he put aside .
` The letters and the XXXXX I must carry inside my coat and under my belt , and the hand-written books I must put into the food-bag .
Babu Bunar Creighton Hilas Jove Kim King Sahib murasla pocket-books