` To search every river in the Punjab is no small matter , ' said her husband . ` For me , a stream that leaves good silt on my land suffices , and I thank Bhumia , the God of the Home-stead . ' He shrugged one knotted , bronzed shoulder . ` Think you our Lord came so far North ? ' said the lama , turning to Kim . ` It may be , ' Kim replied soothingly , as he spat red pan-juice on the floor . ` The last of the Great Ones , ' said the Sikh with authority , ` was Sikander Julkarn -LSB- Alexander the Great -RSB- . He paved the streets of Jullundur and built a great tank near Umballa . That pavement holds to this day ; and the tank is there also . I never heard of thy God . ' ` Let thy hair grow long and talk Punjabi , ' said the young soldier jestingly to Kim , quoting a Northern proverb . ` That is all that makes a Sikh . ' But he did not say this very loud . The lama sighed and shrank into himself , a dingy , shapeless mass . In the pauses of their talk they could hear the low droning ` Om mane pudme hum ! Om mane pudme hum ! ' -- and the thick click of the wooden rosary beads . ` It irks me , ' he said at last . ` The speed and the clatter irk me . Moreover , my chela , I think that maybe we have over-passed that River . '
` Peace , peace , ' said XXXXX .
Bhumia Great Kim Northern Punjabi Sikh lama pudme rosary silt