It is true . ' The lama stared fixedly at the device that flamed like a ruby in the dusk . ` The priest at Umballa said that thine was the sign of War . ' ` What is to do now ? ' ` Wait . Let us wait . ' ` Even now the darkness clears , ' said Kim . It was only natural that the descending sun should at last strike through the tree-trunks , across the grove , filling it with mealy gold light for a few minutes ; but to Kim it was the crown of the Umballa Brahmin 's prophecy . ` Hark ! ' said the lama . ` One beats a drum -- far off ! ' At first the sound , carrying diluted through the still air , resembled the beating of an artery in the head . Soon a sharpness was added . ` Ah ! The music , ' Kim explained . He knew the sound of a regimental band , but it amazed the lama . At the far end of the plain a heavy , dusty column crawled in sight . Then the wind brought the tune : We crave your condescension To tell you what we know Of marching in the Mulligan Guards To Sligo Port below ! Here broke in the shrill-tongued fifes : We shouldered arms , We marched -- we marched away . From Phoenix Park We marched to Dublin Bay .
The drums and the XXXXX , Oh , sweetly they did play , As we marched -- marched -- marched -- with the Mulligan Guards !
Bay Kim Park Umballa fifes first lama minutes ruby tree-trunks