Chapter: Something I owe to the soil that grew--
  More to the life that fed--
  But most to Allah Who gave me two
  Separate sides to my head.

  I would go without shirts or shoes,
  Friends, tobacco or bread
  Sooner than for an instant lose
  Either side of my head.'

  The Two-Sided Man.


'Then in God's name take blue for red,' said Mahbub, alluding to the
Hindu colour of Kim's disreputable turban.

Kim countered with the old proverb, 'I will change my faith and my
bedding, but thou must pay for it.'

The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his horse.  At a shop on
the outskirts of the city the change was made, and Kim stood up,
externally at least, a Mohammedan.

Mahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked
meal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call
it] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.

'This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,' said
Kim, grinning as he squatted, 'and assuredly they give no such victuals
at my madrissah.'

'I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.'  Mahbub stuffed
himself with great boluses of spiced mutton fried in fat with cabbage
and golden-brown onions.  'But tell me first, altogether and
truthfully, the manner of thy escape.  For, O Friend of all the
World,'--he loosed his cracking belt--'I do not think it is often that
a Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there.'

'How should they?  They do not know the land.  It was nothing,' said
Kim, and began his tale.  When he came to the disguisement and the
interview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali's gravity went from
him.  He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh.

'Shabash!  Shabash!  Oh, well done, little one!  What will the healer
of turquoises say to this?  Now, slowly, let us hear what befell
afterwards--step by step, omitting nothing.'

Step by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as the
full-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs.

'I said,' growled Mahbub Ali to himself, 'I said it was the pony
breaking out to play polo.  The fruit is ripe already--except that he
must learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and his
compasses.  Listen now.  I have turned aside the Colonel's whip from
thy skin, and that is no small service.'

'True.'  Kim pulled serenely.  'That is true.'

'But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any way
good.'

'It was my holiday, Hajji.  I was a slave for many weeks.  Why should I
not run away when the school was shut?  Look, too, how I, living upon
my friends or working for my bread, as I did with the Sikh, have saved
the Colonel Sahib a great expense.'

Mahbub's lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache.

'What are a few rupees'--the Pathan threw out his open hand
carelessly--'to the Colonel Sahib?  He spends them for a purpose, not
in any way for love of thee.'

'That,' said Kim slowly, 'I knew a very long time ago.'

'Who told?'

'The Colonel Sahib himself.  Not in those many words, but plainly
enough for one who is not altogether a mud-head.  Yea, he told me in
the te-rain when we went down to Lucknow.'

'Be it so.  Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, though
in the telling I lend thee my head.'

'It was forfeit to me,' said Kim, with deep relish, 'in Umballa, when
thou didst pick me up on the horse after the drummer-boy beat me.'

'Speak a little plainer.  All the world may tell lies save thou and I.
For equally is thy life forfeit to me if I chose to raise my finger
here.'

'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live
charcoal-ball on the weed.  'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed,
thy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to
death, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people
here and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the
other hand, say:  "What has come to Mahbub Ali?" if he were found dead
among his horses.  Surely, too, the Colonel Sahib would make inquiries.
But again,'--Kim's face puckered with cunning,--'he would not make
overlong inquiry, lest people should ask:  "What has this Colonel Sahib
to do with that horse-dealer?" But I--if I lived--'

'As thou wouldst surely die--'

'Maybe; but I say, if I lived, I, and I alone, would know that one had
come by night, as a common thief perhaps, to Mahbub Ali's bulkhead in
the serai, and there had slain him, either before or after that thief
had made a full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his
slippers.  Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to
me--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he
had not left behind him)--"What is Mahbub Ali to me?"?'

Up went a gout of heavy smoke.  There was a long pause:  then Mahbub
Ali spoke in admiration:  'And with these things on thy mind, dost thou
lie down and rise again among all the Sahibs' little sons at the
madrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?'

'It is an order,' said Kim blandly.  'Who am I to dispute an order?'

'A most finished Son of Eblis,' said Mahbub Ali.  'But what is this
tale of the thief and the search?'

'That which I saw,' said Kim, 'the night that my lama and I lay next
thy place in the Kashmir Seral.  The door was left unlocked, which I
think is not thy custom, Mahbub.  He came in as one assured that thou
wouldst not soon return.  My eye was against a knot-hole in the plank.
He searched as it were for something--not a rug, not stirrups, nor a
bridle, nor brass pots--something little and most carefully hid.  Else
why did he prick with an iron between the soles of thy slippers?'

'Ha!'  Mahbub Ali smiled gently.  'And seeing these things, what tale
didst thou fashion to thyself, Well of the Truth?'

'None.  I put my hand upon my amulet, which lies always next to my
skin, and, remembering the pedigree of a white stallion that I had
bitten out of a piece of Mussalmani bread, I went away to Umballa
perceiving that a heavy trust was laid upon me.  At that hour, had I
chosen, thy head was forfeit.  It needed only to say to that man, "I
have here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read."  And then?'
Kim peered at Mahbub under his eyebrows.

'Then thou wouldst have drunk water twice--perhaps thrice, afterwards.
I do not think more than thrice,' said Mahbub simply.

'It is true.  I thought of that a little, but most I thought that I
loved thee, Mahbub.  Therefore I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but
(and this thou dost not know) I lay hid in the garden-grass to see what
Colonel Creighton Sahib might do upon reading the white stallion's
pedigree.'

'And what did he?'  for Kim had bitten off the conversation.

'Dost thou give news for love, or dost thou sell it?'  Kim asked.

'I sell and--I buy.'  Mahbub took a four-anna piece out of his belt and
held it up.

'Eight!'  said Kim, mechanically following the huckster instinct of the
East.

Mahbub laughed, and put away the coin.  'It is too easy to deal in that
market, Friend of all the World.  Tell me for love.  Our lives lie in
each other's hand.'

'Very good.  I saw the Jang-i-Lat Sahib [the Commander-in-Chief] come
to a big dinner.  I saw him in Creighton Sahib's office.  I saw the two
read the white stallion's pedigree.  I heard the very orders given for
the opening of a great war.'

'Hah!'  Mahbub nodded with deepest eyes afire.  'The game is well
played.  That war is done now, and the evil, we hope, nipped before the
flower--thanks to me--and thee.  What didst thou later?'

'I made the news as it were a hook to catch me victual and honour among
the villagers in a village whose priest drugged my lama.  But I bore
away the old man's purse, and the Brahmin found nothing.  So next
morning he was angry.  Ho!  Ho!  And I also used the news when I fell
into the hands of that white Regiment with their Bull!'

'That was foolishness.'  Mahbub scowled.  'News is not meant to be
thrown about like dung-cakes, but used sparingly--like bhang.'

'So I think now, and moreover, it did me no sort of good.  But that was
very long ago,' he made as to brush it all away with a thin brown
hand--'and since then, and especially in the nights under the punkah at
the madrissah, I have thought very greatly.'

'Is it permitted to ask whither the Heaven-born's thought might have
led?'  said Mahbub, with an elaborate sarcasm, smoothing his scarlet
beard.

'It is permitted,' said Kim, and threw back the very tone.  'They say
at Nucklao that no Sahib must tell a black man that he has made a
fault.'

Mahbub's hand shot into his bosom, for to call a Pathan a 'black man'
[kala admi] is a blood-insult.  Then he remembered and laughed. 'Speak,
Sahib.  Thy black man hears.'

'But,' said Kim, 'I am not a Sahib, and I say I made a fault to curse
thee, Mahbub Ali, on that day at Umballa when I thought I was betrayed
by a Pathan.  I was senseless; for I was but newly caught, and I wished
to kill that low-caste drummer-boy.  I say now, Hajji, that it was well
done; and I see my road all clear before me to a good service.  I will
stay in the madrissah till I am ripe.'

'Well said.  Especially are distances and numbers and the manner of
using compasses to be learned in that game.  One waits in the Hills
above to show thee.'

'I will learn their teaching upon a condition--that my time is given to
me without question when the madrissah is shut.  Ask that for me of the
Colonel.'

'But why not ask the Colonel in the Sahibs' tongue?'

'The Colonel is the servant of the Government.  He is sent hither and
yon at a word, and must consider his own advancement.  (See how much I
have already learned at Nucklao!) Moreover, the Colonel I know since
three months only.  I have known one Mahbub Ali for six years.  So!  To
the madrissah I will go.  At the madrissah I will learn.  In the
madrissah I will be a Sahib.  But when the madrissah is shut, then must
I be free and go among my people.  Otherwise I die!'

'And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?'

'This great and beautiful land,' said Kim, waving his paw round the
little clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily
through the tobacco-smoke.  'And, further, I would see my lama again.
And, further, I need money.'

'That is the need of everyone,' said Mahbub ruefully.  'I will give
thee eight annas, for much money is not picked out of horses' hooves,
and it must suffice for many days.  As to all the rest, I am well
pleased, and no further talk is needed.  Make haste to learn, and in
three years, or it may be less, thou wilt be an aid--even to me.'

'Have I been such a hindrance till now?'  said Kim, with a boy's giggle.

'Do not give answers,' Mahbub grunted.  'Thou art my new horse-boy. Go
and bed among my men.  They are near the north end of the station, with
the horses.'

'They will beat me to the south end of the station if I come without
authority.'

Mahbub felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a cake of Chinese ink, and
dabbed the impression on a piece of soft native paper.  From Balkh to
Bombay men know that rough-ridged print with the old scar running
diagonally across it.

'That is enough to show my headman.  I come in the morning.'

'By which road?'  said Kim.

'By the road from the city.  There is but one, and then we return to
Creighton Sahib.  I have saved thee a beating.'

'Allah!  What is a beating when the very head is loose on the
shoulders?'

Kim slid out quietly into the night, walked half round the house,
keeping close to the walls, and headed away from the station for a mile
or so.  Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, for
he needed time to invent a story if any of Mahbub's retainers asked
questions.

They were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and,
being natives, had not, of course, unloaded the two trucks in which
Mahbub's animals stood among a consignment of country-breds bought by
the Bombay tram-company.  The headman, a broken-down,
consumptive-looking Mohammedan, promptly challenged Kim, but was
pacified at sight of Mahbub's sign-manual.

'The Hajji has of his favour given me service,' said Kim testily. 'If
this be doubted, wait till he comes in the morning.  Meantime, a place
by the fire.'

Followed the usual aimless babble that every low-caste native must
raise on every occasion.  It died down, and Kim lay out behind the
little knot of Mahbub's followers, almost under the wheels of a
horse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering.  Now a bed among
brickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded
horses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but
Kim was utterly happy.  Change of scene, service, and surroundings were
the breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots
of St Xavier's all arow under the punkah gave him joy as keen as the
repetition of the multiplication-table in English.

'I am very old,' he thought sleepily.  'Every month I become a year
more old.  I was very young, and a fool to boot, when I took Mahbub's
message to Umballa.  Even when I was with that white Regiment I was
very young and small and had no wisdom.  But now I learn every day, and
in three years the Colonel will take me out of the madrissah and let me
go upon the Road with Mahbub hunting for horses' pedigrees, or maybe I
shall go by myself; or maybe I shall find the lama and go with him.
Yes; that is best.  To walk again as a chela with my lama when he comes
back to Benares.'

The thoughts came more slowly and disconnectedly.  He was plunging into
a beautiful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper, thin and sharp,
above the monotonous babble round the fire.  It came from behind the
iron-skinned horse-truck.

'He is not here, then?'

'Where should he be but roystering in the city.  Who looks for a rat in
a frog-pond?  Come away.  He is not our man.'

'He must not go back beyond the Passes a second time.  It is the order.'

'Hire some woman to drug him.  It is a few rupees only, and there is no
evidence.'

'Except the woman.  It must be more certain; and remember the price
upon his head.'

'Ay, but the police have a long arm, and we are far from the Border.
If it were in Peshawur, now!'

'Yes--in Peshawur,' the second voice sneered.  'Peshawur, full of his
blood-kin--full of bolt-holes and women behind whose clothes he will
hide.  Yes, Peshawur or Jehannum would suit us equally well.'

'Then what is the plan?'

'O fool, have I not told it a hundred times?  Wait till he comes to lie
down, and then one sure shot.  The trucks are between us and pursuit.
We have but to run back over the lines and go our way. They will not
see whence the shot came.  Wait here at least till the dawn.  What
manner of fakir art thou, to shiver at a little watching?'

'Oho!'  thought Kim, behind close-shut eyes.  'Once again it is Mahbub.
Indeed a white stallion's pedigree is not a good thing to peddle to
Sahibs!  Or maybe Mahbub has been selling other news.  Now what is to
do, Kim?  I know not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here before
the dawn they will shoot him.  That would be no profit for thee, Kim.
And this is not a matter for the police.  That would be no profit for
Mahbub; and'--he giggled almost aloud--'I do not remember any lesson at
Nucklao which will help me.  Allah!  Here is Kim and yonder are they.
First, then, Kim must wake and go away, so that they shall not suspect.
A bad dream wakes a man--thus--'

He threw the blanket off his face, and raised himself suddenly with the
terrible, bubbling, meaningless yell of the Asiatic roused by nightmare.

'Urr-urr-urr-urr!  Ya-la-la-la-la!  Narain!  The churel!  The churel!'

A churel is the peculiarly malignant ghost of a woman who has died in
child-bed.  She haunts lonely roads, her feet are turned backwards on
the ankles, and she leads men to torment.

Louder rose Kim's quavering howl, till at last he leaped to his feet
and staggered off sleepily, while the camp cursed him for waking them.
Some twenty yards farther up the line he lay down again, taking care
that the whisperers should hear his grunts and groans as he recomposed
himself.  After a few minutes he rolled towards the road and stole away
into the thick darkness.

He paddled along swiftly till he came to a culvert, and dropped behind
it, his chin on a level with the coping-stone.  Here he could command
all the night-traffic, himself unseen.

Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the suburbs; a coughing
policeman and a hurrying foot-passenger or two who sang to keep off
evil spirits.  Then rapped the shod feet of a horse.

'Ah!  This is more like Mahbub,' thought Kim, as the beast shied at the
little head above the culvert.

'Ohe', Mahbub Ali,' he whispered, 'have a care!'

The horse was reined back almost on its haunches, and forced towards
the culvert.

'Never again,' said Mahbub, 'will I take a shod horse for night-work.
They pick up all the bones and nails in the city.'  He stooped to lift
its forefoot, and that brought his head within a foot of Kim's.

'Down--keep down,' he muttered.  'The night is full of eyes.'

'Two men wait thy coming behind the horse-trucks.  They will shoot thee
at thy lying down, because there is a price on thy head.  I heard,
sleeping near the horses.'

'Didst thou see them?  ...  Hold still, Sire of Devils!'  This
furiously to the horse.

'No.'

'Was one dressed belike as a fakir?'

'One said to the other, "What manner of fakir art thou, to shiver at a
little watching?"'

'Good.  Go back to the camp and lie down.  I do not die tonight.'

Mahbub wheeled his horse and vanished.  Kim tore back down the ditch
till he reached a point opposite his second resting-place, slipped
across the road like a weasel, and re-coiled himself in the blanket.

'At least Mahbub knows,' he thought contentedly.  'And certainly he
spoke as one expecting it.  I do not think those two men will profit by
tonight's watch.'

An hour passed, and, with the best will in the world to keep awake all
night, he slept deeply.  Now and again a night train roared along the
metals within twenty feet of him; but he had all the Oriental's
indifference to mere noise, and it did not even weave a dream through
his slumber.

Mahbub was anything but asleep.  It annoyed him vehemently that people
outside his tribe and unaffected by his casual amours should pursue him
for the life.  His first and natural impulse was to cross the line
lower down, work up again, and, catching his well-wishers from behind,
summarily slay them.  Here, he reflected with sorrow, another branch of
the Government, totally unconnected with Colonel Creighton, might
demand explanations which would be hard to supply; and he knew that
south of the Border a perfectly ridiculous fuss is made about a corpse
or so.  He had not been troubled in this way since he sent Kim to
Umballa with the message, and hoped that suspicion had been finally
diverted.

Then a most brilliant notion struck him.

'The English do eternally tell the truth,' he said, 'therefore we of
this country are eternally made foolish.  By Allah, I will tell the
truth to an Englishman!  Of what use is the Government police if a poor
Kabuli be robbed of his horses in their very trucks.  This is as bad as
Peshawur!  I should lay a complaint at the station.  Better still, some
young Sahib on the Railway!  They are zealous, and if they catch
thieves it is remembered to their honour.'

He tied up his horse outside the station, and strode on to the platform.

'Hullo, Mahbub Ali' said a young Assistant District Traffic
Superintendent who was waiting to go down the line--a tall, tow-haired,
horsey youth in dingy white linen.  'What are you doing here?  Selling
weeds--eh?'

'No; I am not troubled for my horses.  I come to look for Lutuf Ullah.
I have a truck-load up the line.  Could anyone take them out without
the Railway's knowledge?'

'Shouldn't think so, Mahbub.  You can claim against us if they do.'

'I have seen two men crouching under the wheels of one of the trucks
nearly all night.  Fakirs do not steal horses, so I gave them no more
thought.  I would find Lutuf Ullah, my partner.'

'The deuce you did?  And you didn't bother your head about it?  'Pon my
word, it's just almost as well that I met you.  What were they like,
eh?'

'They were only fakirs.  They will no more than take a little grain,
perhaps, from one of the trucks.  There are many up the line.  The
State will never miss the dole.  I came here seeking for my partner,
Lutuf Ullah.'

'Never mind your partner.  Where are your horse-trucks?'

'A little to this side of the farthest place where they make lamps for
the trains.'--

'The signal-box!  Yes.'

'And upon the rail nearest to the road upon the right-hand
side--looking up the line thus.  But as regards Lutuf Ullah--a tall man
with a broken nose, and a Persian greyhound Aie!'

The boy had hurried off to wake up a young and enthusiastic policeman;
for, as he said, the Railway had suffered much from depredations in the
goods-yard.  Mahbub Ali chuckled in his dyed beard.

'They will walk in their boots, making a noise, and then they will
wonder why there are no fakirs.  They are very clever boys--Barton
Sahib and Young Sahib.'

He waited idly for a few minutes, expecting to see them hurry up the
line girt for action.  A light engine slid through the station, and he
caught a glimpse of young Barton in the cab.

'I did that child an injustice.  He is not altogether a fool,' said
Mahbub Ali.  'To take a fire-carriage for a thief is a new game!'

When Mahbub Ali came to his camp in the dawn, no one thought it worth
while to tell him any news of the night.  No one, at least, but one
small horseboy, newly advanced to the great man's service, whom Mahbub
called to his tiny tent to assist in some packing.

'It is all known to me,' whispered Kim, bending above saddlebags. 'Two
Sahibs came up on a te-train.  I was running to and fro in the dark on
this side of the trucks as the te-train moved up and down slowly.  They
fell upon two men sitting under this truck--Hajji, what shall I do with
this lump of tobacco?  Wrap it in paper and put it under the salt-bag?
Yes--and struck them down.  But one man struck at a Sahib with a
fakir's buck's horn' (Kim meant the conjoined black-buck horns, which
are a fakir's sole temporal weapon)--'the blood came.  So the other
Sahib, first smiting his own man senseless, smote the stabber with a
short gun which had rolled from the first man's hand.  They all raged
as though mad together.'

Mahbub smiled with heavenly resignation.  'No!  That is not so much
dewanee [madness, or a case for the civil court--the word can be punned
upon both ways] as nizamut [a criminal case].  A gun, sayest thou?  Ten
good years in jail.'

'Then they both lay still, but I think they were nearly dead when they
were put on the te-train.  Their heads moved thus.  And there is much
blood on the line.  Come and see?'

'I have seen blood before.  Jail is the sure place--and assuredly they
will give false names, and assuredly no man will find them for a long
time.  They were unfriends of mine.  Thy fate and mine seem on one
string.  What a tale for the healer of pearls!  Now swiftly with the
saddle-bags and the cooking-platter.  We will take out the horses and
away to Simla.'

Swiftly--as Orientals understand speed--with long explanations, with
abuse and windy talk, carelessly, amid a hundred checks for little
things forgotten, the untidy camp broke up and led the half-dozen stiff
and fretful horses along the Kalka road in the fresh of the rain-swept
dawn.  Kim, regarded as Mahbub Ali's favourite by all who wished to
stand well with the Pathan, was not called upon to work.  They strolled
on by the easiest of stages, halting every few hours at a wayside
shelter.  Very many Sahibs travel along the Kalka road; and, as Mahbub
Ali says, every young Sahib must needs esteem himself a judge of a
horse, and, though he be over head in debt to the money-lender, must
make as if to buy.  That was the reason that Sahib after Sahib, rolling
along in a stage-carriage, would stop and open talk.  Some would even
descend from their vehicles and feel the horses' legs; asking inane
questions, or, through sheer ignorance of the vernacular, grossly
insulting the imperturbable trader.

'When first I dealt with Sahibs, and that was when Colonel Soady Sahib
was Governor of Fort Abazai and flooded the Commissioner's
camping-ground for spite,' Mahbub confided to Kim as the boy filled his
pipe under a tree, 'I did not know how greatly they were fools, and
this made me wroth.  As thus--,' and he told Kim a tale of an
expression, misused in all innocence, that doubled Kim up with mirth.
'Now I see, however,'--he exhaled smoke slowly--'that it is with them
as with all men--in certain matters they are wise, and in others most
foolish.  Very foolish it is to use the wrong word to a stranger; for
though the heart may be clean of offence, how is the stranger to know
that?  He is more like to search truth with a dagger.'

'True.  True talk,' said Kim solemnly.  'Fools speak of a cat when a
woman is brought to bed, for instance.  I have heard them.'

'Therefore, in one situate as thou art, it particularly behoves thee to
remember this with both kinds of faces.  Among Sahibs, never forgetting
thou art a Sahib; among the folk of Hind, always remembering thou
art--' He paused, with a puzzled smile.

'What am I? Mussalman, Hindu, Jain, or Buddhist?  That is a hard knot.'

'Thou art beyond question an unbeliever, and therefore thou wilt be
damned.  So says my Law--or I think it does.  But thou art also my
Little Friend of all the World, and I love thee.  So says my heart.
This matter of creeds is like horseflesh.  The wise man knows horses
are good--that there is a profit to be made from all; and for
myself--but that I am a good Sunni and hate the men of Tirah--I could
believe the same of all the Faiths.  Now manifestly a Kathiawar mare
taken from the sands of her birthplace and removed to the west of
Bengal founders--nor is even a Balkh stallion (and there are no better
horses than those of Balkh, were they not so heavy in the shoulder) of
any account in the great Northern deserts beside the snow-camels I have
seen.  Therefore I say in my heart the Faiths are like the horses.
Each has merit in its own country.'

'But my lama said altogether a different thing.'

'Oh, he is an old dreamer of dreams from Bhotiyal.  My heart is a
little angry, Friend of all the World, that thou shouldst see such
worth in a man so little known.'

'It is true, Hajji; but that worth do I see, and to him my heart is
drawn.'

'And his to thine, I hear.  Hearts are like horses.  They come and they
go against bit or spur.  Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that
bay stallion's pickets more firmly.  We do not want a horse-fight at
every resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a
little ...  Now hear me.  Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart
to see that lama?'

'It is one part of my bond,' said Kim.  'If I do not see him, and if he
is taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and,
and--once gone, who is to find me again?'

'It is true.  Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.'
Mahbub nodded his head.

'Do not be afraid.'  Kim spoke as though he could have vanished on the
moment.  'My lama has said that he will come to see me at the
madrissah--'

'A beggar and his bowl in the presence of those young Sa--'

'Not all!'  Kim cut in with a snort.  'Their eyes are blued and their
nails are blackened with low-caste blood, many of them.  Sons of
mehteranees--brothers-in-law to the bhungi [sweeper].'

We need not follow the rest of the pedigree; but Kim made his little
point clearly and without heat, chewing a piece of sugar-cane the while.

'Friend of all the World,' said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the
boy to clean, 'I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few
Sahibs.  I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.'

'And why?  When I always tell thee the truth.'

'Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.'
Mahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went
over to the horses.

'Or sell it?'

There was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn.  'What new
devilry?'

'Eight annas, and I will tell,' said Kim, grinning.  'It touches thy
peace.'

'O Shaitan!'  Mahbub gave the money.

'Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down
yonder at Umballa?'

'Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten.  Why?'

'Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?'

'I will twist thy ears in a moment--Sahib.'

'No need--Pathan.  Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat
senseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lahore.  I
saw his face as they helped him on the engine.  The very same man.'

'Why didst thou not tell before?'

'Oh, he will go to jail, and be safe for some years.  There is no need
to tell more than is necessary at any one time.  Besides, I did not
then need money for sweetmeats.'

'Allah kerim!'  said Mahbub Ah.  'Wilt thou some day sell my head for a
few sweetmeats if the fit takes thee?'

Kim will remember till he dies that long, lazy journey from Umballa,
through Kalka and the Pinjore Gardens near by, up to Simla.  A sudden
spate in the Gugger River swept down one horse (the most valuable, be
sure), and nearly drowned Kim among the dancing boulders.  Farther up
the road the horses were stampeded by a Government elephant, and being
in high condition of grass food, it cost a day and a half to get them
together again.  Then they met Sikandar Khan coming down with a few
unsaleable screws--remnants of his string--and Mahbub, who has more of
horse-coping in his little fingernail than Sikandar Khan in all his
tents, must needs buy two of the worst, and that meant eight hours'
laborious diplomacy and untold tobacco.  But it was all pure
delight--the wandering road, climbing, dipping, and sweeping about the
growing spurs; the flush of the morning laid along the distant snows;
the branched cacti, tier upon tier on the stony hillsides; the voices
of a thousand water-channels; the chatter of the monkeys; the solemn
deodars, climbing one after another with down-drooped branches; the
vista of the Plains rolled out far beneath them; the incessant twanging
of the tonga-horns and the wild rush of the led horses when a tonga
swung round a curve; the halts for prayers (Mahbub was very religious
in dry-washings and bellowings when time did not press); the evening
conferences by the halting-places, when camels and bullocks chewed
solemnly together and the stolid drivers told the news of the Road--all
these things lifted Kim's heart to song within him.

'But, when the singing and dancing is done,' said Mahbub Ali, 'comes
the Colonel Sahib's, and that is not so sweet.'

'A fair land--a most beautiful land is this of Hind--and the land of
the Five Rivers is fairer than all,' Kim half chanted.  'Into it I will
go again if Mahbub Ali or the Colonel lift hand or foot against me.
Once gone, who shall find me?  Look, Hajji, is yonder the city of
Simla?  Allah, what a city!'

'My father's brother, and he was an old man when Mackerson Sahib's well
was new at Peshawur, could recall when there were but two houses in it.'

He led the horses below the main road into the lower Simla bazar--the
crowded rabbit-warren that climbs up from the valley to the Town Hall
at an angle of forty-five.  A man who knows his way there can defy all
the police of India's summer capital, so cunningly does veranda
communicate with veranda, alley-way with alley-way, and bolt-hole with
bolt-hole.  Here live those who minister to the wants of the glad
city--jhampanis who pull the pretty ladies' 'rickshaws by night and
gamble till the dawn; grocers, oil-sellers, curio-vendors,
firewood-dealers, priests, pickpockets, and native employees of the
Government.  Here are discussed by courtesans the things which are
supposed to be profoundest secrets of the India Council; and here
gather all the sub-sub-agents of half the Native States.  Here, too,
Mahbub Ali rented a room, much more securely locked than his bulkhead
at Lahore, in the house of a Mohammedan cattle-dealer.  It was a place
of miracles, too, for there went in at twilight a Mohammedan horseboy,
and there came out an hour later a Eurasian lad--the Lucknow girl's dye
was of the best--in badly-fitting shop-clothes.

'I have spoken with Creighton Sahib,' quoth Mahbub Ali, 'and a second
time has the Hand of Friendship averted the Whip of Calamity.  He says
that thou hast altogether wasted sixty days upon the Road, and it is
too late, therefore, to send thee to any Hill-school.'

'I have said that my holidays are my own.  I do not go to school twice
over.  That is one part of my bond.'

'The Colonel Sahib is not yet aware of that contract.  Thou art to
lodge in Lurgan Sahib's house till it is time to go again to Nucklao.'

'I had sooner lodge with thee, Mahbub.'

'Thou dost not know the honour.  Lurgan Sahib himself asked for thee.
Thou wilt go up the hill and along the road atop, and there thou must
forget for a while that thou hast ever seen or spoken to me, Mahbub
Ali, who sells horses to Creighton Sahib, whom thou dost not know.
Remember this order.'

Kim nodded.  'Good,' said he, 'and who is Lurgan Sahib?  Nay'--he
caught Mahbub's sword-keen glance--'indeed I have never heard his name.
Is he by chance--he lowered his voice--'one of us?'

'What talk is this of us, Sahib?'  Mahbub Ali returned, in the tone he
used towards Europeans.  'I am a Pathan; thou art a Sahib and the son
of a Sahib.  Lurgan Sahib has a shop among the European shops. All
Simla knows it.  Ask there ...  and, Friend of all the World, he is one
to be obeyed to the last wink of his eyelashes.  Men say he does magic,
but that should not touch thee.  Go up the hill and ask. Here begins
the Great Game.'

 Mahbub Ali wants to know all about Kim's escape from St. Xavier's, and lets slip that Creighton has been spending money on Kim because he has a plan in mind. Kim knows all of this already--he knows that Creighton has some kind of job for him. Kim finally tells Mahbub Ali all about that night in Umballa with the message--about seeing the thieves searching Mahbub Ali's drunken, passed out body for the message and about going to Creighton's house to deliver Mahbub Ali's news. Mahbub Ali agrees that both he and Kim owe each other their lives. And Kim finally admits that Mahbub Ali made the right decision in leaving Kim at the school. Kim is willing to stay at St. Xavier's until he is ready for whatever job Creighton is planning for him. Kim spends the night among the servants pretending to a horseman employed by Mahbub Ali, and as he drifts off to sleep, he overhears two people planning to try and kill Mahbub Ali. Kim pretends to wake up with a loud nightmare. Everyone in the camp tells him to shut up, and he slips away. He finds Mahbub Ali preparing to leave, and warns him that there are two men waiting to shoot him. Mahbub Ali sends Kim off to lie down; he is prepared. Mahbub Ali decides to use English justice to get what he wants, so he goes to a local official and plays dumb, dropping hints about two men hiding under a truck who maybe want to steal something. Mahbub Ali spots the local official and his friend Young in a fire engine heading off to surprise the hiding men. Later, Kim tells Mahbub Ali about two Englishmen who got into a fight with these two disguised assassins. One of the assassins drew a gun, but they were both knocked unconscious by the Englishmen. Mahbub Ali figures that they'll each get about ten years in prison. As Kim travels with Mahbub Ali's people to Simla, Mahbub Ali praises him for realizing that it is important to know the right thing to say to each person. Kim's great talent is that he can be a Sahib among Sahibs, but he can also join in equally well with Indians of all faiths. For a small bribe, Kim tells Mahbub Ali that the second assassin was the same man who searched Mahbub Ali back in Umballa in Chapter 3. Mahbub Ali asks why Kim didn't tell him this before. Kim didn't need to tell him, because the man's going to jail anyway. Also, he didn't need money for sweets then. Mahbub Ali isn't super pleased, but he now realizes that Kim always has a price. Once again Kim is happy as a clam traveling along the roads of India. He and Mahbub Ali wind up in Simla . Mahbub Ali comes to Kim with a message from Creighton. Creighton's mad that Kim spent sixty days out on the road, when he could have been going to a local school. However, Kim is in luck. A local legend named Lurgan Sahib is in town. This man is rumored to be able to do magic, and he has invited Kim to stay with him in Simla until the term starts again in Lucknow.

