Kim by Rudyard Kipling (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📕

the Road again, as I said. Not knowing yet thy trade⁠—”

“I am not at all sure of that,” the Colonel muttered.

“He turns to me to make a peace between you. Is he not wise? He says he will return. He is but perfecting his knowledge. Think, Sahib! He has been three months at the school. And he is not mouthed to that bit. For my part, I rejoice. The pony learns the game.”

“Ay, but another time he must not go alone.”

“Why? He went alone before he came under the Colonel Sahib’s protection. When he comes to the Great Game he must go alone⁠—alone, and at peril of his head. Then, if he spits, or sneezes, or sits down other than as the people do whom he watches, he may be slain. Why hinder him now? Remember how the Persians say: The jackal that lives in the wilds of Mazanderan can only be caught by the hounds of Mazanderan.”

“True. It is true, Mahbub Ali. And if he comes to no harm, I do not desire anything better. But it is great insolence on his part.”

“He does not tell me, even, whither he goes,” said Mahbub. “He is no fool. When his time is accomplished he will come to me. It is time the healer of pearls took him in hand. He ripens too quickly⁠—as Sahibs reckon.”

This prophecy was fulfilled to the letter a month later. Mahbub had gone down to Umballa to bring up a fresh consignment of horses, and Kim met him on the Kalka road at dusk riding alone, begged an alms of him, was sworn at, and replied in English. There was nobody within earshot to hear Mahbub’s gasp of amazement.

“Oho! And where hast thou been?”

“Up and down⁠—down and up.”

“Come under a tree, out of the wet, and tell.”

“I stayed for a while with an old man near Umballa; anon with a household of my acquaintance in Umballa. With one of these I went as far as Delhi to the southward. That is a wondrous city. Then I drove a bullock for a teli34 coming north; but I heard of a great feast forward in Patiala, and thither went I in the company of a firework-maker. It was a great feast” (Kim rubbed his stomach). “I saw Rajahs, and elephants with gold and silver trappings; and they lit all the fireworks at once, whereby eleven men were killed, my firework-maker among them, and I was blown across a tent but took no harm. Then I came back to the rêl with a Sikh horseman, to whom I was groom for my bread; and so here.”

“Shabash!” said Mahbub Ali.

“But what does the Colonel Sahib say? I do not wish to be beaten.”

“The Hand of Friendship has averted the Whip of Calamity; but another time, when thou takest the Road it will be with me. This is too early.”

“Late enough for me. I have learned to read and to write English a little at the madrissah. I shall soon be altogether a Sahib.”

“Hear him!” laughed Mahbub, looking at the little drenched figure dancing in the wet. “Salaam⁠—Sahib,” and he saluted ironically. “Well, art tired of the Road, or wilt thou come on to Umballa with me and work back with the horses?”

“I come with thee, Mahbub Ali.”

VIII

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 sweetmeats (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 bazaar, 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