ad language, came from behind the curtains.
Here was evidently a woman used to command.

Kim looked over the retinue critically. Half of them were thin-legged,
grey-bearded Ooryas from down country. The other half were
duffle-clad, felt-hatted hillmen of the North; and that mixture told
its own tale, even if he had not overheard the incessant sparring
between the two divisions. The old lady was going south on a
visit--probably to a rich relative, most probably to a son-in-law, who
had sent up an escort as a mark of respect. The hillmen would be of
her own people--Kulu or Kangra folk. It was quite clear that she was
not taking her daughter down to be wedded, or the curtains would have
been laced home and the guard would have allowed no one near the car.
A merry and a high-spirited dame, thought Kim, balancing the dung-cake
in one hand, the cooked food in the other, and piloting the lama with a
nudging shoulder. Something might be made out of the meeting. The lama
would give him no help, but, as a conscientious chela, Kim was
delighted to beg for two.

He built his fire as close to the cart as he dared, waiting for one of
the escort to order him away. The lama dropped wearily to the ground,
much as a heavy fruit-eating bat cowers, and returned to his rosary.

'Stand farther off, beggar!' The order was shouted in broken
Hindustani by one of the hillmen.

'Huh! It is only a pahari [a hillman]', said Kim over his shoulder.
'Since when have the hill-asses owned all Hindustan?'

The retort was a swift and brilliant sketch of Kim's pedigree for three
generations.

'Ah!' Kim's voice was sweeter than ever, as he broke the dung-cake
into fit pieces. 'In my country we call that the beginning of
love-talk.'

A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the hillman on his mettle
for a second shot.

'Not so bad--not so bad,' said Kim with calm. 'But have a care, my
brother, lest we--we, I say--be minded to give a curse or so in return.
And our curses have the knack of biting home.'

The Ooryas laughed; the hillman sprang forward threateningly. The lama
suddenly raised his head, bringing his huge tam-o'-shanter hat into the
full light of Kim's new-started fire.

'What is it?' said he.

The man halted as though struck to stone. 'I--I--am saved from a great
sin,' he stammered.

'The foreigner has found him a priest at last,' whispered one of the
Ooryas.

'Hai! Why is that beggar-brat not well beaten?' t