t Mahbub's hospitality--and yet ... He
thought it out alone in the dormitory, and came to the conclusion he
had been unjust to Mahbub.

The school was empty; nearly all the masters had gone away; Colonel
Creighton's railway pass lay in his hand, and Kim puffed himself that
he had not spent Colonel Creighton's or Mahbub's money in riotous
living. He was still lord of two rupees seven annas. His new
bullock-trunk, marked 'K. O'H.', and bedding-roll lay in the empty
sleeping-room.

'Sahibs are always tied to their baggage,' said Kim, nodding at them.
'You will stay here' He went out into the warm rain, smiling sinfully,
and sought a certain house whose outside he had noted down some time
before...

'Arre'! Dost thou know what manner of women we be in this quarter? Oh,
shame!'

'Was I born yesterday?' Kim squatted native-fashion on the cushions of
that upper room. 'A little dyestuff and three yards of cloth to help
out a jest. Is it much to ask?'

'Who is she? Thou art full young, as Sahibs go, for this devilry.'

'Oh, she? She is the daughter of a certain schoolmaster of a regiment
in the cantonments. He has beaten me twice because I went over their
wall in these clothes. Now I would go as a gardener's boy. Old men
are very jealous.'

'That is true. Hold thy face still while I dab on the juice.'

'Not too black, Naikan. I would not appear to her as a hubshi
(nigger).'

'Oh, love makes nought of these things. And how old is she?'

'Twelve years, I think,' said the shameless Kim. 'Spread it also on
the breast. It may be her father will tear my clothes off me, and if I
am piebald--' he laughed.

The girl worked busily, dabbing a twist of cloth into a little saucer
of brown dye that holds longer than any walnut-juice.

'Now send out and get me a cloth for the turban. Woe is me, my head is
all unshaved! And he will surely knock off my turban.'

'I am not a barber, but I will make shift. Thou wast born to be a
breaker of hearts! All this disguise for one evening? Remember, the
stuff does not wash away.' She shook with laughter till her bracelets
and anklets jingled. 'But who is to pay me for this? Huneefa herself
could not have given thee better stuff.'

'Trust in the Gods, my sister,' said Kim gravely, screwing his face
round as the stain dried. 'Besides, hast thou ever helped to paint a
Sahib thus before?'

'Never indeed. But a jest is not money.'

'It is worth much more.'

'Ch