he 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.'