rroundings 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