ine. Oh, it is a great cheek of him--we are not frightened
that way at Lucknow--No!' Then in Hindi: 'But what does he gain? He
is only a trader--I am in his shop. But Creighton Sahib is a
Colonel--and I think Creighton Sahib gave orders that it should be
done. How I will beat that Hindu in the morning! What is this?'

The trumpet-box was pouring out a string of the most elaborate abuse
that even Kim had ever heard, in a high uninterested voice, that for a
moment lifted the short hairs of his neck. When the vile thing drew
breath, Kim was reassured by the soft, sewing-machine-like whirr.

'Chup! [Be still]' he cried, and again he heard a chuckle that decided
him. 'Chup--or I break your head.'

The box took no heed. Kim wrenched at the tin trumpet and something
lifted with a click. He had evidently raised a lid. If there were a
devil inside, now was its time, for--he sniffed--thus did the
sewing-machines of the bazar smell. He would clean that shaitan. He
slipped off his jacket, and plunged it into the box's mouth. Something
long and round bent under the pressure, there was a whirr and the voice
stopped--as voices must if you ram a thrice-doubled coat on to the wax
cylinder and into the works of an expensive phonograph. Kim finished
his slumbers with a serene mind.

In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him.

'Oah!' said Kim, firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom. 'There
was a box in the night that gave me bad talk. So I stopped it. Was it
your box?'

The man held out his hand.

'Shake hands, O'Hara,' he said. 'Yes, it was my box. I keep such
things because my friends the Rajahs like them. That one is broken,
but it was cheap at the price. Yes, my friends, the Kings, are very
fond of toys--and so am I sometimes.'

Kim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes. He was a Sahib in
that he wore Sahib's clothes; the accent of his Urdu, the intonation of
his English, showed that he was anything but a Sahib. He seemed to
understand what moved in Kim's mind ere the boy opened his mouth, and
he took no pains to explain himself as did Father Victor or the Lucknow
masters. Sweetest of all--he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiatic
side.

'I am sorry you cannot beat my boy this morning. He says he will kill
you with a knife or poison. He is jealous, so I have put him in the
corner and I shall not speak to him today. He has just tried to kill
me. You must help me w