survey), but by now the pencil characters must be almost illegible. Kim
translated it, sweating under the light of an oil-lamp, to Mahbub, the
second day of their return-journey.

The Pathan rose and stooped over his dappled saddle-bags.

'I knew it would be worthy a dress of honour, and so I made one ready,'
he said, smiling. 'Were I Amir of Afghanistan (and some day we may see
him), I would fill thy mouth with gold.' He laid the garments formally
at Kim's feet. There was a gold-embroidered Peshawur turban-cap,
rising to a cone, and a big turban-cloth ending in a broad fringe of
gold. There was a Delhi embroidered waistcoat to slip over a milky
white shirt, fastening to the right, ample and flowing; green pyjamas
with twisted silk waist-string; and that nothing might be lacking,
russia-leather slippers, smelling divinely, with arrogantly curled tips.

'Upon a Wednesday, and in the morning, to put on new clothes is
auspicious,' said Mahbub solemnly. 'But we must not forget the wicked
folk in the world. So!'

He capped all the splendour, that was taking Kim's delighted breath
away, with a mother-of-pearl, nickel-plated, self-extracting .450
revolver.

'I had thought of a smaller bore, but reflected that this takes
Government bullets. A man can always come by those--especially across
the Border. Stand up and let me look.' He clapped Kim on the
shoulder. 'May you never be tired, Pathan! Oh, the hearts to be
broken! Oh, the eyes under the eyelashes, looking sideways!'

Kim turned about, pointed his toes, stretched, and felt mechanically
for the moustache that was just beginning. Then he stooped towards
Mahbub's feet to make proper acknowledgment with fluttering,
quick-patting hands; his heart too full for words. Mahbub forestalled
and embraced him.

'My son, said he, 'what need of words between us? But is not the
little gun a delight? All six cartridges come out at one twist. It is
borne in the bosom next the skin, which, as it were, keeps it oiled.
Never put it elsewhere, and please God, thou shalt some day kill a man
with it.'

'Hai mai!' said Kim ruefully. 'If a Sahib kills a man he is hanged in
the jail.'

'True: but one pace beyond the Border, men are wiser. Put it away;
but fill it first. Of what use is a gun unfed?'

'When I go back to the madrissah I must return it. They do not allow
little guns. Thou wilt keep it for me?'

'Son, I am wearied of that madrissah, where they t