y native jewellery. When she
turned it was like the clashing of copper pots. A lean cat in the
balcony outside the window mewed hungrily. Kim checked, bewildered, at
the door-curtain.

'Is that the new stuff, Mahbub?' said Huneefa lazily, scarce troubling
to remove the mouthpiece from her lips. 'O Buktanoos!'--like most of
her kind, she swore by the Djinns--'O Buktanoos! He is very good to
look upon.'

'That is part of the selling of the horse,' Mahbub explained to Kim,
who laughed.

'I have heard that talk since my Sixth Day,' he replied, squatting by
the light. 'Whither does it lead?'

'To protection. Tonight we change thy colour. This sleeping under
roofs has blanched thee like an almond. But Huneefa has the secret of
a colour that catches. No painting of a day or two. Also, we fortify
thee against the chances of the Road. That is my gift to thee, my son.
Take out all metals on thee and lay them here. Make ready, Huneefa.'

Kim dragged forth his compass, Survey paint-box, and the new-filled
medicine-box. They had all accompanied his travels, and boylike he
valued them immensely.

The woman rose slowly and moved with her hands a little spread before
her. Then Kim saw that she was blind. 'No, no,' she muttered, 'the
Pathan speaks truth--my colour does not go in a week or a month, and
those whom I protect are under strong guard.'

'When one is far off and alone, it would not be well to grow blotched
and leprous of a sudden,' said Mahbub. 'When thou wast with me I could
oversee the matter. Besides, a Pathan is a fair-skin. Strip to the
waist now and look how thou art whitened.' Huneefa felt her way back
from an inner room. 'It is no matter, she cannot see.' He took a
pewter bowl from her ringed hand.

The dye-stuff showed blue and gummy. Kim experimented on the back of
his wrist, with a dab of cotton-wool; but Huneefa heard him.

'No, no,' she cried, 'the thing is not done thus, but with the proper
ceremonies. The colouring is the least part. I give thee the full
protection of the Road.'

'Tadoo? [magic],'said Kim, with a half start. He did not like the
white, sightless eyes. Mahbub's hand on his neck bowed him to the
floor, nose within an inch of the boards.

'Be still. No harm comes to thee, my son. I am thy sacrifice!'

He could not see what the woman was about, but heard the dish-clash of
her jewellery for many minutes. A match lit up the darkness; he caught
the well-know