' said he, 'the
thing that I carry to Umballa. Better that we go now. Those who
search bags with knives may presently search bellies with knives.
Surely there is a woman behind this. Hai! Hai! in a whisper to the
light-sleeping old man. 'Come. It is time--time to go to Benares.'

The lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the serai like shadows.

Chapter 2

And whoso will, from Pride released;
Contemning neither creed nor priest,
May feel the Soul of all the East.
About him at Kamakura.

Buddha at Kamakura.

They entered the fort-like railway station, black in the end of night;
the electrics sizzling over the goods-yard where they handle the heavy
Northern grain-traffic.

'This is the work of devils!' said the lama, recoiling from the hollow
echoing darkness, the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms,
and the maze of girders above. He stood in a gigantic stone hall
paved, it seemed, with the sheeted dead third-class passengers who had
taken their tickets overnight and were sleeping in the waiting-rooms.
All hours of the twenty-four are alike to Orientals, and their
passenger traffic is regulated accordingly.

'This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind that
hole'--Kim pointed to the ticket-office--'who will give thee a paper to
take thee to Umballa.'

'But we go to Benares,' he replied petulantly.

'All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!'

'Take thou the purse.'

The lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended, started as
the 3.25 a.m. south-bound roared in. The sleepers sprang to life, and
the station filled with clamour and shoutings, cries of water and
sweetmeat vendors, shouts of native policemen, and shrill yells of
women gathering up their baskets, their families, and their husbands.

'It is the train--only the te-rain. It will not come here. Wait!'
Amazed at the lama's immense simplicity (he had handed him a small bag
full of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a ticket to Umballa. A sleepy
clerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station, just six
miles distant.

'Nay,' said Kim, scanning it with a grin. 'This may serve for farmers,
but I live in the city of Lahore. It was cleverly done, Babu. Now
give the ticket to Umballa.'

The Babu scowled and dealt the proper ticket.

'Now another to Amritzar,' said Kim, who had no notion of spending
Mahbub Ali's money on anything so crude as a paid ride to Umballa.
'The