heats, fanning away the flies till his wrists
ached, begged again in the evenings, and rubbed the lama's feet, who
rewarded him with promise of Freedom--today, tomorrow, or, at furthest,
the next day.

'Never was such a chela. I doubt at times whether Ananda more
faithfully nursed Our Lord. And thou art a Sahib? When I was a man--a
long time ago--I forgot that. Now I look upon thee often, and every
time I remember that thou art a Sahib. It is strange.'

'Thou hast said there is neither black nor white. Why plague me with
this talk, Holy One? Let me rub the other foot. It vexes me. I am
not a Sahib. I am thy chela, and my head is heavy on my shoulders.'

'Patience a little! We reach Freedom together. Then thou and I, upon
the far bank of the River, will look back upon our lives as in the
Hills we saw our days' marches laid out behind us. Perhaps I was once
a Sahib.'

'Was never a Sahib like thee, I swear it.'

'I am certain the Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House was in past
life a very wise Abbot. But even his spectacles do not make my eyes
see. There fall shadows when I would look steadily. No matter--we
know the tricks of the poor stupid carcass--shadow changing to another
shadow. I am bound by the illusion of Time and Space. How far came we
today in the flesh?'

'Perhaps half a koss.' (Three quarters of a mile, and it was a weary
march.)

'Half a koss. Ha! I went ten thousand thousand in the spirit. How,
we are all lapped and swathed and swaddled in these senseless things.'
He looked at his thin blue-veined hand that found the beads so heavy.
'Chela, hast thou never a wish to leave me?'

Kim thought of the oilskin packet and the books in the food-bag. If
someone duly authorized would only take delivery of them the Great Game
might play itself for aught he then cared. He was tired and hot in his
head, and a cough that came from the stomach worried him.

'No.' he said almost sternly. 'I am not a dog or a snake to bite when
I have learned to love.'

'Thou art too tender towards me.'

'Not that either. I have moved in one matter without consulting thee.
I have sent a message to the Kulu woman by that woman who gave us the
goat's milk this morn, saying that thou wast a little feeble and
wouldst need a litter. I beat myself in my mind that I did not do it
when we entered the Doon. We stay in this place till the litter
returns.'

'I am content. She is a woman with a heart o