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The country born and bred boy has his own manners andcustoms, which do not resemble those of any other land; and histeachers approach him by roads which an English master would notunderstand. Therefore, you would scarcely be interested in Kim's experiencesas a St Xavier's boy among two or three hundred precociousyouths, most of whom had never seen the sea. He suffered the usual penalties for breaking out of bounds when there was cholera inthe city. This was before he had learned to write fair English, andso was obliged to find a bazar letter-writer. He was, ofcourse, indicted for smoking and for the use of abuse morefull-flavoured than even St Xavier's had ever heard. He learned to washhimself with the Levitical scrupulosity of the native-born, who inhis heart considers the Englishman rather dirty. He played theusual tricks on the patient coolies pulling the punkahs in thesleeping- rooms where the boys threshed through the hot nights tellingtales till the dawn; and quietly he measured himself against hisself- reliant mates.
They were a most mad ten days, but Kim enjoyed himself toomuch to reflect on their craziness. In the morning they played theJewel Game - sometimes with veritable stones, sometimes with pilesof swords and daggers, sometimes with photo-graphs of natives.Through the afternoons he and the Hindu boy would mount guard in theshop, sitting dumb behind a carpet-bale or a screen and watchingMr Lurgan's many and very curious visitors. There were smallRajahs, escorts coughing in the veranda, who came to buy curiosities -such as phonographs and mechanical toys. There were ladies in searchof necklaces, and men, it seemed to Kim - but his mind may havebeen vitiated by early training - in search of the ladies; nativesfrom independent and feudatory Courts whose ostensible business wasthe repair of broken necklaces - rivers of light poured out uponthe table - but whose true end seemed to be to raise money forangry Maharanees or young Rajahs. There were Babus to whom LurganSahib talked with austerity and authority, but at the end of each interview he gave them money in coined silver and currencynotes. There were occasional gatherings of long-coated theatricalnatives who discussed metaphysics in English and Bengali, to MrLurgan's great edification. He was always interested in religions. Atthe end of the day, Kim and the Hindu boy - whose name varied at Lurgan's pleasure - were expected to give a detailed account ofall that they had seen and heard - their view of each man'scharacter, as shown in his face, talk, and manner, and their notions ofhis real errand. After dinner, Lurgan Sahib's fancy turned more towhat might be called dressing-up, in which game he took a mostinforming interest. He could paint faces to a marvel; with a brush-dabhere and a line there changing them past recognition. The shop wasfull of all manner of dresses and turbans, and Kim was apparelled variously as a young Mohammedan of good family, an oilman, andonce - which was a joyous evening - as the son of an Oudh landholderin the fullest of full dress. Lurgan Sahib had a hawk's eye todetect the least flaw in the make-up; and lying on a worn teak-woodcouch, would explain by the half-hour together how such and such acaste talked, or walked, or coughed, or spat, or sneezed, and,since 'hows' matter little in this world, the 'why' of everything.The Hindu child played this game clumsily. That little mind, keen asan icicle where tally of jewels was concerned, could not temperitself to enter another's soul; but a demon in Kim woke up and sangwith joy as he put on the changing dresses, and changed speechand gesture therewith.
As usual, the lama had led Kim by cow-track and by-road, farfrom the main route along which Hurree Babu, that 'fearful man',had bucketed three days before through a storm to which nineEnglishmen out of ten would have given full right of way. Hurree was nogame- shot - the snick of a trigger made him change colour - but, ashe himself would have said, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', andhe had raked the huge valley with a pair of cheap binoculars tosome purpose. Moreover, the white of worn canvas tents againstgreen carries far. Hurree Babu had seen all he wanted to see when hesat on the threshing-floor of Ziglaur, twenty miles away as theeagle flies, and forty by road - that is to say, two small dots whichone day were just below the snow-line, and the next had moveddownward perhaps six inches on the hillside. Once cleaned out and set tothe work, his fat bare legs could cover a surprising amount ofground, and this was the reason why, while Kim and the lama lay in aleaky hut at Ziglaur till the storm should be over-past, an oily, wet,but always smiling Bengali, talking the best of English with thevilest of phrases, was ingratiating himself with two sodden andrather rheumatic foreigners. He had arrived, revolving many wildschemes, on the heels of a thunderstorm which had split a pine overagainst their camp, and so convinced a dozen or two forciblyimpressed baggage-coolies the day was inauspicious for farther travelthat with one accord they had thrown down their loads and jibbed.They were subjects of a Hill Rajah who farmed out their services, asis the custom, for his private gain; and, to add to theirpersonal distresses, the strange Sahibs had already threatened themwith rifles. The most of them knew rifles and Sahibs of old: theywere trackers and shikarris of the Northern valleys, keen after bearand wild goat; but they had never been thus treated in their lives.So the forest took them to her bosom, and, for all oaths andclamour, refused to restore. There was no need to feign madness or - theBabu had thought of another means of securing a welcome. He wrung outhis wet clothes, slipped on his patent-leather shoes, opened theblue- and-white umbrella, and with mincing gait and a heartbeating against his tonsils appeared as 'agent for His Royal Highness,the Rajah of Rampur, gentlemen. What can I do for you, please'
Hereat, simply as a child engrossed with a new game, the lamathrew back his head and began the full-throated invocation of theDoctor of Divinity ere he opens the full doctrine. The strangers leanedon their alpenstocks and listened. Kim, squatting humbly, watchedthe red sunlight on their faces, and the blend and parting of theirlong shadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious girt-inbelts that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book in StXavier's library \"The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico\" wasits name. Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Sumichrast ofthat tale, and very unlike the 'highly unscrupulous folk' ofHurree Babu's imagining. The coolies, earth-coloured and mute,crouched reverently some twenty or thirty yards away, and the Babu, theslack of his thin gear snapping like a marking-flag in the chillbreeze, stood by with an air of happy proprietorship.
It was too late. Before Kim could ward him off, the Russianstruck the old man full on the face. Next instant he was rolling overand over downhill with Kim at his throat. The blow had wakedevery unknown Irish devil in the boy's blood, and the sudden fall ofhis enemy did the rest. The lama dropped to his knees, half-stunned;the coolies under their loads fled up the hill as fast as plainsmenrun aross the level. They had seen sacrilege unspeakable, and itbehoved them to get away before the Gods and devils of the hillstook vengeance. The Frenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling athis revolver with some notion of making him a hostage for hiscompanion. A shower of cutting stones - hillmen are very straight shots -drove him away, and a coolie from Ao-chung snatched the lama intothe stampede. All came about as swiftly as the suddenmountain-darkness.
Kim might have saved his pity, for though at that moment theBengali suffered acutely in the flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. Amile down the hill, on the edge of the pine-forest, two half-frozenmen - one powerfully sick at intervals - were varying mutual recriminations with the most poignant abuse of the Babu, whoseemed distraught with terror. They demanded a plan of action. He explained that they were very lucky to be alive; that theircoolies, if not then stalking them, had passed beyond recall; that theRajah, his master, was ninety miles away, and, so far from lendingthem money and a retinue for the Simla journey, would surely castthem into prison if he heard that they had hit a priest. He enlargedon this sin and its consequences till they bade him change thesubject. Their one hope, said he, was unostentatious flight from villageto village till they reached civilization; and, for the hundredthtime dissolved in tears, he demanded of the high stars why theSahibs 'had beaten holy man'. 153554b96e
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