id Kim. 'They are mine, and I want to go away.'

'I do not quite understand,' said Mr Bennett. 'He probably brought
them on purpose. It may be a begging trick of some kind.'

'I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with his company, then.
There's the makings of a gay mystery here. Ye believe in Providence,
Bennett?'

'I hope so.'

'Well, I believe in miracles, so it comes to the same thing. Powers of
Darkness! Kimball O'Hara! And his son! But then he's a native, and I
saw Kimball married myself to Annie Shott. How long have you had these
things, boy?'

'Ever since I was a little baby.'

Father Victor stepped forward quickly and opened the front of Kim's
upper garment. 'You see, Bennett, he's not very black. What's your
name?'

'Kim.'

'Or Kimball?'

'Perhaps. Will you let me go away?'

'What else?'

'They call me Kim Rishti ke. That is Kim of the Rishti.'

'What is that--"Rishti"?'

'Eye-rishti--that was the Regiment--my father's.'

'Irish--oh, I see.'

'Yess. That was how my father told me. My father, he has lived.'

'Has lived where?'

'Has lived. Of course he is dead--gone-out.'

'Oh! That's your abrupt way of putting it, is it?'

Bennett interrupted. 'It is possible I have done the boy an injustice.
He is certainly white, though evidently neglected. I am sure I must
have bruised him. I do not think spirits--'

'Get him a glass of sherry, then, and let him squat on the cot. Now,
Kim,' continued Father Victor, 'no one is going to hurt you. Drink that
down and tell us about yourself. The truth, if you've no objection.'

Kim coughed a little as he put down the empty glass, and considered.
This seemed a time for caution and fancy. Small boys who prowl about
camps are generally turned out after a whipping. But he had received no
stripes; the amulet was evidently working in his favour, and it looked
as though the Umballa horoscope and the few words that he could
remember of his father's maunderings fitted in most miraculously. Else
why did the fat padre seem so impressed, and why the glass of hot
yellow drink from the lean one?

'My father, he is dead in Lahore city since I was very little. The
woman, she kept kabarri shop near where the hire-carriages are.' Kim
began with a plunge, not quite sure how far the truth would serve him.

'Your mother?'

'No!'--with a gesture of disgust. 'She went out when I was born. My
father, he got these papers from the Jadoo-Gher