en he faced his oppressors.

'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching?
And in what city is that teaching given?'

'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that
depends. The Regiment would pay for you all the time you are at the
Military Orphanage; or you might go on the Punjab Masonic Orphanage's
list (not that he or you 'ud understand what that means); but the best
schooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St Xavier's in
Partibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett
wished to cut it short.

'He wants to know how much?' said Kim placidly.

'Two or three hundred rupees a year.' Father Victor was long past any
sense of amazement. Bennett, impatient, did not understand.

'He says: "Write that name and the money upon a paper and give it
him." And he says you must write your name below, because he is going
to write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He
says the other man is a fool. He is going away.'

The lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone.

'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as
the lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift
motion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge
outside. The lama had disappeared.

Kim settled himself composedly on the Chaplain's cot. At least the
lama had promised that he would stay with the Raiput woman from Kulu,
and the rest was of the smallest importance. It pleased him that the
two padres were so evidently excited. They talked long in undertones,
Father Victor urging some scheme on Mr Bennett, who seemed incredulous.
All this was very new and fascinating, but Kim felt sleepy. They
called men into the tent--one of them certainly was the Colonel, as his
father had prophesied--and they asked him an infinity of questions,
chiefly about the woman who looked after him, all of which Kim answered
truthfully. They did not seem to think the woman a good guardian.

After all, this was the newest of his experiences. Sooner or later, if
he chose, he could escape into great, grey, formless India, beyond
tents and padres and colonels. Meantime, if the Sahibs were to be
impressed, he would do his best to impress them. He too was a white
man.

After much talk that he could not comprehend, they handed him over to a
sergeant, who had strict instructions not to let him es