tons by the Museum. 'Give water here. We men are thirsty.'

'We men!' said the bhisti, laughing. 'Is one skinful enough for such
a pair? Drink, then, in the name of the Compassionate.'

He loosed a thin stream into Kim's hands, who drank native fashion; but
the lama must needs pull out a cup from his inexhaustible upper
draperies and drink ceremonially.

'Pardesi [a foreigner],' Kim explained, as the old man delivered in an
unknown tongue what was evidently a blessing.

They ate together in great content, clearing the beggingbowl. Then the
lama took snuff from a portentous wooden snuff-gourd, fingered his
rosary awhile, and so dropped into the easy sleep of age, as the shadow
of Zam-Zammah grew long.

Kim loafed over to the nearest tobacco-seller, a rather lively young
Mohammedan woman, and begged a rank cigar of the brand that they sell
to students of the Punjab University who copy English customs. Then he
smoked and thought, knees to chin, under the belly of the gun, and the
outcome of his thoughts was a sudden and stealthy departure in the
direction of Nila Ram's timber-yard.

The lama did not wake till the evening life of the city had begun with
lamp-lighting and the return of white-robed clerks and subordinates
from the Government offices. He stared dizzily in all directions, but
none looked at him save a Hindu urchin in a dirty turban and
Isabella-coloured clothes. Suddenly he bowed his head on his knees and
wailed.

'What is this?' said the boy, standing before him. 'Hast thou been
robbed?'

'It is my new chela [disciple] that is gone away from me, and I know
not where he is.'

'And what like of man was thy disciple?'

'It was a boy who came to me in place of him who died, on account of
the merit which I had gained when I bowed before the Law within there.'
He pointed towards the Museum. 'He came upon me to show me a road
which I had lost. He led me into the Wonder House, and by his talk
emboldened me to speak to the Keeper of the Images, so that I was
cheered and made strong. And when I was faint with hunger he begged
for me, as would a chela for his teacher. Suddenly was he sent.
Suddenly has he gone away. It was in my mind to have taught him the
Law upon the road to Benares.'

Kim stood amazed at this, because he had overheard the talk in the
Museum, and knew that the old man was speaking the truth, which is a
thing a native on the road seldom presents to a stranger.

'But I see