is kichree--vegetable curry,' said Kim.

'Of course it is. You say: "Let me see the tarkeean." Then I say:
"It was cooked by a woman, and perhaps it is bad for your caste." Then
you say: "There is no caste when men go to--look for tarkeean." You
stop a little between those words, "to--look". That is thee whole
secret. The little stop before the words.'

Kim repeated the test-sentence.

'That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there is
time, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views and
documents and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us.
We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean, but
always with that little stop in the words. It is verree easy. First,
"Son of the Charm", if you are in a tight place. Perhaps that may help
you--perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean, if you
want to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, at
present, you have no offeecial business. You are--ah
ha!--supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you were
Asiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year of
leave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you,
because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all your
examinations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You
are on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help
Sons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my
dear fellow, and I hope you--ah--will come out top-side all raight.'

Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance
of Lucknow station and--was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged
himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in the
bosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck;
begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger (Mr Lurgan had forgotten
nothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paint-box, and compass, and
in a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns lay
a month's pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in a
leaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a
policeman ordered him off the steps.

Chapter 11

Give the man who is not made
To his trade
Swords to fling and catch again,
Coins to ring and snatch again,
Men to harm and cure again,
Snakes to charm and lure again--
He'll be hurt by his own bla