, laughing.

'We go to Benares,' said the lama, as soon as he understood the drift
of Mahbub Ali's questions. 'The boy and I, I go to seek for a certain
River.'

'Maybe--but the boy?'

'He is my disciple. He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.
Sitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly. Such things have
befallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed. But I remember
now, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.'

'And his name?'

'That I did not ask. Is he not my disciple?'

'His country--his race--his village? Mussalman--Sikh Hindu--Jain--low
caste or high?'

'Why should I ask? There is neither high nor low in the Middle Way.
If he is my chela--does--will--can anyone take him from me? for, look
you, without him I shall not find my River.' He wagged his head
solemnly.

'None shall take him from thee. Go, sit among my Baltis,' said Mahbub
Ali, and the lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.

'Is he not quite mad?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.
'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji?'

Mahbub puffed his hookah in silence. Then he began, almost whispering:
'Umballa is on the road to Benares--if indeed ye two go there.'

'Tck! Tck! I tell thee he does not know how to lie--as we two know.'

'And if thou wilt carry a message for me as far as Umballa, I will give
thee money. It concerns a horse--a white stallion which I have sold to
an officer upon the last time I returned from the Passes. But
then--stand nearer and hold up hands as begging--the pedigree of the
white stallion was not fully established, and that officer, who is now
at Umballa, bade me make it clear.' (Mahbub here described the horse
and the appearance of the officer.) 'So the message to that officer
will be: "The pedigree of the white stallion is fully established."
By this will he know that thou comest from me. He will then say "What
proof hast thou?" and thou wilt answer: "Mahbub Ali has given me the
proof."'

'And all for the sake of a white stallion,' said Kim, with a giggle,
his eyes aflame.

'That pedigree I will give thee now--in my own fashion and some hard
words as well.' A shadow passed behind Kim, and a feeding camel.
Mahbub Ali raised his voice.

'Allah! Art thou the only beggar in the city? Thy mother is dead. Thy
father is dead. So is it with all of them. Well, well--'

He turned as feeling on the floor beside him and tossed a flap of soft,
greasy Mussalman bread to the boy