plicating. The ruck
of passengers, busy, with their babies and their bundles, had not
noticed the affair. Kim slipped out behind him; for it flashed through
his head that he had heard this angry, stupid Sahib discoursing loud
personalities to an old lady near Umballa three years ago.

'It is well', the Saddhu whispered, jammed in the calling, shouting,
bewildered press--a Persian greyhound between his feet and a cageful of
yelling hawks under charge of a Rajput falconer in the small of his
back. 'He has gone now to send word of the letter which I hid. They
told me he was in Peshawur. I might have known that he is like the
crocodile--always at the other ford. He has saved me from present
calamity, but I owe my life to thee.'

'Is he also one of Us?' Kim ducked under a Mewar camel-driver's greasy
armpit and cannoned off a covey of jabbering Sikh matrons.

'Not less than the greatest. We are both fortunate! I will make
report to him of what thou hast done. I am safe under his protection.'

He bored through the edge of the crowd besieging the carriages, and
squatted by the bench near the telegraph-office.

'Return, or they take thy place! Have no fear for the work,
brother--or my life. Thou hast given me breathing-space, and
Strickland Sahib has pulled me to land. We may work together at the
Game yet. Farewell!'

Kim hurried to his carriage: elated, bewildered, but a little nettled
in that he had no key to the secrets about him.

'I am only a beginner at the Game, that is sure. I could not have
leaped into safety as did the Saddhu. He knew it was darkest under the
lamp. I could not have thought to tell news under pretence of cursing
... and how clever was the Sahib! No matter, I saved the life of one
... Where is the Kamboh gone, Holy One?' he whispered, as he took his
seat in the now crowded compartment.

'A fear gripped him,' the lama replied, with a touch of tender malice.
'He saw thee change the Mahratta to a Saddhu in the twinkling of an
eye, as a protection against evil. That shook him. Then he saw the
Saddhu fall sheer into the hands of the polis--all the effect of thy
art. Then he gathered up his son and fled; for he said that thou didst
change a quiet trader into an impudent bandier of words with the
Sahibs, and he feared a like fate. Where is the Saddhu?'

'With the polis,' said Kim ... 'Yet I saved the Kamboh's child.'

The lama snuffed blandly.

'Ah, chela, see how thou art