ry soon.'

'None--none.' said the lama earnestly. 'We seek only peace and our
River.'

Kim smiled, remembering what he had overheard in the dressing-room.
Decidedly he was a favourite of the stars.

The priest brushed his foot over the rude horoscope. 'More than this I
cannot see. In three days comes the Bull to thee, boy.'

'And my River, my River,' pleaded the lama. 'I had hoped his Bull
would lead us both to the River.'

'Alas, for that wondrous River, my brother,' the priest replied. 'Such
things are not common.'

Next morning, though they were pressed to stay, the lama insisted on
departure. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three
annas in copper money for the needs of the road, and with many
blessings watched the two go southward in the dawn.

'Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from--'

'Nay, then would only evil people be left on the earth, and who would
give us meat and shelter?' quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his
burden.

'Yonder is a small stream. Let us look,' said the lama, and he led
from the white road across the fields; walking into a very hornets'
nest of pariah dogs.

Chapter 3

Yea, voice of every Soul that clung
To life that strove from rung to rung
When Devadatta's rule was young,
The warm wind brings Kamakura.

Buddha at Kamakura.

Behind them an angry farmer brandished a bamboo pole. He was a
market-gardener, Arain by caste, growing vegetables and flowers for
Umballa city, and well Kim knew the breed.

'Such an one,' said the lama, disregarding the dogs, 'is impolite to
strangers, intemperate of speech and uncharitable. Be warned by his
demeanour, my disciple.'

'Ho, shameless beggars!' shouted the farmer. 'Begone! Get hence!'

'We go,' the lama returned, with quiet dignity. 'We go from these
unblessed fields.'

'Ah,' said Kim, sucking in his breath. 'If the next crops fail, thou
canst only blame thine own tongue.'

The man shuffled uneasily in his slippers. 'The land is full of
beggars,' he began, half apologetically.

'And by what sign didst thou know that we would beg from thee, O Mali?'
said Kim tartly, using the name that a market-gardener least likes.
'All we sought was to look at that river beyond the field there.'

'River, forsooth!' the man snorted. 'What city do ye hail from not to
know a canal-cut? It runs as straight as an arrow, and I pay for the
water as though it were mo