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Kim, by Rudyard Kipling
'Who goes to the hills goes to
They had crossed the Siwaliks and
the half-tropical Doon, left Mussoorie behind them, and headed north along
the narrow hill-roads. Day after day they struck deeper into the huddled
mountains, and day after day Kim watched the lama return to a man's
strength. Among the terraces of the Doon he had leaned on the boy's
shoulder, ready to profit by wayside halts. Under the great ramp to
Mussoorie he drew himself together as an old hunter faces a well-remembered
bank, and where he should have sunk exhausted swung his long draperies about
him, drew a deep double-lungful of the diamond air, and walked as only a
hillman can. Kim, plains-bred and plains-fed, sweated and panted astonished.
'This is my country,' said the lama. 'Beside Such-zen, this is flatter than
a rice-field'; and with steady, driving strokes from the loins he strode
upwards. But it was on the
steep downhill marches, three thousand feet in three hours, that he went
utterly away from Kim, whose back ached with holding back, and whose big toe
was nigh cut off by his grass sandal-string. Through the speckled shadow of
the great deodar-forests; through oak feathered and plumed with ferns;
birch, ilex, rhododendron, and pine, out on to the bare hillsides' slippery
sunburnt grass, and back into the woodlands' coolth again, till oak gave way
to bamboo and palm of the valley, the lama swung untiring.
Glancing back in the twilight at
the huge ridges behind him and the faint, thin line of the road whereby they
had come, he would lay out, with a hillman's generous breadth of vision,
fresh marches for the morrow; or, halting in the neck of some uplifted pass
that gave on Spiti and Kulu, would stretch out his hands yearningly towards
the high snows of the horizon. In the dawns they flared windy-red above
stark blue, as Kedar- nath and Badrinath - kings of that wilderness - took
the first sunlight. All day long they lay like molten silver under the sun,
and at evening put on their jewels again. At first they breathed temperately
upon the travellers, winds good to meet when one crawled over some gigantic
hog's-back; but in a few days, at a height of nine or ten thousand feet,
those breezes bit; and Kim kindly allowed a village of hillmen to acquire
merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat. The lama was mildly surprised that
anyone should object to the knife-edged breezes which had cut the years off
'These are but the lower hills,
chela. There is no cold till we come to the true Hills.'
'Air and water are good, and the
people are devout enough, but the food is very bad,' Kim growled; 'and we
walk as though we were mad - or English.
It freezes at night, too.'
'A little, maybe; but only enough
to make old bones rejoice in the sun. We
must not always delight in soft beds and rich food.'
'We might at least keep to the
Kim had all a plainsman's
affection for the well-trodden track, not six feet wide, that snaked among
the mountains; but the lama, being Tibetan, could not refrain from short
cuts over spurs and the rims of gravel-strewn slopes.
As he explained to his limping disciple, a man bred among mountains
can prophesy the course of a mountain-road, and though low-lying clouds
might be a hindrance to a short-cutting stranger, they made no earthly
difference to a thoughtful man. Thus, after long hours of what would be
reckoned very fair mountaineering in civilized countries, they would pant
over a saddle-back, sidle past a few landslips, and drop through forest at
an angle of forty- five onto the road again.
Along their track lay the villages of the hillfolk - mud and earth
huts, timbers now and then rudely carved with an axe - clinging like
swallows' nests against the steeps, huddled on tiny flats half-way down a
three-thousand-foot glissade; jammed into a corner between cliffs that
funnelled and focused every wandering blast; or, for the sake of summer
pasture, cowering down on a neck that in winter would be ten feet deep in
snow. And the people - the
sallow, greasy, duffle- clad people, with short bare legs and faces almost
Esquimaux - would flock out and adore.
The Plains - kindly and gentle - had treated the lama as a holy man
among holy men. But the Hills
worshipped him as one in the confidence of all their devils. Theirs was an
almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with a nature-worship fantastic as
their own landscapes, elaborate as the terracing of their tiny fields; but
they recognized the big hat, the clicking rosary, and the rare Chinese texts
for great authority; and they respected the man beneath the hat.
'We saw thee come down over the
black Breasts of Eua,' said a Betah who gave them cheese, sour milk, and
stone-hard bread one evening. 'We do not use that often - except when
calving cows stray in summer. There is a sudden wind among those stones that
casts men down on the stillest day. But what should such folk care for the
Devil of Eua!'
Then did Kim, aching in every
fibre, dizzy with looking down, footsore with cramping desperate toes into
inadequate crannies, take joy in the day's march - such joy as a boy of St
Xavier's who had won the quarter-mile on the flat might take in the praises
of his friends. The hills sweated the ghi and sugar suet off his bones; the
dry air, taken sobbingly at the head of cruel passes, firmed and built out
his upper ribs; and the tilted levels put new hard muscles into calf and
They meditated often on the Wheel
of Life - the more so since, as the lama said, they were freed from its
visible temptations. Except the grey eagle and an occasional far-seen bear
grubbing and rooting on the hillside; a vision of a furious painted leopard
met at dawn in a still valley devouring a goat; and now and again a bright-
coloured bird, they were alone with the winds and the grass singing under
the wind. The women of the
smoky huts over whose roofs the two walked as they descended the mountains,
were unlovely and unclean, wives of many husbands, and afflicted with goitre.
The men were woodcutters when they were not farmers - meek, and of an
incredible simplicity. But that suitable discourse might not fail, Fate sent
them, overtaking and overtaken upon the road, the courteous Dacca physician,
who paid for his food in ointments good for goitre and counsels that restore
peace between men and women. He seemed to know these hills as well as he
knew the hill dialects, and gave the lama the lie of the land towards Ladakh
and Tibet. He said they could return to the Plains at any moment. Meantime,
for such as loved mountains, yonder road might amuse. This was not all
revealed in a breath, but at evening encounters on the stone threshing-
floors, when, patients disposed of, the doctor would smoke and the lama
snuff, while Kim watched the wee cows grazing on the housetops, or threw his
soul after his eyes across the deep blue gulfs between range and range.
And there were talks apart in the dark woods, when the doctor would
seek herbs, and Kim, as budding physician, must accompany him.
'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not
know what the deuce-an'- all I shall do when I find our sporting friends;
but if you will kindly keep within sight of my umbrella, which is fine fixed
point for cadastral survey, I shall feel much better.'
Kim looked out across the jungle
of peaks. 'This is not my country, hakim.
Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bear-skin.'
'Oah, thatt is my strong points.
There is no hurry for Hurree. They were at Leh not so long ago.
They said they had come down from the Karakorum with their heads and
horns and all. I am onlee afraid they will have sent back all their letters
and compromising things from Leh into Russian territoree. Of course they
will walk away as far to the East as possible - just to show that they were
never among the Western States. You do not know the Hills?' He scratched
with a twig on the earth. 'Look! They should have come in by Srinagar or
Abbottabad. Thatt is their short road - down the river by Bunji and Astor.
But they have made mischief in the West. So' - he drew a furrow from left to right - 'they march and
they march away East to Leh (ah! it is cold there), and down the Indus to
Hanle (I know that road), and then down, you see, to Bushahr and Chini
valley. That is ascertained by process of elimination, and also by asking
questions from people that I cure so well. Our friends have been a long time
playing about and producing impressions. So they are well known from far
off. You will see me catch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your
eye on the umbrella.'
It nodded like a wind-blown
harebell down the valleys and round the mountain sides, and in due time the
lama and Kim, who steered by compass, would overhaul it, vending ointments
and powders at eventide. 'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would
throw a careless finger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would
expend itself in compliments.
They crossed a snowy pass in cold
moonlight, when the lama, mildly chaffing
Kim, went through up to his knees, like a Bactrian camel - the snow-bred,
shag-haired sort that came into the Kashmir Serai. They dipped across beds
of light snow and snow-powdered shale, where they took refuge from a gale in
a camp of Tibetans hurrying down tiny sheep, each laden with a bag of borax.
They came out upon grassy shoulders still snow-speckled, and through forest,
to grass anew. For all their marchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not
impressed; and it was only after days of travel that Kim, uplifted upon some
insignificant ten-thousand-foot hummock, could see that a shoulder-knot or
horn of the two great lords had - ever so slightly - changed outline.
At last they entered a world
within a world - a valley of leagues where the high hills were fashioned of
a mere rubble and refuse from off the knees of the mountains. Here one day's
march carried them no farther, it seemed, than a dreamer's clogged pace
bears him in a nightmare. They
skirted a shoulder painfully for hours, and, behold, it was but an outlying
boss in an outlying buttress of the main pile!
A rounded meadow revealed itself, when they had reached it, for a
vast tableland running far into the valley.
Three days later, it was a dim fold in the earth to southward.
'Surely the Gods live here!' said
Kim, beaten down by the silence and the appalling sweep and dispersal of the
cloud-shadows after rain. 'This
is no place for men!'
'Long and long ago,' said the
lama, as to himself, 'it was asked of the Lord whether the world were
everlasting. o this the
Excellent One returned no answer ... When I was in Ceylon, a wise Seeker
confirmed that from the gospel which is written in Pali. Certainly, since we
know the way to Freedom, the question were unprofitable, but - look, and
know illusion, chela! These- are the true Hills!
They are like my hills by Suchzen.
Never were such hills!'
Above them, still enormously
above them, earth towered away towards the snow-line, where from east to
west across hundreds of miles, ruled as with a ruler, the last of the bold
birches stopped. Above that, in scarps and blocks upheaved, the rocks strove
to fight their heads above the white smother. Above these again, changeless
since the world's beginning, but changing to every mood of sun and cloud,
lay out the eternal snow. They could see blots and blurs on its face where
storm and wandering wullie-wa got up to dance. Below them, as they stood,
the forest slid away in a sheet of blue-green for mile upon mile; below the
forest was a village in its sprinkle of terraced fields and steep
grazing-grounds. Below the village they knew, though a thunderstorm worried
and growled there for the moment, a pitch of twelve or fifteen hundred feet
gave to the moist valley where the streams gather that are the mothers of
As usual, the lama had led Kim by
cow-track and by-road, far from the main route along which Hurree Babu, that
'fearful man', had bucketed three days before through a storm to which nine
Englishmen out of ten would have given full right of way. Hurree was no
game- shot - the snick of a trigger made him change colour - but, as he
himself would have said, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', and he had
raked the huge valley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose.
Moreover, the white of worn canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree
Babu had seen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing-floor of
Ziglaur, twenty miles away as the eagle flies, and forty by road - that is
to say, two small dots which one day were just below the snow-line, and the
next had moved downward perhaps six inches on the hillside. Once cleaned out
and set to the work, his fat bare legs could cover a surprising amount of
ground, and this was the reason why, while Kim and the lama lay in a leaky
hut at Ziglaur till the storm should be over-past, an oily, wet, but always
smiling Bengali, talking the best of English with the vilest of phrases, was
ingratiating himself with two sodden and rather rheumatic foreigners. He had
arrived, revolving many wild schemes, on the heels of a thunderstorm which
had split a pine over against their camp, and so convinced a dozen or two
forcibly impressed baggage-coolies the day was inauspicious for farther
travel that with one accord they had thrown down their loads and jibbed.
They were subjects of a Hill Rajah who farmed out their services, as
is the custom, for his private gain; and, to add to their personal
distresses, the strange Sahibs had already threatened them with rifles. The
most of them knew rifles and Sahibs of old: they were trackers and shikarris
of the Northern valleys, keen after bear and wild goat; but they had never
been thus treated in their lives. So the forest took them to her bosom, and,
for all oaths and clamour, refused to restore. There was no need to feign
madness or - the Babu had thought of another means of securing a welcome. He
wrung out his wet clothes, slipped on his patent-leather shoes, opened the
blue- and-white umbrella, and with mincing gait and a heart beating against
his tonsils appeared as 'agent for His Royal Highness, the Rajah of Rampur,
gentlemen. What can I do for you, please?'
The gentlemen were delighted. One
was visibly French, the other Russian, but they spoke English not much
inferior to the Babu's. They begged his kind offices. Their native servants
had gone sick at Leh. They had hurried on because they were anxious to bring
the spoils of the chase to Simla ere the skins grew moth-eaten. They bore a
general letter of introduction (the Babu salaamed to it orientally) to all
Government officials. No, they had not met any other shooting-parties en
route. They did for themselves. They had plenty of supplies. They only
wished to push on as soon as might be. At this he waylaid a cowering hillman
among the trees, and after three minutes' talk and a little silver (one
cannot be economical upon State service, though Hurree's heart bled at the
waste) the eleven coolies and the three hangers-on reappeared. At least the
Babu would be a witness to their oppression.
'My royal master, he will be much
annoyed, but these people are onlee common people and grossly ignorant. If
your honours will kindly overlook unfortunate affair, I shall be much
pleased. In a little while rain will stop and we can then proceed. You have
been shooting, eh? That is fine performance!'
He skipped nimbly from one kilta
to the next, making pretence to adjust each conical basket. The Englishman is not, as a rule, familiar with the Asiatic,
but he would not strike across the wrist a kindly Babu who had accidentally
upset a kilta with a red oilskin top. On
the other hand, he would not press drink upon a Babu were he never so
friendly, nor would he invite him to meat.
The strangers did all these things, and asked many questions - about
women mostly - to which Hurree returned gay and unstudied answers. They gave
him a glass of whitish fluid like to gin, and then more; and in a little
time his gravity departed from him. He
became thickly treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweeping indecency of a
Government which had forced upon him a white man's education and neglected
to supply him with a white man's salary.
He babbled tales of oppression and wrong till the tears ran down his
cheeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing
love-songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Never was
so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappily thrust upon
'They are all just of that
pattern,' said one sportsman to the other in French. 'When we get into India
proper thou wilt see. I should like to visit his Rajah. One might speak the
good word there. It is possible that he has heard of us and wishes to
signify his good- will.'
'We have not time. We must get
into Simla as soon as may be,' his companion replied. 'For my own part, I
wish our reports had been sent back from Hilas, or even Leh.'
'The English post is better and
safer. Remember we are given all facilities - and Name of God! - they give
them to us too! Is it unbelievable stupidity?'
'It is pride - pride that
deserves and will receive punishment.'
To fight a fellow-Continental in our game is something. There is a
risk attached, but these people - bah! It is too easy.'
'Pride - all pride, my friend.'
'Now what the deuce is good of
Chandernagore being so close to Calcutta and all,' said Hurree, snoring
open-mouthed on the sodden moss, 'if I cannot understand their French? They
talk so particularly fast! It would have been much better to cut their
When he presented himself again
he was racked with a headache - penitent, and volubly afraid that in his
drunkenness he might have been indiscreet. He loved the British Government -
it was the source of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur
held the very same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him and to
quote past words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins,
and leers of infinite cunning, the poor Babu was beaten out of his defences
and forced to speak - truth. When Lurgan was told the tale later, he mourned
aloud that he could not have been in the place of the stubborn, inattentive
coolies, who with grass mats over their heads and the raindrops puddling in
their footprints, waited on the wea- ther. All the Sahibs of their
acquaintance - rough-clad men joyously returning year after year to their
chosen gullies - had servants and cooks and orderlies, very often hillmen.
These Sahibs travelled without any retinue. Therefore they were poor Sahibs,
and ignorant; for no Sahib in his senses would follow a Bengali's advice.
But the Bengali, appearing from somewhere, had given them money, and could
make shift with their dialect. Used to comprehensive ill-treatment from
their own colour, they suspected a trap somewhere, and stood by to run if
Then through the new-washed air,
steaming with delicious earth- smells, the Babu led the way down the slopes
- walking ahead of the coolies in pride; walking behind the foreigners in
humility. His thoughts were many and various. The least of them would have
interested his companions beyond words. But he was an agreeable guide, ever
keen to point out the beauties of his royal master's domain. He peopled the
hills with anything thev had a mind to slay - thar, ibex, or markhor, and
bear by Elisha's allowance. He discoursed of botany and ethnology with
unimpeachable inaccuracy, and his store of local legends - he had been a
trusted agent of the State for fifteen years, remember - was inexhaustible.
'Decidedly this fellow is an
original,' said the taller of the two foreigners. 'He is like the nightmare
of a Viennese courier.'
'He represents in little India in
transition - the monstrous hybridism of East and West,' the Russian replied.
'It is we who can deal with Orientals.'
'He has lost his own country and
has not acquired any other. But he has a most complete hatred of his
conquerors. Listen. He confided to me last night,' said the other.
Under the striped umbrella Hurree
Babu was straining ear and brain to follow the quick-poured French, and
keeping both eyes on a kilta full of maps and documents - an extra-large one
with a double red oil-skin cover. He
did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to know what to steal, and,
incidentally, how to get away when he had stolen it.
He thanked all the Gods of Hindustan, and Herbert Spencer, that there
remained some valuables to steal.
On the second dav the road rose
steeply to a grass spur above the forest; and it was here, about sunset,
that they came across an aged lama - but they called him a bonze - sitting
cross-legged above a mysterious chart held down by stones, which he was
explaining to a young man, evidently a neophyte, of singular, though
unwashen, beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted half a march away,
and Kim had suggested a halt till it came up to them.
'Ha!' said Hurree Babu,
resourceful as Puss-in-Boots. 'That is eminent local holy man. Probably
subject of my royal master.'
'What is he doing?
It is very curious.'
'He is expounding holy picture -
The two men stood bareheaded in
the wash of the afternoon sunlight low across the gold-coloured grass. The
sullen coolies, glad of the check, halted and slid down their loads.
'Look!' said the Frenchman. 'It
is like a picture for the birth of a religion - the first teacher and the
first disciple. Is he a Buddhist?'
'Of some debased kind,' the other
answered. 'There are no true Buddhists among the Hills. But look at the
folds of the drapery. Look at his eyes - how insolent! Why does this make
one feel that we are so young a people?' The speaker struck passionately at
a tall weed. 'We have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere! That, do you
understand, is what disquiets me.' He scowled at the placid face, and the
monumental calm of the pose.
'Have patience. We shall make
your mark together - we and you young people. Meantime, draw his picture.'
The Babu advanced loftily; his
back out of all keeping with his deferential speech, or his wink towards
'Holy One, these be Sahibs. My
medicines cured one of a flux, and I go into Simla to oversee his recovery.
They wish to see thy picture -'
'To heal the sick is always good.
This is the Wheel of Life,' said the lama, 'the same I showed thee in the
hut at Ziglaur when the rain fell.'
'And to hear thee expound it.'
The lama's eyes lighted at the
prospect of new listeners. 'To expound the Most Excellent Way is good.
Have they any knowledge of Hindi, such as had the Keeper of Images?'
'A little, maybe.'
Hereat, simply as a child
engrossed with a new game, the lama threw back his head and began the
full-throated invocation of the Doctor of Divinity ere he opens the full
doctrine. The strangers leaned on their alpenstocks and listened. Kim,
squatting humbly, watched the red sunlight on their faces, and the blend and
parting of their long shadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious
girt-in belts that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book in St
Xavier's library "The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico"
was its name. Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Sumichrast of that
tale, and very unlike the 'highly unscrupulous folk' of Hurree Babu's
imagining. The coolies, earth-coloured and mute, crouched reverently some
twenty or thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack of his thin gear
snapping like a marking-flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of
'These are the men,' Hurree
whispered, as the ritual went on and the two whites followed the grass-blade
sweeping from Hell to Heaven and back again. 'All their books are in the
large kilta with the reddish top - books and reports and maps - and I have
seen a King's letter that either Hilas or Bunar has written. They guard it
most carefully. They have sent nothing back from Hilas or Leh.
That is sure.'
'Who is with them?'
'Only the beegar-coolies.
They have no servants. They
are so close they cook their own food.'
'But what am I to do?'
'Wait and see. Only if any chance comes to me thou wilt know where to seek
for the papers.'
'This were better in Mahbub Ali's
hands than a Bengali's,' said Kim scornfully.
'There are more ways of getting
to a sweetheart than butting down a wall.'
'See here the Hell appointed for
avarice and greed. Flanked upon the one side by Desire and on the other by
Weariness.' The lama warmed to his work, and one of the strangers sketched
him in the quick- fading light.
'That is enough,' the man said at
last brusquely. 'I cannot understand him, but I want that picture.
He is a better artist than I. Ask him if he will sell it.'
'He says "No, sar,"'
the Babu replied. The lama, of course, would no more have parted with his
chart to a casual wayfarer than an archbishop would pawn the holy vessels of
his cathedral. All Tibet is full of cheap reproductions of the Wheel; but
the lama was an artist, as well as a wealthy Abbot in his own place.
'Perhaps in three days, or four,
or ten, if I perceive that the Sahib is a Seeker and of good understanding,
I may myself draw him another. But this was used for the initiation of a
novice. Tell him so, hakim.'
'He wishes it now - for money.'
The lama shook his head slowly
and began to fold up the Wheel. The Russian, on his side, saw no more than
an unclean old man haggling over a dirty piece of paper. He drew out a
handful of rupees, and snatched half-jestingly at the chart,which tore in
the lama's grip. A low murmur of horror went up from the coolies - some of
whom were Spiti men and, by their lights, good Buddhists. The lama rose at
the insult; his hand went to the heavy iron pencase that is the priest's
weapon,and the Babu danced in agony.
'Now you see - you see why I
wanted witnesses. They are highly unscrupulous people. Oh, sar! sar! You
must not hit holyman!'
'Chela! He has defiled the
It was too late. Before Kim could
ward him off, the Russian struck the old man full on the face. Next instant
he was rolling over and over downhill with Kim at his throat. The blow had
waked every unknown Irish devil in the boy's blood, and the sudden fall of
his enemy did the rest. The lama dropped to his knees, half-stunned; the
coolies under their loads fled up the hill as fast as plainsmen run aross
the level. They had seen sacrilege unspeakable, and it behoved them to get
away before the Gods and devils of the hills took vengeance. The Frenchman
ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with some notion of making
him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting stones - hillmen are
very straight shots - drove him away, and a coolie from Ao-chung snatched
the lama into the stampede. All came about as swiftly as the sudden
'They have taken the baggage and
all the guns,' yelled the Frenchman, firing blindly into the twilight.
'All right, sar! All right! Don't
shoot. I go to rescue,' and
Hurree, pounding down the slope, cast himself bodily upon the
delighted and astonished Kim, who was banging his breathless foe's head
against a boulder.
'Go back to the coolies,'
whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have the baggage. The papers are in the
kilta with the red top, but look through all. Take their papers, and
specially the murasla [King's letter]. Go!
The other man comes!'
Kim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he cowered
'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree,
'they will descend and annihilate us. I
have rescued the gentleman, sar. This
is particularly dangerous.'
'By Jove!' Kim was thinking hard
in English. 'This is dam'-tight
place, but I think it is self-defence.' He felt in his bosom for Mahbub's
gift, and uncertainly - save for a few practice shots in the Bikanir desert,
he had never used the little gun -pulled the trigger.
'What did I say, sar!' The Babu
seemed to be in tears. 'Come down here and assist to resuscitate. We are all
up a tree, I tell you.'
The shots ceased. There was a
sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried upward through the gloom, swearing
like a cat - or a country-bred.
'Did they wound thee, chela?'
called the lama above him.
And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.
Come away. We go with
these folk to Shamlegh-under-the- Snow.'
'But not before we have done
justice,' a voice cried. 'I have got the Sahibs' guns - all four. Let us go down.'
'He struck the Holy One - we saw
it! Our cattle will be barren- our wives will cease to bear! The snows will
slide upon us as we go home ... Atop of all other oppression too!'
The little fir-clump filled with
clamouring coolies - panic- stricken, and in their terror capable of
anything. The man from Ao-chung clicked the breech-bolt of his gun
impatiently, and made as to go downhill.
'Wait a little, Holy One; they
cannot go far. Wait till I
return,' said he.
'It is this person who has
suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand over his brow.
'For that very reason,' was the
'If this person overlooks it,
your hands are clean. Moreover,
ye acquire merit by obedience.'
'Wait, and we will all go to
Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.
For a moment, for just so long as
it needs to stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then
he rose to his feet, and laid a finger on the man's shoulder.
'Hast thou heard? I say there
shall be no killing - I who was Abbot of Such-zen. Is it any lust of thine
to be re-born as a rat,or a snake under the eaves - a worm in the belly of
the most mean beast? Is it thy wish to -'
The man from Ao-chung fell to his
knees, for the voice boomed like a Tibetan devil-gong.
'Ai! ai!' cried the Spiti men.'Do
not curse us - do not curse him. It was but his zeal, Holy One! . . . Put
down the rifle, fool!'
'Anger on anger! Evil on evil!
There will be no killing. Let the priest-beaters go in bondage to their own
acts. Just and sure is the Wheel, swerving not a hair! They will be born
many times - in torment.' His head drooped, and he leaned heavily on Kim's
'I have come near to great evil,
chela,' he whispered in that dead hush under the pines. 'I was tempted to
loose the bullet; and truly, in Tibet there would have been a heavy and a
slow death for them ... He struck me across the face ... upon the flesh ...'
He slid to the ground, breathing heavily, and Kim could hear the over-driven
heart bump and check.
'Have they hurt him to the
death?' said the Ao-chung man, while the others stood mute.
Kim knelt over the body in deadly
fear. 'Nay,' he cried passionately, 'this is only a weakness.' Then he
remembered that he was a white man, with a white man's camp-fittings at his
service. 'Open the kiltas! The Sahibs may have a medicine.'
'Oho! Then I know it,' said the
Ao-chung man with a laugh. 'Not for five years was I Yankling Sahib's
shikarri without knowing that medicine. I too have tasted it. Behold!'
He drew from his breast a bottle
of cheap whisky - such as is sold to explorers at Leh - and cleverly forced
a little between the lama's teeth.
'So I did when Yankling Sahib
twisted his foot beyond Astor. Aha! I have already looked into their baskets
- but we will make fair division at Shamlegh. Give him a little more. It is
good medicine. Feel! His heart goes better now. Lay his head down and rub a
little on the chest. If he had waited quietly while I accounted for the
Sahibs this would never have come. But perhaps the Sahibs may chase us here.
Then it would not be wrong to shoot them with their own guns, heh?'
'One is paid, I think, already,'
said Kim between his teeth. 'I kicked him in the groin as we went downhill.
Would I had killed him!'
'It is well to be brave when one
does not live in Rampur,' said one whose hut lay within a few miles of the
Rajah's rickety palace. 'If we get a bad name among the Sahibs, none will
employ us as shikarris any more.'
'Oh, but these are not Angrezi
Sahibs - not merry-minded men like Fostum Sahib or Yankling Sahib.
They are foreigners - they cannot speak Angrezi as do Sahibs.'
Here the lama coughed and sat up,
groping for the rosary.
'There shall be no killing,' he
murmured. 'Just is the Wheel!
Evil on evil -'
'Nay, Holy One. We are all here.'
The Ao-chung man timidly patted his feet. 'Except by thy order, no one shall
be slain. Rest awhile. We will make a little camp here, and later, as the
moon rises, we go to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'
'After a blow, ' said a Spiti man
sententiously, 'it is best to sleep.'
'There is, as it were, a
dizziness at the back of my neck, and a pinching in it. Let me lay my head
on thy lap, chela. I am an old man, but not free from passion . . . We must
think of the Cause of Things.'
'Give him a blanket.
We dare not light a fire lest the Sahibs see.'
'Better get away to Shamlegh.
None will follow us to Shamlegh.'
This was the nervous Rampur man.
'I have been Fostum Sahib's
shikarri, and I am Yankling Sahib's shikarri. I should have been with
Yankling Sahib now but for this cursed beegar [the corvee]. Let two men
watch below with the guns lest the Sahibs do more foolishness. I shall not
leave this Holy One.'
They sat down a little apart from
the lama, and, after listening awhile, passed round a water-pipe whose
receiver was an old Day and Martin blacking-bottle. The glow of the red
charcoal as it went from hand to hand lit up the narrow, blinking eyes, the
high Chinese cheek-bones, and the bull-throats that melted away into the
dark duffle folds round the shoulders. They looked like kobolds from some
magic mine - gnomes of the hills in conclave. And while they talked, the
voices of the snow-waters round them diminished one by one as the night-
frost choked and clogged the runnels.'
'How he stood up against us!'
said a Spiti man admiring. 'I remember an old ibex, out Ladakh-way, that
Dupont Sahib missed on a shoulder- shot, seven seasons back, standing up
just like him. Dupont Sahib was a good shikarri.'
'Not as good as Yankling Sahib.'
The Ao-chung man took a pull at the whisky-bottle and passed it over. 'Now
hear me - unless any other man thinks he knows more.'
The challenge was not taken up.
'We go to Shamlegh when the moon
rises. There we will fairly divide the baggage between us. I am content with
this new little rifle and all its cartridges.'
'Are the bears only bad on thy
holding? said a mate, sucking at the pipe.
'No; but musk-pods are worth six
rupees apiece now, and thy women can have the canvas of the tents and some
of the cooking-gear. We will do all that at Shamlegh before dawn. Then we
all go our ways, remembering that we have never seen or taken service with
these Sahibs, who may, indeed, say that we have stolen their baggage.'
'That is well for thee, but what
will our Rajah say?'
'Who is to tell him?
Those Sahibs, who cannot speak our talk, or the Babu, who for his own
ends gave us money? Will he lead an army against us?
What evidence will remain? That we do not need we shall throw on
Shamlegh-midden, where no man has yet set foot.'
'Who is at Shamlegh this summer?'
The place was only a grazing centre of three or four huts.
'The Woman of Shamlegh. She has
no love for Sahibs, as we know. The others can be pleased with little
presents; and here is enough for us all.' He patted the fat sides of the
'But - but -'
'I have said they are not true
Sahibs. All their skins and heads were bought in the bazar at Leh. I know
the marks. I showed them to ye last march.'
'True. They were all bought skins
and heads. Some had even the moth in them.'
That was a shrewd argument, and
the Ao-chung man knew his fellows.
'If the worst comes to the worst,
I shall tell Yankling Sahib, who is a man of a merry mind, and he will
laugh. We are not doing any wrong to any Sahibs whom we know. They are priest-beaters. They frightened us. We fled! Who
knows where we dropped the baggage? Do ye think Yankling Sahib will permit
down-country police to wander all over the hills, disturbing his game? It is
a far cry from Simla to Chini, and farther from Shamlegh to Shamlegh-midden.'
'So be it, but I carry the big
kilta. The basket with the red top that the Sahibs pack themselves every
'Thus it is proved,' said the
Shamlegh man adroitly, 'that they are Sahibs of no account. Who ever heard
of Fostum Sahib, or Yankling Sahib, or even the little Peel Sahib that sits
up of nights to shoot serow - I say, who, ever heard of these Sahibs coming
into the hills without a down-country cook, and a bearer, and - and all
manner of well-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in their tail? How can
they make trouble? What of the kilta?'
'Nothing, but that it is full of
the Written Word - books and papers in which they wrote, and strange
instruments, as of worship.'
'Shamlegh-midden will take them
'True! But how if we insult the
Sahibs' Gods thereby! I do not like to handle the Written Word in that
fashion. And their brass idols are beyond my comprehension. It is no plunder
for simple hill-folk.'
'The old man still sleeps. Hst!
We will ask his chela.' The Ao-chung man refreshed himself, and swelled with
pride of leadership.
'We have here,' he whispered, 'a
kilta whose nature we do not know.'
'But I do,' said Kim cautiously.
The lama drew breath in natural, easy sleep, and Kim had been thinking of
Hurree's last words. As a player of the Great Game, he was disposed just
then to reverence the Babu. 'It is a kilta with a red top full of very
wonderful things, not to be handled by fools.'
'I said it; I said it,' cried the
bearer of that burden. 'Thinkest thou it will betray us?'
'Not if it be given to me.
I can draw out its magic. Otherwise it will do great harm.'
'A priest always takes his
share.' Whisky was demoralizing the Ao- chung man.
'It is no matter to me.' Kim
answered, with the craft of his mother- country. 'Share it among you, and
see what comes!'
'Not I. I was only jesting. Give
the order. There is more than enough for us all. We go our way from Shamlegh
in the dawn.'
They arranged and re-arranged
their artless little plans for another hour, while Kim shivered with cold
and pride. The humour of the situation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in
his soul. Here were the emissaries of the dread Power of the North, very
possibly as great in their own land as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly
smitten helpless. One of them, he privately knew, would be lame for a time.
They had made promises to Kings. Tonight they lay out somewhere below him,
chartless, foodless, tentless, gunless - except
for Hurree Babu, guideless. And this collapse of their Great Game
(Kim wondered to whom they would report it), this panicky bolt into the
night, had come about through no craft of Hurree's or contrivance of Kim's,
but simply, beautifully, and inevitably as the capture of Mahbub's
fakir-friends by the zealous young policeman at
'They are there - with nothing;
and, by Jove, it is cold! I am here with all their things. Oh, they will be
angry! I am sorry for Hurree Babu.'
Kim might have saved his pity,
for though at that moment the Bengali suffered acutely in the flesh, his
soul was puffed and lofty. A mile down the hill, on the edge of the
pine-forest, two half-frozen men - one powerfully sick at intervals - were
varying mutual recriminations with the most poignant abuse of the Babu, who
seemed distraught with terror. They demanded a plan of action.
He explained that they were very lucky to be alive; that their
coolies, if not then stalking them, had passed beyond recall; that the
Rajah, his master, was ninety miles away, and, so far from lending them
money and a retinue for the Simla journey, would surely cast them into
prison if he heard that they had hit a priest.
He enlarged on this sin and its consequences till they bade him
change the subject. Their one hope, said he, was unostentatious flight from
village to village till they reached civilization; and, for the hundredth
time dissolved in tears, he demanded of the high stars why the Sahibs 'had
beaten holy man'.
Ten steps would have taken Hurree
into the creaking gloom utterly beyond their reach - to the shelter and food
of the nearest village, where glib-tongued doctors were scarce. But he
preferred to endure cold, belly-pinch, bad words, and occasional blows in
the company of his honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he
'And have you thought,' said the
uninjured man hotly, 'what sort of spectacle we shall present wandering
through these hills among these aborigines?'
Hurree Babu had thought of little
else for some hours, but the remark was not to his address.
'We cannot wander! I can hardly
walk,' groaned Kim's victim.
'Perhaps the holy man will be
merciful in loving-kindness, sar, otherwise -'
'I promise myself a peculiar
pleasure in emptying my revolver into that young bonze when next we meet,'
was the unchristian answer.
'Revolvers! Vengeance! Bonzes!'
Hurree crouched lower. The war was breaking out afresh. 'Have you no
consideration for our loss? The baggage! The baggage!' He could hear the
speaker literally dancing on the grass. 'Everything we bore! Everything we
have secured! Our gains! Eight months' work! Do you know what that means?
"Decidedly it is we who can deal with Orientals!" Oh, you have
They fell to it in several
tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with the kiltas, and in the kiltas lay
eight months of good diplomacy. There was no means of communicating with the
boy, but he could be trusted. For the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the
journey through the hills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-
roads should tell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their
own coolies are little respected in the Hills, and the hillman has a very
keen sense of humour.
'If I had done it myself,'
thought Hurree, 'it would not have been better; and, by Jove, now I think of
it, of course I arranged it myself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran
downhill I thought it! Thee outrage was accidental, but onlee me could have
worked it - ah - for all it was dam'-well worth.
Consider the moral effect upon these ignorant peoples!
No treaties - no papers - no written documents at all - and me to
interpret for them. How I shall
laugh with the Colonel! I wish I had their papers also: but you cannot
occupy two places in space simultaneously. Thatt is axiomatic.'
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