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huge tent in silence, ran up yet eight or nine more by the side of
it, unearthed cooking-pots, pans, and bundles, which were taken
possession of by a crowd of native servants; and behold the mango-
tope turned into an orderly town as they watched!

'Let us go,' said the lama, sinking back afraid, as the fires
twinkled and white officers with jingling swords stalked into the
Mess-tent.

'Stand back in the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of a
fire,' said Kim, his eyes still on the flag. He had never before
watched the routine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty
minutes.

'Look! look! look!' clucked the lama. 'Yonder comes a priest.' It
was Bennett, the Church of England Chaplain of the regiment,
limping in dusty black. One of his flock had made some rude remarks
about the Chaplain's mettle; and to abash him Bennett had marched
step by step with the men that day. The black dress, gold cross on
the watch-chain, the hairless face, and the soft, black wideawake
hat would have marked him as a holy man anywhere in all India. He
dropped into a camp-chair by the door of the Mess-tent and slid off
his boots. Three or four officers gathered round him, laughing and
joking over his exploit.

'The talk of white men is wholly lacking in dignity,' said the
lama, who judged only by tone. 'But I considered the countenance of
that priest and I think he is learned. Is it likely that he will
understand our talk? I would talk to him of my Search.'

'Never speak to a white man till he is fed,' said Kim, quoting a
well-known proverb. 'They will eat now, and - and I do not think
they are good to beg from. Let us go back to the resting-place.
After we have eaten we will come again. It certainly was a Red Bull
- my Red Bull.'

They were both noticeably absent-minded when the old lady's retinue
set their meal before them; so none broke their reserve, for it is
not lucky to annoy guests.

'Now,' said Kim, picking his teeth, 'we will return to that place;
but thou, O Holy One, must wait a little way off, because thy feet
are heavier than mine and I am anxious to see more of that Red
Bull.'

'But how canst thou understand the talk? Walk slowly. The road is
dark,' the lama replied uneasily.

Kim put the question aside. 'I marked a place near to the trees,'
said he, 'where thou canst sit till I call. Nay,' as the lama made
some sort of protest, 'remember this is my Search - the Search for
my Red Bull. The sign in the Stars was not for thee. I know a
little of the customs of white soldiers, and I always desire to see
some new things.'

'What dost thou not know of this world?' The lama squatted
obediently in a little hollow of the ground not a hundred yards
from the hump of the mango-trees dark against the star-powdered
sky.

'Stay till I call.' Kim flitted into the dusk. He knew that in all
probability there would be sentries round the camp, and smiled to
himself as he heard the thick boots of one.

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