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beggar to raise three hundred rupees? - ye'll go down to Lucknow
and I'll pay your fare, because I can't touch the subscription-
money if I intend, as I do, to make ye a Catholic. If he doesn't,
ye'll go to the Military Orphanage at the Regiment's expense. I'll
allow him three days' grace, though I don't believe it at all. Even
then, if he fails in his payments later on ... but it's beyond
me. We can only walk one step at a time in this world, praise God!
An' they sent Bennett to the Front an' left me behind. Bennett
can't expect everything.'

'Oah yess,' said Kim vaguely.

The priest leaned forward. 'I'd give a month's pay to find what's
goin' on inside that little round head of yours.'

'There is nothing,' said Kim, and scratched it. He was wondering
whether Mahbub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he
could pay the letter-writer and write letters to the lama at
Benares. Perhaps Mahbub Ali would visit him next time he came south
with horses. Surely he must know that Kim's delivery of the letter
to the officer at Umballa had caused the great war which the men
and boys had discussed so loudly over the barrack dinner-tables.
But if Mahbub Ali did not know this, it would be very unsafe to
tell him so. Mahbub Ali was hard upon boys who knew, or thought
they knew, too much.

'Well, till I get further news' - Father Victor's voice interrupted
the reverie. 'Ye can run along now and play with the other boys.
They'll teach ye something - but I don't think ye'll like it.'

The day dragged to its weary end. When he wished to sleep he was
instructed how to fold up his clothes and set out his boots; the
other boys deriding. Bugles waked him in the dawn; the schoolmaster
caught him after breakfast, thrust a page of meaningless characters
under his nose, gave them senseless names and whacked him without
reason. Kim meditated poisoning him with opium borrowed from a
barrack-sweeper, but reflected that, as they all ate at one table
in public (this was peculiarly revolting to Kim, who preferred to
turn his back on the world at meals), the stroke might be dangerous.
Then he attempted running off to the village where the priest had tried
to drug the lama -- the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing
sentries at every exit headed back the little scarlet figure.
Trousers and jacket crippled body and mind alike so he abandoned the project and fell back,
Oriental-fashion, on
time and chance. Three days of torment passed in the big, echoing
white rooms. He walked out of afternoons under escort of the
drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions were the few
useless words which seemed to make two-thirds of the white man's
abuse. Kim knew and despised them all long ago. The boy resented
his silence and lack of interest by beating him, as was only
natural. He did not care for any of the bazars which were in
bounds. He styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers

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