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Updated: May 11, 2025
Hereupon the man caught him by the ear, dragged him to a room in a far-off wing where a dozen drummer-boys were sitting on forms, and told him to be still if he could do nothing else. This he managed very successfully. The man explained something or other with white lines on a black board for at least half an hour, and Kim continued his interrupted nap.
Kim turned it over with the air of a wise warlock, muttering a Mohammedan invocation. 'This is wisdom I learned from the Sahibs, he whispered to the lama; and here, when one thinks of his training at Lurgan's, he spoke no more than the truth. 'There is a great evil in this man's fortune, as shown by the Stars, which which troubles him. Shall I take it away?
The princess' name did not appear as far as subordinates were concerned and the whole affair was hushed up. My fortunate discretion in this matter undoubtedly strengthened my standing with the Wilhelmstrasse. By this time I had installed myself in quiet quarters on the Mittelstrasse, and Kim, who had been transformed from a Basuto boy into an efficient man servant, looked after my comforts.
The trumpet-box was pouring out a string of the most elaborate abuse that even Kim had ever heard, in a high uninterested voice, that for a moment lifted the short hairs of his neck. When the vile thing drew breath, Kim was reassured by the soft, sewing-machine-like whirr. 'Chup or I break your head. The box took no heed. Kim wrenched at the tin trumpet and something lifted with a click.
O Lurgan Sahib! Is it an order that thy servant does not speak to me? 'It is an order. The voice came from behind him and he started. 'Very good. But remember, he muttered, as he resought the quilt, 'I will beat thee in the morning. I do not love Hindus. That was no cheerful night; the room being overfull of voices and music. Kim was waked twice by someone calling his name.
It was under the carriage of one of the great old-fashioned cannon that stand in front of this museum that "Kim" first encountered the aged Llama, and Kipling's father is the wise man who kept the "Wonder-House" and gave the weary pilgrim the knowledge and encouragement that sustained him in his search for The Way.
There tumbled into the compartment, as the train was moving off, a mean, lean little person a Mahratta, so far as Kim could judge by the cock of the tight turban. His face was cut, his muslin upper-garment was badly torn, and one leg was bandaged. He told them that a country-cart had upset and nearly slain him: he was going to Delhi, where his son lived. Kim watched him closely.
And my share and my joy' he smiled to the darkness 'I owe to the lama here. Also to Mahbub Ali also to Creighton Sahib, but chiefly to the Holy One. He is right a great and a wonderful world and I am Kim Kim Kim alone one person in the middle of it all. But I will see these strangers with their levels and chains... 'What was the upshot of last night's babble? said the lama, after his orisons.
Kim did not feel so lonely after this, and ere he had sat out twenty miles in the crowded compartment, was cheering his neighbours with a string of most wonderful yarns about his own and his master's magical gifts. Benares struck him as a peculiarly filthy city, though it was pleasant to find how his cloth was respected.
Then you say: "There is no caste when men go to look for tarkeean." You stop a little between those words, "to look". That is thee whole secret. The little stop before the words. Kim repeated the test-sentence. 'That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there is time, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views and documents and those-all things.
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