VI

however, was a fool. The clothes are very heavy, but I am a Sahib and my heart is heavy too. They send me to a school and beat me. I do not like the air and water here. Come then and help me, Mahbub Ali, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer who writes this. ”

“ ‘Who writes this.’ It is my own fault that I was tricked. Thou art as clever as Husain Bux that forged the Treasury stamps at Nucklao. But what a tale! What a tale! Is it true by any chance?”

“It does not profit to tell lies to Mahbub Ali. It is better to help his friends by lending them a stamp. When the money comes I will repay.”

The writer grunted doubtfully, but took a stamp out of his desk, sealed the letter, handed it over to Kim, and departed. Mahbub Ali’s was a name of power in Umballa.

“That is the way to win a good account with the Gods,” Kim shouted after him.

“Pay me twice over when the money comes,” the man cried over his shoulder.

“What was you bukkin’ to that nigger about?” said the drummer-boy when Kim returned to the veranda. “I was watchin’ you.”

“I was only talkin’ to him.”

“You talk the same as a nigger, don’t you?”

“No-ah! No-ah! I onlee speak a little. What shall we do now?”

“The bugles’ll go for dinner in arf a minute. My Gawd! I wish I’d gone up to the Front with the Regiment. It’s awful doin’ nothin’ but school down ’ere. Don’t you ’ate it?”