“Yes, and thou must learn how to make pictures of roads and mountains and rivers, to carry these pictures in thine eye till a suitable time comes to set them upon paper. Perhaps some day, when thou art a chain-man, I may say to thee when we are working together: ‘Go across those hills and see what lies beyond.’ Then one will say: ‘There are bad people living in those hills who will slay the chain-man if he be seen to look like a Sahib.’ What then?”
Kim thought. Would it be safe to return the Colonel’s lead?
“I would tell what that other man had said.”
“But if I answered: ‘I will give thee a hundred rupees for knowledge of what is behind those hills—for a picture of a river and a little news of what the people say in the villages there’?”
“How can I tell? I am only a boy. Wait till I am a man.” Then, seeing the Colonel’s brow clouded, he went on: “But I think I should in a few days earn the hundred rupees.”
“By what road?”
Kim shook his head resolutely. “If I said how I would earn them, another man might hear and forestall me. It is not good to sell knowledge for nothing.”
“Tell now.” The Colonel held up a rupee. Kim’s hand half reached towards it, and dropped.
“Nay, Sahib; nay. I know the price that will be paid for the answer, but I do not know why the question is asked.”