night-traffic, himself unseen.
Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the suburbs; a coughing policeman and a hurrying foot-passenger or two who sang to keep off evil spirits. Then rapped the shod feet of a horse.
“Ah! This is more like Mahbub,” thought Kim, as the beast shied at the little head above the culvert.
“Ohé, Mahbub Ali,” he whispered, “have a care!”
The horse was reined back almost on its haunches, and forced towards the culvert.
“Never again,” said Mahbub, “will I take a shod horse for night-work. They pick up all the bones and nails in the city.” He stooped to lift its forefoot, and that brought his head within a foot of Kim’s.
“Down—keep down,” he muttered. “The night is full of eyes.”
“Two men wait thy coming behind the horse-trucks. They will shoot thee at thy lying down, because there is a price on thy head. I heard, sleeping near the horses.”
“Didst thou see them? … Hold still, Sire of Devils!” This furiously to the horse.
“No.”
“Was one dressed belike as a fakir?”
“One said to the other, ‘What manner of fakir art thou, to shiver at a little watching?’ ”
“Good. Go back to the camp and lie down. I do not die tonight.”