“And his to thine, I hear. Hearts are like horses. They come and they go against bit or spur. Shout Gul Sher Khan yonder to drive in that bay stallion’s pickets more firmly. We do not want a horse-fight at every resting-stage, and the dun and the black will be locked in a little … Now hear me. Is it necessary to the comfort of thy heart to see that lama?”
“It is one part of my bond,” said Kim. “If I do not see him, and if he is taken from me, I will go out of that madrissah in Nucklao and, and—once gone, who is to find me again?”
“It is true. Never was colt held on a lighter heel-rope than thou.” Mahbub nodded his head.
“Do not be afraid.” Kim spoke as though he could have vanished on the moment. “My lama has said that he will come to see me at the madrissah —”
“A beggar and his bowl in the presence of those young Sa—”
“Not all!” Kim cut in with a snort. “Their eyes are blued and their nails are blackened with low-caste blood, many of them. Sons of metheeranees —brothers-in-law to the bhungi .”
We need not follow the rest of the pedigree; but Kim made his little point clearly and without heat, chewing a piece of sugarcane the while.
“Friend of all the World,” said Mahbub, pushing over the pipe for the boy to clean, “I have met many men, women, and boys, and not a few Sahibs. I have never in all my days met such an imp as thou art.”
“And why? When I always tell thee the truth.”
“Perhaps the very reason, for this is a world of danger to honest men.” Mahbub Ali hauled himself off the ground, girt in his belt, and went over to the horses.