“Or sell it?”
There was that in the tone that made Mahbub halt and turn. “What new devilry?”
“Eight annas, and I will tell,” said Kim, grinning. “It touches thy peace.”
“O Shaitan!” Mahbub gave the money.
“Rememberest thou the little business of the thieves in the dark, down yonder at Umballa?”
“Seeing they sought my life, I have not altogether forgotten. Why?”
“Rememberest thou the Kashmir Serai?”
“I will twist thy ears in a moment—Sahib.”
“No need—Pathan. Only, the second fakir, whom the Sahibs beat senseless, was the man who came to search thy bulkhead at Lahore. I saw his face as they helped him on the engine. The very same man.”
“Why didst thou not tell before?”
“Oh, he will go to jail, and be safe for some years. There is no need to tell more than is necessary at any one time. Besides, I did not then need money for sweetmeats.”
“ Allah kerim! ” said Mahbub Ah. “Wilt thou some day sell my head for a few sweetmeats if the fit takes thee?”
Kim will remember till he dies that long, lazy journey from Umballa, through Kalka and the Pinjore Gardens near by, up to Simla. A sudden spate in the Gugger River swept down one horse (the most valuable, be sure), and nearly drowned Kim among the dancing boulders. Farther up the road the horses were stampeded by a Government elephant, and