“One—two”—Lurgan Sahib counted him out up to ten. Kim shook his head.
“Hear my count!” the child burst in, trilling with laughter. “First, are two flawed sapphires—one of two ruttees and one of four as I should judge. The four-ruttee sapphire is chipped at the edge. There is one Turkestan turquoise, plain with black veins, and there are two inscribed—one with a Name of God in gilt, and the other being cracked across, for it came out of an old ring, I cannot read. We have now all five blue stones. Four flawed emeralds there are, but one is drilled in two places, and one is a little carven—”
“Their weights?” said Lurgan Sahib impassively.
“Three—five—five—and four ruttees as I judge it. There is one piece of old greenish pipe amber, and a cut topaz from Europe. There is one ruby of Burma, of two ruttees, without a flaw, and there is a balas-ruby, flawed, of two ruttees. There is a carved ivory from China representing a rat sucking an egg; and there is last—ah ha!—a ball of crystal as big as a bean set on a gold leaf.”
He clapped his hands at the close.
“He is thy master,” said Lurgan Sahib, smiling.
“Huh! He knew the names of the stones,” said Kim, flushing. “Try again! With common things such as he and I both know.”
They heaped the tray again with odds and ends gathered from the shop, and even the kitchen, and every time the child won, till Kim marvelled.
“Bind my eyes—let me feel once with my fingers, and even then I will leave thee opened-eyed behind,” he challenged.