XI

of that Cause? Does the Wheel hang still if a child spin it⁠—or a drunkard? Chela , this is a great and a terrible world.”

“I think it good,” Kim yawned. “What is there to eat? I have not eaten since yesterday even.”

“I had forgotten thy need. Yonder is good Bhotiyal tea and cold rice.”

“We cannot walk far on such stuff.” Kim felt all the European’s lust for flesh-meat, which is not accessible in a Jain temple. Yet, instead of going out at once with the begging-bowl, he stayed his stomach on slabs of cold rice till the full dawn. It brought the farmer, voluble, stuttering with gratitude.

“In the night the fever broke and the sweat came,” he cried. “Feel here⁠—his skin is fresh and new! He esteemed the salt lozenges, and took milk with greed.” He drew the cloth from the child’s face, and it smiled sleepily at Kim. A little knot of Jain priests, silent but all-observant, gathered by the temple door. They knew, and Kim knew that they knew, how the old lama had met his disciple. Being courteous folk, they had not obtruded themselves overnight by presence, word, or gesture. Wherefore Kim repaid them as the sun rose.

“Thank the Gods of the Jains, brother,” he said, not knowing how those Gods were named. “The fever is indeed broken.”

“Look! See!” The lama beamed in the background upon his hosts of three years. “Was there ever such a chela ? He follows our Lord the Healer.”

Now the Jains officially recognize all the Gods of the Hindu creed, as well as the Lingam and the Snake. They wear the Brahminical thread; they adhere to every claim of Hindu caste-law. But, because they knew and loved the lama, because he was an old man, because he sought the