“This is wisdom I learned from the Sahibs,” he whispered to the lama; and here, when one thinks of his training at Lurgan’s, he spoke no more than the truth. “There is a great evil in this man’s fortune, as shown by the Stars, which—which troubles him. Shall I take it away?”
“Friend of the Stars, thou hast done well in all things. Let it be at thy pleasure. Is it another healing?”
“Quick! Be quick!” gasped the Mahratta. “The train may stop.”
“A healing against the shadow of death,” said Kim, mixing the Kamboh’s flour with the mingled charcoal and tobacco ash in the red-earth bowl of the pipe. E.23, without a word, slipped off his turban and shook down his long black hair.
“That is my food—priest,” the Jat growled.
“A buffalo in the temple! Hast thou dared to look even thus far?” said Kim. “I must do mysteries before fools; but have a care for thine eyes. Is there a film before them already? I save the babe, and for return thou—oh, shameless!” The man flinched at the direct gaze, for Kim was wholly in earnest. “Shall I curse thee, or shall I—” He picked up the outer cloth of the bundle and threw it over the bowed head. “Dare so much as to think a wish to see, and—and—even I cannot save thee. Sit! Be dumb!”
“I am blind—dumb. Forbear to curse! Co—come, child; we will play a game of hiding. Do not, for my sake, look from under the cloth.”
“I see hope,” said E.23. “What is thy scheme?”
“This comes next,” said Kim, plucking the thin body-shirt. E.23 hesitated, with all a North-West man’s dislike of baring his body.