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An orphaned street-urchin follows a holy man across India during the time of the British Raj, eventually gaining an education and becoming a recruit to the Great Game of espionage against the Russians.

Page 287 of 385
Table of Contents

XII

“How didst thou follow us?”

“Oah. Thatt was nothing. I know from our mutual friend you go to Saharunpore. So I come on. Red Lamas are not inconspicuous persons. I buy myself my drug-box, and I am very good doctor really. I go to Akrola of the Ford, and hear all about you, and I talk here and talk there. All the common people know what you do. I knew when the hospitable old lady sent the dooli . They have great recollections of the old lama’s visits here. I know old ladies cannot keep their hands from medicines. So I am a doctor, and⁠—you hear my talk? I think it is verree good. My word, Mister O’Hara, they know about you and the lama for fifty miles⁠—the common people. So I come. Do you mind?”

“Babuji,” said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face, “I am a Sahib.”

“My dear Mister O’Hara⁠—”

“And I hope to play the Great Game.”

“You are subordinate to me departmentally at present.”

“Then why talk like an ape in a tree? Men do not come after one from Simla and change their dress, for the sake of a few sweet words. I am not a child. Talk Hindi and let us get to the yolk of the egg. Thou art here⁠—speaking not one word of truth in ten. Why art thou here? Give a straight answer.”

“That is so verree disconcerting of the Europeans, Mister O’Hara. You should know a heap better at your time of life.”

“But I want to know,” said Kim, laughing. “If it is the Game, I may help. How can I do anything if you bukh all round the shop?”

Hurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it guggled again.

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