XV

“It must be true, as the Tirah priest said when I stole his cousin’s wife, that I am a sufi ; for here I sit,” said Mahbub to himself, “drinking in blasphemy unthinkable⁠ ⁠… I remember the tale. On that, then, he goes to Jannatu l’Adn . But how? Wilt thou slay him or drown him in that wonderful river from which the Babu dragged thee?”

“I was dragged from no river,” said the lama simply. “Thou hast forgotten what befell. I found it by Knowledge.”

“Oh, ay. True,” stammered Mahbub, divided between high indignation and enormous mirth. “I had forgotten the exact run of what happened. Thou didst find it knowingly.”

“And to say that I would take life is⁠—not a sin, but a madness simple. My chela aided me to the River. It is his right to be cleansed from sin⁠—with me.”

“Ay, he needs cleansing. But afterwards, old man⁠—afterwards?”

“What matter under all the Heavens? He is sure of Nibban⁠—enlightened⁠—as I am.”

“Well said. I had a fear he might mount Mohammed’s Horse and fly away.”

“Nay⁠—he must go forth as a teacher.”

“Aha! Now I see! That is the right gait for the colt. Certainly he must go forth as a teacher. He is somewhat urgently needed as a scribe by the State, for instance.”