“He rubs the skin at the back of his neck—thus. Then falls one finger on the table and He makes a small sniffing noise through his nose. Then He speaks, saying: ‘Loose such and such a regiment. Call out such guns.’ ”
The old man rose stiffly and saluted.
“ ‘For’ ”—Kim translated into the vernacular the clinching sentences he had heard in the dressing-room at Umballa—“ ‘For,’ says He, ‘we should have done this long ago. It is not war—it is a chastisement. Snff!’ ”
“Enough. I believe. I have seen Him thus in the smoke of battles. Seen and heard. It is He!”
“I saw no smoke”—Kim’s voice shifted to the rapt singsong of the wayside fortune-teller. “I saw this in darkness. First came a man to make things clear. Then came horsemen. Then came He standing in a ring of light. The rest followed as I have said. Old man, have I spoken truth?”
“It is He. Past all doubt it is He.”
The crowd drew a long, quavering breath, staring alternately at the old man, still at attention, and ragged Kim against the purple twilight.
“Said I not—said I not he was from the other world?” cried the lama proudly. “He is the Friend of all the World. He is the Friend of the Stars!”
“At least it does not concern us,” a man cried. “O thou young soothsayer, if the gift abides with thee at all seasons, I have a red-spotted cow. She may be sister to thy Bull for aught I know—”
“Or I care,” said Kim. “My Stars do not concern themselves with thy cattle.”
“Nay, but she is very sick,” a woman struck in. “My man is a buffalo, or he would have chosen his words better. Tell me if she recover?”