He halted at the stall next but one to his own.
His men lay there heavy with sleep. There was
no sign of Kim or the lama.
‘Up!’ He stirred a sleeper. ’Whither
went those who lay here last even — the lama
and the boy? Is aught missing?’
‘Nay,’ grunted the man, ’the old
madman rose at second cockcrow saying he would go
to Benares, and the young one led him away.’
‘The curse of Allah on all unbelievers!’
said Mahbub heartily, and climbed into his own stall,
growling in his beard.
But it was Kim who had wakened the lama — Kim
with one eye laid against a knot-hole in the planking,
who had seen the Delhi man’s search through
the boxes. This was no common thief that turned
over letters, bills, and saddles — no mere burglar
who ran a little knife sideways into the soles of
Mahbub’s slippers, or picked the seams of the
saddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had been
minded to give the alarm — the long-drawn choor
— choor! [thief! thief!] that sets the serai
ablaze of nights; but he looked more carefully, and,
hand on amulet, drew his own conclusions.
‘It must be the pedigree of that made-up horse-lie,’
said he, ’the thing that I carry to Umballa.
Better that we go now. Those who search bags
with knives may presently search bellies with knives.
Surely there is a woman behind this. Hai!
Hai! in a whisper to the light-sleeping old man.
’Come. It is time — time to go
to Benares.’
The lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the
serai like shadows.
And whoso will, from Pride released;
Contemning neither creed nor priest,
May feel the Soul of all the East.
About him at Kamakura.
Buddha at Kamakura.
They entered the fort-like railway station, black
in the end of night; the electrics sizzling over the
goods-yard where they handle the heavy Northern grain-traffic.
‘This is the work of devils!’ said the
lama, recoiling from the hollow echoing darkness,
the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms,
and the maze of girders above. He stood in a
gigantic stone hall paved, it seemed, with the sheeted
dead third-class passengers who had taken their tickets
overnight and were sleeping in the waiting-rooms.
All hours of the twenty-four are alike to Orientals,
and their passenger traffic is regulated accordingly.
’This is where the fire-carriages come.
One stands behind that hole’ — Kim pointed
to the ticket-office — ’who will give thee
a paper to take thee to Umballa.’
‘But we go to Benares,’ he replied petulantly.
‘All one. Benares then. Quick:
she comes!’
‘Take thou the purse.’
The lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended,
started as the 3.25 a.m. south-bound roared in.
The sleepers sprang to life, and the station filled
with clamour and shoutings, cries of water and sweetmeat
vendors, shouts of native policemen, and shrill yells
of women gathering up their baskets, their families,
and their husbands.
