Chapter 8

Something I owe to the soil that grew--
More to the life that fed--
But most to Allah Who gave me two
Separate sides to my head.

I would go without shirts or shoes,
Friends, tobacco or bread
Sooner than for an instant lose
Either side of my head.’

The Two-Sided Man.

‘Then in God’s name take blue for red,’ said Mahbub, alluding to the Hindu colour of Kim’s disreputable turban.

Kim countered with the old proverb, ‘I will change my faith and my bedding, but thou must pay for it.’

The dealer laughed till he nearly fell from his horse. At a shop on the outskirts of the city the change was made, and Kim stood up, externally at least, a Mohammedan.

Mahbub hired a room over against the railway station, sent for a cooked meal of the finest with the almond-curd sweet-meats [balushai we call it] and fine-chopped Lucknow tobacco.

‘This is better than some other meat that I ate with the Sikh,’ said Kim, grinning as he squatted, ‘and assuredly they give no such victuals at my madrissah.’

‘I have a desire to hear of that same madrissah.’ Mahbub stuffed himself with great boluses of spiced mutton fried in fat with cabbage and golden-brown onions. ‘But tell me first, altogether and truthfully, the manner of thy escape. For, O Friend of all the World,’--he loosed his cracking belt--’I do not think it is often that a Sahib and the son of a Sahib runs away from there.’

‘How should they? They do not know the land. It was nothing,’ said Kim, and began his tale. When he came to the disguisement and the interview with the girl in the bazar, Mahbub Ali’s gravity went from him. He laughed aloud and beat his hand on his thigh.

‘Shabash! Shabash! Oh, well done, little one! What will the healer of turquoises say to this? Now, slowly, let us hear what befell afterwards--step by step, omitting nothing.’

Step by step then, Kim told his adventures between coughs as the full-flavoured tobacco caught his lungs.

‘I said,’ growled Mahbub Ali to himself, ‘I said it was the pony breaking out to play polo. The fruit is ripe already--except that he must learn his distances and his pacings, and his rods and his compasses. Listen now. I have turned aside the Colonel’s whip from thy skin, and that is no small service.’

‘True.’ Kim pulled serenely. ‘That is true.’

‘But it is not to be thought that this running out and in is any way good.’

‘It was my holiday, Hajji. I was a slave for many weeks. Why should I not run away when the school was shut? Look, too, how I, living upon my friends or working for my bread, as I did with the Sikh, have saved the Colonel Sahib a great expense.’

Mahbub’s lips twitched under his well-pruned Mohammedan moustache.

‘What are a few rupees’--the Pathan threw out his open hand carelessly--’to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, not in any way for love of thee.’

‘That,’ said Kim slowly, ‘I knew a very long time ago.’

‘Who told?’

‘The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those many words, but plainly enough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in the te-rain when we went down to Lucknow.’

‘Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, though in the telling I lend thee my head.’

‘It was forfeit to me,’ said Kim, with deep relish, ‘in Umballa, when thou didst pick me up on the horse after the drummer-boy beat me.’

‘Speak a little plainer. All the world may tell lies save thou and I. For equally is thy life forfeit to me if I chose to raise my finger here.’

‘And this is known to me also,’ said Kim, readjusting the live charcoal-ball on the weed. ‘It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed, thy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to death, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Most people here and in Simla and across the passes behind the Hills would, on the other hand, say: “What has come to Mahbub Ali?” if he were found dead among his horses. Surely, too, the Colonel Sahib would make inquiries. But again,’--Kim’s face puckered with cunning, --’he would not make overlong inquiry, lest people should ask: “What has this Colonel Sahib to do with that horse-dealer?” But I--if I lived--’

‘As thou wouldst surely die--’

‘Maybe; but I say, if I lived, I, and I alone, would know that one had come by night, as a common thief perhaps, to Mahbub Ali’s bulkhead in the serai, and there had slain him, either before or after that thief had made a full search into his saddlebags and between the soles of his slippers. Is that news to tell to the Colonel, or would he say to me--(I have not forgotten when he sent me back for a cigar-case that he had not left behind him)--”What is Mahbub Ali to me?”?’

Up went a gout of heavy smoke. There was a long pause: then Mahbub Ali spoke in admiration: ‘And with these things on thy mind, dost thou lie down and rise again among all the Sahibs’ little sons at the madrissah and meekly take instruction from thy teachers?’

‘It is an order,’ said Kim blandly. ‘Who am I to dispute an order?’

‘A most finished Son of Eblis,’ said Mahbub Ali. ‘But what is this tale of the thief and the search?’

‘That which I saw,’ said Kim, ‘the night that my lama and I lay next thy place in the Kashmir Seral. The door was left unlocked, which I think is not thy custom, Mahbub. He came in as one assured that thou wouldst not soon return. My eye was against a knot-hole in the plank. He searched as it were for something--not a rug, not stirrups, nor a bridle, nor brass pots--something little and most carefully hid. Else why did he prick with an iron between the soles of thy slippers?’

‘Ha!’ Mahbub Ali smiled gently. ‘And seeing these things, what tale didst thou fashion to thyself, Well of the Truth?’

‘None. I put my hand upon my amulet, which lies always next to my skin, and, remembering the pedigree of a white stallion that I had bitten out of a piece of Mussalmani bread, I went away to Umballa perceiving that a heavy trust was laid upon me. At that hour, had I chosen, thy head was forfeit. It needed only to say to that man, “I have here a paper concerning a horse which I cannot read.” And then?’ Kim peered at Mahbub under his eyebrows.

‘Then thou wouldst have drunk water twice--perhaps thrice, afterwards. I do not think more than thrice,’ said Mahbub simply.

‘It is true. I thought of that a little, but most I thought that I loved thee, Mahbub. Therefore I went to Umballa, as thou knowest, but (and this thou dost not know) I lay hid in the garden-grass to see what Colonel Creighton Sahib might do upon reading the white stallion’s pedigree.’

‘And what did he?’ for Kim had bitten off the conversation.

‘Dost thou give news for love, or dost thou sell it?’ Kim asked.

‘I sell and--I buy.’ Mahbub took a four-anna piece out of his belt and held it up.

‘Eight!’ said Kim, mechanically following the huckster instinct of the East.

Mahbub laughed, and put away the coin. ‘It is too easy to deal in that market, Friend of all the World. Tell me for love. Our lives lie in each other’s hand.’

‘Very good. I saw the Jang-i-Lat Sahib [the Commander-in-Chief] come to a big dinner. I saw him in Creighton Sahib’s office. I saw the two read the white stallion’s pedigree. I heard the very orders given for the opening of a great war.’

‘Hah!’ Mahbub nodded with deepest eyes afire. ‘The game is well played. That war is done now, and the evil, we hope, nipped before the flower--thanks to me--and thee. What didst thou later?’

‘I made the news as it were a hook to catch me victual and honour among the villagers in a village whose priest drugged my lama. But I bore away the old man’s purse, and the Brahmin found nothing. So next morning he was angry. Ho! Ho! And I also used the news when I fell into the hands of that white Regiment with their Bull!’

‘That was foolishness.’ Mahbub scowled. ‘News is not meant to be thrown about like dung-cakes, but used sparingly--like bhang.’

‘So I think now, and moreover, it did me no sort of good. But that was very long ago,’ he made as to brush it all away with a thin brown hand--’and since then, and especially in the nights under the punkah at the madrissah, I have thought very greatly.’

‘Is it permitted to ask whither the Heaven-born’s thought might have led?’ said Mahbub, with an elaborate sarcasm, smoothing his scarlet beard.

‘It is permitted,’ said Kim, and threw back the very tone. ‘They say at Nucklao that no Sahib must tell a black man that he has made a fault.’

Mahbub’s hand shot into his bosom, for to call a Pathan a ‘black man’ [kala admi] is a blood-insult. Then he remembered and laughed. ‘Speak, Sahib. Thy black man hears.’

‘But,’ said Kim, ‘I am not a Sahib, and I say I made a fault to curse thee, Mahbub Ali, on that day at Umballa when I thought I was betrayed by a Pathan. I was senseless; for I was but newly caught, and I wished to kill that low-caste drummer-boy. I say now, Hajji, that it was well done; and I see my road all clear before me to a good service. I will stay in the madrissah till I am ripe.’

‘Well said. Especially are distances and numbers and the manner of using compasses to be learned in that game. One waits in the Hills above to show thee.’

‘I will learn their teaching upon a condition--that my time is given to me without question when the madrissah is shut. Ask that for me of the Colonel.’

‘But why not ask the Colonel in the Sahibs’ tongue?’

‘The Colonel is the servant of the Government. He is sent hither and yon at a word, and must consider his own advancement. (See how much I have already learned at Nucklao!) Moreover, the Colonel I know since three months only. I have known one Mahbub Ali for six years. So! To the madrissah I will go. At the madrissah I will learn. In the madrissah I will be a Sahib. But when the madrissah is shut, then must I be free and go among my people. Otherwise I die!’

‘And who are thy people, Friend of all the World?’

‘This great and beautiful land,’ said Kim, waving his paw round the little clay-walled room where the oil-lamp in its niche burned heavily through the tobacco-smoke. ‘And, further, I would see my lama again. And, further, I need money.’

‘That is the need of everyone,’ said Mahbub ruefully. ‘I will give thee eight annas, for much money is not picked out of horses’ hooves, and it must suffice for many days. As to all the rest, I am well pleased, and no further talk is needed. Make haste to learn, and in three years, or it may be less, thou wilt be an aid--even to me.’

‘Have I been such a hindrance till now?’ said Kim, with a boy’s giggle.

‘Do not give answers,’ Mahbub grunted. ‘Thou art my new horse-boy. Go and bed among my men. They are near the north end of the station, with the horses.’

‘They will beat me to the south end of the station if I come without authority.’

Mahbub felt in his belt, wetted his thumb on a cake of Chinese ink, and dabbed the impression on a piece of soft native paper. From Balkh to Bombay men know that rough-ridged print with the old scar running diagonally across it.

‘That is enough to show my headman. I come in the morning.’

‘By which road?’ said Kim.

‘By the road from the city. There is but one, and then we return to Creighton Sahib. I have saved thee a beating.’

‘Allah! What is a beating when the very head is loose on the shoulders?’

Kim slid out quietly into the night, walked half round the house, keeping close to the walls, and headed away from the station for a mile or so. Then, fetching a wide compass, he worked back at leisure, for he needed time to invent a story if any of Mahbub’s retainers asked questions.

They were camped on a piece of waste ground beside the railway, and, being natives, had not, of course, unloaded the two trucks in which Mahbub’s animals stood among a consignment of country-breds bought by the Bombay tram-company. The headman, a broken-down, consumptive-looking Mohammedan, promptly challenged Kim, but was pacified at sight of Mahbub’s sign-manual.

‘The Hajji has of his favour given me service,’ said Kim testily. ‘If this be doubted, wait till he comes in the morning. Meantime, a place by the fire.’

Followed the usual aimless babble that every low-caste native must raise on every occasion. It died down, and Kim lay out behind the little knot of Mahbub’s followers, almost under the wheels of a horse-truck, a borrowed blanket for covering. Now a bed among brickbats and ballast-refuse on a damp night, between overcrowded horses and unwashed Baltis, would not appeal to many white boys; but Kim was utterly happy. Change of scene, service, and surroundings were the breath of his little nostrils, and thinking of the neat white cots of St Xavier’s all arow under the punkah gave him joy as keen as the repetition of the multiplication-table in English.

‘I am very old,’ he thought sleepily. ‘Every month I become a year more old. I was very young, and a fool to boot, when I took Mahbub’s message to Umballa. Even when I was with that white Regiment I was very young and small and had no wisdom. But now I learn every day, and in three years the Colonel will take me out of the madrissah and let me go upon the Road with Mahbub hunting for horses’ pedigrees, or maybe I shall go by myself; or maybe I shall find the lama and go with him. Yes; that is best. To walk again as a chela with my lama when he comes back to Benares.’

The thoughts came more slowly and disconnectedly. He was plunging into a beautiful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper, thin and sharp, above the monotonous babble round the fire. It came from behind the iron-skinned horse-truck.

‘He is not here, then?’

‘Where should he be but roystering in the city. Who looks for a rat in a frog-pond? Come away. He is not our man.’

‘He must not go back beyond the Passes a second time. It is the order.’

‘Hire some woman to drug him. It is a few rupees only, and there is no evidence.’

‘Except the woman. It must be more certain; and remember the price upon his head.’

‘Ay, but the police have a long arm, and we are far from the Border. If it were in Peshawur, now!’

‘Yes--in Peshawur,’ the second voice sneered. ‘Peshawur, full of his blood-kin--full of bolt-holes and women behind whose clothes he will hide. Yes, Peshawur or Jehannum would suit us equally well.’

‘Then what is the plan?’

‘O fool, have I not told it a hundred times? Wait till he comes to lie down, and then one sure shot. The trucks are between us and pursuit. We have but to run back over the lines and go our way. They will not see whence the shot came. Wait here at least till the dawn. What manner of fakir art thou, to shiver at a little watching?’

‘Oho!’ thought Kim, behind close-shut eyes. ‘Once again it is Mahbub. Indeed a white stallion’s pedigree is not a good thing to peddle to Sahibs! Or maybe Mahbub has been selling other news. Now what is to do, Kim? I know not where Mahbub houses, and if he comes here before the dawn they will shoot him. That would be no profit for thee, Kim. And this is not a matter for the police. That would be no profit for Mahbub; and’--he giggled almost aloud--’I do not remember any lesson at Nucklao which will help me. Allah! Here is Kim and yonder are they. First, then, Kim must wake and go away, so that they shall not suspect. A bad dream wakes a man--thus--’

He threw the blanket off his face, and raised himself suddenly with the terrible, bubbling, meaningless yell of the Asiatic roused by nightmare.

‘Urr-urr-urr-urr! Ya-la-la-la-la! Narain! The churel! The churel!’

A churel is the peculiarly malignant ghost of a woman who has died in child-bed. She haunts lonely roads, her feet are turned backwards on the ankles, and she leads men to torment.

Louder rose Kim’s quavering howl, till at last he leaped to his feet and staggered off sleepily, while the camp cursed him for waking them. Some twenty yards farther up the line he lay down again, taking care that the whisperers should hear his grunts and groans as he recomposed himself. After a few minutes he rolled towards the road and stole away into the thick darkness.

He paddled along swiftly till he came to a culvert, and dropped behind it, his chin on a level with the coping-stone. Here he could command all the night-traffic, himself unseen.

Two or three carts passed, jingling out to the suburbs; a coughing policeman and a hurrying foot-passenger or two who sang to keep off evil spirits. Then rapped the shod feet of a horse.

‘Ah! This is more like Mahbub,’ thought Kim, as the beast shied at the little head above the culvert.

‘Ohe’, Mahbub Ali,’ he whispered, ‘have a care!’

The horse was reined back almost on its haunches, and forced towards the culvert.

‘Never again,’ said Mahbub, ‘will I take a shod horse for night-work. They pick up all the bones and nails in the city.’ He stooped to lift its forefoot, and that brought his head within a foot of Kim’s.