Books: Kim

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

'It seems so by the look of this. He can't write English, can he?'

'Oah no. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter-writer
who can write English verree well, and so he wrote. I do hope you
understand.'

'That accounts for it. D'you know anything about his money
affairs?' Kim's face showed that he did not.

'How can I tell?'

'That's what I'm askin'. Now listen if you can make head or tail o'
this. We'll skip the first part . . . It's written from Jagadhir
Road . . . "Sitting on wayside in grave meditation, trusting to be
favoured with your Honour's applause of present step, which
recommend your Honour to execute for Almighty God's sake. Education
is greatest blessing if of best sorts. Otherwise no earthly use."
Faith, the old man's hit the bull's-eye that time! "If your Honour
condescending giving my boy best educations Xavier" (I suppose
that's St Xavier's in Partibus) "in terms of our conversation dated
in your tent 15th instant" (a business-like touch there!) "then
Almighty God blessing your Honour's succeedings to third an' fourth
generation and" - now listen! -"confide in your Honour's humble
servant for adequate remuneration per hoondi per annum three
hundred rupees a year to one expensive education St Xavier,
Lucknow, and allow small time to forward same per hoondi sent to
any part of India as your Honour shall address yourself This
servant of your Honour has presently no place to lay crown of his
head, but going to Benares by train on account of persecution of
old woman talking so much and unanxious residing Saharunpore in any
domestic capacity." Now what in the world does that mean?'

'She has asked him to be her puro - her clergyman - at Saharunpore,
I think. He would not do that on account of his River. She did
talk.'

'It's clear to you, is it? It beats me altogether. "So going to
Benares, where will find address and forward rupees for boy who is
apple of eye, and for Almighty God's sake execute this education,
and your petitioner as in duty bound shall ever awfully pray.
Written by Sobrao Satai, Failed Entrance Allahabad University, for
Venerable Teshoo Lama the priest of Such-zen looking for a River,
address care of Tirthankars' Temple, Benares. P. M. -Please note
boy is apple of eye, and rupees shall be sent per hoondi three
hundred per annum. For God Almighty's sake." Now, is that ravin'
lunacy or a business proposition? I ask you, because I'm fairly at
my wits' end.'

'He says he will give me three hundred rupees a year? So he will
give me them.'

'Oh, that's the way you look at it, is it?'

'Of course. If he says so!'

The priest whistled; then he addressed Kim as an equal.'I don't
believe it; but we'll see. You were goin' off today to the
Military Orphanage at Sanawar, where the Regiment would keep you
till you were old enough to enlist. Ye'd be brought up to the
Church of England. Bennett arranged for that. On the other hand, if
ye go to St Xavier's ye'll get a better education an - an can have
the religion. D'ye see my dilemma? Kim saw nothing save a vision
of the lama going south in a train with none to beg for him.

'Like most people, I'm going to temporize. If your friend sends the
money from Benares - Powers of Darkness below, where's a street-
beggar to raise three hundred rupees? - ye'll go down to Lucknow
and I'll pay your fare, because I can't touch the subscription-
money if I intend, as I do, to make ye a Catholic. If he doesn't,
ye'll go to the Military Orphanage at the Regiment's expense. I'll
allow him three days' grace, though I don't believe it at all. Even
then, if he fails in his payments later on . . . but it's beyond
me. We can only walk one step at a time in this world, praise God!
An' they sent Bennett to the Front an' left me behind. Bennett
can't expect everything.'

'Oah yess,' said Kim vaguely.

The priest leaned forward. 'I'd give a month's pay to find what's
goin' on inside that little round head of yours.'

'There is nothing,' said Kim, and scratched it. He was wondering
whether Mahbub Ali would send him as much as a whole rupee. Then he
could pay the letter-writer and write letters to the lama at
Benares. Perhaps Mahbub Ali would visit him next time he came south
with horses. Surely he must know that Kim's delivery of the letter
to the officer at Umballa had caused the great war which the men
and boys had discussed so loudly over the barrack dinner-tables.
But if Mahbub Ali did not know this, it would be very unsafe to
tell him so. Mahbub Ali was hard upon boys who knew, or thought
they knew, too much.

'Well, till I get further news' - Father Victor's voice interrupted
the reverie. 'Ye can run along now and play with the other boys.
They'll teach ye something - but I don't think ye'll like it.'

The day dragged to its weary end. When he wished to sleep he was
instructed how to fold up his clothes and set out his boots; the
other boys deriding. Bugles waked him in the dawn; the schoolmaster
caught him after breakfast, thrust a page of meaningless characters
under his nose, gave them senseless names and whacked him without
reason. Kim meditated poisoning him with opium borrowed from a
barrack-sweeper, but reflected that, as they all ate at one table
in public (this was peculiarly revolting to Kim, who preferred to
turn his back on the world at meals), the stroke might be dangerous.
Then he attempted running off to the village where the priest had tried
to drug the lama--the village where the old soldier lived. But far-seeing
sentries at every exit headed back the little scarlet figure.
Trousers and jacket crippled body and mind alike dangerous. Then he
attempted running off to the village where the priest had tried to,
so he abandoned the project and fell back, Oriental-fashion, on
time and chance. Three days of torment passed in the big, echoing
white rooms. He walked out of affernoons under escort of the
drummer-boy, and all he heard from his companions were the few
useless words which seemed to make two-thirds of the white man's
abuse. Kim knew and despised them all long ago. The boy resented
his silence and lack of interest by beating him, as was only
natural. He did not care for any of the bazars which were in
bounds. He styled all natives 'niggers'; yet servants and sweepers
called him abominable names to his face, and, misled by their
deferential attitude, he never understood. This somewhat consoled
Kim for the beatings.

On the morning of the fourth day a judgement overtook that drummer.
They had gone out together towards Umballa racecourse. He returned
alone, weeping, with news that young O'Hara, to whom he had been
doing nothing in particular, had hailed a scarlet-bearded nigger on
horseback; that the nigger had then and there laid into him with a
peculiarly adhesive quirt, picked up young O'Hara, and borne him
off at full gallop. These tidings came to Father Victor, and he
drew down his long upper lip. He was already sufficiently startled
by a letter from the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares,
enclosing a native banker's note of hand for three hundred rupees,
and an amazing prayer to 'Almighty God'. The lama would have been
more annoyed than the priest had he known how the bazar letter-
writer had translated his phrase 'to acquire merit

'Powers of Darkness below!' Father Victor fumbled with the note.
'An' now he's off with another of his peep-o'-day friends. I don't
know whether it will be a greater relief to me to get him back or
to have him lost. He's beyond my comprehension. How the Divil -
yes, he's the man I mean -can a street-beggar raise money to
educate white boys?'

Three miles off, on Umballa racecourse, Mahbub Ali, reining a grey
Kabuli stallion with Kim in front of him, was saying:

'But, Little Friend of all the World, there is my honour and
reputation to be considered. All the officer-Sahibs in all the
regiments, and all Umballa, know Mahbub Ali. Men saw me pick thee
up and chastise that boy. We are seen now from far across this
plain. How can I take thee away, or account for thy disappearing if
I set thee down and let thee run off into the crops? They would put
me in jail. Be patient. Once a Sahib, always a Sahib. When thou art
a man - who knows? - thou wilt be grateful to Mahbub Ali.'

'Take me beyond their sentries where I can change this red. Give me
money and I will go to Benares and be with my lama again. I do not
want to be a Sahib, and remember I did deliver that message.'

The stallion bounded wildly. Mahbub Ali had incautiously driven
home the sharp-edged stirrup. (He was not the new sort of fluent
horse-dealer who wears English boots and spurs.) Kim drew his own
conclusions from that betrayal.

'That was a small matter. It lay on the straight road to Benares. I
and the Sahib have by this time forgotten it. I send so many
letters and messages to men who ask questions about horses, I
cannot well remember one from the other. Was it some matter of a
bay mare that Peters Sahib wished the pedigree of?'

Kim saw the trap at once. If he had said 'bay mare' Mahbub would
have known by his very readiness to fall in with the amendment that
the boy suspected something. Kim replied therefore:

'Bay mare. No. I do not forget my messages thus. It was a white
stallion.'

'Ay, so it was. A white Arab stallion. But thou didst write "bay
mare" to me.'

'Who cares to tell truth to a letter-writer?' Kim answered, feeling
Mahbub's palm on his heart.

'Hi! Mahbub, you old villain, pull up!' cried a voice, and an
Englishman raced alongside on a little polo-pony. 'I've been
chasing you half over the country. That Kabuli of yours can go. For
sale, I suppose?'

'I have some young stuff coming on made by Heaven for the delicate
and difficult polo-game. He has no equal. He - '

'Plays polo and waits at table. Yes. We know all that. What the
deuce have you got there?'

'A. boy,' said Mahbub gravely. 'He was being beaten by another boy.
His father was once a white soldier in the big war. The boy was a
child in Lahore city. He played with my horses when he was a babe.
Now I think they will make him a soldier. He has been newly caught
by his father's Regiment that went up to the war last week. But I
do not think he wants to be a soldier. I take him for a ride. Tell
me where thy barracks are and I will set thee there.'

'Let me go. I can find the barracks alone.'

'And if thou runnest away who will say it is not my fault?'

'He'll run back to his dinner. Where has he to run to?' the
Englishman asked.

'He was born in the land. He has friends. He goes where he chooses.
He is a chabuk sawai [a sharp chap]. It needs only to change his
clothing, and in a twinkling he would be a low-caste Hindu boy.'

'The deuce he would!' The Englishman looked critically at the boy
as Mahbub headed towards the barracks. Kim ground his teeth. Mahbub
was mocking him, as faithless Afghans will; for he went on:

'They will send him to a school and put heavy boots on his feet and
swaddle him in these clothes. Then he will forget all he knows.
Now, which of the barracks is thine?'

Kim pointed - he could not speak - to Father Victor's wing, all
staring white near by.

'Perhaps he will make a good soldier,' said Mahbub reflectively.

'He will make a good orderly at least. I sent him to deliver a
message once from Lahore. A message concerning the pedigree of a
white stallion.'

Here was deadly insult on deadlier injury - and the Sahib to whom
he had so craftily given that war-waking letter heard it all. Kim
beheld Mahbub Ali frying in flame for his treachery, but for
himself he saw one long grey vista of barracks, schools, and
barracks again. He gazed imploringly at the clear-cut face in which
there was no glimmer of recognition; but even at this extremity it
never occurred to him to throw himself on the white man's mercy or
to denounce the Afghan. And Mahbub stared deliberately at the
Englishman, who stared as deliberately at Kim, quivering and
tongue-tied.

'My horse is well trained,' said the dealer. 'Others would have
kicked, Sahib.'

'Ah,' said the Englishman at last, rubbing his pony's damp withers
with his whip-butt. 'Who makes the boy a soldier?'

'He says the Regiment that found him, and especially the Padre-
sahib of that regiment.

'There is the Padre!' Kim choked as bare-headed Father Victor
sailed down upon them from the veranda.

'Powers O' Darkness below, O'Hara! How many more mixed friends do
you keep in Asia?' he cried, as Kim slid down and stood helplessly
before him.

'Good morning, Padre,' the Englishman said cheerily. 'I know you by
reputation well enough. Meant to have come over and called before
this. I'm Creighton.'

'Of the Ethnological Survey?' said Father Victor. The Englishman
nodded. 'Faith, I'm glad to meet ye then; an' I owe you some thanks
for bringing back the boy.'

'No thanks to me, Padre. Besides, the boy wasn't going away. You
don't know old Mahbub Ali.' The horse-dealer sat impassive in the
sunlight. 'You will when you have been in the station a month. He
sells us all our crocks. That boy is rather a curiosity. Can you
tell me anything about him?'

'Can I tell you?' puffed Father Victor. 'You'll be the one man that
could help me in my quandaries. Tell you! Powers o' Darkness, I'm
bursting to tell someone who knows something o' the native!'

A groom came round the corner. Colonel Creighton raised his voice,
speaking in Urdu. 'Very good, Mahbub Ali, but what is the use of
telling me all those stories about the pony? Not one pice more than
three hundred and fifty rupees will I give.'

'The Sahib is a little hot and angry after riding,' the horse-
dealer returned, with the leer of a privileged jester. 'Presently,
he will see my horse's points more clearly. I will wait till he has
finished his talk with the Padre. I will wait under that tree.'

'Confound you!' The Colonel laughed. 'That comes of looking at one
of Mahbub's horses. He's a regular old leech, Padre. Wait, then, if
thou hast so much time to spare, Mahbub. Now I'm at your service,
Padre. Where is the boy? Oh, he's gone off to collogue with Mahbub.
Queer sort of boy. Might I ask you to send my mare round under
cover?'

He dropped into a chair which commanded a clear view of Kim and
Mahbub Ali in conference beneath the tree. The Padre went indoors
for cheroots.

Creighton heard Kim say bitterly: 'Trust a Brahmin before a snake,
and a snake before an harlot, and an harlot before a Pathan, Mahbub
Ali.'

'That is all one.' The great red beard wagged solemnly. 'Children
should not see a carpet on the loom till the pattern is made plain.
Believe me, Friend of all the World, I do thee great service. They
will not make a soldier of thee.'

'You crafty old sinner!' thought Creighton. 'But you're not far
wrong. That boy mustn't be wasted if he is as advertised.'

'Excuse me half a minute,' cried the Padre from within, 'but I'm
gettin' the documents in the case.

'If through me the favour of this bold and wise Colonel Sahib comes
to thee, and thou art raised to honour, what thanks wilt thou give
Mahbub Ali when thou art a man?'

'Nay, nay! I begged thee to let me take the Road again, where I
should have been safe; and thou hast sold me back to the English.
What will they give thee for blood-money?'

'A cheerful young demon!' The Colonel bit his cigar, and turned
politely to Father Victor.

'What are the letters that the fat priest is waving before the
Colonel? Stand behind the stallion as though looking at my bridle!'
said Mahbub Ali.

'A letter from my lama which he wrote from Jagadhir Road, saying
that he will pay three hundred rupees by the year for my
schooling.'

'Oho! Is old Red Hat of that sort? At which school?'

'God knows. I think in Nucklao.'

'Yes. There is a big school there for the sons of Sahibs - and
half-Sahibs. I have seen it when I sell horses there. So the lama
also loved the Friend of all the World?'

'Ay; and he did not tell lies, or return me to captivity.'

'Small wonder the Padre does not know how to unravel the thread.
How fast he talks to the Colonel Sahib!' Mahbub Ali chuckled. 'By
Allah!' the keen eyes swept the veranda for an Instant - 'thy lama
has sent what to me looks like a note of hand. I have had some few
dealings in hoondis. The Colonel Sahib is looking at it.'

'What good is all this to me?' said Kim wearily. 'Thou wilt go
away, and they will return me to those empty rooms where there is
no good place to sleep and where the boys beat me.'

'I do not think that. Have patience, child. All Pathans are not
faithless - except in horseflesh.'

Five - ten- fifteen minutes passed, Father Victor talking
energetically or asking questions which the Colonel answered.

'Now I've told you everything that I know about the boy from
beginnin to end; and it's a blessed relief to me. Did ye ever hear
the like?'

'At any rate, the old man has sent the money. Gobind Sahai's notes
of hand are good from here to China,' said the Colonel. 'The more
one knows about natives the less can one say what they will or
won't do.'

'That's consolin' - from the head of the Ethnological Survey. It's
this mixture of Red Bulls and Rivers of Healing (poor heathen, God
help him!) an' notes of hand and Masonic certificates. Are you a
Mason, by any chance?'

'By Jove, I am, now I come to think of it. That's an additional
reason,' said the Colonel absently.

'I'm glad ye see a reason in it. But as I said, it's the mixture
o' things that's beyond me. An' his prophesyin' to our Colonel,
sitting on my bed with his little shimmy torn open showing his
white skin; an' the prophecy comin' true! They'll cure all that
nonsense at St Xavier's, eh?'

'Sprinkle him with holy water' the Colonel laughed.

'On my word, I fancy I ought to sometimes. But I'm hoping he'll be
brought up as a good Catholic. All that troubles me is what'll
happen if the old beggar-man -'

'Lama, lama, my dear sir; and some of them are gentlemen in their
own country

'The lama, then, fails to pay next year. He's a fine business head
to plan on the spur of the moment, but he's bound to die some day.
An' takin' a heathen's money to give a child a Christian education
-'

'But he said explicitly what he wanted. As soon as he knew the boy
was white he seems to have made his arrangements accordingly. I'd
give a month's pay to hear how he explained it all at the
Tirthankars' Temple at Benares. Look here, Padre, I don't pretend
to know much about natives, but if he says he'll pay, he'll pay -
dead or alive. I mean, his heirs will assume the debt. My advice to
you is, send the boy down to Lucknow. If your Anglican Chaplain
thinks you've stolen a march on him -'

Bad luck to Bennett! He was sent to the Front instead O' me.
Doughty certified me medically unfit. I'll excommunicate Doughty if
he comes back alive! Surely Bennett ought to be content with -,

'Glory, leaving you the religion. Quite so! As a matter of fact I
don't think Bennett will mind. Put the blame on me. I - er -
strongly recommend sending the boy to St Xavier's. He can go down
on pass as a soldier's orphan, so the railway fare will be saved.
You can buy him an outfit from the Regimental subscription. The
Lodge will be saved the expense of his education, and that will put
the Lodge in a good temper. It's perfectly easy. I've got to go
down to Lucknow next week. I'll look after the boy on the way -
give him in charge of my servants, and so on.'

'You're a good man.

'Not in the least. Don't make that mistake. The lama has sent us
money for a definite end. We can't very well return it. We shall
have to do as he says. Well, that's settled, isn't it? Shall we say
that, Tuesday next, you'll hand him over to me at the night train
south? That's only three days. He can't do much harm in three
days.'

'It's a weight off my mind, but - this thing here?' - he
waved the note of hand - 'I don't know Gobind Sahai: or his bank,
which may be a hole in a wall.'

'You've never been a subaltern in debt. I'll cash it if you
like, and send you the vouchers in proper order.'

'But with all your own work too! It's askin' -'

'It's not the least trouble indeed. You see, as an
ethnologist, the thing's very interesting to me. I'd like to make a
note of it for some Government work that I'm doing. The
transformation of a regimental badge like your Red Bull into a sort
of fetish that the boy follows is very interesting.'

'But I can't thank you enough.'

'There's one thing you can do. All we Ethnological men are as
jealous as jackdaws of one another's discoveries. They're of no
interest to anyone but ourselves, of course, but you know what
book-collectors are like. Well, don't say a word, directly or
indirectly, about the Asiatic side of the boy's character - his
adventures and his prophecy, and so on. I'll worm them out of the
boy later on and - you see?'

'I do. Ye'll make a wonderful account of it. Never a word will I
say to anyone till I see it in print.'

'Thank you. That goes straight to an ethnologist's heart. Well, I
must be getting back to my breakfast. Good Heavens! Old Mabbub here
still?' He raised his voice, and the horse-dealer came out from
under the shadow of the tree, 'Well, what is it?'

'As regards that young horse,' said Mahbub, 'I say that when a colt
is born to be a polo-pony, closely following the ball without
teaching - when such a colt knows the game by divination - then I
say it is a great wrong to break that colt to a heavy cart, Sahib!'

'So say I also, Mahbub. The colt will be entered for polo only.
(These fellows think of nothing in the world but horses, Padre.)
I'll see you tomorrow, Mahbub, if you've anything likely for sale.'

The dealer saluted, horseman-fashion, with a sweep of the off hand.
'Be patient a little, Friend of all the World,' he whispered to
the agonized Kim. 'Thy fortune is made. In a little while thou
goest to Nucklao, and - here is something to pay the letter-writer.
I shall see thee again, I think, many times,' and he cantered off
down the road.

'Listen to me,' said the Colonel from the veranda, speaking in the
vernacular. 'In three days thou wilt go with me to Lucknow, seeing
and hearing new things all the while. Therefore sit still for three
days and do not run away. Thou wilt go to school at Lucknow.'

'Shall I meet my Holy One there?' Kim whimpered.

'At least Lucknow is nearer to Benares than Umballa. It may be thou
wilt go under my protection. Mahbub Ali knows this, and he will be
angry if thou returnest to the Road now. Remember - much has been
told me which I do not forget.'

'I will wait,' said Kim, 'but the boys will beat me.'

Then the bugles blew for dinner.

Chapter 7

Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised
With idiot moons and stars retracing stars?
Creep thou betweene - thy coming's all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fraye
(By Adam's, fathers', own, sin bound alway);
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate or mars?

Sir John Christie.

In the afternoon the red-faced schoolmaster told Kim that he had
been 'struck off the strength', which conveyed no meaning to him
till he was ordered to go away and play. Then he ran to the bazar,
and found the young letter-writer to whom he owed a stamp.

'Now I pay,' said Kim royally, 'and now I need another letter to be
written.'

'Mahbub Ali is in Umballa,' said the writer jauntily. He was, by
virtue of his office, a bureau of general misinformation.

'This is not to Mahbub, but to a priest. Take thy pen and write
quickly. To Teshoo La ma, the Holy One from Bhotiyal seeking for a
River, who is now in the Temple of the Tirthankars at Benares. Take
more ink! In three days I am to go down to Nucklao to the school at
Nucklao. The name of the school is Xavier. I do not know where that
school is, but it is at Nucklao.'

'But I know Nucklao,' the writer interrupted. 'I know the school.'

'Tell him where it is, and I give half an anna.'

The reed pen scratched busily. 'He cannot mistake.' The man lifted
his head. 'Who watches us across the street?'

Kim looked up hurriedly and saw Colonel Creighton in tennis-
flannels.

'Oh, that is some Sahib who knows the fat priest in the barracks.
He is beckoning me.'

'What dost thou?' said the Colonel, when Kim trotted up.

'I - I am not running away. I send a letter to my Holy One at
Benares.'

'I had not thought of that. Hast thou said that I take thee to
Lucknow?'

'Nay, I have not. Read the letter, if there be a doubt.'

'Then why hast thou left out my name in writing to that Holy One?'
The Colonel smiled a queer smile. Kim took his courage in both
hands.

'It was said once to me that it is inexpedient to write the names
of strangers concerned in any matter, because by the naming of
names many good plans are brought to confusion.'

'Thou hast been well taught,' the Colonel replied, and Kim flushed.
'I have left my cheroot-case in the Padre's veranda. Bring it to my
house this even.'

'Where is the house?' said Kim. His quick wit told him that he was
being tested in some fashion or another, and he stood on guard.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24