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Thelamadidnotwaketilltheeveninglifeofthecityhadbegunwithlamp-lightingandthereturnofwhite-robedclerksandsubordinatesfromtheGovernmentoffices。Hestareddizzilyinalldirections，butnonelookedathimsaveaHinduurchininadirtyturbanandIsabella-colouredclothes。
Suddenlyhebowedhisheadonhiskneesandwailed。
`Whatisthis？’saidtheboy，standingbeforehim。`Hastthoubeenrobbed？’
`Itismynewchela[disciple]thatisgoneawayfromme，andIknownotwhereheis。’
`Andwhatlikeofmanwasthydisciple？’
`Itwasaboywhocametomeinplaceofhimwhodied，onaccountofthemeritwhichIhadgainedwhenIbowedbeforetheLawwithinthere。’
HepointedtowardstheMuseum。`HecameuponmetoshowmearoadwhichIhadlost。HeledmeintotheWonderHouse，andbyhistalkemboldenedmetospeaktotheKeeperoftheImages，sothatIwascheeredandmadestrong。AndwhenIwasfaintwithhungerhebeggedforme，aswouldachelaforhisteacher。Suddenlywashesent。Suddenlyhashegoneaway。ItwasinmymindtohavetaughthimtheLawupontheroadtoBenares。’
Kimstoodamazedatthis，becausehehadoverheardthetalkintheMuseum，andknewthattheoldmanwasspeakingthetruth，whichisathinganativeontheroadseldompresentstoastranger。
`ButIseenowthathewasbutsentforapurpose。BythisIknowthatIshallfindacertainRiverforwhichIseek。’
`TheRiveroftheArrow？’saidKim，withasuperiorsmile。
`IsthisyetanotherSending？’criedthelama。`TononehaveIspokenofmysearch，savetothePriestoftheImages。Whoartthou？’
`Thychela，’saidKimsimply，sittingonhisheels。`Ihaveneverseenanyoneliketotheeinallthismylife。IgowiththeetoBenares。
And，too，Ithinkthatsooldamanasthou，speakingthetruthtochance-metpeopleatdusk，isingreatneedofadisciple。’
`ButtheRiver-theRiveroftheArrow？’
`Oh，thatIheardwhenthouwastspeakingtotheEnglishman。Ilayagainstthedoor。’
Thelamasighed。`Ithoughtthouhadstbeenaguidepermitted。Suchthingsfallsometimes-butIamnotworthy。Thoudostnotthen，knowtheRiver？’
`NotI。’Kimlaugheduneasily。`Igotolookfor-forabull-aRedBullonagreenfieldwhoshallhelpme。’Boylike，ifanacquaintancehadascheme，Kimwasquitereadywithoneofhisown；and，boylike，hehadreallythoughtforasmuchastwentyminutesatatimeofhisfather’sprophecy。
`Towhat，child？’saidthelama。
`Godknows，butsomyfathertoldme。IheardthytalkintheWonderHouseofallthosenewstrangeplacesintheHills，andifonesooldandsolittle-sousedtotruth-telling-maygooutforthesmallmatterofariver，itseemedtomethatItoomustgoa-travelling。Ifitisourfatetofindthosethingsweshallfindthem-thou，thyRiver；andI，myBull，andtheStrongPillarsandsomeothermattersthatIforget。’
`ItisnotpillarsbutaWheelfromwhichIwouldbefree，’saidthelama。
`Thatisallone。Perhapstheywillmakemeaking，’saidKim，serenelypreparedforanything。
`Iwillteachtheeotherandbetterdesiresupontheroad，’thelamarepliedinthevoiceofauthority。`LetusgotoBenares。’
`Notbynight。Thievesareabroad。Waittilltheday。’
`Butthereisnoplacetosleep。’Theoldmanwasusedtotheorderofhismonastery，andthoughhesleptontheground，astheRuledecrees，preferredadecencyinthesethings。
`WeshallgetgoodlodgingattheKashmirSerai，’saidKim，laughingathisperplexity。`Ihaveafriendthere。Come！’
ThehotandcrowdedbazarsblazedwithlightastheymadetheirwaythroughthepressofalltheracesinUpperIndia，andthelamamoonedthroughitlikeamaninadream。Itwashisfirstexperienceofalargemanufacturingcity，andthecrowdedtram-carwithitscontinuallysquealingbrakesfrightenedhim。Halfpushed，halftowed，hearrivedatthehighgateoftheKashmirSerai：thathugeopensquareoveragainsttherailwaystation，surroundedwitharchedcloisters，wherethecamelandhorsecaravansputupontheirreturnfromCentralAsia。HerewereallmannerofNorthernfolk，tendingtetheredponiesandkneelingcamels；loadingandunloadingbalesandbundles；drawingwaterfortheeveningmealatthecreakingwell-windlasses；
pilinggrassbeforetheshrieking，wild-eyedstallions；cuffingthesurlycaravandogs；payingoffcamel-drivers；takingonnewgrooms；swearing，shouting，arguing，andchafferinginthepackedsquare。Thecloisters，reachedbythreeorfourmasonrysteps，madeahavenofrefugearoundthisturbulentsea。Mostofthemwererentedtotraders，aswerentthearchesofaviaduct；thespacebetweenpillarandpillarbeingbrickedorboardedoffintorooms，whichwereguardedbyheavywoodendoorsandcumbrousnativepadlocks。Lockeddoorsshowedthattheownerwasaway，andafewrude-
sometimesveryrude-chalkorpaintscratchestoldwherehehadgone。
Thus：`LutufUllahisgonetoKurdistan。’Below，incoarseverse：`OAllah，whosufferestlicetoliveonthecoatofaKabuli，whyhastthouallowedthislouseLutuftolivesolong？’
Kim，fendingthelamabetweenexcitedmenandexcitedbeasts，sidledalongthecloisterstothefarend，nearesttherailwaystation，whereMahbubAli，thehorse-trader，livedwhenhecameinfromthatmysteriouslandbeyondthePassesoftheNorth。
KimhadhadmanydealingswithMahbubinhislittlelife，-especiallybetweenhistenthandhisthirteenthyear-andthebigburlyAfghan，hisbearddyedscarletwithlime(forhewaselderlyanddidnotwishhisgreyhairstoshow)，knewtheboy’svalueasagossip。SometimeshewouldtellKimtowatchamanwhohadnothingwhatevertodowithhorses：tofollowhimforonewholedayandreporteverysoulwithwhomhetalked。Kimwoulddeliverhimselfofhistaleatevening，andMahbubwouldlistenwithoutawordorgesture。Itwasintrigueofsomekind，Kimknew；butitsworthlayinsayingnothingwhatevertoanyoneexceptMahbub，whogavehimbeautifulmealsallhotfromthecookshopattheheadoftheserai，andonceasmuchaseightannasinmoney。
`Heishere，’saidKim，hittingabad-temperedcamelonthenose。`Ohe，MahbubAli！’Hehaltedatadarkarchandslippedbehindthebewilderedlama。
Thehorse-trader，hisdeep，embroideredBokhariotbeltunloosed，waslyingonapairofsilkcarpetsaddle-bags，pullinglazilyatanimmensesilverhookah。Heturnedhisheadveryslightlyatthecry；andseeingonlythetallsilentfigure，chuckledinhisdeepchest。
`Allah！Alama！ARedLama！ItisfarfromLahoretothePasses。Whatdostthoudohere？’
Thelamaheldoutthebegging-bowlmechanically。
`God’scurseonallunbelievers！’saidMahbub。`IdonotgivetoalousyTibetan；butaskmyBaltisoveryonderbehindthecamels。Theymayvalueyourblessings。Oh，horseboys，hereisacountrymanofyours。Seeifhebehungry。’
Ashaven，crouchingBalti，whohadcomedownwiththehorses，andwhowasnominallysomesortofdegradedBuddhist，fawneduponthepriest，andinthickgutturalsbesoughttheHolyOnetositatthehorseboys’fire。
`Go！’saidKim，pushinghimlightly，andthelamastrodeaway，leavingKimattheedgeofthecloister。
`Go！’saidMahbubAli，returningtohishookah。`LittleHindu，runaway。
God’scurseonallunbelievers！Begfromthoseofmytailwhoareofthyfaith。’
`Maharaj，’whinedKim，usingtheHinduformofaddress，andthoroughlyenjoyingthesituation；`myfatherisdead-mymotherisdead-mystomachisempty。’
`Begfrommymenamongthehorses，Isay。TheremustbesomeHindusinmytail。’
`Oh，MahbubAli，butamIaHindu？’saidKiminEnglish。
Thetradergavenosignofastonishment，butlookedundershaggyeyebrows。
`LittleFriendofalltheWorld，’saidhe，`whatisthis？’
`Nothing。Iamnowthatholyman’sdisciple；andwegoapilgrimagetogether-toBenares，hesays。Heisquitemad，andIamtiredofLahorecity。Iwishnewairandwater。’
`Butforwhomdostthouwork？Whycometome？’Thevoicewasharshwithsuspicion。
`TowhomelseshouldIcome？Ihavenomoney。Itisnotgoodtogoaboutwithoutmoney。Thouwiltsellmanyhorsestotheofficers。Theyareveryfinehorses，thesenewones：Ihaveseenthem。Givemearupee，MahbubAli，andwhenIcometomywealthIwillgivetheeabondandpay。’
`Um！’saidMahbubAli，thinkingswiftly。`Thouhastneverbeforeliedtome。Callthatlama-standbackinthedark。’
`Oh，ourtaleswillagree，’saidKim，laughing。
`WegotoBenares，’saidthelama，assoonasheunderstoodthedriftofMahbubAli’squestions。`TheboyandI，IgotoseekforacertainRiver。’
`Maybe-buttheboy？’
`Heismydisciple。Hewassent，Ithink，toguidemetothatRiver。
SittingunderagunwasIwhenhecamesuddenly。Suchthingshavebefallenthefortunatetowhomguidancewasallowed。ButIremembernow，hesaidhewasofthisworld-aHindu。’
`Andhisname？’
`ThatIdidnotask。Ishenotmydisciple？’
