`Thatiswellspoken。Iamnotmuchusedtoholymen，butrespectisalwaysgood。Thereisnorespectinthesedays-notevenwhenaCommissionerSahibcomestoseeme。ButwhyshouldonewhoseStarleadshimtowarfollowaholyman？’
`Butheisaholyman，’saidKimearnestly。`Intruth，andintalkandinact，holy。Heisnotliketheothers。Ihaveneverseensuchanone。Webenotfortune-tellers，orjugglers，orbeggars。’
`Thouartnot。ThatIcansee。ButIdonotknowthatother。
Hemarcheswell，though。’
Thefirstfreshnessofthedaycarriedthelamaforwardwithlong，easy，camel-likestrides。Hewasdeepinmeditation，mechanicallyclickinghisrosary。
Theyfollowedtheruttedandworncountryroadthatwoundacrosstheflatbetweenthegreatdark-greenmango-groves，thelineofthesnow-cappedHimalayasfainttotheeastward。AllIndiawasatworkinthefields，tothecreakingofwell-wheels，theshoutingofploughmenbehindtheircattle，andtheclamourofthecrows。EventheponyfeltthegoodinfluenceandalmostbrokeintoatrotasKimlaidahandonthestirrup-leather。
`ItrepentsmethatIdidnotgivearupeetotheshrine，’saidthelamaonthelastbeadofhiseighty-one。
Theoldsoldiergrowledinhisbeard，sothatthelamaforthefirsttimewasawareofhim。
`SeekestthoutheRiveralso？’saidhe，turning。
`Thedayisnew，’wasthereply。`Whatneedofariversavetowateratbeforesundown？IcometoshowtheeashortlanetotheBigRoad。’
`Thatisacourtesytoberemembered，Omanofgoodwill。Butwhythesword？’
Theoldsoldierlookedasabashedasachildinterruptedinhisgameofmake-believe。
`Thesword，’hesaid，fumblingit。`Oh，thatwasafancyofmine-anoldman’sfancy。TrulythepoliceordersarethatnomanmustbearweaponsthroughoutHind，but’-hecheeredupandslappedthehilt-`alltheconstabeelshereaboutknowme。’
`Itisnotagoodfancy，’saidthelama。`Whatprofittokillmen？’
`Verylittle-asIknow；butifevilmenwerenotnowandthenslainitwouldnotbeagoodworldforweaponlessdreamers。IdonotspeakwithoutknowledgewhohaveseenthelandfromDelhisouthawashwithblood。’
`Whatmadnesswasthat，then？’
`TheGods，whosentitforaplague，aloneknow。AmadnessateintoalltheArmy，andtheyturnedagainsttheirofficers。Thatwasthefirstevil，butnotpastremedyiftheyhadthenheldtheirhands。ButtheychosetokilltheSahibs’wivesandchildren。ThencametheSahibsfromovertheseaandcalledthemtomoststrictaccount。’
`Somesuchrumour，Ibelieve，reachedmeoncelongago。TheycalledittheBlackYear，asIremember。’
`Whatmanneroflifehastthouled，nottoknowTheYear？Arumourindeed！
Allearthknew，andtrembled！’
`Ourearthnevershookbutonce-uponthedaythattheExcellentOnereceivedEnlightenment。’
`Umph！IsawDelhishakeatleast；andDelhiisthenaveloftheworld。’
`Sotheyturnedagainstwomenandchildren？Thatwasabaddeed，forwhichthepunishmentcannotbeavoided。’
`Manystrovetodoso，butwithverysmallprofit。Iwastheninaregimentofcavalry。Itbroke。Ofsixhundredandeightysabresstoodfasttotheirsalt-howmany，thinkyou？Three。OfwhomIwasone。’
`Thegreatermerit。’
`Merit！Wedidnotconsideritmeritinthosedays。Mypeople，myfriends，mybrothersfellfromme。Theysaid：`ThetimeoftheEnglishisaccomplished。
Leteachstrikeoutalittleholdingforhimself。’ButIhadtalkedwiththemenofSobraon，ofChilianwallah，ofMoodkeeandFerozeshah。Isaid：
`Abidealittleandthewindturns。Thereisnoblessinginthiswork。’
InthosedaysIrodeseventymileswithanEnglishMemsahibandherbabeonmysaddle-bow。Wow！Thatwasahorsefitforaman！Iplacedtheminsafety，andbackcameItomyofficer-theonethatwasnotkilledofourfive。`Givemework，’saidI，`forIamanoutcastamongmyownkind，andmycousin’sbloodiswetonmysabre。’`Becontent，’saidhe。
`Thereisgreatworkforward。Whenthismadnessisoverthereisarecompense。’’
`Ay，thereisarecompensewhenthemadnessisover，surely？’thelamamutteredhalftohimself。
`Theydidnothangmedalsinthosedaysonallwhobyaccidenthadheardagunfired。No！InnineteenpitchedbattleswasI；insix-and-fortyskirmishesofhorse；andinsmallaffairswithoutnumber。NinewoundsIbear；amedalandfourclaspsandthemedalofanOrder，formycaptains，whoarenowgenerals，rememberedmewhentheKaisar-i-Hindhadaccomplishedfiftyyearsofherreign，andallthelandrejoiced。Theysaid：`GivehimtheOrderofBerittishIndia。’Icarryituponmynecknow。Ihavealsomyjaghir[holding]fromthehandsoftheState-afreegifttomeandmine。Themenoftheolddays-theyarenowCommissioners-comeridingtomethroughthecrops-highuponhorsessothatallthevillagesees-andwetalkouttheoldskirmishes，onedeadman’snameleadingtoanother。’
`Andafter？’saidthelama。
`Oh，afterwardstheygoaway，butnotbeforemyvillagehasseen。’
`Andatthelastwhatwiltthoudo？’
`AtthelastIshalldie。’
`Andafter？’
`LettheGodsorderit。IhaveneverpesteredThemwithprayers。IdonotthinkTheywillpesterme。Lookyou，IhavenoticedinmylonglifethatthosewhoeternallybreakinuponThoseAbovewithcomplaintsandreportsandbellowingsandweepingsarepresentlysentforinhaste，asourColonelusedtosendforslack-jaweddown-countrymenwhotalkedtoomuch。No，IhaveneverweariedtheGods。Theywillrememberthis，andgivemeaquietplacewhereIcandrivemylanceintheshade，andwaittowelcomemysons：Ihavenolessthanthree-Rissaldar-majorsall-intheregiments。’
`Andtheylikewise，boundupontheWheel，goforthfromlifetolife-fromdespairtodespair，’saidthelamabelowhisbreath，`hot，uneasy，snatching。’
`Ay，’theoldsoldierchuckled。`ThreeRissaldar-majorsinthreeregiments。
Gamblersalittle，butsoamI。Theymustbewellmounted；andonecannottakethehorsesasintheolddaysonetookwomen。Well，well，myholdingcanpayforall。Howthinkestthou？Itisawell-wateredstrip，butmymencheatme。Idonotknowhowtoasksaveatthelance’spoint。Ugh！
IgrowangryandIcursethem，andtheyfeignpenitence，butbehindmybackIknowtheycallmeatoothlessoldape。’
`Hastthouneverdesiredanyotherthing？’
`Yes-yes-athousandtimes！Astraightbackandaclose-clingingkneeoncemore；aquickwristandakeeneye；andthemarrowthatmakesaman。Oh，theolddays-thegooddaysofmystrength！’
`Thatstrengthisweakness。’
`Ithasturnedso；butfiftyyearssinceIcouldhaveproveditotherwise，’
theoldsoldierretorted，drivinghisstirrup-edgeintothepony’sleanflank。
`ButIknowaRiverofgreathealing。’
`IhavedrankGunga-watertotheedgeofdropsy。Allshegavemewasaflux，andnosortofstrength。’
`ItisnotGunga。TheRiverthatIknowwashesfromalltaintofsin。
AscendingthefarbankoneisassuredofFreedom。Idonotknowthylife，butthyfaceisthefaceofthehonourableandcourteous。ThouhastclungtothyWay，renderingfidelitywhenitwashardtogive，inthatBlackYearofwhichInowrememberothertales。EnternowupontheMiddleWaywhichisthepathtoFreedom。HeartheMostExcellentLaw，anddonotfollowdreams。’
`Speak，then，oldman，’thesoldiersmiled，halfsaluting。`Webeallbabblersatourage。’
Thelamasquattedundertheshadeofamango，whoseshadowplayedcheckerwiseoverhisface；thesoldiersatstifflyonthepony；andKim，makingsurethattherewerenosnakes，laydowninthecrotchofthetwistedroots。
Therewasadrowsybuzzofsmalllifeinhotsunshine，acooingofdoves，andasleepydroneofwell-wheelsacrossthefields。Slowlyandimpressivelythelamabegan。Attheendoftenminutestheoldsoldierslidfromhispony，tohearbetterashesaid，andsatwiththereinsroundhiswrist。
Thelama’svoicefaltered-theperiodslengthened。Kimwasbusywatchingagreysquirrel。Whenthelittlescoldingbunchoffur，closepressedtothebranch，disappeared，preacherandaudiencewerefastasleep，theoldofficer’sstrong-cutheadpillowedonhisarm，thelama’sthrownbackagainstthetree-bole，whereitshowedlikeyellowivory。Anakedchildtoddledup，stared，and，movedbysomequickimpulseofreverence，madeasolemnlittleobeisancebeforethelama-onlythechildwassoshortandfatthatittoppledoversideways，andKimlaughedatthesprawling，chubbylegs。Thechild，scaredandindignant，yelledaloud。
`Hai！Hai！’saidthesoldier，leapingtohisfeet。`Whatisit？Whatorders？……Itis……achild！Idreameditwasanalarm。Littleone-littleone-donotcry。HaveIslept？Thatwasdiscourteousindeed！’
`Ifear！Iamafraid！’roaredthechild。