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，hisbearddyedscarletwithlimeforhewaselderlyanddidnotwishhisgreyhairstoshow，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？’