’Upon a Wednesday, and in the morning, to put on new clothes is auspicious,’ said Mahbub solemnly.  ’But we must not forget the wicked folk in the world.  So!’

He capped all the splendour, that was taking Kim’s delighted breath away, with a mother-of-pearl, nickel-plated, self-extracting .450 revolver.

’I had thought of a smaller bore, but reflected that this takes Government bullets.  A man can always come by those — especially across the Border.  Stand up and let me look.’  He clapped Kim on the shoulder.  ’May you never be tired, Pathan!  Oh, the hearts to be broken!  Oh, the eyes under the eyelashes, looking sideways!’

Kim turned about, pointed his toes, stretched, and felt mechanically for the moustache that was just beginning.  Then he stooped towards Mahbub’s feet to make proper acknowledgment with fluttering, quick-patting hands; his heart too full for words.  Mahbub forestalled and embraced him.

’My son, said he, ’what need of words between us?  But is not the little gun a delight?  All six cartridges come out at one twist.  It is borne in the bosom next the skin, which, as it were, keeps it oiled.  Never put it elsewhere, and please God, thou shalt some day kill a man with it.’

‘Hai mai!’ said Kim ruefully.  ’If a Sahib kills a man he is hanged in the jail.’

’True:  but one pace beyond the Border, men are wiser.  Put it away; but fill it first.  Of what use is a gun unfed?’

’When I go back to the madrissah I must return it.  They do not allow little guns.  Thou wilt keep it for me?’

’Son, I am wearied of that madrissah, where they take the best years of a man to teach him what he can only learn upon the Road.  The folly of the Sahibs has neither top nor bottom.  No matter.  Maybe thy written report shall save thee further bondage; and God He knows we need men more and more in the Game.’

They marched, jaw-bound against blowing sand, across the salt desert to Jodhpur, where Mahbub and his handsome nephew Habib Ullah did much trading; and then sorrowfully, in European clothes, which he was fast outgrowing, Kim went second-class to St Xavier’s.  Three weeks later, Colonel Creighton, pricing Tibetan ghost-daggers at Lurgan’s shop, faced Mahbub Ali openly mutinous.  Lurgan Sahib operated as support in reserve.

’The pony is made — finished — mouthed and paced, Sahib!  From now on, day by day, he will lose his manners if he is kept at tricks.  Drop the rein on his back and let go,’ said the horse-dealer.  ’We need him.’

‘But he is so young, Mahbub — not more than sixteen — is he?’

‘When I was fifteen, I had shot my man and begot my man, Sahib.’

‘You impenitent old heathen!’ Creighton turned to Lurgan.  The black beard nodded assent to the wisdom of the Afghan’s dyed scarlet.

‘I should have used him long ago,’ said Lurgan.  ’The younger the better.  That is why I always have my really valuable jewels watched by a child.  You sent him to me to try.  I tried him in every way:  he is the only boy I could not make to see things.’