‘So be it,’ said Kim.  ‘A good stick is a good reason.’

The lama gazed placidly up-stream, where in long, smudged perspective the ceaseless columns of smoke go up from the burning-ghats by the river.  Now and again, despite all municipal regulations, the fragment of a half-burned body bobbed by on the full current.

‘But for thee,’ said the Kamboh to Kim, drawing the child into his hairy breast, ’I might today have gone thither — with this one.  The priests tell us that Benares is holy — which none doubt — and desirable to die in.  But I do not know their Gods, and they ask for money; and when one has done one worship a shaved-head vows it is of none effect except one do another.  Wash here!  Wash there!  Pour, drink, lave, and scatter flowers — but always pay the priests.  No, the Punjab for me, and the soil of the Jullundur-doab for the best soil in it.’

’I have said many times — in the Temple, I think — that if need be, the River will open at our feet.  We will therefore go North,’ said the lama, rising.  ’I remember a pleasant place, set about with fruit-trees, where one can walk in meditation — and the air is cooler there.  It comes from the Hills and the snow of the Hills.’

‘What is the name?’ said Kim.

’How should I know?  Didst thou not — no, that was after the Army rose out of the earth and took thee away.  I abode there in meditation in a room against the dovecot — except when she talked eternally.’

‘Oho! the woman from Kulu.  That is by Saharunpore.’  Kim laughed.

’How does the spirit move thy master?  Does he go afoot, for the sake of past sins?’ the Jat demanded cautiously.  ’It is a far cry to Delhi.’

‘No,’ said Kim.  ‘I will beg a tikkut for the te-rain.’  One does not own to the possession of money in India.

’Then, in the name of the Gods, let us take the fire-carriage.  My son is best in his mother’s arms.  The Government has brought on us many taxes, but it gives us one good thing — the te-rain that joins friends and unites the anxious.  A wonderful matter is the te-rain.’

They all piled into it a couple of hours later, and slept through the heat of the day.  The Kamboh plied Kim with ten thousand questions as to the lama’s walk and work in life, and received some curious answers.  Kim was content to be where he was, to look out upon the flat North-Western landscape, and to talk to the changing mob of fellow-passengers.  Even today, tickets and ticket-clipping are dark oppression to Indian rustics.  They do not understand why, when they have paid for a magic piece of paper, strangers should punch great pieces out of the charm.  So, long and furious are the debates between travellers and Eurasian ticket-collectors.  Kim assisted at two or three with grave advice, meant to darken counsel and to show off his wisdom before the lama and the admiring Kamboh.  But at Somna Road the Fates sent him a matter to think upon.  There