—'it—it is requested that the Holy One will do the honour to talk to one who would speak to him.'
'After he has eaten he will sleep,' Kim returned loftily. He could not quite see what new turn the game had taken, but stood resolute to profit by it. 'Now, I will get him his food.' The last sentence, spoken loudly, ended with a sigh as of faintness.
'I—I myself and the others of my people will look to that—if it is permitted.'
'It is permitted,' said Kim, more loftily than ever. 'Holy One, these people will bring us food.'
'The land is good. All the country of the south is good—a great and a terrible world,' mumbled the lama drowsily.
'Let him sleep,' said Kim, 'but look to it that we are well fed when he wakes. He is a very holy man.'
Again one of the Ooryas said something contemptuously.
'He is not a faquir. He is not a down-country beggar,' Kim went on severely, addressing the stars. 'He is the most holy of holy men. He is above all castes. I am his chela.’
'Come here!' said the flat thin voice behind the curtain; and Kim came, conscious that eyes he could not see were staring at him. One skinny brown finger heavy with rings lay on the edge of the cart, and the talk went this way:
'Who is that one?'
'An exceeding holy one. He comes from far off. He comes from Tibet.'
'Where in Tibet?'
'From behind the snows—from a very far place. He knows the stars; he makes horoscopes; he reads nativities. But he does not do this for money. He does it for kindness and great charity. I am his disciple. I am called also the Friend of the Stars.'
