'Beggars a plenty have I met, and holy men to boot, but never such a yogi nor such a disciple,' said the woman.
Her husband touched his forehead lightly with one finger and smiled. But the next time the lama would eat they took care to give him their best.
And at last—tired, sleepy, and dusty—they reached Umballa City Station.
'We abide here upon a law-suit,' said the cultivator's wife to Kim. 'We lodge with my man's cousin's younger brother. There is room also in the courtyard for thy yogi and for thee. Will—will he give me a blessing?'
'O holy man! A woman with a heart of gold gives us lodging for the night. It is a kindly land, this land of the south. See how we have been helped since the dawn!'
The lama bowed his head in benediction.
'To fill my cousin's younger brother's house with wastrels,' the husband began, as he shouldered his heavy bamboo stick.
'Thy cousin's younger brother owes my father's cousin something yet on his daughter's marriage-feast,' said the woman crisply. 'Let him put their food to that account. The yogi will beg, I doubt not.'
'Ay, I beg for him,' said Kim, anxious only to get the lama under shelter for the night, that he might seek Mahbub Ali's Englishman and deliver himself of the white stallion's pedigree.
'Now,' said he, when the lama had come to an anchor in the inner courtyard of a decent Hindu house behind the cantonment bazar, 'I go away for awhile—to—to buy us victual in the bazar. Do not stray abroad till I return.'
'Thou wilt return? Thou wilt surely return?' The old man caught at his wrist. 'And thou wilt return in this very same shape? Is it too late to look to-night for the river?'
