'What is it then?' said Father Victor, not without sympathy, as he watched the lama's face.
'There is a river in this country which he wishes to find so verree much. It was put out by an arrow which' Kim tapped his foot impatiently as he translated in his own mind from the vernacular to his clumsy English. 'Oah, it was made by our Lord God Buddha you know, and if you wash there you are washed away from all your sins and made as white as cotton- wool.' (Kim had heard mission-talk in his time.) 'I am his disciple, and we must find that river. It is verree valuable to us.'
'Say that again,' said Bennett. Kim obeyed, with amplifications.
'But this is mere blasphemy,' said the Church of England chaplain.
'Tck! Tck!' said Father Victor sympathetically. 'I'd give a good deal to be able to talk the vernacular. A river that washes away sin! And how long have you two been looking for it?'
'Oh, many days. Now we wish to go away and look for it again. It is not here, you see.'
'I see,' said Father Victor gravely. 'But he can't go on in that old man's company. It would be different, Kim, if you were not a soldier's son. Tell him that the regiment will take care of you and make you as good a man as your—as good a man as can be. Tell him that if he believes in miracles he must believe that'
'There is no need to play on his credulity,' Bennett interrupted.
'I'm doing no such thing. He must believe that the boy's coming here—to his own regiment—in search of his Red Bull is in the nature of a miracle. Consider the chances against it, Bennett. This one boy in all India, and our regiment of all others on the line o' march for him to meet with? It's predestined on the face of it.
