'I do not understand the customs of white men. The Priest of the Images in the Wonder House in Lahore was more courteous than the thin one here. This boy will be taken from me. They will make a Sahib of my disciple? Woe to me, how shall I find my river? Have they no disciples? Ask.'
'He says he is very sorry that he cannot find the river now any more. He says, Why have you no disciples and stop bothering him? He wants to be washed of his sins.'
Neither Bennett nor Father Victor found an answer ready.
Said Kim in English, distressed for the lama's agony: 'I think if you will let me go now we will walk away quietly and not steal. We will look for that river like before I was caught. I wish I did not come here to find the Red Bull and all that sort of thing. I do not want it.'
'It's the very best day's work you ever did for yourself, young man,' said Bennett.
'Good heavens, I don't know how to console him,' said Father Victor, watching the lama intently. 'He can't take the boy away with him, and yet he's a good man I'm sure he's a good man. Bennett, if you give him that rupee he'll curse you root and branch.'
They listened to each other's breathing—three—five full minutes. Then the lama raised his head, and looked forth across them into space and emptiness.
'And I am a preacher of the Way,' he said bitterly. 'The sin is mine and the punishment is mine. I made believe to myself—for now I see it was but make-belief—that thou wast sent to me to aid in the Search. So my heart went out to thee for thy charity and thy courtesy and the wisdom of thy little years. But those who follow the Way must permit not the fire of any desire or at-
