said, and none doubted, had helped his father to beat off with rifles from the verandah a rush of Akas in the days when those herd-hunters were bold against outlying plantations.
And every tale was told in the even, passionless voice of the native-born, mixed with quaint reflections, borrowed unconsciously from native foster-mothers, and turns of speech that showed they had been that instant translated from the vernacular. Kim watched, listened, and approved. This was not insipid, single-word talk of drummer-boys. It dealt with a life he knew and understood. The atmosphere suited him, and he throve by inches. They put him into a white drill suit as the weather grew warmer, and he rejoiced in the new-found bodily comforts as he rejoiced to use his sharpened mind over the tasks they set him. His quickness would have amazed an English master; but at St. Xavier's they know the first rush of minds developed by sun and surroundings, as they know the half-collapse that comes at twenty-two or twenty-three.
None the less he remembered to hold himself in hand. When the tales were told of hot nights, Kim did not sweep the board with his reminiscences; for St. Xavier's looks down on boys who 'go native altogether.' One must never forget that one is a Sahib, and that some day, when examinations are passed, one will command natives. Kim made a note of this. He began to understand what examinations led to.
Then came the holidays from August to October—the long holidays imposed by the heat and the rains. Kim was informed that he would go north to some station in the hills behind Umballa, where Father Victor would arrange for him.
'A barrack school?' said Kim, who had asked questions.
'Yes, I suppose so,' said the master. 'It will not do you any
