carelessly—'to the Colonel Sahib? He spends them for a purpose, not in any way for love of thee.'
'That,' said Kim slowly, 'I knew a very long time ago.'
'Who told?'
'The Colonel Sahib himself. Not in those very words, but plainly enough for one who is not altogether a mud-head. Yea, he told me in the te-rain when we went down to the madrissah.'
'Be it so. Then I will tell thee more, Friend of all the World, though in the telling I lend thee my head.'
'It was forfeit to me,' said Kim, with deep relish, 'in Umballa, when thou didst pick me up on the horse when the drummer-boy beat me.'
'Speak a little plainer. All the world may tell lies save thou and I. For equally is thy life forfeit to me if I chose to raise my finger here.'
'And this is known to me also,' said Kim, readjusting the live charcoal-ball on the weed. 'It is a very sure tie between us. Indeed thy hold is surer even than mine; for who would miss a boy beaten to death, or, it may be, thrown into a well by the roadside? Many people here and in Simla and across the passes behind the hills would, on the other hand, say: "What has come to Mahbub Ali," if he were found dead among his horses. Surely too the Colonel Sahib would make inquiries. But again,'—Kim's face puckered with cunning,—'he would not make overlong inquiry, lest people should ask: "What has this Colonel Sahib to do with that horse-dealer?" But I—if I lived'
'As thou wouldst surely die'
'It may be, but I say, if I lived, I, and I alone, would know that one came by night, as a common thief perhaps, to Mahbub Ali's bulkhead in the serai, and there slew him, either before or after
