the red-earth bowl of the pipe. E.23, without a word, slipped off his turban and shook down his long black hair.
'That is my food—priest,' the man growled.
'A buffalo in the temple! Hast thou dared to look even thus far?' said Kim. 'I must do mysteries before fools; but have a care for thy eyes. Is there a film before them already? I save the babe, and all thou canst do—oh, shameless!' The man flinched at the direct gaze, for Kim was wholly in earnest. 'Shall I curse thee, or shall I ' He picked up the outer cloth of the bundle and threw it over the man's head. 'Dare so much as to think a wish to see, and—and—even I cannot save thee. Sit! Be dumb!'
'I am blind—dumb. Forbear to curse. Co—come, child; we will play a game of hiding. Do not, for my sake, look from under the cloth.'
'I see hope,' said E.23. 'What is thy scheme?'
'This comes next,' said Kim, plucking the thin body-shirt. E.23 hesitated, with all a Northwest man's dislike of baring his body.
'What is caste to a cut throat?' said Kim, rending it to the waist. 'We must make thee a yellow Saddhu all over. Strip strip swiftly, and shake thy hair over thy eyes while I scatter the ash. Now, a caste-mark on thy forehead.' He dived into his bosom for the little greasy paint-box and a cake of crimson lake.
'Art thou only a beginner?' said E.23, labouring literally for the dear life, as he slid out of his body-wrappings and stood clear in the loin-cloth while Kim splashed in a noble caste-mark on the smeared brow.
'But two days entered to the Game, brother,' Kim replied. 'Smear more ash on the bosom.'
