angrily,—'but it's some piece of blasted impertinence. Come out of that!'
E.23, affecting to misunderstand, gravely produced his ticket, which the Englishman wrenched angrily from his hand.
'Oh zoolum! What oppression!' growled the Jat from his corner. 'All for the sake of a jest too.' He had been grinning at the freedom of the Saddhu's tongue. 'Thy charms do not work well to-day, Holy One!'
The Saddhu followed the policeman, fawning and supplicating. The ruck of passengers, busy with their babies and their bundles, had not noticed the affair. Kim slipped out behind him; for it flashed through his head that he had heard this angry, stupid Sahib discoursing loud personalities to an old lady near Umballa three years ago.
'It is well,' the Saddhu whispered, jammed in the calling, shouting, bewildered press—a Persian greyhound between his feet and a cageful of yelling hawks under charge of a Rajput falconer in the small of his back. 'He has gone now to send word of the letter which I hid. They told me he was in Peshawur. I might have known he is like the crocodile—always at the other ford. He has saved me from present calamity, but I owe my life to thee.'
'Is he also one of Us?' Kim ducked under a Meiwar camel-driver's greasy armpit and cannoned off a covey of jabbering Sikh matrons.
'Not less than the greatest. We are both fortunate! I will make report to him of what thou hast done. I am safe under his protection.'
He bored through the edge of the crowd, besieging the carriages, and squatted by the bench near the telegraph-office.
