‘Perhaps half a koss.’ (Three quarters of a mile, and it was a weary march.)

‘Half a koss. Ha! I went ten thousand thousand in the spirit. How we are all lapped and swathed and swaddled in these senseless things.’ He looked at his thin blue-veined hand that found the beads so heavy. ‘Chela, hast thou never a wish to leave me?’

Kim thought of the oilskin packet and the books in the foodbag. If someone duly authorized would only take delivery of them the Great Game might play itself for aught he then cared. He was tired and hot in his head, and a cough that came from the stomach worried him.

‘No,’ he said almost sternly. ‘I am not a dog or a snake to bite when I have learned to love.’

‘Thou art too tender towards me.’

‘Not that either. I have moved in one matter without consulting thee. I have sent a message to the Kulu woman by that woman who gave us the goat’s milk this morn, saying that thou wast a little feeble and wouldst need a litter. I beat myself in my mind that I did not do it when we entered the Doon. We stay in this place till the litter returns.’

‘I am content. She is a woman with a heart of gold, as thou sayest, but a talker — something of a talker.’

‘She will not weary thee. I have looked to that also. Holy One, my heart is very heavy for my many carelessnesses towards thee.’ An hysterical catch rose in his throat. ‘I have walked thee too far: I have not picked good food always for thee; I have not considered the heat; I have talked to people on the road and left thee alone … I have — I have … Hai mai! But I love thee … and it is all too late … I was a child … Oh, why was I not a man? …’ Overborne by strain, fatigue, and the weight beyond his years, Kim broke down and sobbed at the lama’s feet.

‘What a to-do is here!’ said the old man gently. ‘Thou hast never stepped a hair’s breadth from the Way of Obedience. Neglect me? Child, I have lived on thy strength as an old tree lives on the lime of a new wall. Day by day, since Shamlegh down, I have stolen strength from thee. Therefore, not through any sin of thine, art thou weakened. It is the Body — the silly, stupid Body — that speaks now. Not the assured Soul. Be comforted! Know at least the devils that thou fightest. They are earth-born — children of illusion. We will go to the woman from Kulu. She shall acquire merit in housing us, and specially in tending me. Thou shalt run free till strength returns. I had forgotten the stupid Body. If there be any blame, I bear it. But we are too close to the Gates of Deliverance to weigh blame. I could praise thee, but what need? In a little — in a very little — we shall sit beyond all needs.’

And so he petted and comforted Kim with wise saws and grave texts on that little-understood beast, our Body, who, being but a delusion, insists on posing as the Soul, to the darkening of the Way, and the immense multiplication of unnecessary devils.

‘Hai! hai! Let us talk of the woman from Kulu. Think you she will ask another charm for her grandsons? When I was a young man, a very long time ago, I was plagued with these vapours — and some others — and I went to an Abbot — a very holy man and a seeker after truth, though then I knew it not. Sit up and listen, child of my soul! My tale was told. Said he to me, “Chela, know this. There are many lies in the world, and not a few liars, but there are no liars like our bodies, except it be the sensations of our bodies.” Considering this I was comforted, and of his great favour he suffered me to drink tea in his presence. Suffer me now to drink tea, for I am thirsty.’

With a laugh across his tears, Kim kissed the lama’s feet, and set about the tea-making.

‘Thou leanest on me in the body, Holy One, but I lean on thee for some other things. Dost know it?’

‘I have guessed maybe,’ and the lama’s eyes twinkled. ‘We must change that.’