Kim - Rudyard Kipling (top 50 books to read .TXT) 📗

and all dangers⁠—in the name of her devils. It was Mahbub’s desire.” In English: “He is highly obsolete, I think, to indulge in such supersteetion. Why, it is all ventriloquy. Belly-speak⁠—eh?”

Kim snapped his fingers mechanically to avert whatever evil⁠—Mahbub, he knew, meditated none⁠—might have crept in through Huneefa’s ministrations; and Hurree giggled once more. But as he crossed the room he was careful not to step in Huneefa’s blotched, squat shadow on the boards. Witches⁠—when their time is on them⁠—can lay hold of the heels of a man’s soul if he does that.

“Now you must well listen,” said the Babu when they were in the fresh air. “Part of these ceremonies which we witnessed they include supply of effeecient amulet to those of our Department. If you feel in your neck you will find one small silver amulet, verree cheap. That is ours. Do you understand?”

“Oah yes, hawa-dilli,”49 said Kim, feeling at his neck.

“Huneefa she makes them for two rupees twelve annas with⁠—oh, all sorts of exorcisms. They are quite common, except they are partially black enamel, and there is a paper inside each one full of names of local saints and such things. Thatt is Huneefa’s lookout, you see? Huneefa makes them onlee for us, but in case she does not, when we get them we put in, before issue, one small piece of turquoise. Mr. Lurgan he gives them. There is no other source of supply; but it was me invented all this. It is strictly unoffeecial of course, but convenient for subordinates. Colonel Creighton he does not know. He is European. The turquoise is wrapped in the paper⁠ ⁠… Yes, that is road to railway station⁠ ⁠… Now suppose you go with the lama, or with me, I hope, some day, or with Mahbub. Suppose we get into a dam’-tight place. I am a fearful man⁠—most fearful⁠—but I tell you I have been in dam’-tight places more than hairs on my head. You say: ‘I am Son of the Charm.’ Verree good.”

“I do not understand quite. We must not be heard talking English here.”

“That is all raight. I am only Babu showing off my English to you. All we Babus talk English to show off;” said Hurree, flinging his shoulder-cloth jauntily. “As I was about to say, ‘Son of the Charm’ means that you may be member of the Sat Bhai⁠—the Seven Brothers, which is Hindi and Tantric. It is popularly supposed to be extinct society, but I have written notes to show it is still extant. You see, it is all my invention. Verree good. Sat Bhai has many members, and perhaps before they jolly-well-cut-your-throat they may give you just a chance of life. That is useful, anyhow. And moreover, these foolish natives⁠—if they are not too excited⁠—they always stop to think before they kill a man who says he belongs to any speecific organization. You see? You say then when you are in tight place, ‘I am Son of the Charm,’ and you get⁠—perhaps⁠—ah⁠—your second wind. That is only in extreme instances, or to open negotiations with a stranger. Can you quite see? Verree good. But suppose now, I, or anyone of the Department, come to you dressed quite different. You would not know me at all unless I choose, I bet you. Some day I will prove it. I come as Ladakhi trader⁠—oh, anything⁠—and I say to you: ‘You want to buy precious stones?’ You say: ‘Do I look like a man who buys precious stones?’ Then I say: ‘Even verree poor man can buy a turquoise or tarkeean.’ ”

“That is kichree⁠—vegetable curry,” said Kim.

“Of course it is. You say: ‘Let me see the tarkeean.’ Then I say: ‘It was cooked by a woman, and perhaps it is bad for your caste.’ Then you say: ‘There is no caste when men go to⁠—look for tarkeean.’ You stop a little between those words, ‘to⁠—look.’ That is thee whole secret. The little stop before the words.”

Kim repeated the test-sentence.

“That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there is time, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views and documents and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us. We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean, but always with that little stop in the words. It is verree easy. First, ‘Son of the Charm,’ if you are in a tight place. Perhaps that may help you⁠—perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean, if you want to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, at present, you have no offeecial business. You are⁠—ah ha!⁠—supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you were Asiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year of leave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you, because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all your examinations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You are on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help Sons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say goodbye, my dear fellow, and I hope you⁠—ah⁠—will come out topside all raight.”

Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance of Lucknow station and⁠—was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in the bosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck; begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger (Mr. Lurgan had forgotten nothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paintbox, and compass, and in a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns lay a month’s pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in a leaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a policeman ordered him off the steps.

XI