He moved to the end of the veranda to refill the heavy, porous clay water-jug from the filter.
“Do you want drink?”
Kim nodded. Lurgan Sahib, fifteen feet off, laid one hand on the jar. Next instant, it stood at Kim’s elbow, full to within half an inch of the brim—the white cloth only showing, by a small wrinkle, where it had slid into place.
“Wah!” said Kim in most utter amazement. “That is magic.” Lurgan Sahib’s smile showed that the compliment had gone home.
“Throw it back.”
“It will break.”
“I say, throw it back.”
Kim pitched it at random. It fell short and crashed into fifty pieces, while the water dripped through the rough veranda boarding.
“I said it would break.”
“All one. Look at it. Look at the largest piece.”