“How am I to fear the absolutely non-existent?” said Hurree Babu, talking English to reassure himself. It is an awful thing still to dread the magic that you contemptuously investigate—to collect folk-lore for the Royal Society with a lively belief in all Powers of Darkness.
Mahbub chuckled. He had been out with Hurree on the Road ere now. “Let us finish the colouring,” said he. “The boy is well protected if—if the Lords of the Air have ears to hear. I am a sufi (free-thinker), but when one can get blind-sides of a woman, a stallion, or a devil, why go round to invite a kick? Set him upon the way, Babu, and see that old Red Hat does not lead him beyond our reach. I must get back to my horses.”
“All raight,” said Hurree Babu. “He is at present curious spectacle.”
About third cockcrow, Kim woke after a sleep of thousands of years. Huneefa, in her corner, snored heavily, but Mahbub was gone.
“I hope you were not frightened,” said an oily voice at his elbow. “I superintended entire operation, which was most interesting from ethnological point of view. It was high-class dawut.”
“Huh!” said Kim, recognizing Hurree Babu, who smiled ingratiatingly.
“And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume. I am not in the habit offeecially of carrying such gauds to subordinates, but”—he giggled—“your case is noted as exceptional on the books. I hope Mr Lurgan will note my action.”
Kim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within loose clothes once again.
“What is this?” He looked curiously at the heavy duffle-stuff loaded with the scents of the far North.