“Shall we at least wait for the hakim?”
“I know how long I shall live in this body. What can a hakim do?”
“But thou art all sick and shaken. Thou canst not walk.”
“How can I be sick if I see Freedom?” He rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Then I must get food from the village. Oh, the weary Road!” Kim felt that he too needed rest.
“That is lawful. Let us eat and go. The Arrow fell in the Plains ... but I yielded to Desire. Make ready, chela.”
Kim turned to the woman with the turquoise headgear who had been idly pitching pebbles over the cliff. She smiled very kindly.
“I found him like a strayed buffalo in a cornfield—the Babu; snorting and sneezing with cold. He was so hungry that he forgot his dignity and gave me sweet words. The Sahibs have nothing.” She flung out an empty palm. “One is very sick about the stomach. Thy work?”
Kim nodded, with a bright eye.
“I spoke to the Bengali first—and to the people of a near-by village after. The Sahibs will be given food as they need it—nor will the people ask money. The plunder is already distributed. The Babu makes lying speeches to the Sahibs. Why does he not leave them?”