“Upon a day,” said Kim, delighted at the sensation he was creating, “I shall be made great by means of a Red Bull on a green field, but first there will enter two men making all things ready.”
“Yes: thus ever at the opening of a vision. A thick darkness that clears slowly; anon one enters with a broom making ready the place. Then begins the Sight. Two men—thou sayest? Ay, ay. The Sun, leaving the House of the Bull, enters that of the Twins. Hence the two men of the prophecy. Let us now consider. Fetch me a twig, little one.”
He knitted his brows, scratched, smoothed out, and scratched again in the dust mysterious signs—to the wonder of all save the lama, who, with fine instinct, forbore to interfere.
At the end of half an hour, he tossed the twig from him with a grunt.
“Hm! Thus say the stars. Within three days come the two men to make all things ready. After them follows the Bull; but the sign over against him is the sign of War and armed men.”
“There was indeed a man of the Ludhiana Sikhs in the carriage from Lahore,” said the cultivator’s wife hopefully.
“Tck! Armed men—many hundreds. What concern hast thou with war?” said the priest to Kim. “Thine is a red and an angry sign of War to be loosed very soon.”
“None—none.” said the lama earnestly. “We seek only peace and our River.”
Kim smiled, remembering what he had overheard in the dressing-room. Decidedly he was a favourite of the stars.
The priest brushed his foot over the rude horoscope. “More than this I cannot see. In three days comes the Bull to thee, boy.”