He was sent, I think, to guide me to that River.
Sitting under a gun was I when he came suddenly.

Such things have befallen the fortunate to whom guidance was allowed.

But I remember now, he said he was of this world--a Hindu.' 'And his name ?' 'That I did not ask.

Is he not my disciple ?' 'His country--his race--his village?
Mussalman--Sikh Hindu--Jain--low caste or high ?' 'Why should I ask?
There is neither high nor low in the Middle Way.
If he is my chela--does--will--can anyone take him from me?
for, look you, without him I shall not find my River.' He wagged his head solemnly.
'None shall take him from thee.

Go, sit among my Baltis,' said Mahbub Ali, and the lama drifted off, soothed by the promise.
'Is he not quite mad ?' said Kim, coming forward to the light again.
'Why should I lie to thee, Hajji ?' Mahbub puffed his hookah in silence.