Then he stooped towards Mahbub's feet to make proper acknowledgment with fluttering, quick-patting hands; his heart too full for words.

Mahbub forestalled and embraced him.
'My son, said he, 'what need of words between us?
But is not the little gun a delight?
All six cartridges come out at one twist.

It is borne in the bosom next the skin, which, as it were, keeps it oiled.
Never put it elsewhere, and please God, thou shalt some day kill a man with it.' 'Hai mai!' said Kim ruefully.

'If a Sahib kills a man he is hanged in the jail.' 'True: but one pace beyond the Border, men are wiser.

Put it away; but fill it first.