He bade me come.

I wait.

Tell him.' 'Do not forget the child,' cried the importunate Jat over his shoulder, and then bellowed in Punjabi; 'O Holy One--O disciple of the Holy One--O Gods above all the Worlds--behold affliction sitting at the gate!' That cry is so common in Benares that the passers never turned their heads.
The Oswal, at peace with mankind, carried the message into the darkness behind him, and the easy, uncounted Eastern minutes slid by; for the lama was asleep in his cell, and no priest would wake him.

When the click of his rosary again broke the hush of the inner court where the calm images of the Arhats stand, a novice whispered, 'Thy chela is here,' and the old man strode forth, forgetting the end of that prayer.
Hardly had the tall figure shown in the doorway than the Jat ran before him, and, lifting up the child, cried: 'Look upon this, Holy One; and if the Gods will, he lives--he lives!' He fumbled in his waist-belt and drew out a small silver coin.
'What is now ?' The lama's eyes turned to Kim.

It was noticeable he spoke far clearer Urdu than long ago, under ZamZammah; but father would allow no private talk.
'It is no more than a fever,' said Kim.