Eh?
You go think on it till morning.

By Jove, it is near morning now.' He yawned ponderously, and with never a civil word lumbered off to his sleeping-place.

But Kim slept little, and his thoughts ran in Hindustani: 'Well is the Game called great! I was four days a scullion at Quetta, waiting on the wife of the man whose book I stole.

And that was part of the Great Game! From the South--God knows how far--came up the Mahratta, playing the Great Game in fear of his life.

Now I shall go far and far into the North playing the Great Game.