'Not the cunning of forty years could have done better.

Surely thou hast made the old man rich ?' 'A little flour, a little butter and a mouthful of cardamoms,' Kim retorted, flushed with the praise, but still cautious--'Does one grow rich on that?
And, as thou canst see, he is mad.

But it serves me while I learn the road at least.' He knew what the fakirs of the Taksali Gate were like when they talked among themselves, and copied the very inflection of their lewd disciples.
'Is his Search, then, truth or a cloak to other ends?
It may be treasure.' 'He is mad--many times mad.

There is nothing else.' Here the old soldier bobbled up and asked if Kim would accept his hospitality for the night.

The priest recommended him to do so, but insisted that the honour of entertaining the lama belonged to the temple--at which the lama smiled guilelessly.