'In my country we call that the beginning of love-talk.' A harsh, thin cackle behind the curtains put the hillman on his mettle for a second shot.
'Not so bad--not so bad,' said Kim with calm.

'But have a care, my brother, lest we--we, I say--be minded to give a curse or so in return.
And our curses have the knack of biting home.' The Ooryas laughed; the hillman sprang forward threateningly.

The lama suddenly raised his head, bringing his huge tam-o'-shanter hat into the full light of Kim's new-started fire.
'What is it ?' said he.
The man halted as though struck to stone.

'I--I--am saved from a great sin,' he stammered.
'The foreigner has found him a priest at last,' whispered one of the Ooryas.
'Hai! Why is that beggar-brat not well beaten ?' the old woman cried.
The hillman drew back to the cart and whispered something to the curtain.

There was dead silence, then a muttering.
'This goes well,' thought Kim, pretending neither to see nor hear.
'When--when--he has eaten'-- the hillman fawned on Kim--'it--it is requested that the Holy One will do the honour to talk to one who would speak to him.' 'After he has eaten he will sleep,' Kim returned loftily.