'A second son at least!' 'O Friend of all the World!' The lama had waked, and, simply as a child bewildered in a strange bed, called for Kim.
'I come! I come, Holy One!' He dashed to the fire, where he found the lama already surrounded by dishes of food, the hillmen visibly adoring him and the Southerners looking sourly.
'Go back! Withdraw!' Kim cried.

'Do we eat publicly like dogs ?' They finished the meal in silence, each turned a little from the other, and Kim topped it with a native-made cigarette.
'Have I not said an hundred times that the South is a good land?
Here is a virtuous and high-born widow of a Hill Rajah on pilgrimage, she says, to Buddha Gay.

She it is sends us those dishes; and when thou art well rested she would speak to thee.' 'Is this also thy work ?' The lama dipped deep into his snuff-gourd.
'Who else watched over thee since our wonderful journey began ?' Kim's eyes danced in his head as he blew the rank smoke through his nostrils and stretched him on the dusty ground.

'Have I failed to oversee thy comforts, Holy One ?' 'A blessing on thee.' The lama inclined his solemn head.

'I have known many men in my so long life, and disciples not a few.