Kim then kicked him desperately in the stomach.

Mr Bennett gasped and doubled up, but without relaxing his grip, rolled over again, and silently hauled Kim to his own tent.
The Mavericks were incurable practical jokers; and it occurred to the Englishman that silence was best till he had made complete inquiry.
'Why, it's a boy!' he said, as he drew his prize under the light of the tent-pole lantern, then shaking him severely cried: 'What were you doing?
You're a thief.

Choor?
Mallum ?' His Hindustani was very limited, and the ruffled and disgusted Kim intended to keep to the character laid down for him.

As he recovered his breath he was inventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some scullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little under the Chaplain's left arm-pit.

The chance came; he ducked for the doorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping the amulet-string and closing on the amulet.
'Give it me.