That's regimental stuff you're wearin'.

There ain't a picket in Umballa wouldn't 'ead you back quicker than you started out.' This did not impress Kim as much as the knowledge that his raiment would tire him out if he tried to run.

He slouched to the tree at the corner of a bare road leading towards the bazar, and eyed the natives passing.

Most of them were barrack-servants of the lowest caste.

Kim hailed a sweeper, who promptly retorted with a piece of unnecessary insolence, in the natural belief that the European boy could not follow it.