Is that down ?' 'Ay, pulton,' murmured the writer, all ears.
'I went into their camp and was caught, and by means of the charm about my neck, which thou knowest, it was established that I was the son of some man in the regiment: according to the prophecy of the Red Bull, which thou knowest was common talk of our bazar.' Kim waited for this shaft to sink into the letter-writer's heart, cleared his throat, and continued: 'A priest clothed me and gave me a new name ...

One priest, however, was a fool.

The clothes are very heavy, but I am a Sahib and my heart is heavy too.

They send me to a school and beat me.
I do not like the air and water here.

Come then and help me, Mahbub Ali, or send me some money, for I have not sufficient to pay the writer who writes this.' '"Who writes this." It is my own fault that I was tricked.