I'll take ye back to your baggage-cart and ye'll come to me this evening.' For the rest of the day Kim found himself an object of distinguished consideration among a few hundred white men.

The story of his appearance in camp, the discovery of his parentage, and his prophecy, had lost nothing in the telling.

A big, shapeless white woman on a pile of bedding asked him mysteriously whether he thought her husband would come back from the war.

Kim reflected gravely, and said that he would, and the woman gave him food.

In many respects, this big procession that played music at intervals--this crowd that talked and laughed so easily--resembled a festival in Lahore city.