He was about to acknowledge the driver's last insolence, when his eye--it was growing dusk--caught a figure sitting by one of the white plaster gate-pillars in the long sweep of wall.
'Stop!' he cried.

'Stay here.

I do not go to the school at once.' 'But what is to pay me for this coming and re-coming ?' said the driver petulantly.

'Is the boy mad?
Last time it was a dancing-girl.

This time it is a priest.' Kim was in the road headlong, patting the dusty feet beneath the dirty yellow robe.
'I have waited here a day and a half,' the lama's level voice began.
'Nay, I had a disciple with me.