“But thou hast made no charm,” she said, looking about. “There is no need.” Kim had completely overlooked the necessity for a little patter-talk. The woman laughed at his confusion irreverently. “None—for thee. Thou canst cast a spell by the mere winking of an eye. But think of us poor people when thou art gone. They were all too drunk last night to hear a woman. Thou art not drunk?” “I am a priest.” Kim had recovered himself, and, the woman being aught but unlovely, thought best to stand on his office. “I warned them that the Sahibs will be angry and will make an inquisition and a report to the Rajah. There is also the Babu with them. Clerks have long tongues.” “Is that all thy trouble?” The plan rose fully formed in Kim’s mind, and he smiled ravishingly. “Not all,” quoth the woman, putting out a hard brown hand all covered with turquoises set in silver. “I can finish that in a breath,” he went on quickly. “The Babu is the very _hakim_ (thou hast heard of him?) who was wandering among the hills by Ziglaur. I know him.” “He will tell for the sake of a reward. Sahibs cannot distinguish one hillman from another, but Babus have eyes for men—and women.” “Carry a word to him from me.” “There is nothing I would not do for thee.” He accepted the compliment calmly, as men must in lands where women make the love, tore a leaf from a note-book, and with a patent indelible pencil wrote in gross Shikast—the script that bad little boys use when they write dirt on walls: “_I have everything that they have written: their pictures of the country, and many letters. Especially the murasla. Tell me what to do. I am at Shamlegh-under-the-Snow. The old man is sick._” “Take this to him. It will altogether shut his mouth. He cannot have gone far.” “Indeed no. They are still in the forest across the spur. Our children went to watch them when the light came, and have cried the news as they moved.” Kim looked his astonishment; but from the edge of the sheep-pasture floated a shrill, kite-like trill. A child tending cattle had picked it up from a brother or sister on the far side of the slope that commanded Chini valley. “My husbands are also out there gathering wood.” She drew a handful of walnuts from her bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat. Kim affected blank ignorance. “Dost thou not know the meaning of the walnut—priest?” she said coyly, and handed him the half-shells. “Well thought of.” He slipped the piece of paper between them quickly. “Hast thou a little wax to close them on this letter?” The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented. “There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the Babu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.” “Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician—who is like a Sahib.” “Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.” “But if he offer a rudeness? I—I am afraid.”