“Yes—yes. There is no place like our Hills,” said the people of Shamlegh. And they fell to wondering how a man could live in the hot terrible Plains where the cattle run as big as elephants, unfit to plough on a hillside; where village touches village, they had heard, for a hundred miles; where folk went about stealing in gangs, and what the robbers spared the Police carried utterly away. So the still forenoon wore through, and at the end of it Kim’s messenger dropped from the steep pasture as unbreathed as when she had set out. “I sent a word to the _hakim_,” Kim explained, while she made reverence. “He joined himself to the idolaters? Nay, I remember he did a healing upon one of them. He has acquired merit, though the healed employed his strength for evil. Just is the Wheel! What of the _hakim?_” “I feared that thou hadst been bruised and—and I knew he was wise.” Kim took the waxed walnut-shell and read in English on the back of his note: _Your favour received. Cannot get away from present company at present, but shall take them into Simla. After which, hope to rejoin you. Inexpedient to follow angry gentlemen. Return by same road you came, and will overtake. Highly gratified about correspondence due to my forethought._ “He says, Holy One, that he will escape from the idolaters, and will return to us. Shall we wait awhile at Shamlegh, then?” The lama looked long and lovingly upon the hills and shook his head. “That may not be, _chela_. From my bones outward I do desire it, but it is forbidden. I have seen the Cause of Things.” “Why? When the Hills give thee back thy strength day by day? Remember we were weak and fainting down below there in the Doon.” “I became strong to do evil and to forget. A brawler and a swashbuckler upon the hillsides was I.” Kim bit back a smile. “Just and perfect is the Wheel, swerving not a hair. When I was a man—a long time ago—I did pilgrimage to Guru Ch’wan among the poplars” (he pointed Bhotanwards), “where they keep the Sacred Horse.” “Quiet, be quiet!” said Shamlegh, all arow. “He speaks of Jam-lin-nin-k’or, the Horse That Can Go Round The World In a Day.” “I speak to my _chela_ only,” said the lama, in gentle reproof, and they scattered like frost on south eaves of a morning. “I did not seek truth in those days, but the talk of doctrine. All illusion! I drank the beer and ate the bread of Guru Ch’wan. Next day one said: ‘We go out to fight Sangor Gutok down the valley to discover’ (mark again how Lust is tied to Anger!) ‘which Abbot shall bear rule in the valley and take the profit of the prayers they print at Sangor Gutok.’ I went, and we fought a day.” “But how, Holy One?”