“We were well matched. Ignorance and Lust met Ignorance and Lust upon the road, and they begat Anger. The blow was a sign to me, who am no better than a strayed yak, that my place is not here. Who can read the Cause of an act is halfway to Freedom! ‘Back to the path,’ says the Blow. ‘The Hills are not for thee. Thou canst not choose Freedom and go in bondage to the delight of life.’” “Would we had never met that cursed Russian!” “Our Lord Himself cannot make the Wheel swing backward. And for my merit that I had acquired I gain yet another sign.” He put his hand in his bosom, and drew forth the Wheel of Life. “Look! I considered this after I had meditated. There remains untorn by the idolater no more than the breadth of my fingernail.” “I see.” “So much, then, is the span of my life in this body. I have served the Wheel all my days. Now the Wheel serves me. But for the merit I have acquired in guiding thee upon the Way, there would have been added to me yet another life ere I had found my River. Is it plain, _chela?_” Kim stared at the brutally disfigured chart. From left to right diagonally the rent ran—from the Eleventh House where Desire gives birth to the Child (as it is drawn by Tibetans)—across the human and animal worlds, to the Fifth House—the empty House of the Senses. The logic was unanswerable. “Before our Lord won Enlightenment”—the lama folded all away with reverence—“He was tempted. I too have been tempted, but it is finished. The Arrow fell in the Plains—not in the Hills. Therefore, what make we here?” “Shall we at least wait for the _hakim?_” “I know how long I shall live in this body. What can a _hakim_ do?” “But thou art all sick and shaken. Thou canst not walk.” “How can I be sick if I see Freedom?” He rose unsteadily to his feet. “Then I must get food from the village. Oh, the weary Road!” Kim felt that he too needed rest. “That is lawful. Let us eat and go. The Arrow fell in the Plains ... but I yielded to Desire. Make ready, _chela_.” Kim turned to the woman with the turquoise headgear who had been idly pitching pebbles over the cliff. She smiled very kindly. “I found him like a strayed buffalo in a cornfield—the Babu; snorting and sneezing with cold. He was so hungry that he forgot his dignity and gave me sweet words. The Sahibs have nothing.” She flung out an empty palm. “One is very sick about the stomach. Thy work?” Kim nodded, with a bright eye. “I spoke to the Bengali first—and to the people of a near-by village after. The Sahibs will be given food as they need it—nor will the people ask money. The plunder is already distributed. The Babu makes lying speeches to the Sahibs. Why does he not leave them?” “Out of the greatness of his heart.” “Was never a Bengali yet had one bigger than a dried walnut. But it is no matter ... Now as to walnuts. After service comes reward. I have said the village is thine.”