“None reared in the knowledge,” said the family priest, “forget how the planets stood in their Houses upon that night.” He began to draw in the dust of the courtyard. “At least thou hast good claim to a half of the House of the Bull. How runs thy prophecy?” “Upon a day,” said Kim, delighted at the sensation he was creating, “I shall be made great by means of a Red Bull on a green field, but first there will enter two men making all things ready.” “Yes: thus ever at the opening of a vision. A thick darkness that clears slowly; anon one enters with a broom making ready the place. Then begins the Sight. Two men—thou sayest? Ay, ay. The Sun, leaving the House of the Bull, enters that of the Twins. Hence the two men of the prophecy. Let us now consider. Fetch me a twig, little one.” He knitted his brows, scratched, smoothed out, and scratched again in the dust mysterious signs—to the wonder of all save the lama, who, with fine instinct, forbore to interfere. At the end of half an hour, he tossed the twig from him with a grunt. “Hm! Thus say the stars. Within three days come the two men to make all things ready. After them follows the Bull; but the sign over against him is the sign of War and armed men.” “There was indeed a man of the Ludhiana Sikhs in the carriage from Lahore,” said the cultivator’s wife hopefully. “Tck! Armed men—many hundreds. What concern hast thou with war?” said the priest to Kim. “Thine is a red and an angry sign of War to be loosed very soon.” “None—none.” said the lama earnestly. “We seek only peace and our River.” Kim smiled, remembering what he had overheard in the dressing-room. Decidedly he was a favourite of the stars. The priest brushed his foot over the rude horoscope. “More than this I cannot see. In three days comes the Bull to thee, boy.” “And my River, my River,” pleaded the lama. “I had hoped his Bull would lead us both to the River.” “Alas, for that wondrous River, my brother,” the priest replied. “Such things are not common.” Next morning, though they were pressed to stay, the lama insisted on departure. They gave Kim a large bundle of good food and nearly three annas in copper money for the needs of the road, and with many blessings watched the two go southward in the dawn. “Pity it is that these and such as these could not be freed from—” “Nay, then would only evil people be left on the earth, and who would give us meat and shelter?” quoth Kim, stepping merrily under his burden. “Yonder is a small stream. Let us look,” said the lama, and he led from the white road across the fields; walking into a very hornets’ nest of pariah dogs. CHAPTER III Yea, voice of every Soul that clung To life that strove from rung to rung When Devadatta’s rule was young, The warm wind brings Kamakura. Behind them an angry farmer brandished a bamboo pole. He was a market-gardener, Arain by caste, growing vegetables and flowers for Umballa city, and well Kim knew the breed.