“And I am a Follower of the Way,” he said bitterly. “The sin is mine and the punishment is mine. I made believe to myself for now I see it was but make-belief—that thou wast sent to me to aid in the Search. So my heart went out to thee for thy charity and thy courtesy and the wisdom of thy little years. But those who follow the Way must permit not the fire of any desire or attachment, for that is all Illusion. As says ...” He quoted an old, old Chinese text, backed it with another, and reinforced these with a third. “I stepped aside from the Way, my _chela_. It was no fault of thine. I delighted in the sight of life, the new people upon the roads, and in thy joy at seeing these things. I was pleased with thee who should have considered my Search and my Search alone. Now I am sorrowful because thou art taken away and my River is far from me. It is the Law which I have broken!” “Powers of Darkness below!” said Father Victor, who, wise in the confessional, heard the pain in every sentence. “I see now that the sign of the Red Bull was a sign for me as well as for thee. All Desire is red—and evil. I will do penance and find my River alone.” “At least go back to the Kulu woman,” said Kim, “otherwise thou wilt be lost upon the roads. She will feed thee till I run back to thee.” The lama waved a hand to show that the matter was finally settled in his mind. “Now,”—his tone altered as he turned to Kim,—“what will they do with thee? At least I may, acquiring merit, wipe out past ill.” “Make me a Sahib—so they think. The day after tomorrow I return. Do not grieve.” “Of what sort? Such an one as this or that man?” He pointed to Father Victor. “Such an one as those I saw this evening, men wearing swords and stamping heavily?” “Maybe.” “That is not well. These men follow desire and come to emptiness. Thou must not be of their sort.” “The Umballa priest said that my Star was War,” Kim interjected. “I will ask these fools—but there is truly no need. I will run away this night, for all I wanted to see the new things.” Kim put two or three questions in English to Father Victor, translating the replies to the lama. Then: “He says, ‘You take him from me and you cannot say what you will make him.’ He says, ‘Tell me before I go, for it is not a small thing to make a child.’” “You will be sent to a school. Later on, we shall see. Kimball, I suppose you’d like to be a soldier?” “_Gorah-log_ (white-folk). No-ah! No-ah!” Kim shook his head violently. There was nothing in his composition to which drill and routine appealed. “I will not be a soldier.” “You will be what you’re told to be,” said Bennett; “and you should be grateful that we’re going to help you.” Kim smiled compassionately. If these men lay under the delusion that he would do anything that he did not fancy, so much the better. Another long silence followed. Bennett fidgeted with impatience, and suggested calling a sentry to evict the _faquir_.