Adventure stories; Boys -- Fiction; India -- Fiction; Irish -- India -- Fiction; Lamas -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Spy stories
_Song of Diego Valdez._
Very early in the morning the white tents came down and disappeared as
the Mavericks took a side-road to Umballa. It did not skirt the
resting-place, and Kim, trudging beside a baggage-cart under fire of
comments from soldiers’ wives, was not so confident as overnight. He
discovered that he was closely watched—Father Victor on the one side,
and Mr Bennett on the other.
In the forenoon the column checked. A camel-orderly handed the Colonel
a letter. He read it, and spoke to a Major. Half a mile in the rear,
Kim heard a hoarse and joyful clamour rolling down on him through the
thick dust. Then someone beat him on the back, crying: “Tell us how ye
knew, ye little limb of Satan? Father dear, see if ye can make him
tell.”
A pony ranged alongside, and he was hauled on to the priest’s
saddlebow.
“Now, my son, your prophecy of last night has come true. Our orders are
to entrain at Umballa for the Front tomorrow.”
“What is thatt?” said Kim, for “_front_” and “_entrain_” were newish
words to him.
“We are going to ‘thee War,’ as you called it.”
“Of course you are going to thee War. I said last night.”
“Ye did; but, Powers o’ Darkness, how did ye know?”
Kim’s eyes sparkled. He shut his lips, nodded his head, and looked
unspeakable things. The Chaplain moved on through the dust, and
privates, sergeants, and subalterns called one another’s attention to
the boy. The Colonel, at the head of the column, stared at him
curiously. “It was probably some bazar rumour.” he said; “but even
then—” He referred to the paper in his hand. “Hang it all, the thing
was only decided within the last forty-eight hours.”
“Are there many more like you in India?” said Father Victor, “or are
you by way o’ being a _lusus naturæ?_”
“Now I have told you,” said the boy, “will you let me go back to my old
man? If he has not stayed with that woman from Kulu, I am afraid he
will die.”
“By what I saw of him he’s as well able to take care of himself as you.
No. Ye’ve brought us luck, an’ we’re goin’ to make a man of you. I’ll
take ye back to your baggage-cart and ye’ll come to me this evening.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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