'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. 'Do they give or sell learning among the Sahibs? Ask them,' said the lama, and Kim interpreted. 'They say that money is paid to the teacher--but that money the regiment will give. . . . What need? It is only for a night.' 'And--the more money is paid the better learning is given?' The lama disregarded Kim's plans for an early flight. 'It is no wrong to pay for learning; to help the ignorant to wisdom is always a merit.' The rosary clicked furiously as an abacus. Then he faced his oppressors. 'Ask them for how much money do they give a wise and suitable teaching? and in what city is that teaching given?' 'Well,' said Father Victor in English, when Kim had translated, 'that depends. The regiment would pay for you all the time you are at the Military Orphanage; or you might go on the Punjab Masonic Orphanage's list (not that he or you'ud understand what that means); but the best schooling a boy can get in India is, of course, at St. Xavier's in Partibus at Lucknow.' This took some time to interpret, for Bennett wished to cut it short. 'He wants to know how much?' said Kim placidly. 'Two or three hundred rupees a year.' Father Victor was long past any sense of amazement. Bennett, impatient, did not understand. 'He says: "Write that name and the money upon a paper and give it him." And he says you must write your name below, because he is going to write a letter in some days to you. He says you are a good man. He says the other man is a fool. He is going away.' The lama rose suddenly. 'I follow my Search,' he cried, and was gone. 'He'll run slap into the sentries,' cried Father Victor, jumping up as the lama stalked out; 'but I can't leave the boy.' Kim made swift motion to follow, but checked himself. There was no sound of challenge outside. The lama had disappeared.