Gamblers a little，but so am I.They must be well mounted；and one cannot take the horses as in the old days one took women.Well，well，my holding can pay for all.How thinkest thou？It is a well-watered strip，but my men cheat me.I do not know how to ask save at the lance's point.Ugh！
I grow angry and I curse them，and they feign penitence，but behind my back I know they call me a toothless old ape.'
'Hast thou never desired any other thing？'
'Yes -yes -a thousand times！A straight back and a close-clinging knee once more；a quick wrist and a keen eye；and the marrow that makes a man.Oh，the old days -the good days of my strength！'
'That strength is weakness.'
'It has turned so；but fifty years since I could have proved it otherwise，'the old soldier retorted，driving his stirrup-edge into the pony's lean flank.
'But I know a River of great healing.'
'I have drank Gunga-water to the edge of dropsy.All she gave me was a flux，and no sort of strength.'
'It is not Gunga.The River that I know washes from all taint of sin.
Ascending the far bank one is assured of Freedom.I do not know thy life，but thy face is the face of the honourable and courteous.Thou hast clung to thy Way，rendering fidelity when it was hard to give，in that Black Year of which I now remember other tales.Enter now upon the Middle Way which is the path to Freedom.Hear the Most Excellent Law，and do not follow dreams.'
'Speak，then，old man，'the soldier smiled，half saluting.'We be all babblers at our age.'
The lama squatted under the shade of a mango，whose shadow played checkerwise over his face；the soldier sat stiffly on the pony；and Kim，making sure that there were no snakes，lay down in the crotch of the twisted roots.
There was a drowsy buzz of small life in hot sunshine，a cooing of doves，and a sleepy drone of well-wheels across the fields.Slowly and impressively the lama began.At the end often minutes the old soldier slid from his pony，to hear better as he said，and sat with the reins round his wrist.
The lama's voice faltered -the periods lengthened.Kim was busy watching a grey squirrel.When the little scolding bunch of fur，close pressed to the branch，disappeared，preacher and audience were fast asleep，the old officer's strong-cut head pillowed on his arm，the lama's thrown back against the tree-bole，where it showed like yellow ivory.A naked child toddled up，stared，and，moved by some quick impulse of reverence，made a solemn little obeisance before the lama -only the child was so short and fat that it toppled over sideways，and Kim laughed at the sprawling，chubby legs.The child，scared and indignant，yelled aloud.
'Hai！Hai！'said the soldier，leaping to his feet.'What is it？What orders？...It is...a child！I dreamed it was an alarm.Little one -little one -do not cry.Have I slept？That was discourteous indeed！'
'I fear！I am afraid！'roared the child.
'What is it to fear？Two old men and a boy？How wilt thou ever make a soldier，Princeling？'
The lama had waked too，but，taking no direct notice of the child，clicked his rosary.
'What is that？'said the child，stopping a yell midway.'I have never seen such things.Give them me.'
'Aha，'said the lama，smiling，and trailing a loop of it on the grass：
This is a handful of cardamoms，This is a lump of ghi ：
This is millet and chillies and rice，A supper for thee and me！The child shrieked with joy，and snatched at the dark，glancing beads.
'Oho！'said the old soldier.'Whence hadst thou that song，despiser of this world？'
'I learned it in Path?nkot -sitting on a doorstep，'said the lama shyly.'It is good to be kind to babes.'
'As I remember，before the sleep came on us，thou hadst told me that marriage and bearing were darkeners of the true light，stumbling-blocks upon the Way.Do children drop from Heaven in thy country？Is it the Way to sing them songs？'
'No man is all perfect，'said the lama gravely，recoiling the rosary.
'Run now to thy mother，little one.'
'Hear him！'said the soldier to Kim.'He is ashamed for that he has made a child happy.There was a very good householder lost in thee，my brother.Hai，child！'He threw it a pice.'Sweetmeats are always sweet.
And as the little figure capered away into the sunshine：'They grow up and become men.Holy One，I grieve that I slept in the midst of thy preaching.
Forgive me.
