Living a vagabond existence in India under British rule in the late 19th century, Kim earns his living by begging and running small errands on the streets of Lahore. đđ
Chapter 9 âWell,ââHurree shrugged his shouldersââthere is no accounting for you taste. Mahbub was angry too. He has sold horses all about here, and he says old lady is pukka [thorough] old lady and would not condescend to such ungentlemanly things. I do not care. I have got the papers, and I was very glad …
Chapter 8 Two hundred miles north of Chini, on the blue shale of Ladakh, lies Yankling Sahib, the merry-minded man, spy-glassing wrathfully across the ridges for some sign of his pet trackerâa man from Ao-chung. But that renegade, with a new Mannlicher rifle and two hundred cartridges, is elsewhere, shooting musk-deer for the market, and …
Chapter 7 In the dawn,â the lama went on more gravely, ready rosary clicking between the slow sentences, âcame enlightenment. It is here ⊠I am an old man ⊠hill-bred, hill-fed, never to sit down among my Hills. Three years I travelled through Hind, butâcan earth be stronger than Mother Earth? My stupid body …
Chapter 6 At moonrise the cautious coolies got under way. The lama, refreshed by his sleep and the spirit, needed no more than Kimâs shoulder to bear him alongâa silent, swift-striding man. They held the shale-sprinkled grass for an hour, swept round the shoulder of an immortal cliff, and climbed into a new country entirely …
Chapter 5 Kim coughed a little as he put down the empty glass, and considered. This seemed a time for caution and fancy. Small boys who prowl about camps are generally turned out after a whipping. But he had received no stripes; the amulet was evidently working in his favour, and it looked as though …
Chapter 4 Once more the lazy, string-tied, shuffling procession got under way, and she slept till they reached the next halting-stage. It was a very short march, and time lacked an hour to sundown, so Kim cast about for means of amusement. âBut why not sit and rest?â said one of the escort. âOnly the …
Chapter 3 They entered the fort-like railway station, black in the end of night; the electrics sizzling over the goods-yard where they handle the heavy Northern grain-traffic. âThis is the work of devils!â said the lama, recoiling from the hollow echoing darkness, the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms, and the maze of girders …
Chapter 2 The Curator would have detained him: they are few in the world that still have the secret of the conventional brush-pen Buddhist pictures which are, as it were, half written and half drawn. But the lama strode out, head high in air, and pausing an instant before the great statue of a Bodhisat …
Chapter 1 He sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam Zammah on her brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gherâthe Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammah, that âfire-breathing dragonâ, hold the Punjab, for the great green-bronze piece is always first of the conquerorâs loot. There was some …
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