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Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the oldman followed and halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood thelarger figures of the Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants knowhow long since, by forgotten workmen whose hands were feeling,and not unskilfully, for the mysteriously transmitted Greciantouch. There were hundreds of pieces, friezes of figures in relief, fragments of statues and slabs crowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhist stupas and viharasof the North Country and now, dug up and labelled, made the prideof the Museum. In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to thisand that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a largealto- relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was represented seated on a lotus thepetals of which were so deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoring hierarchy of kings, elders, andold-time Buddhas. Below were lotus-covered waters with fishes andwater- birds. Two butterfly-winged dewas held a wreath over Hishead; above them another pair supported an umbrella surmounted bythe jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat.
'It is the train - only the te-rain. It will not comehere. Wait!' Amazed at the lama's immense- simplicity (he hadhanded him a small bag full of rupees), Kim asked and paid for aticket to Umballa. A sleepy clerk grunted and flung out a ticket tothe next station, just six miles distant.
They met a troop of long-haired, strong-scented Sansis withbaskets of lizards and other unclean food on their backs, their leandogs sniffing at their heels. These people kept their own side ofthe road', moving at a quick, furtive jog-trot, and all othercastes gave them ample room; for the Sansi is deep pollution. Behindthem, walking wide and stiffly across the strong shadows, the memoryof his leg-irons still on him, strode one newly released fromthe jail; his full stomach and shiny skin to prove that theGovernment fed its prisoners better than most honest men could feed themselves. Kim knew that walk well, and made broad jest of itas they passed. Then an Akali, a wild-eyed, wild-haired Sikhdevotee in the blue-checked clothes of his faith, withpolished-steel quoits glistening on the cone of his tall blue turban,stalked past, returning from a visit to one of the independent SikhStates, where he had been singing the ancient glories of the Khalsato College-trained princelings in top-boots and white-cordbreeches. Kim was careful not to irritate that man; for the Akali's temperis short and his arm quick. Here and there they met or wereovertaken by the gaily dressed crowds of whole villages turning out tosome local fair; the women, with their babes on their hips,walking behind the men, the older boys prancing on sticks ofsugar-cane, dragging rude brass models of locomotives such as they sell fora halfpenny, or flashing the sun into the eyes of their bettersfrom cheap toy mirrors. One could see at a glance what each hadbought; and if there were any doubt it needed only to watch thewives comparing, brown arm against brown arm, the newly purchaseddull glass bracelets that come from the North-West. Thesemerry-makers stepped slowly, calling one to the other and stopping tohaggle with sweetmeat-sellers, or to make a prayer before one ofthe wayside shrines - sometimes Hindu, sometimes Mussalman - whichthe low-caste of both creeds share with beautiful impartiality. Asolid line of blue, rising and falling like the back of a caterpillarin haste, would swing up through the quivering dust and trot pastto a chorus of quick cackling. That was a gang of changars - thewomen who have taken all the embankments of all the Northernrailways under their charge - a flat-footed, big-bosomed,strong-limbed, blue-petticoated clan of earth-carriers, hurrying north on newsof a job, and wasting no time by the road. They belong to thecaste whose men do not count, and they walked with squared elbows, swinging hips, and heads on high, as suits women who carryheavy weights. A little later a marriage procession would strike intothe Grand Trunk with music and shoutings, and a smell of marigoldand jasmine stronger even than the reek of the dust. One could seethe bride's litter, a blur of red and tinsel, staggering throughthe haze, while the bridegroom's bewreathed pony turned aside tosnatch a mouthful from a passing fodder-cart. Then Kim would jointhe Kentish-fire of good wishes and bad jokes, wishing the couplea hundred sons and no daughters, as the saying is. Still more interesting and more to be shouted over it was when astrolling juggler with some half-trained monkeys, or a panting, feeblebear, or a woman who tied goats' horns to her feet, and with thesedanced on a slack-rope, set the horses to shying and the women toshrill, long-drawn quavers of amazement.
>From behind the shaking curtains came one volley ofinvective. It did not last long, but in kind and quality, in blistering,biting appropriateness, it was beyond anything that even Kim had heard.He could see the carter's bare chest collapse with amazement, asthe man salaamed reverently to the voice, leaped from the pole,and helped the escort haul their volcano on to the main road. Herethe voice told him truthfully what sort of wife he had wedded, andwhat she was doing in his absence. 2ff7e9595c
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