'As it were a novice？'said the lama，nodding his head.'Art thou freed from the schools？I would not have thee unripe.'
'I am all free.In due time I take service under the Government as a scribe -'
'Not as a warrior.That is well.'
'But first I come to wander -with thee.Therefore I am here.Who begs for thee，these days？'he went on quickly.The ice was thin.
'Very often I beg myself；but，as thou knowest，I am seldom here，except when I come to look again at my disciple.From one end to another of Hind have I travelled afoot and in the te-rain .A great and a wonderful land！But here，when I put in，is as though I were in my own Bhotiyal.'
He looked round the little clean cell complacently.A low cushion gave him a seat，on which he had disposed himself in the cross-legged attitude of the Bodhisat emerging from meditation；a black teak-wood table，not twenty inches high，set with copper tea-cups，was before him.In one corner stood a tiny altar，also of heavily carved teak，bearing a copper-gilt image of the seated Buddha and fronted by a lamp，an incense-holder，and a pair of copper flower-pots.
'The Keeper of the Images in the Wonder House acquired merit by giving me these a year since，'he said，following Kim's eye.'When one is far from one's own land such things carry remembrance；and we must reverence the Lord for that He showed the Way.See！'He pointed to a curiously-built mound of coloured rice crowned with a fantastic metal ornament.'When IWas Abbot in my own place -before I came to better knowledge -I made that offering daily.It is the Sacrifice of the Universe to the Lord.Thus do we of Bhotiyal offer all the world daily to the Excellent Law.And Ido it even now，though I know that the Excellent One is beyond all pinchings and pattings.'He snuffed from his gourd.
'It is well done，Holy One，'Kim murmured，sinking at ease on the cushions，very happy and rather tired.
'And also，'the old man chuckled，'I write pictures of the Wheel of Life.Three days to a picture.I was busied on it -or it may be I shut my eyes a little -when they brought word of thee.It is good to have thee here：I will show thee my art -not for pride's sake，but because thou must learn.The Sahibs have not all this world's wisdom.'
He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow Chinese paper，the brushes，and slab of Indian ink.In cleanest，severest outline he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes，whose centre is the conjoined Hog，Snake，and Dove (Ignorance，Anger，and Lust)，and whose compartments are all the Heavens and Hells，and all the chances of human life.Men say that the Bodhisat Himself first drew it with grains of rice upon dust，to teach His disciples the cause of things.Many ages have crystallized it into a most wonderful convention crowded with hundreds of little figures whose every line carries a meaning.Few can translate the picture-parable；there are not twenty in all the world who can draw it surely without a copy：of those who can both draw and expound are but three.
'I have a little learned to draw，'said Kim.'But this is a marvel beyond marvels.'
'I have written it for many years，'said the lama.'Time was when Icould write it all between one lamp-lighting and the next.I will teach thee the art -after due preparation；and I will show thee the meaning of the Wheel.'
'We take the Road，then？'
'The Road and our Search.I was but waiting for thee.It was made plain to me in a hundred dreams -notably one that came upon the night of the day that the Gates of Learning first shut -that without thee I should never find my River.Again and again，as thou knowest，I put this from me，fearing an illusion.Therefore I would not take thee with me that day at Lucknow，when we ate the cakes.I would not take thee till the time was ripe and auspicious.From the Hills to the Sea，from the Sea to the Hills have I gone，but it was vain.Then I remembered the J?taka .'
He told Kim the story of the elephant with the leg-iron，as he had told it so often to the Jain priests.
'Further testimony is not needed，'he ended serenely.'Thou wast sent for an aid.That aid removed，my Search came to naught.Therefore we will go out again together，and our Search is sure.'
'Whither go we？'
'What matters，Friend of all the World？The Search，I say，is sure.
If need be，the River will break from the ground before us.I acquired merit when I sent thee to the Gates of Learning，and gave thee the jewel that is Wisdom.Thou didst return，I saw even now，a follower of Sakyamuni，the Physician，'whose altars are many in Bhotiyal.It is sufficient.We are together，and all things are as they were -Friend of all the World -Friend of the Stars -my chela ！'
Then they talked of matters secular；but it was noticeable that the lama never demanded any details of life at St Xavier's，nor showed the faintest curiosity as to the manners and customs of Sahibs.His mind moved all in the past，and he revived every step of their wonderful first journey together，rubbing his hands and chuckling，till it pleased him to curl himself up into the sudden sleep of old age.
Kim watched the last dusty sunshine fade out of the court，and played with his ghost-dagger and rosary.The clamour of Benares，oldest of all earth's cities awake before the Gods，day and night，beat round the walls as the sea's roar round a breakwater.Now and again，a Jain priest crossed the court，with some small offering to the images，and swept the path about him lest by chance he should take the life of a living thing.A lamp twinkled，and there followed the sound of a prayer.Kim watched the stars as they rose one after another in the still，sticky dark，till he fell asleep at the foot of the altar.That night he dreamed in Hindustani，with never an English word...
'Holy One，there is the child to whom we gave the medicine，'he said，about three o'clock in the morning，when the lama，also waking from dreams，would have fared forth on pilgrimage.
'The Jat will he here at the light.'
