Kim

Kim

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Kim

Kim

Read FREE!

Excerpt

Oh ye who tread the Narrow Way
By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,
Be gentle when the heathen pray
To Buddha at Kamakura!

HE sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam-Zammeh on her brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gher -- the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammeh, that 'fire-breathing dragon,' hold the Punjab; for the great green-bronze piece is always first of the conqueror's loot.

There was some justification for Kim, -- he had kicked Lala Dinanath's boy off the trunnions, -- since the English held the Punjab and Kim was English. Though he was burned black as any native; though he spoke the vernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain sing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the small boys of the bazar; Kim was white -- a poor white of the very poorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop . . .

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