I aided him in his.

Just is the Wheel, O horse-seller from the North.
Let him be a teacher; let him be a scribe--what matter?
He will have attained Freedom at the end.

The rest is illusion.' 'What matter?
When I must have him with me beyond Balkh in six months! I come up with ten lame horses and three strong-backed men--thanks to that chicken of a Babu--to break a sick boy by force out of an old trot's house.

It seems that I stand by while a young Sahib is hoisted into Allah knows what of an idolater's Heaven by means of old Red Hat.
And I am reckoned something of a player of the Game myself! But the madman is fond of the boy; and I must be very reasonably mad too.' 'What is the prayer ?' said the lama, as the rough Pushtu rumbled into the red beard.
'No matter at all; but now I understand that the boy, sure of Paradise, can yet enter Government service, my mind is easier.

I must get to my horses.