He would clean that shaitan . He slipped off his jacket , and plunged it into the box 's mouth . Something long and round bent under the pressure , there was a whirr and the voice stopped -- as voices must if you ram a thrice-doubled coat on to the wax cylinder and into the works of an expensive phonograph . Kim finished his slumbers with a serene mind . In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him . ` Oah ! ' said Kim , firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom . ` There was a box in the night that gave me bad talk . So I stopped it . Was it your box ? ' The man held out his hand . ` Shake hands , O'Hara , ' he said . ` Yes , it was my box . I keep such things because my friends the Rajahs like them . That one is broken , but it was cheap at the price . Yes , my friends , the Kings , are very fond of toys -- and so am I sometimes . ' Kim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes . He was a Sahib in that he wore Sahib 's clothes ; the accent of his Urdu , the intonation of his English , showed that he was anything but a Sahib . He seemed to understand what moved in Kim 's mind ere the boy opened his mouth , and he took no pains to explain himself as did Father Victor or the Lucknow masters . Sweetest of all -- he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiatic side . '
I XXXXX sorry you can not beat my boy this morning .
Was am clean gave keep looked plunged showed stopped wore