The Mussalmans pushed them off . Thy father was a pastry-cook -- ' He stopped ; for there shuffled round the corner , from the roaring Motee Bazar , such a man as Kim , who thought he knew all castes , had never seen . He was nearly six feet high , dressed in fold upon fold of dingy stuff like horse-blanketing , and not one fold of it could Kim refer to any known trade or profession . At his belt hung a long open-work iron pencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear . On his head was a gigantic sort of tam-o ' - shanter . His face was yellow and wrinkled , like that of Fook Shing , the Chinese bootmaker in the bazar . His eyes turned up at the corners and looked like little slits of onyx . ` Who is that ? ' said Kim to his companions . ` Perhaps it is a man , ' said Abdullah , finger in mouth , staring . ` Without doubt , ' returned Kim ; ` but he is no man of India that I have ever seen . ' ' A priest , perhaps , ' said Chota Lal , spying the rosary . ` See ! He goes into the Wonder House ! ' ` Nay , nay , ' said the policeman , shaking his head . ' I do not understand your talk . ' The constable spoke Punjabi . ' O Friend of all the World , what does he say ? ' ` Send him hither , ' said Kim , dropping from Zam-Zammah , flourishing his bare heels . ` He is a foreigner , and thou art a buffalo . '
The man XXXXX helplessly and drifted towards the boys .
art goes hung roaring say shaking staring turned understand wear