` My son is my son . Now that he will be whole again , how shall I go back to his mother and say I took help by the wayside and did not even give a bowl of curds in return ? ' ` They are alike , these Jats , ' said Kim softly . ` The Jat stood on his dunghill and the King 's elephants went by . `` O driver , '' said he , `` what will you sell those little donkeys for ? '' ' The Jat burst into a roar of laughter , stifled with apologies to the lama . ` It is the saying of my own country the very talk of it . So are we Jats all . I will come tomorrow with the child ; and the blessing of the Gods of the Homesteads -- who are good little Gods -- be on you both ... Now , son , we grow strong again . Do not spit it out , little Princeling ! King of my Heart , do not spit it out , and we shall be strong men , wrestlers and club-wielders , by morning . ' He moved away , crooning and mumbling . The lama turned to Kim , and all the loving old soul of him looked out through his narrow eyes . ` To heal the sick is to acquire merit ; but first one gets knowledge . That was wisely done , O Friend of all the World . ' ' I was made wise by thee , Holy One , ' said Kim , forgetting the little play just ended ; forgetting St Xavier 's ; forgetting his white blood ; forgetting even the Great Game as he stooped , Mohammedan-fashion , to touch his master 's feet in the dust of the Jain temple . ` My teaching I owe to thee . I have eaten thy bread three years . My time is finished . I am loosed from the schools .
I XXXXX to thee . '
Do come gets give grow moved mumbling stifled stood went