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diff --git a/1937-0.txt b/1937-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..57325ab --- /dev/null +++ b/1937-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7162 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Second Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Second Jungle Book + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #1937] +Release Date: October, 1999 +Last Updated: October 7, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + + +CONTENTS + + How Fear Came + The Law of the Jungle + The Miracle of Purun Bhagat + A Song of Kabir + Letting in the Jungle + Mowgli’s Song against People + The Undertakers + A Ripple Song + The King’s Ankus + The Song of the Little Hunter + Quiquern + ‘Angutivaun Taina’ + Red Dog + Chil’s Song + The Spring Running + The Outsong + + + + +HOW FEAR CAME + + The stream is shrunk--the pool is dry, + And we be comrades, thou and I; + With fevered jowl and dusty flank + Each jostling each along the bank; + And by one drouthy fear made still, + Forgoing thought of quest or kill. + Now ‘neath his dam the fawn may see, + The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he, + And the tall buck, unflinching, note + The fangs that tore his father’s throat. + The pools are shrunk--the streams are dry, + And we be playmates, thou and I, + Till yonder cloud--Good Hunting!--loose + The rain that breaks our Water Truce. + +The Law of the Jungle--which is by far the oldest law in the world--has +arranged for almost every kind of accident that may befall the Jungle +People, till now its code is as perfect as time and custom can make +it. You will remember that Mowgli spent a great part of his life in the +Seeonee Wolf-Pack, learning the Law from Baloo, the Brown Bear; and +it was Baloo who told him, when the boy grew impatient at the constant +orders, that the Law was like the Giant Creeper, because it dropped +across every one’s back and no one could escape. “When thou hast lived +as long as I have, Little Brother, thou wilt see how all the Jungle +obeys at least one Law. And that will be no pleasant sight,” said Baloo. + +This talk went in at one ear and out at the other, for a boy who spends +his life eating and sleeping does not worry about anything till it +actually stares him in the face. But, one year, Baloo’s words came true, +and Mowgli saw all the Jungle working under the Law. + +It began when the winter Rains failed almost entirely, and Ikki, the +Porcupine, meeting Mowgli in a bamboo-thicket, told him that the wild +yams were drying up. Now everybody knows that Ikki is ridiculously +fastidious in his choice of food, and will eat nothing but the very best +and ripest. So Mowgli laughed and said, “What is that to me?” + +“Not much NOW,” said Ikki, rattling his quills in a stiff, uncomfortable +way, “but later we shall see. Is there any more diving into the deep +rock-pool below the Bee-Rocks, Little Brother?” + +“No. The foolish water is going all away, and I do not wish to break my +head,” said Mowgli, who, in those days, was quite sure that he knew as +much as any five of the Jungle People put together. + +“That is thy loss. A small crack might let in some wisdom.” Ikki ducked +quickly to prevent Mowgli from pulling his nose-bristles, and Mowgli +told Baloo what Ikki had said. Baloo looked very grave, and mumbled +half to himself: “If I were alone I would change my hunting-grounds now, +before the others began to think. And yet--hunting among strangers ends +in fighting; and they might hurt the Man-cub. We must wait and see how +the mohwa blooms.” + +That spring the mohwa tree, that Baloo was so fond of, never flowered. +The greeny, cream-coloured, waxy blossoms were heat-killed before they +were born, and only a few bad-smelling petals came down when he stood +on his hind legs and shook the tree. Then, inch by inch, the untempered +heat crept into the heart of the Jungle, turning it yellow, brown, and +at last black. The green growths in the sides of the ravines burned up +to broken wires and curled films of dead stuff; the hidden pools sank +down and caked over, keeping the last least footmark on their edges as +if it had been cast in iron; the juicy-stemmed creepers fell away from +the trees they clung to and died at their feet; the bamboos withered, +clanking when the hot winds blew, and the moss peeled off the rocks deep +in the Jungle, till they were as bare and as hot as the quivering blue +boulders in the bed of the stream. + +The birds and the monkey-people went north early in the year, for they +knew what was coming; and the deer and the wild pig broke far away to +the perished fields of the villages, dying sometimes before the eyes +of men too weak to kill them. Chil, the Kite, stayed and grew fat, for +there was a great deal of carrion, and evening after evening he +brought the news to the beasts, too weak to force their way to fresh +hunting-grounds, that the sun was killing the Jungle for three days’ +flight in every direction. + +Mowgli, who had never known what real hunger meant, fell back on stale +honey, three years old, scraped out of deserted rock-hives--honey black +as a sloe, and dusty with dried sugar. He hunted, too, for deep-boring +grubs under the bark of the trees, and robbed the wasps of their new +broods. All the game in the jungle was no more than skin and bone, and +Bagheera could kill thrice in a night, and hardly get a full meal. But +the want of water was the worst, for though the Jungle People drink +seldom they must drink deep. + +And the heat went on and on, and sucked up all the moisture, till at +last the main channel of the Waingunga was the only stream that carried +a trickle of water between its dead banks; and when Hathi, the wild +elephant, who lives for a hundred years and more, saw a long, lean blue +ridge of rock show dry in the very centre of the stream, he knew that he +was looking at the Peace Rock, and then and there he lifted up his trunk +and proclaimed the Water Truce, as his father before him had proclaimed +it fifty years ago. The deer, wild pig, and buffalo took up the cry +hoarsely; and Chil, the Kite, flew in great circles far and wide, +whistling and shrieking the warning. + +By the Law of the Jungle it is death to kill at the drinking-places +when once the Water Truce has been declared. The reason of this is that +drinking comes before eating. Every one in the Jungle can scramble along +somehow when only game is scarce; but water is water, and when there is +but one source of supply, all hunting stops while the Jungle People go +there for their needs. In good seasons, when water was plentiful, those +who came down to drink at the Waingunga--or anywhere else, for that +matter--did so at the risk of their lives, and that risk made no small +part of the fascination of the night’s doings. To move down so cunningly +that never a leaf stirred; to wade knee-deep in the roaring shallows +that drown all noise from behind; to drink, looking backward over one +shoulder, every muscle ready for the first desperate bound of keen +terror; to roll on the sandy margin, and return, wet-muzzled and well +plumped out, to the admiring herd, was a thing that all tall-antlered +young bucks took a delight in, precisely because they knew that at any +moment Bagheera or Shere Khan might leap upon them and bear them down. +But now all that life-and-death fun was ended, and the Jungle People +came up, starved and weary, to the shrunken river,--tiger, bear, deer, +buffalo, and pig, all together,--drank the fouled waters, and hung above +them, too exhausted to move off. + +The deer and the pig had tramped all day in search of something better +than dried bark and withered leaves. The buffaloes had found no wallows +to be cool in, and no green crops to steal. The snakes had left the +Jungle and come down to the river in the hope of finding a stray frog. +They curled round wet stones, and never offered to strike when the nose +of a rooting pig dislodged them. The river-turtles had long ago been +killed by Bagheera, cleverest of hunters, and the fish had buried +themselves deep in the dry mud. Only the Peace Rock lay across the +shallows like a long snake, and the little tired ripples hissed as they +dried on its hot side. + +It was here that Mowgli came nightly for the cool and the companionship. +The most hungry of his enemies would hardly have cared for the boy then, +His naked hide made him seem more lean and wretched than any of his +fellows. His hair was bleached to tow colour by the sun; his ribs stood +out like the ribs of a basket, and the lumps on his knees and elbows, +where he was used to track on all fours, gave his shrunken limbs the +look of knotted grass-stems. But his eye, under his matted forelock, was +cool and quiet, for Bagheera was his adviser in this time of trouble, +and told him to go quietly, hunt slowly, and never, on any account, to +lose his temper. + +“It is an evil time,” said the Black Panther, one furnace-hot evening, +“but it will go if we can live till the end. Is thy stomach full, +Man-cub?” + +“There is stuff in my stomach, but I get no good of it. Think you, +Bagheera, the Rains have forgotten us and will never come again?” + +“Not I! We shall see the mohwa in blossom yet, and the little fawns all +fat with new grass. Come down to the Peace Rock and hear the news. On my +back, Little Brother.” + +“This is no time to carry weight. I can still stand alone, but--indeed +we be no fatted bullocks, we two.” + +Bagheera looked along his ragged, dusty flank and whispered. “Last night +I killed a bullock under the yoke. So low was I brought that I think I +should not have dared to spring if he had been loose. WOU!” + +Mowgli laughed. “Yes, we be great hunters now,” said he. “I am very +bold--to eat grubs,” and the two came down together through the +crackling undergrowth to the river-bank and the lace-work of shoals that +ran out from it in every direction. + +“The water cannot live long,” said Baloo, joining them. “Look across. +Yonder are trails like the roads of Man.” + +On the level plain of the farther bank the stiff jungle-grass had died +standing, and, dying, had mummied. The beaten tracks of the deer and +the pig, all heading toward the river, had striped that colourless plain +with dusty gullies driven through the ten-foot grass, and, early as it +was, each long avenue was full of first-comers hastening to the water. +You could hear the does and fawns coughing in the snuff-like dust. + +Up-stream, at the bend of the sluggish pool round the Peace Rock, and +Warden of the Water Truce, stood Hathi, the wild elephant, with his +sons, gaunt and gray in the moonlight, rocking to and fro--always +rocking. Below him a little were the vanguard of the deer; below these, +again, the pig and the wild buffalo; and on the opposite bank, where the +tall trees came down to the water’s edge, was the place set apart for +the Eaters of Flesh--the tiger, the wolves, the panther, the bear, and +the others. + +“We are under one Law, indeed,” said Bagheera, wading into the water and +looking across at the lines of clicking horns and starting eyes where +the deer and the pig pushed each other to and fro. “Good hunting, all +you of my blood,” he added, lying own at full length, one flank thrust +out of the shallows; and then, between his teeth, “But for that which is +the Law it would be VERY good hunting.” + +The quick-spread ears of the deer caught the last sentence, and a +frightened whisper ran along the ranks. “The Truce! Remember the Truce!” + +“Peace there, peace!” gurgled Hathi, the wild elephant. “The Truce +holds, Bagheera. This is no time to talk of hunting.” + +“Who should know better than I?” Bagheera answered, rolling his yellow +eyes up-stream. “I am an eater of turtles--a fisher of frogs. Ngaayah! +Would I could get good from chewing branches!” + +“WE wish so, very greatly,” bleated a young fawn, who had only been born +that spring, and did not at all like it. Wretched as the Jungle People +were, even Hathi could not help chuckling; while Mowgli, lying on his +elbows in the warm water, laughed aloud, and beat up the scum with his +feet. + +“Well spoken, little bud-horn,” Bagheera purred. “When the Truce ends +that shall be remembered in thy favour,” and he looked keenly through +the darkness to make sure of recognising the fawn again. + +Gradually the talking spread up and down the drinking-places. One could +hear the scuffling, snorting pig asking for more room; the buffaloes +grunting among themselves as they lurched out across the sand-bars, and +the deer telling pitiful stories of their long foot-sore wanderings in +quest of food. Now and again they asked some question of the Eaters of +Flesh across the river, but all the news was bad, and the roaring hot +wind of the Jungle came and went between the rocks and the rattling +branches, and scattered twigs, and dust on the water. + +“The men-folk, too, they die beside their ploughs,” said a young +sambhur. “I passed three between sunset and night. They lay still, and +their Bullocks with them. We also shall lie still in a little.” + +“The river has fallen since last night,” said Baloo. “O Hathi, hast thou +ever seen the like of this drought?” + +“It will pass, it will pass,” said Hathi, squirting water along his back +and sides. + +“We have one here that cannot endure long,” said Baloo; and he looked +toward the boy he loved. + +“I?” said Mowgli indignantly, sitting up in the water. “I have no long +fur to cover my bones, but--but if THY hide were taken off, Baloo----” + +Hathi shook all over at the idea, and Baloo said severely: + +“Man-cub, that is not seemly to tell a Teacher of the Law. Never have I +been seen without my hide.” + +“Nay, I meant no harm, Baloo; but only that thou art, as it were, like +the cocoanut in the husk, and I am the same cocoanut all naked. Now that +brown husk of thine----” Mowgli was sitting cross-legged, and explaining +things with his forefinger in his usual way, when Bagheera put out a +paddy paw and pulled him over backward into the water. + +“Worse and worse,” said the Black Panther, as the boy rose spluttering. +“First Baloo is to be skinned, and now he is a cocoanut. Be careful that +he does not do what the ripe cocoanuts do.” + +“And what is that?” said Mowgli, off his guard for the minute, though +that is one of the oldest catches in the Jungle. + +“Break thy head,” said Bagheera quietly, pulling him under again. + +“It is not good to make a jest of thy teacher,” said the bear, when +Mowgli had been ducked for the third time. + +“Not good! What would ye have? That naked thing running to and fro makes +a monkey-jest of those who have once been good hunters, and pulls the +best of us by the whiskers for sport.” This was Shere Khan, the Lame +Tiger, limping down to the water. He waited a little to enjoy the +sensation he made among the deer on the opposite to lap, growling: “The +jungle has become a whelping-ground for naked cubs now. Look at me, +Man-cub!” + +Mowgli looked--stared, rather--as insolently as he knew how, and in +a minute Shere Khan turned away uneasily. “Man-cub this, and Man-cub +that,” he rumbled, going on with his drink, “the cub is neither man nor +cub, or he would have been afraid. Next season I shall have to beg his +leave for a drink. Augrh!” + +“That may come, too,” said Bagheera, looking him steadily between the +eyes. “That may come, too--Faugh, Shere Khan!--what new shame hast thou +brought here?” + +The Lame Tiger had dipped his chin and jowl in the water, and dark, oily +streaks were floating from it down-stream. + +“Man!” said Shere Khan coolly, “I killed an hour since.” He went on +purring and growling to himself. + +The line of beasts shook and wavered to and fro, and a whisper went +up that grew to a cry. “Man! Man! He has killed Man!” Then all looked +towards Hathi, the wild elephant, but he seemed not to hear. Hathi never +does anything till the time comes, and that is one of the reasons why he +lives so long. + +“At such a season as this to kill Man! Was no other game afoot?” said +Bagheera scornfully, drawing himself out of the tainted water, and +shaking each paw, cat-fashion, as he did so. + +“I killed for choice--not for food.” The horrified whisper began again, +and Hathi’s watchful little white eye cocked itself in Shere Khan’s +direction. “For choice,” Shere Khan drawled. “Now come I to drink and +make me clean again. Is there any to forbid?” + +Bagheera’s back began to curve like a bamboo in a high wind, but Hathi +lifted up his trunk and spoke quietly. + +“Thy kill was from choice?” he asked; and when Hathi asks a question it +is best to answer. + +“Even so. It was my right and my Night. Thou knowest, O Hathi.” Shere +Khan spoke almost courteously. + +“Yes, I know,” Hathi answered; and, after a little silence, “Hast thou +drunk thy fill?” + +“For to-night, yes.” + +“Go, then. The river is to drink, and not to defile. None but the Lame +Tiger would so have boasted of his right at this season when--when we +suffer together--Man and Jungle People alike. Clean or unclean, get to +thy lair, Shere Khan!” + +The last words rang out like silver trumpets, and Hathi’s three sons +rolled forward half a pace, though there was no need. Shere Khan slunk +away, not daring to growl, for he knew--what every one else knows--that +when the last comes to the last, Hathi is the Master of the Jungle. + +“What is this right Shere Khan speaks of?” Mowgli whispered in +Bagheera’s ear. “To kill Man is always, shameful. The Law says so. And +yet Hathi says----” + +“Ask him. I do not know, Little Brother. Right or no right, if Hathi had +not spoken I would have taught that lame butcher his lesson. To come +to the Peace Rock fresh from a kill of Man--and to boast of it--is a +jackal’s trick. Besides, he tainted the good water.” + +Mowgli waited for a minute to pick up his courage, because no one cared +to address Hathi directly, and then he cried: “What is Shere Khan’s +right, O Hathi?” Both banks echoed his words, for all the People of the +Jungle are intensely curious, and they had just seen something that none +except Baloo, who looked very thoughtful, seemed to understand. + +“It is an old tale,” said Hathi; “a tale older than the Jungle. Keep +silence along the banks and I will tell that tale.” + +There was a minute or two of pushing a shouldering among the pigs +and the buffalo, and then the leaders of the herds grunted, one after +another, “We wait,” and Hathi strode forward, till he was nearly +knee-deep in the pool by the Peace Rock. Lean and wrinkled and +yellow-tusked though he was, he looked what the Jungle knew him to +be--their master. + +“Ye know, children,” he began, “that of all things ye most fear Man;” + and there was a mutter of agreement. + +“This tale touches thee, Little Brother,” said Bagheera to Mowgli. + +“I? I am of the Pack--a hunter of the Free People,” Mowgli answered. +“What have I to do with Man?” + +“And ye do not know why ye fear Man?” Hathi went on. “This is the +reason. In the beginning of the Jungle, and none know when that was, we +of the Jungle walked together, having no fear of one another. In those +days there was no drought, and leaves and flowers and fruit grew on the +same tree, and we ate nothing at all except leaves and flowers and grass +and fruit and bark.” + +“I am glad I was not born in those days,” said Bagheera. “Bark is only +good to sharpen claws.” + +“And the Lord of the Jungle was Tha, the First of the Elephants. He drew +the Jungle out of deep waters with his trunk; and where he made furrows +in the ground with his tusks, there the rivers ran; and where he struck +with his foot, there rose ponds of good water; and when he blew through +his trunk,--thus,--the trees fell. That was the manner in which the +Jungle was made by Tha; and so the tale was told to me.” + +“It has not lost fat in the telling,” Bagheera whispered, and Mowgli +laughed behind his hand. + +“In those days there was no corn or melons or pepper or sugar-cane, +nor were there any little huts such as ye have all seen; and the Jungle +People knew nothing of Man, but lived in the Jungle together, making +one people. But presently they began to dispute over their food, though +there was grazing enough for all. They were lazy. Each wished to eat +where he lay, as sometimes we can do now when the spring rains are good. +Tha, the First of the Elephants, was busy making new jungles and leading +the rivers in their beds. He could not walk in all places; therefore he +made the First of the Tigers the master and the judge of the Jungle, to +whom the Jungle People should bring their disputes. In those days the +First of the Tigers ate fruit and grass with the others. He was as large +as I am, and he was very beautiful, in colour all over like the blossom +of the yellow creeper. There was never stripe nor bar upon his hide in +those good days when this the Jungle was new. All the Jungle People came +before him without fear, and his word was the Law of all the Jungle. We +were then, remember ye, one people. + +“Yet upon a night there was a dispute between two bucks--a +grazing-quarrel such as ye now settle with the horns and the +fore-feet--and it is said that as the two spoke together before the +First of the First of the Tigers lying among the flowers, a buck pushed +him with his horns, and the First of the Tigers forgot that he was the +master and judge of the Jungle, and, leaping upon that buck, broke his +neck. + +“Till that night never one of us had died, and the First of the Tigers, +seeing what he had done, and being made foolish by the scent of the +blood, ran away into the marshes of the North, and we of the Jungle, +left without a judge, fell to fighting among ourselves; and Tha heard +the noise of it and came back. Then some of us said this and some of us +said that, but he saw the dead buck among the flowers, and asked who +had killed, and we of the Jungle would not tell because the smell of the +blood made us foolish. We ran to and fro in circles, capering and crying +out and shaking our heads. Then Tha gave an order to the trees that hang +low, and to the trailing creepers of the Jungle, that they should mark +the killer of the buck so that he should know him again, and he said, +‘Who will now be master of the Jungle People?’ Then up leaped the Gray +Ape who lives in the branches, and said, ‘I will now be master of the +Jungle.’” + +At this Tha laughed, and said, “So be it,” and went away very angry. + +“Children, ye know the Gray Ape. He was then as he is now. At the first +he made a wise face for himself, but in a little while he began to +scratch and to leap up and down, and when Tha came back he found the +Gray Ape hanging, head down, from a bough, mocking those who stood +below; and they mocked him again. And so there was no Law in the +Jungle--only foolish talk and senseless words. + +“Then Tha called us all together and said: ‘The first of your masters +has brought Death into the Jungle, and the second Shame. Now it is time +there was a Law, and a Law that ye must not break. Now ye shall know +Fear, and when ye have found him ye shall know that he is your master, +and the rest shall follow.’ Then we of the jungle said, ‘What is Fear?’ +And Tha said, ‘Seek till ye find.’ So we went up and down the Jungle +seeking for Fear, and presently the buffaloes----” + +“Ugh!” said Mysa, the leader of the buffaloes, from their sand-bank. + +“Yes, Mysa, it was the buffaloes. They came back with the news that in a +cave in the Jungle sat Fear, and that he had no hair, and went upon his +hind legs. Then we of the Jungle followed the herd till we came to that +cave, and Fear stood at the mouth of it, and he was, as the buffaloes +had said, hairless, and he walked upon his hinder legs. When he saw us +he cried out, and his voice filled us with the fear that we have now of +that voice when we hear it, and we ran away, tramping upon and tearing +each other because we were afraid. That night, so it was told to me, we +of the Jungle did not lie down together as used to be our custom, but +each tribe drew off by itself--the pig with the pig, the deer with the +deer; horn to horn, hoof to hoof,--like keeping to like, and so lay +shaking in the Jungle. + +“Only the First of the Tigers was not with us, for he was still hidden +in the marshes of the North, and when word was brought to him of the +Thing we had seen in the cave, he said. ‘I will go to this Thing and +break his neck.’ So he ran all the night till he came to the cave; but +the trees and the creepers on his path, remembering the order that Tha +had given, let down their branches and marked him as he ran, drawing +their fingers across his back, his flank, his forehead, and his jowl. +Wherever they touched him there was a mark and a stripe upon his yellow +hide. AND THOSE STRIPES DO THIS CHILDREN WEAR TO THIS DAY! When he came +to the cave, Fear, the Hairless One, put out his hand and called him +‘The Striped One that comes by night,’ and the First of the Tigers was +afraid of the Hairless One, and ran back to the swamps howling.” + +Mowgli chuckled quietly here, his chin in the water. + +“So loud did he howl that Tha heard him and said, ‘What is the sorrow?’ +And the First of the Tigers, lifting up his muzzle to the new-made sky, +which is now so old, said: ‘Give me back my power, O Tha. I am made +ashamed before all the Jungle, and I have run away from a Hairless One, +and he has called me a shameful name.’ ‘And why?’ said Tha. ‘Because I +am smeared with the mud of the marshes,’ said the First of the Tigers. +‘Swim, then, and roll on the wet grass, and if it be mud it will wash +away,’ said Tha; and the First of the Tigers swam, and rolled and rolled +upon the grass, till the Jungle ran round and round before his eyes, but +not one little bar upon all his hide was changed, and Tha, watching him, +laughed. Then the First of the Tigers said: ‘What have I done that this +comes to me?’ Tha said, ‘Thou hast killed the buck, and thou hast let +Death loose in the Jungle, and with Death has come Fear, so that the +people of the Jungle are afraid one of the other, as thou art afraid of +the Hairless One.’ The First of the Tigers said, ‘They will never fear +me, for I knew them since the beginning.’ Tha said, ‘Go and see.’ And +the First of the Tigers ran to and fro, calling aloud to the deer and +the pig and the sambhur and the porcupine and all the Jungle Peoples, +and they all ran away from him who had been their judge, because they +were afraid. + +“Then the First of the Tigers came back, and his pride was broken in +him, and, beating his head upon the ground, he tore up the earth with +all his feet and said: ‘Remember that I was once the Master of the +Jungle. Do not forget me, O Tha! Let my children remember that I was +once without shame or fear!’ And Tha said: ‘This much I will do, because +thou and I together saw the Jungle made. For one night in each year +it shall be as it was before the buck was killed--for thee and for thy +children. In that one night, if ye meet the Hairless One--and his name +is Man--ye shall not be afraid of him, but he shall be afraid of you, as +though ye were judges of the Jungle and masters of all things. Show him +mercy in that night of his fear, for thou hast known what Fear is.’ + +“Then the First of the Tigers answered, ‘I am content’; but when next +he drank he saw the black stripes upon his flank and his side, and he +remembered the name that the Hairless One had given him, and he was +angry. For a year he lived in the marshes waiting till Tha should keep +his promise. And upon a night when the jackal of the Moon [the Evening +Star] stood clear of the Jungle, he felt that his Night was upon him, +and he went to that cave to meet the Hairless One. Then it happened as +Tha promised, for the Hairless One fell down before him and lay along +the ground, and the First of the Tigers struck him and broke his back, +for he thought that there was but one such Thing in the Jungle, and that +he had killed Fear. Then, nosing above the kill, he heard Tha coming +down from the woods of the North, and presently the voice of the First +of the Elephants, which is the voice that we hear now----” + +The thunder was rolling up and down the dry, scarred hills, but +it brought no rain--only heat--lightning that flickered along the +ridges--and Hathi went on: “THAT was the voice he heard, and it said: +‘Is this thy mercy?’ The First of the Tigers licked his lips and said: +‘What matter? I have killed Fear.’ And Tha said: ‘O blind and foolish! +Thou hast untied the feet of Death, and he will follow thy trail till +thou diest. Thou hast taught Man to kill!’ + +“The First of the Tigers, standing stiffly to his kill, said. ‘He is as +the buck was. There is no Fear. Now I will judge the Jungle Peoples once +more.’ + +“And Tha said: ‘Never again shall the Jungle Peoples come to thee. They +shall never cross thy trail, nor sleep near thee, nor follow after thee, +nor browse by thy lair. Only Fear shall follow thee, and with a blow +that thou canst not see he shall bid thee wait his pleasure. He shall +make the ground to open under thy feet, and the creeper to twist about +thy neck, and the tree-trunks to grow together about thee higher than +thou canst leap, and at the last he shall take thy hide to wrap his cubs +when they are cold. Thou hast shown him no mercy, and none will he show +thee.’ + +“The First of the Tigers was very bold, for his Night was still on him, +and he said: ‘The Promise of Tha is the Promise of Tha. He will not take +away my Night?’ And Tha said: ‘The one Night is thine, as I have said, +but there is a price to pay. Thou hast taught Man to kill, and he is no +slow learner.’ + +“The First of the Tigers said: ‘He is here under my foot, and his back +is broken. Let the Jungle know I have killed Fear.’ + +“Then Tha laughed, and said: ‘Thou hast killed one of many, but thou +thyself shalt tell the Jungle--for thy Night is ended.’ + +“So the day came; and from the mouth of the cave went out another +Hairless One, and he saw the kill in the path, and the First of the +Tigers above it, and he took a pointed stick----” + +“They throw a thing that cuts now,” said Ikki, rustling down the bank; +for Ikki was considered uncommonly good eating by the Gonds--they called +him Ho-Igoo--and he knew something of the wicked little Gondee axe that +whirls across a clearing like a dragon-fly. + +“It was a pointed stick, such as they put in the foot of a pit-trap,” + said Hathi, “and throwing it, he struck the First of the Tigers deep in +the flank. Thus it happened as Tha said, for the First of the Tigers ran +howling up and down the Jungle till he tore out the stick, and all the +Jungle knew that the Hairless One could strike from far off, and they +feared more than before. So it came about that the First of the Tigers +taught the Hairless One to kill--and ye know what harm that has since +done to all our peoples--through the noose, and the pitfall, and the +hidden trap, and the flying stick and the stinging fly that comes out of +white smoke [Hathi meant the rifle], and the Red Flower that drives us +into the open. Yet for one night in the year the Hairless One fears the +Tiger, as Tha promised, and never has the Tiger given him cause to be +less afraid. Where he finds him, there he kills him, remembering how the +First of the Tigers was made ashamed. For the rest, Fear walks up and +down the Jungle by day and by night.” + +“Ahi! Aoo!” said the deer, thinking of what it all meant to them. + +“And only when there is one great Fear over all, as there is now, can we +of the Jungle lay aside our little fears, and meet together in one place +as we do now.” + +“For one night only does Man fear the Tiger?” said Mowgli. + +“For one night only,” said Hathi. + +“But I--but we--but all the Jungle knows that Shere Khan kills Man twice +and thrice in a moon.” + +“Even so. THEN he springs from behind and turns his head aside as he +strikes, for he is full of fear. If Man looked at him he would run. But +on his one Night he goes openly down to the village. He walks between +the houses and thrusts his head into the doorway, and the men fall on +their faces, and there he does his kill. One kill in that Night.” + +“Oh!” said Mowgli to himself, rolling over in the water. “NOW I see +why it was Shere Khan bade me look at him! He got no good of it, for he +could not hold his eyes steady, and--and I certainly did not fall down +at his feet. But then I am not a man, being of the Free People.” + +“Umm!” said Bagheera deep in his furry throat. “Does the Tiger know his +Night?” + +“Never till the Jackal of the Moon stands clear of the evening +mist. Sometimes it falls in the dry summer and sometimes in the wet +rains--this one Night of the Tiger. But for the First of the Tigers, +this would never have been, nor would any of us have known fear.” + +The deer grunted sorrowfully and Bagheera’s lips curled in a wicked +smile. “Do men know this--tale?” said he. + +“None know it except the tigers, and we, the elephants--the children of +Tha. Now ye by the pools have heard it, and I have spoken.” + +Hathi dipped his trunk into the water as a sign that he did not wish to +talk. + +“But--but--but,” said Mowgli, turning to Baloo, “why did not the First +of the Tigers continue to eat grass and leaves and trees? He did but +break the buck’s neck. He did not EAT. What led him to the hot meat?” + +“The trees and the creepers marked him, Little Brother, and made him +the striped thing that we see. Never again would he eat their fruit; +but from that day he revenged himself upon the deer, and the others, the +Eaters of Grass,” said Baloo. + +“Then THOU knowest the tale. Heh? Why have I never heard?” + +“Because the Jungle is full of such tales. If I made a beginning there +would never be an end to them. Let go my ear, Little Brother.” + + + + +THE LAW OF THE JUNGLE + +Just to give you an idea of the immense variety of the Jungle Law, +I have translated into verse (Baloo always recited them in a sort of +sing-song) a few of the laws that apply to the wolves. There are, of +course, hundreds and hundreds more, but these will do for specimens of +the simpler rulings. + + Now this is the Law of the Jungle--as old and as true as + the sky; + And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf + that shall break it must die. + + As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth + forward and back-- + For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength + of the Wolf is the Pack. + + Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but + never too deep; + And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not + the day is for sleep. + + The jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy + whiskers are grown, + Remember the Wolf is a hunter--go forth and get food + of thine own. + + Keep peace with the Lords of the Jungle--the Tiger, the + Panther, the Bear; + And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar + in his lair. + + When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither + will go from the trail, + Lie down till the leaders have spoken--it may be fair + words shall prevail. + + When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must + fight him alone and afar, + Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be + diminished by war. + + The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has + made him his home, + Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council + may come. + + The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has + digged it too plain, + The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall + change it again. + + If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the + woods with your bay, + Lest ye frighten the deer from the crops, and the brothers + go empty away. + + Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs + as they need, and ye can; + But kill not for pleasure of killing, and SEVEN TIMES NEVER + KILL MAN. + + If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in + thy pride; + Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the + head and the hide. + + The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must + eat where it lies; + And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or + he dies. + + The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may + do what he will, + But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat + of that Kill. + + Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his + Pack he may claim + Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may + refuse him the same. + + Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her + year she may claim + One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may + deny her the same. + + Cave-Right is the right of the Father--to hunt by himself + for his own. + He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the + Council alone. + + Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe + and his paw, + In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of the Head + Wolf is Law. + + Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and + mighty are they; + But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch + and the hump is--Obey! + + + + +THE MIRACLE OF PURUN BHAGAT + + The night we felt the earth would move + We stole and plucked him by the hand, + Because we loved him with the love + That knows but cannot understand. + + And when the roaring hillside broke, + And all our world fell down in rain, + We saved him, we the Little Folk; + But lo! he does not come again! + + Mourn now, we saved him for the sake + Of such poor love as wild ones may. + Mourn ye! Our brother will not wake, + And his own kind drive us away! + + Dirge of the Langurs. + + +There was once a man in India who was Prime Minister of one of the +semi-independent native States in the north-western part of the country. +He was a Brahmin, so high-caste that caste ceased to have any particular +meaning for him; and his father had been an important official in the +gay-coloured tag-rag and bobtail of an old-fashioned Hindu Court. But +as Purun Dass grew up he felt that the old order of things was changing, +and that if any one wished to get on in the world he must stand well +with the English, and imitate all that the English believed to be good. +At the same time a native official must keep his own master’s favour. +This was a difficult game, but the quiet, close-mouthed young Brahmin, +helped by a good English education at a Bombay University, played it +coolly, and rose, step by step, to be Prime Minister of the kingdom. +That is to say, he held more real power than his master the Maharajah. + +When the old king--who was suspicious of the English, their railways and +telegraphs--died, Purun Dass stood high with his young successor, who +had been tutored by an Englishman; and between them, though he always +took care that his master should have the credit, they established +schools for little girls, made roads, and started State dispensaries and +shows of agricultural implements, and published a yearly blue-book on +the “Moral and Material Progress of the State,” and the Foreign Office +and the Government of India were delighted. Very few native States take +up English progress altogether, for they will not believe, as Purun Dass +showed he did, that what was good for the Englishman must be twice as +good for the Asiatic. The Prime Minister became the honoured friend +of Viceroys, and Governors, and Lieutenant-Governors, and medical +missionaries, and common missionaries, and hard-riding English officers +who came to shoot in the State preserves, as well as of whole hosts of +tourists who travelled up and down India in the cold weather, showing +how things ought to be managed. In his spare time he would endow +scholarships for the study of medicine and manufactures on strictly +English lines, and write letters to the “Pioneer”, the greatest Indian +daily paper, explaining his master’s aims and objects. + +At last he went to England on a visit, and had to pay enormous sums to +the priests when he came back; for even so high-caste a Brahmin as Purun +Dass lost caste by crossing the black sea. In London he met and talked +with every one worth knowing--men whose names go all over the world--and +saw a great deal more than he said. He was given honorary degrees by +learned universities, and he made speeches and talked of Hindu social +reform to English ladies in evening dress, till all London cried, “This +is the most fascinating man we have ever met at dinner since cloths were +first laid.” + +When he returned to India there was a blaze of glory, for the Viceroy +himself made a special visit to confer upon the Maharajah the Grand +Cross of the Star of India--all diamonds and ribbons and enamel; and at +the same ceremony, while the cannon boomed, Purun Dass was made a Knight +Commander of the Order of the Indian Empire; so that his name stood Sir +Purun Dass, K.C.I.E. + +That evening, at dinner in the big Viceregal tent, he stood up with the +badge and the collar of the Order on his breast, and replying to the +toast of his master’s health, made a speech few Englishmen could have +bettered. + +Next month, when the city had returned to its sun-baked quiet, he did +a thing no Englishman would have dreamed of doing; for, so far as the +world’s affairs went, he died. The jewelled order of his knighthood went +back to the Indian Government, and a new Prime Minister was appointed to +the charge of affairs, and a great game of General Post began in all the +subordinate appointments. The priests knew what had happened, and the +people guessed; but India is the one place in the world where a man can +do as he pleases and nobody asks why; and the fact that Dewan Sir Purun +Dass, K.C.I.E., had resigned position, palace, and power, and taken up +the begging-bowl and ochre-coloured dress of a Sunnyasi, or holy man, +was considered nothing extraordinary. He had been, as the Old Law +recommends, twenty years a youth, twenty years a fighter,--though he +had never carried a weapon in his life,--and twenty years head of a +household. He had used his wealth and his power for what he knew both to +be worth; he had taken honour when it came his way; he had seen men and +cities far and near, and men and cities had stood up and honoured him. +Now he would let those things go, as a man drops the cloak he no longer +needs. + +Behind him, as he walked through the city gates, an antelope skin and +brass-handled crutch under his arm, and a begging-bowl of polished +brown coco-de-mer in his hand, barefoot, alone, with eyes cast on the +ground--behind him they were firing salutes from the bastions in honour +of his happy successor. Purun Dass nodded. All that life was ended; +and he bore it no more ill-will or good-will than a man bears to a +colourless dream of the night. He was a Sunnyasi--a houseless, wandering +mendicant, depending on his neighbours for his daily bread; and so +long as there is a morsel to divide in India, neither priest nor beggar +starves. He had never in his life tasted meat, and very seldom eaten +even fish. A five-pound note would have covered his personal expenses +for food through any one of the many years in which he had been absolute +master of millions of money. Even when he was being lionised in London +he had held before him his dream of peace and quiet--the long, white, +dusty Indian road, printed all over with bare feet, the incessant, +slow-moving traffic, and the sharp-smelling wood smoke curling up under +the fig-trees in the twilight, where the wayfarers sit at their evening +meal. + +When the time came to make that dream true the Prime Minister took +the proper steps, and in three days you might more easily have found a +bubble in the trough of the long Atlantic seas, than Purun Dass among +the roving, gathering, separating millions of India. + +At night his antelope skin was spread where the darkness overtook +him--sometimes in a Sunnyasi monastery by the roadside; sometimes by a +mud-pillar shrine of Kala Pir, where the Jogis, who are another misty +division of holy men, would receive him as they do those who know what +castes and divisions are worth; sometimes on the outskirts of a little +Hindu village, where the children would steal up with the food +their parents had prepared; and sometimes on the pitch of the bare +grazing-grounds, where the flame of his stick fire waked the drowsy +camels. It was all one to Purun Dass--or Purun Bhagat, as he called +himself now. Earth, people, and food were all one. But unconsciously +his feet drew him away northward and eastward; from the south to +Rohtak; from Rohtak to Kurnool; from Kurnool to ruined Samanah, and then +up-stream along the dried bed of the Gugger river that fills only when +the rain falls in the hills, till one day he saw the far line of the +great Himalayas. + +Then Purun Bhagat smiled, for he remembered that his mother was of +Rajput Brahmin birth, from Kulu way--a Hill-woman, always home-sick for +the snows--and that the least touch of Hill blood draws a man in the end +back to where he belongs. + +“Yonder,” said Purun Bhagat, breasting the lower slopes of the Sewaliks, +where the cacti stand up like seven-branched candlesticks-“yonder I +shall sit down and get knowledge”; and the cool wind of the Himalayas +whistled about his ears as he trod the road that led to Simla. + +The last time he had come that way it had been in state, with a +clattering cavalry escort, to visit the gentlest and most affable of +Viceroys; and the two had talked for an hour together about mutual +friends in London, and what the Indian common folk really thought of +things. This time Purun Bhagat paid no calls, but leaned on the rail +of the Mall, watching that glorious view of the Plains spread out +forty miles below, till a native Mohammedan policeman told him he was +obstructing traffic; and Purun Bhagat salaamed reverently to the Law, +because he knew the value of it, and was seeking for a Law of his own. +Then he moved on, and slept that night in an empty hut at Chota Simla, +which looks like the very last end of the earth, but it was only the +beginning of his journey. He followed the Himalaya-Thibet road, the +little ten-foot track that is blasted out of solid rock, or strutted out +on timbers over gulfs a thousand feet deep; that dips into warm, wet, +shut-in valleys, and climbs out across bare, grassy hill-shoulders where +the sun strikes like a burning-glass; or turns through dripping, dark +forests where the tree-ferns dress the trunks from head to heel, and the +pheasant calls to his mate. And he met Thibetan herdsmen with their dogs +and flocks of sheep, each sheep with a little bag of borax on his back, +and wandering wood-cutters, and cloaked and blanketed Lamas from +Thibet, coming into India on pilgrimage, and envoys of little solitary +Hill-states, posting furiously on ring-streaked and piebald ponies, or +the cavalcade of a Rajah paying a visit; or else for a long, clear day +he would see nothing more than a black bear grunting and rooting below +in the valley. When he first started, the roar of the world he had left +still rang in his ears, as the roar of a tunnel rings long after the +train has passed through; but when he had put the Mutteeanee Pass behind +him that was all done, and Purun Bhagat was alone with himself, walking, +wondering, and thinking, his eyes on the ground, and his thoughts with +the clouds. + +One evening he crossed the highest pass he had met till then--it had +been a two-day’s climb--and came out on a line of snow-peaks that banded +all the horizon--mountains from fifteen to twenty thousand feet high, +looking almost near enough to hit with a stone, though they were +fifty or sixty miles away. The pass was crowned with dense, dark +forest--deodar, walnut, wild cherry, wild olive, and wild pear, but +mostly deodar, which is the Himalayan cedar; and under the shadow of the +deodars stood a deserted shrine to Kali--who is Durga, who is Sitala, +who is sometimes worshipped against the smallpox. + +Purun Dass swept the stone floor clean, smiled at the grinning statue, +made himself a little mud fireplace at the back of the shrine, +spread his antelope skin on a bed of fresh pine-needles, tucked his +bairagi--his brass-handled crutch--under his armpit, and sat down to +rest. + +Immediately below him the hillside fell away, clean and cleared for +fifteen hundred feet, where a little village of stone-walled houses, +with roofs of beaten earth, clung to the steep tilt. All round it the +tiny terraced fields lay out like aprons of patchwork on the knees of +the mountain, and cows no bigger than beetles grazed between the smooth +stone circles of the threshing-floors. Looking across the valley, the +eye was deceived by the size of things, and could not at first realise +that what seemed to be low scrub, on the opposite mountain-flank, was +in truth a forest of hundred-foot pines. Purun Bhagat saw an eagle swoop +across the gigantic hollow, but the great bird dwindled to a dot ere it +was half-way over. A few bands of scattered clouds strung up and down +the valley, catching on a shoulder of the hills, or rising up and dying +out when they were level with the head of the pass. And “Here shall I +find peace,” said Purun Bhagat. + +Now, a Hill-man makes nothing of a few hundred feet up or down, and as +soon as the villagers saw the smoke in the deserted shrine, the village +priest climbed up the terraced hillside to welcome the stranger. + +When he met Purun Bhagat’s eyes--the eyes of a man used to control +thousands--he bowed to the earth, took the begging-bowl without a word, +and returned to the village, saying, “We have at last a holy man. +Never have I seen such a man. He is of the Plains--but pale-coloured--a +Brahmin of the Brahmins.” Then all the housewives of the village said, +“Think you he will stay with us?” and each did her best to cook the +most savoury meal for the Bhagat. Hill-food is very simple, but with +buckwheat and Indian corn, and rice and red pepper, and little fish out +of the stream in the valley, and honey from the flue-like hives built in +the stone walls, and dried apricots, and turmeric, and wild ginger, and +bannocks of flour, a devout woman can make good things, and it was a +full bowl that the priest carried to the Bhagat. Was he going to stay? +asked the priest. Would he need a chela--a disciple--to beg for him? Had +he a blanket against the cold weather? Was the food good? + +Purun Bhagat ate, and thanked the giver. It was in his mind to stay. +That was sufficient, said the priest. Let the begging-bowl be placed +outside the shrine, in the hollow made by those two twisted roots, and +daily should the Bhagat be fed; for the village felt honoured that such +a man--he looked timidly into the Bhagat’s face--should tarry among +them. + +That day saw the end of Purun Bhagat’s wanderings. He had come to the +place appointed for him--the silence and the space. After this, time +stopped, and he, sitting at the mouth of the shrine, could not tell +whether he were alive or dead; a man with control of his limbs, or a +part of the hills, and the clouds, and the shifting rain and sunlight. +He would repeat a Name softly to himself a hundred hundred times, till, +at each repetition, he seemed to move more and more out of his body, +sweeping up to the doors of some tremendous discovery; but, just as the +door was opening, his body would drag him back, and, with grief, he felt +he was locked up again in the flesh and bones of Purun Bhagat. + +Every morning the filled begging-bowl was laid silently in the crutch of +the roots outside the shrine. Sometimes the priest brought it; sometimes +a Ladakhi trader, lodging in the village, and anxious to get merit, +trudged up the path; but, more often, it was the woman who had cooked +the meal overnight; and she would murmur, hardly above her breath. +“Speak for me before the gods, Bhagat. Speak for such a one, the wife +of so-and-so!” Now and then some bold child would be allowed the honour, +and Purun Bhagat would hear him drop the bowl and run as fast as his +little legs could carry him, but the Bhagat never came down to the +village. It was laid out like a map at his feet. He could see the +evening gatherings, held on the circle of the threshing-floors, because +that was the only level ground; could see the wonderful unnamed green +of the young rice, the indigo blues of the Indian corn, the dock-like +patches of buckwheat, and, in its season, the red bloom of the amaranth, +whose tiny seeds, being neither grain nor pulse, make a food that can be +lawfully eaten by Hindus in time of fasts. + +When the year turned, the roofs of the huts were all little squares of +purest gold, for it was on the roofs that they laid out their cobs of +the corn to dry. Hiving and harvest, rice-sowing and husking, passed +before his eyes, all embroidered down there on the many-sided plots of +fields, and he thought of them all, and wondered what they all led to at +the long last. + +Even in populated India a man cannot a day sit still before the wild +things run over him as though he were a rock; and in that wilderness +very soon the wild things, who knew Kali’s Shrine well, came back to +look at the intruder. The langurs, the big gray-whiskered monkeys of +the Himalayas, were, naturally, the first, for they are alive with +curiosity; and when they had upset the begging-bowl, and rolled it round +the floor, and tried their teeth on the brass-handled crutch, and made +faces at the antelope skin, they decided that the human being who sat so +still was harmless. At evening, they would leap down from the pines, and +beg with their hands for things to eat, and then swing off in graceful +curves. They liked the warmth of the fire, too, and huddled round it +till Purun Bhagat had to push them aside to throw on more fuel; and +in the morning, as often as not, he would find a furry ape sharing his +blanket. All day long, one or other of the tribe would sit by his side, +staring out at the snows, crooning and looking unspeakably wise and +sorrowful. + +After the monkeys came the barasingh, that big deer which is like our +red deer, but stronger. He wished to rub off the velvet of his horns +against the cold stones of Kali’s statue, and stamped his feet when he +saw the man at the shrine. But Purun Bhagat never moved, and, little by +little, the royal stag edged up and nuzzled his shoulder. Purun Bhagat +slid one cool hand along the hot antlers, and the touch soothed the +fretted beast, who bowed his head, and Purun Bhagat very softly rubbed +and ravelled off the velvet. Afterward, the barasingh brought his doe +and fawn--gentle things that mumbled on the holy man’s blanket--or would +come alone at night, his eyes green in the fire-flicker, to take his +share of fresh walnuts. At last, the musk-deer, the shyest and almost +the smallest of the deerlets, came, too, her big rabbity ears erect; +even brindled, silent mushick-nabha must needs find out what the +light in the shrine meant, and drop out her moose-like nose into Purun +Bhagat’s lap, coming and going with the shadows of the fire. Purun +Bhagat called them all “my brothers,” and his low call of “Bhai! Bhai!” + would draw them from the forest at noon if they were within ear shot. +The Himalayan black bear, moody and suspicious--Sona, who has the +V-shaped white mark under his chin--passed that way more than once; and +since the Bhagat showed no fear, Sona showed no anger, but watched him, +and came closer, and begged a share of the caresses, and a dole of bread +or wild berries. Often, in the still dawns, when the Bhagat would climb +to the very crest of the pass to watch the red day walking along the +peaks of the snows, he would find Sona shuffling and grunting at his +heels, thrusting, a curious fore-paw under fallen trunks, and bringing +it away with a WHOOF of impatience; or his early steps would wake Sona +where he lay curled up, and the great brute, rising erect, would think +to fight, till he heard the Bhagat’s voice and knew his best friend. + +Nearly all hermits and holy men who live apart from the big cities have +the reputation of being able to work miracles with the wild things, but +all the miracle lies in keeping still, in never making a hasty movement, +and, for a long time, at least, in never looking directly at a visitor. +The villagers saw the outline of the barasingh stalking like a shadow +through the dark forest behind the shrine; saw the minaul, the Himalayan +pheasant, blazing in her best colours before Kali’s statue; and the +langurs on their haunches, inside, playing with the walnut shells. Some +of the children, too, had heard Sona singing to himself, bear-fashion, +behind the fallen rocks, and the Bhagat’s reputation as miracle-worker +stood firm. + +Yet nothing was farther from his mind than miracles. He believed that +all things were one big Miracle, and when a man knows that much he knows +something to go upon. He knew for a certainty that there was nothing +great and nothing little in this world: and day and night he strove to +think out his way into the heart of things, back to the place whence his +soul had come. + +So thinking, his untrimmed hair fell down about his shoulders, the stone +slab at the side of the antelope skin was dented into a little hole +by the foot of his brass-handled crutch, and the place between the +tree-trunks, where the begging-bowl rested day after day, sunk and wore +into a hollow almost as smooth as the brown shell itself; and each beast +knew his exact place at the fire. The fields changed their colours with +the seasons; the threshing-floors filled and emptied, and filled again +and again; and again and again, when winter came, the langurs frisked +among the branches feathered with light snow, till the mother-monkeys +brought their sad-eyed little babies up from the warmer valleys with the +spring. There were few changes in the village. The priest was older, and +many of the little children who used to come with the begging-dish sent +their own children now; and when you asked of the villagers how long +their holy man had lived in Kali’s Shrine at the head of the pass, they +answered, “Always.” + +Then came such summer rains as had not been known in the Hills for many +seasons. Through three good months the valley was wrapped in cloud +and soaking mist--steady, unrelenting downfall, breaking off into +thunder-shower after thunder-shower. Kali’s Shrine stood above the +clouds, for the most part, and there was a whole month in which the +Bhagat never caught a glimpse of his village. It was packed away under +a white floor of cloud that swayed and shifted and rolled on itself and +bulged upward, but never broke from its piers--the streaming flanks of +the valley. + +All that time he heard nothing but the sound of a million little waters, +overhead from the trees, and underfoot along the ground, soaking through +the pine-needles, dripping from the tongues of draggled fern, and +spouting in newly-torn muddy channels down the slopes. Then the sun +came out, and drew forth the good incense of the deodars and the +rhododendrons, and that far-off, clean smell which the Hill people call +“the smell of the snows.” The hot sunshine lasted for a week, and then +the rains gathered together for their last downpour, and the water fell +in sheets that flayed off the skin of the ground and leaped back in +mud. Purun Bhagat heaped his fire high that night, for he was sure his +brothers would need warmth; but never a beast came to the shrine, though +he called and called till he dropped asleep, wondering what had happened +in the woods. + +It was in the black heart of the night, the rain drumming like a +thousand drums, that he was roused by a plucking at his blanket, and, +stretching out, felt the little hand of a langur. “It is better here +than in the trees,” he said sleepily, loosening a fold of blanket; “take +it and be warm.” The monkey caught his hand and pulled hard. “Is it +food, then?” said Purun Bhagat. “Wait awhile, and I will prepare some.” + As he kneeled to throw fuel on the fire the langur ran to the door of +the shrine, crooned and ran back again, plucking at the man’s knee. + +“What is it? What is thy trouble, Brother?” said Purun Bhagat, for the +langur’s eyes were full of things that he could not tell. “Unless one of +thy caste be in a trap--and none set traps here--I will not go into that +weather. Look, Brother, even the barasingh comes for shelter!” + +The deer’s antlers clashed as he strode into the shrine, clashed against +the grinning statue of Kali. He lowered them in Purun Bhagat’s direction +and stamped uneasily, hissing through his half-shut nostrils. + +“Hai! Hai! Hai!” said the Bhagat, snapping his fingers, “Is THIS payment +for a night’s lodging?” But the deer pushed him toward the door, and as +he did so Purun Bhagat heard the sound of something opening with a sigh, +and saw two slabs of the floor draw away from each other, while the +sticky earth below smacked its lips. + +“Now I see,” said Purun Bhagat. “No blame to my brothers that they did +not sit by the fire to-night. The mountain is falling. And yet--why +should I go?” His eye fell on the empty begging-bowl, and his face +changed. “They have given me good food daily since--since I came, and, +if I am not swift, to-morrow there will not be one mouth in the valley. +Indeed, I must go and warn them below. Back there, Brother! Let me get +to the fire.” + +The barasingh backed unwillingly as Purun Bhagat drove a pine torch deep +into the flame, twirling it till it was well lit. “Ah! ye came to warn +me,” he said, rising. “Better than that we shall do; better than that. +Out, now, and lend me thy neck, Brother, for I have but two feet.” + +He clutched the bristling withers of the barasingh with his right hand, +held the torch away with his left, and stepped out of the shrine into +the desperate night. There was no breath of wind, but the rain nearly +drowned the flare as the great deer hurried down the slope, sliding +on his haunches. As soon as they were clear of the forest more of the +Bhagat’s brothers joined them. He heard, though he could not see, the +langurs pressing about him, and behind them the uhh! uhh! of Sona. The +rain matted his long white hair into ropes; the water splashed beneath +his bare feet, and his yellow robe clung to his frail old body, but he +stepped down steadily, leaning against the barasingh. He was no longer +a holy man, but Sir Purun Dass, K.C.I.E., Prime Minister of no small +State, a man accustomed to command, going out to save life. Down +the steep, plashy path they poured all together, the Bhagat and his +brothers, down and down till the deer’s feet clicked and stumbled on the +wall of a threshing-floor, and he snorted because he smelt Man. Now they +were at the head of the one crooked village street, and the Bhagat beat +with his crutch on the barred windows of the blacksmith’s house, as his +torch blazed up in the shelter of the eaves. “Up and out!” cried Purun +Bhagat; and he did not know his own voice, for it was years since he had +spoken aloud to a man. “The hill falls! The hill is falling! Up and out, +oh, you within!” + +“It is our Bhagat,” said the blacksmith’s wife. “He stands among his +beasts. Gather the little ones and give the call.” + +It ran from house to house, while the beasts, cramped in the narrow way, +surged and huddled round the Bhagat, and Sona puffed impatiently. + +The people hurried into the street--they were no more than seventy souls +all told--and in the glare of the torches they saw their Bhagat holding +back the terrified barasingh, while the monkeys plucked piteously at his +skirts, and Sona sat on his haunches and roared. + +“Across the valley and up the next hill!” shouted Purun Bhagat. “Leave +none behind! We follow!” + +Then the people ran as only Hill folk can run, for they knew that in a +landslip you must climb for the highest ground across the valley. They +fled, splashing through the little river at the bottom, and panted up +the terraced fields on the far side, while the Bhagat and his brethren +followed. Up and up the opposite mountain they climbed, calling to each +other by name--the roll-call of the village--and at their heels toiled +the big barasingh, weighted by the failing strength of Purun Bhagat. +At last the deer stopped in the shadow of a deep pinewood, five hundred +feet up the hillside. His instinct, that had warned him of the coming +slide, told him he would he safe here. + +Purun Bhagat dropped fainting by his side, for the chill of the rain and +that fierce climb were killing him; but first he called to the scattered +torches ahead, “Stay and count your numbers”; then, whispering to the +deer as he saw the lights gather in a cluster: “Stay with me, Brother. +Stay--till--I--go!” + +There was a sigh in the air that grew to a mutter, and a mutter that +grew to a roar, and a roar that passed all sense of hearing, and the +hillside on which the villagers stood was hit in the darkness, and +rocked to the blow. Then a note as steady, deep, and true as the deep C +of the organ drowned everything for perhaps five minutes, while the very +roots of the pines quivered to it. It died away, and the sound of the +rain falling on miles of hard ground and grass changed to the muffled +drum of water on soft earth. That told its own tale. + +Never a villager--not even the priest--was bold enough to speak to the +Bhagat who had saved their lives. They crouched under the pines and +waited till the day. When it came they looked across the valley and +saw that what had been forest, and terraced field, and track-threaded +grazing-ground was one raw, red, fan-shaped smear, with a few trees +flung head-down on the scarp. That red ran high up the hill of their +refuge, damming back the little river, which had begun to spread into a +brick-coloured lake. Of the village, of the road to the shrine, of the +shrine itself, and the forest behind, there was no trace. For one mile +in width and two thousand feet in sheer depth the mountain-side had come +away bodily, planed clean from head to heel. + +And the villagers, one by one, crept through the wood to pray before +their Bhagat. They saw the barasingh standing over him, who fled when +they came near, and they heard the langurs wailing in the branches, +and Sona moaning up the hill; but their Bhagat was dead, sitting +cross-legged, his back against a tree, his crutch under his armpit, and +his face turned to the north-east. + +The priest said: “Behold a miracle after a miracle, for in this very +attitude must all Sunnyasis be buried! Therefore where he now is we will +build the temple to our holy man.” + +They built the temple before a year was ended--a little stone-and-earth +shrine--and they called the hill the Bhagat’s hill, and they worship +there with lights and flowers and offerings to this day. But they do +not know that the saint of their worship is the late Sir Purun Dass, +K.C.I.E., D.C.L., Ph.D., etc., once Prime Minister of the progressive +and enlightened State of Mohiniwala, and honorary or corresponding +member of more learned and scientific societies than will ever do any +good in this world or the next. + + + + +A SONG OF KABIR + + Oh, light was the world that he weighed in his hands! + Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands! + He has gone from the guddee and put on the shroud, + And departed in guise of bairagi avowed! + + Now the white road to Delhi is mat for his feet, + The sal and the kikar must guard him from heat; + His home is the camp, and the waste, and the crowd-- + He is seeking the Way as bairagi avowed! + + He has looked upon Man, and his eyeballs are clear + (There was One; there is One, and but One, saith Kabir); + The Red Mist of Doing has thinned to a cloud-- + He has taken the Path for bairagi avowed! + + To learn and discern of his brother the clod, + Of his brother the brute, and his brother the God. + He has gone from the council and put on the shroud + (“Can ye hear?” saith Kabir), a bairagi avowed! + + + + +LETTING IN THE JUNGLE + + Veil them, cover them, wall them round-- + Blossom, and creeper, and weed-- + Let us forget the sight and the sound, + The smell and the touch of the breed! + + Fat black ash by the altar-stone, + Here is the white-foot rain, + And the does bring forth in the fields unsown, + And none shall affright them again; + And the blind walls crumble, unknown, o’erthrown + And none shall inhabit again! + + +You will remember that after Mowgli had pinned Shere Khan’s hide to +the Council Rock, he told as many as were left of the Seeonee Pack that +henceforward he would hunt in the Jungle alone; and the four children of +Mother and Father Wolf said that they would hunt with him. But it is not +easy to change one’s life all in a minute--particularly in the Jungle. +The first thing Mowgli did, when the disorderly Pack had slunk off, was +to go to the home-cave, and sleep for a day and a night. Then he told +Mother Wolf and Father Wolf as much as they could understand of his +adventures among men; and when he made the morning sun flicker up and +down the blade of his skinning-knife,--the same he had skinned Shere +Khan with,--they said he had learned something. Then Akela and Gray +Brother had to explain their share of the great buffalo-drive in the +ravine, and Baloo toiled up the hill to hear all about it, and Bagheera +scratched himself all over with pure delight at the way in which Mowgli +had managed his war. + +It was long after sunrise, but no one dreamed of going to sleep, and +from time to time, during the talk, Mother Wolf would throw up her head, +and sniff a deep snuff of satisfaction as the wind brought her the smell +of the tiger-skin on the Council Rock. + +“But for Akela and Gray Brother here,” Mowgli said, at the end, “I could +have done nothing. Oh, mother, mother! if thou hadst seen the black +herd-bulls pour down the ravine, or hurry through the gates when the +Man-Pack flung stones at me!” + +“I am glad I did not see that last,” said Mother Wolf stiffly. “It is +not MY custom to suffer my cubs to be driven to and fro like jackals. +_I_ would have taken a price from the Man-Pack; but I would have spared +the woman who gave thee the milk. Yes, I would have spared her alone.” + +“Peace, peace, Raksha!” said Father Wolf, lazily. “Our Frog has come +back again--so wise that his own father must lick his feet; and what is +a cut, more or less, on the head? Leave Men alone.” Baloo and Bagheera +both echoed: “Leave Men alone.” + +Mowgli, his head on Mother Wolf’s side, smiled contentedly, and said +that, for his own part, he never wished to see, or hear, or smell Man +again. + +“But what,” said Akela, cocking one ear--“but what if men do not leave +thee alone, Little Brother?” + +“We be FIVE,” said Gray Brother, looking round at the company, and +snapping his jaws on the last word. + +“We also might attend to that hunting,” said Bagheera, with a little +switch-switch of his tail, looking at Baloo. “But why think of men now, +Akela?” + +“For this reason,” the Lone Wolf answered: “when that yellow chief’s +hide was hung up on the rock, I went back along our trail to the +village, stepping in my tracks, turning aside, and lying down, to make +a mixed trail in case one should follow us. But when I had fouled the +trail so that I myself hardly knew it again, Mang, the Bat, came hawking +between the trees, and hung up above me.” Said Mang, “The village of the +Man-Pack, where they cast out the Man-cub, hums like a hornet’s nest.” + +“It was a big stone that I threw,” chuckled Mowgli, who had often amused +himself by throwing ripe paw-paws into a hornet’s nest, and racing off +to the nearest pool before the hornets caught him. + +“I asked of Mang what he had seen. He said that the Red Flower blossomed +at the gate of the village, and men sat about it carrying guns. Now _I_ +know, for I have good cause,”--Akela looked down at the old dry scars +on his flank and side,--“that men do not carry guns for pleasure. +Presently, Little Brother, a man with a gun follows our trail--if, +indeed, he be not already on it.” + +“But why should he? Men have cast me out. What more do they need?” said +Mowgli angrily. + +“Thou art a man, Little Brother,” Akela returned. “It is not for US, the +Free Hunters, to tell thee what thy brethren do, or why.” + +He had just time to snatch up his paw as the skinning-knife cut deep +into the ground below. Mowgli struck quicker than an average human +eye could follow but Akela was a wolf; and even a dog, who is very far +removed from the wild wolf, his ancestor, can be waked out of deep sleep +by a cart-wheel touching his flank, and can spring away unharmed before +that wheel comes on. + +“Another time,” Mowgli said quietly, returning the knife to its sheath, +“speak of the Man-Pack and of Mowgli in TWO breaths--not one.” + +“Phff! That is a sharp tooth,” said Akela, snuffing at the blade’s +cut in the earth, “but living with the Man-Pack has spoiled thine eye, +Little Brother. I could have killed a buck while thou wast striking.” + +Bagheera sprang to his feet, thrust up his head as far as he could, +sniffed, and stiffened through every curve in his body. Gray Brother +followed his example quickly, keeping a little to his left to get the +wind that was blowing from the right, while Akela bounded fifty yards up +wind, and, half-crouching, stiffened too. Mowgli looked on enviously. +He could smell things as very few human beings could, but he had never +reached the hair-trigger-like sensitiveness of a Jungle nose; and his +three months in the smoky village had set him back sadly. However, he +dampened his finger, rubbed it on his nose, and stood erect to catch the +upper scent, which, though it is the faintest, is the truest. + +“Man!” Akela growled, dropping on his haunches. + +“Buldeo!” said Mowgli, sitting down. “He follows our trail, and yonder +is the sunlight on his gun. Look!” + +It was no more than a splash of sunlight, for a fraction of a second, +on the brass clamps of the old Tower musket, but nothing in the Jungle +winks with just that flash, except when the clouds race over the sky. +Then a piece of mica, or a little pool, or even a highly-polished leaf +will flash like a heliograph. But that day was cloudless and still. + +“I knew men would follow,” said Akela triumphantly. “Not for nothing +have I led the Pack.” + +The four cubs said nothing, but ran down hill on their bellies, melting +into the thorn and under-brush as a mole melts into a lawn. + +“Where go ye, and without word?” Mowgli called. + +“H’sh! We roll his skull here before mid-day!” Gray Brother answered. + +“Back! Back and wait! Man does not eat Man!” Mowgli shrieked. + +“Who was a wolf but now? Who drove the knife at me for thinking he might +be Man?” said Akela, as the four wolves turned back sullenly and dropped +to heel. + +“Am I to give reason for all I choose to, do?” said Mowgli furiously. + +“That is Man! There speaks Man!” Bagheera muttered under his whiskers. +“Even so did men talk round the King’s cages at Oodeypore. We of the +Jungle know that Man is wisest of all. If we trusted our ears we should +know that of all things he is most foolish.” Raising his voice, he +added, “The Man-cub is right in this. Men hunt in packs. To kill one, +unless we know what the others will do, is bad hunting. Come, let us see +what this Man means toward us.” + +“We will not come,” Gray Brother growled. “Hunt alone, Little Brother. +WE know our own minds. The skull would have been ready to bring by now.” + +Mowgli had been looking from one to the other of his friends, his chest +heaving and his eyes full of tears. He strode forward to the wolves, +and, dropping on one knee, said: “Do I not know my mind? Look at me!” + +They looked uneasily, and when their eyes wandered, he called them back +again and again, till their hair stood up all over their bodies, and +they trembled in every limb, while Mowgli stared and stared. + +“Now,” said he, “of us five, which is leader?” + +“Thou art leader, Little Brother,” said Gray Brother, and he licked +Mowgli’s foot. + +“Follow, then,” said Mowgli, and the four followed at his heels with +their tails between their legs. + +“This comes of living with the Man-Pack,” said Bagheera, slipping down +after them. “There is more in the Jungle now than Jungle Law, Baloo.” + +The old bear said nothing, but he thought many things. + +Mowgli cut across noiselessly through the Jungle, at right angles to +Buldeo’s path, till, parting the undergrowth, he saw the old man, his +musket on his shoulder, running up the trail of overnight at a dog-trot. + +You will remember that Mowgli had left the village with the heavy weight +of Shere Khan’s raw hide on his shoulders, while Akela and Gray Brother +trotted behind, so that the triple trail was very clearly marked. +Presently Buldeo came to where Akela, as you know, had gone back and +mixed it all up. Then he sat down, and coughed and grunted, and made +little casts round and about into the Jungle to pick it up again, and, +all the time he could have thrown a stone over those who were watching +him. No one can be so silent as a wolf when he does not care to be +heard; and Mowgli, though the wolves thought he moved very clumsily, +could come and go like a shadow. They ringed the old man as a school +of porpoises ring a steamer at full speed, and as they ringed him they +talked unconcernedly, for their speech began below the lowest end of the +scale that untrained human beings can hear. [The other end is bounded by +the high squeak of Mang, the Bat, which very many people cannot catch at +all. From that note all the bird and bat and insect talk takes on.] + +“This is better than any kill,” said Gray Brother, as Buldeo stooped +and peered and puffed. “He looks like a lost pig in the Jungles by the +river. What does he say?” Buldeo was muttering savagely. + +Mowgli translated. “He says that packs of wolves must have danced round +me. He says that he never saw such a trail in his life. He says he is +tired.” + +“He will be rested before he picks it up again,” said Bagheera coolly, +as he slipped round a tree-trunk, in the game of blindman’s-buff that +they were playing. “NOW, what does the lean thing do?” + +“Eat or blow smoke out of his mouth. Men always play with their mouths,” + said Mowgli; and the silent trailers saw the old man fill and light +and puff at a water-pipe, and they took good note of the smell of the +tobacco, so as to be sure of Buldeo in the darkest night, if necessary. + +Then a little knot of charcoal-burners came down the path, and naturally +halted to speak to Buldeo, whose fame as a hunter reached for at least +twenty miles round. They all sat down and smoked, and Bagheera and +the others came up and watched while Buldeo began to tell the story of +Mowgli, the Devil-child, from one end to another, with additions and +inventions. How he himself had really killed Shere Khan; and how Mowgli +had turned himself into a wolf, and fought with him all the afternoon, +and changed into a boy again and bewitched Buldeo’s rifle, so that the +bullet turned the corner, when he pointed it at Mowgli, and killed one +of Buldeo’s own buffaloes; and how the village, knowing him to be the +bravest hunter in Seeonee, had sent him out to kill this Devil-child. +But meantime the village had got hold of Messua and her husband, who +were undoubtedly the father and mother of this Devil-child, and had +barricaded them in their own hut, and presently would torture them to +make them confess they were witch and wizard, and then they would be +burned to death. + +“When?” said the charcoal-burners, because they would very much like to +be present at the ceremony. + +Buldeo said that nothing would be done till he returned, because the +village wished him to kill the Jungle Boy first. After that they would +dispose of Messua and her husband, and divide their lands and buffaloes +among the village. Messua’s husband had some remarkably fine buffaloes, +too. It was an excellent thing to destroy wizards, Buldeo thought; and +people who entertained Wolf-children out of the Jungle were clearly the +worst kind of witches. + +But, said the charcoal-burners, what would happen if the English heard +of it? The English, they had heard, were a perfectly mad people, who +would not let honest farmers kill witches in peace. + +Why, said Buldeo, the head-man of the village would report that Messua +and her husband had died of snake-bite. THAT was all arranged, and the +only thing now was to kill the Wolf-child. They did not happen to have +seen anything of such a creature? + +The charcoal-burners looked round cautiously, and thanked their stars +they had not; but they had no doubt that so brave a man as Buldeo would +find him if any one could. The sun was getting rather low, and they had +an idea that they would push on to Buldeo’s village and see that wicked +witch. Buldeo said that, though it was his duty to kill the Devil-child, +he could not think of letting a party of unarmed men go through the +Jungle, which might produce the Wolf-demon at any minute, without his +escort. He, therefore, would accompany them, and if the sorcerer’s child +appeared--well, he would show them how the best hunter in Seeonee dealt +with such things. The Brahmin, he said, had given him a charm against +the creature that made everything perfectly safe. + +“What says he? What says he? What says he?” the wolves repeated every +few minutes; and Mowgli translated until he came to the witch part of +the story, which was a little beyond him, and then he said that the man +and woman who had been so kind to him were trapped. + +“Does Man trap Man?” said Bagheera. + +“So he says. I cannot understand the talk. They are all mad together. +What have Messua and her man to do with me that they should be put in +a trap; and what is all this talk about the Red Flower? I must look +to this. Whatever they would do to Messua they will not do till Buldeo +returns. And so----” Mowgli thought hard, with his fingers playing round +the haft of the skinning-knife, while Buldeo and the charcoal-burners +went off very valiantly in single file. + +“I go hot-foot back to the Man-Pack,” Mowgli said at last. + +“And those?” said Gray Brother, looking hungrily after the brown backs +of the charcoal-burners. + +“Sing them home,” said Mowgli, with a grin; “I do not wish them to be at +the village gates till it is dark. Can ye hold them?” + +Gray Brother bared his white teeth in contempt. “We can head them round +and round in circles like tethered goats--if I know Man.” + +“That I do not need. Sing to them a little, lest they be lonely on the +road, and, Gray Brother, the song need not be of the sweetest. Go with +them, Bagheera, and help make that song. When night is shut down, meet +me by the village--Gray Brother knows the place.” + +“It is no light hunting to work for a Man-cub. When shall I sleep?” said +Bagheera, yawning, though his eyes showed that he was delighted with the +amusement. “Me to sing to naked men! But let us try.” + +He lowered his head so that the sound would travel, and cried a long, +long, “Good hunting”--a midnight call in the afternoon, which was quite +awful enough to begin with. Mowgli heard it rumble, and rise, and fall, +and die off in a creepy sort of whine behind him, and laughed to himself +as he ran through the Jungle. He could see the charcoal-burners huddled +in a knot; old Buldeo’s gun-barrel waving, like a banana-leaf, to every +point of the compass at once. Then Gray Brother gave the Ya-la-hi! +Yalaha! call for the buck-driving, when the Pack drives the nilghai, the +big blue cow, before them, and it seemed to come from the very ends of +the earth, nearer, and nearer, and nearer, till it ended in a shriek +snapped off short. The other three answered, till even Mowgli could have +vowed that the full Pack was in full cry, and then they all broke +into the magnificent Morning-song in the Jungle, with every turn, and +flourish, and grace-note that a deep-mouthed wolf of the Pack knows. +This is a rough rendering of the song, but you must imagine what it +sounds like when it breaks the afternoon hush of the Jungle:-- + + One moment past our bodies cast + No shadow on the plain; + Now clear and black they stride our track, + And we run home again. + In morning hush, each rock and bush + Stands hard, and high, and raw: + Then give the Call: “Good rest to all + That keep The Jungle Law!” + + Now horn and pelt our peoples melt + In covert to abide; + Now, crouched and still, to cave and hill + Our Jungle Barons glide. + Now, stark and plain, Man’s oxen strain, + That draw the new-yoked plough; + Now, stripped and dread, the dawn is red + Above the lit talao. + + Ho! Get to lair! The sun’s aflare + Behind the breathing grass: + And cracking through the young bamboo + The warning whispers pass. + By day made strange, the woods we range + With blinking eyes we scan; + While down the skies the wild duck cries + “The Day--the Day to Man!” + + The dew is dried that drenched our hide + Or washed about our way; + And where we drank, the puddled bank + Is crisping into clay. + The traitor Dark gives up each mark + Of stretched or hooded claw; + Then hear the Call: “Good rest to all + That keep the Jungle Law!” + +But no translation can give the effect of it, or the yelping scorn the +Four threw into every word of it, as they heard the trees crash when +the men hastily climbed up into the branches, and Buldeo began repeating +incantations and charms. Then they lay down and slept, for, like all who +live by their own exertions, they were of a methodical cast of mind; and +no one can work well without sleep. + +Meantime, Mowgli was putting the miles behind him, nine to the hour, +swinging on, delighted to find himself so fit after all his cramped +months among men. The one idea in his head was to get Messua and her +husband out of the trap, whatever it was; for he had a natural mistrust +of traps. Later on, he promised himself, he would pay his debts to the +village at large. + +It was at twilight when he saw the well-remembered grazing-grounds, and +the dhak-tree where Gray Brother had waited for him on the morning that +he killed Shere Khan. Angry as he was at the whole breed and community +of Man, something jumped up in his throat and made him catch his breath +when he looked at the village roofs. He noticed that every one had come +in from the fields unusually early, and that, instead of getting to +their evening cooking, they gathered in a crowd under the village tree, +and chattered, and shouted. + +“Men must always be making traps for men, or they are not content,” said +Mowgli. “Last night it was Mowgli--but that night seems many Rains ago. +To-night it is Messua and her man. To-morrow, and for very many nights +after, it will be Mowgli’s turn again.” + +He crept along outside the wall till he came to Messua’s hut, and looked +through the window into the room. There lay Messua, gagged, and bound +hand and foot, breathing hard, and groaning: her husband was tied to the +gaily-painted bedstead. The door of the hut that opened into the street +was shut fast, and three or four people were sitting with their backs to +it. + +Mowgli knew the manners and customs of the villagers very fairly. He +argued that so long as they could eat, and talk, and smoke, they would +not do anything else; but as soon as they had fed they would begin to be +dangerous. Buldeo would be coming in before long, and if his escort had +done its duty, Buldeo would have a very interesting tale to tell. So he +went in through the window, and, stooping over the man and the woman, +cut their thongs, pulling out the gags, and looked round the hut for +some milk. + +Messua was half wild with pain and fear (she had been beaten and stoned +all the morning), and Mowgli put his hand over her mouth just in time +to stop a scream. Her husband was only bewildered and angry, and sat +picking dust and things out of his torn beard. + +“I knew--I knew he would come,” Messua sobbed at last. “Now do I KNOW +that he is my son!” and she hugged Mowgli to her heart. Up to that time +Mowgli had been perfectly steady, but now he began to tremble all over, +and that surprised him immensely. + +“Why are these thongs? Why have they tied thee?” he asked, after a +pause. + +“To be put to the death for making a son of thee--what else?” said the +man sullenly. “Look! I bleed.” + +Messua said nothing, but it was at her wounds that Mowgli looked, and +they heard him grit his teeth when he saw the blood. + +“Whose work is this?” said he. “There is a price to pay.” + +“The work of all the village. I was too rich. I had too many cattle. +THEREFORE she and I are witches, because we gave thee shelter.” + +“I do not understand. Let Messua tell the tale.” + +“I gave thee milk, Nathoo; dost thou remember?” Messua said timidly. +“Because thou wast my son, whom the tiger took, and because I loved thee +very dearly. They said that I was thy mother, the mother of a devil, and +therefore worthy of death.” + +“And what is a devil?” said Mowgli. “Death I have seen.” + +The man looked up gloomily, but Messua laughed. “See!” she said to her +husband, “I knew--I said that he was no sorcerer. He is my son--my son!” + +“Son or sorcerer, what good will that do us?” the man answered. “We be +as dead already.” + +“Yonder is the road to the Jungle”--Mowgli pointed through the window. +“Your hands and feet are free. Go now.” + +“We do not know the Jungle, my son, as--as thou knowest,” Messua began. +“I do not think that I could walk far.” + +“And the men and women would be upon our backs and drag us here again,” + said the husband. + +“H’m!” said Mowgli, and he tickled the palm of his hand with the tip +of his skinning-knife; “I have no wish to do harm to any one of this +village--YET. But I do not think they will stay thee. In a little while +they will have much else to think upon. Ah!” he lifted his head and +listened to shouting and trampling outside. “So they have let Buldeo +come home at last?” + +“He was sent out this morning to kill thee,” Messua cried. “Didst thou +meet him?” + +“Yes--we--I met him. He has a tale to tell and while he is telling it +there is time to do much. But first I will learn what they mean. Think +where ye would go, and tell me when I come back.” + +He bounded through the window and ran along again outside the wall +of the village till he came within ear-shot of the crowd round the +peepul-tree. Buldeo was lying on the ground, coughing and groaning, +and every one was asking him questions. His hair had fallen about his +shoulders; his hands and legs were skinned from climbing up trees, +and he could hardly speak, but he felt the importance of his position +keenly. From time to time he said something about devils and singing +devils, and magic enchantment, just to give the crowd a taste of what +was coming. Then he called for water. + +“Bah!” said Mowgli. “Chatter--chatter! Talk, talk! Men are +blood-brothers of the Bandar-log. Now he must wash his mouth with water; +now he must blow smoke; and when all that is done he has still his story +to tell. They are very wise people--men. They will leave no one to guard +Messua till their ears are stuffed with Buldeo’s tales. And--I grow as +lazy as they!” + +He shook himself and glided back to the hut. Just as he was at the +window he felt a touch on his foot. + +“Mother,” said he, for he knew that tongue well, “what dost THOU here?” + +“I heard my children singing through the woods, and I followed the one I +loved best. Little Frog, I have a desire to see that woman who gave thee +milk,” said Mother Wolf, all wet with the dew. + +“They have bound and mean to kill her. I have cut those ties, and she +goes with her man through the Jungle.” + +“I also will follow. I am old, but not yet toothless.” Mother Wolf +reared herself up on end, and looked through the window into the dark of +the hut. + +In a minute she dropped noiselessly, and all she said was: “I gave thee +thy first milk; but Bagheera speaks truth: Man goes to Man at the last.” + +“Maybe,” said Mowgli, with a very unpleasant look on his face; “but +to-night I am very far from that trail. Wait here, but do not let her +see.” + +“THOU wast never afraid of ME, Little Frog,” said Mother Wolf, backing +into the high grass, and blotting herself out, as she knew how. + +“And now,” said Mowgli cheerfully, as he swung into the hut again, “they +are all sitting round Buldeo, who is saying that which did not happen. +When his talk is finished, they say they will assuredly come here with +the Red--with fire and burn you both. And then?” + +“I have spoken to my man,” said Messua. “Khanhiwara is thirty miles from +here, but at Khanhiwara we may find the English--” + +“And what Pack are they?” said Mowgli. + +“I do not know. They be white, and it is said that they govern all +the land, and do not suffer people to burn or beat each other without +witnesses. If we can get thither to-night, we live. Otherwise we die.” + +“Live, then. No man passes the gates to-night. But what does HE do?” + Messua’s husband was on his hands and knees digging up the earth in one +corner of the hut. + +“It is his little money,” said Messua. “We can take nothing else.” + +“Ah, yes. The stuff that passes from hand to hand and never grows +warmer. Do they need it outside this place also?” said Mowgli. + +The man stared angrily. “He is a fool, and no devil,” he muttered. “With +the money I can buy a horse. We are too bruised to walk far, and the +village will follow us in an hour.” + +“I say they will NOT follow till I choose; but a horse is well thought +of, for Messua is tired.” Her husband stood up and knotted the last +of the rupees into his waist-cloth. Mowgli helped Messua through the +window, and the cool night air revived her, but the Jungle in the +starlight looked very dark and terrible. + +“Ye know the trail to Khanhiwara?” Mowgli whispered. + +They nodded. + +“Good. Remember, now, not to be afraid. And there is no need to go +quickly. Only--only there may be some small singing in the Jungle behind +you and before.” + +“Think you we would have risked a night in the Jungle through anything +less than the fear of burning? It is better to be killed by beasts than +by men,” said Messua’s husband; but Messua looked at Mowgli and smiled. + +“I say,” Mowgli went on, just as though he were Baloo repeating an old +Jungle Law for the hundredth time to a foolish cub--“I say that not a +tooth in the Jungle is bared against you; not a foot in the Jungle is +lifted against you. Neither man nor beast shall stay you till you come +within eye-shot of Khanhiwara. There will be a watch about you.” He +turned quickly to Messua, saying, “HE does not believe, but thou wilt +believe?” + +“Ay, surely, my son. Man, ghost, or wolf of the Jungle, I believe.” + +“HE will be afraid when he hears my people singing. Thou wilt know and +understand. Go now, and slowly, for there is no need of any haste. The +gates are shut.” + +Messua flung herself sobbing at Mowgli’s feet, but he lifted her very +quickly with a shiver. Then she hung about his neck and called him every +name of blessing she could think of, but her husband looked enviously +across his fields, and said: “IF we reach Khanhiwara, and I get the ear +of the English, I will bring such a lawsuit against the Brahmin and old +Buldeo and the others as shall eat the village to the bone. They shall +pay me twice over for my crops untilled and my buffaloes unfed. I will +have a great justice.” + +Mowgli laughed. “I do not know what justice is, but--come next Rains. +and see what is left.” + +They went off toward the Jungle, and Mother Wolf leaped from her place +of hiding. + +“Follow!” said Mowgli; “and look to it that all the Jungle knows these +two are safe. Give tongue a little. I would call Bagheera.” + +The long, low howl rose and fell, and Mowgli saw Messua’s husband flinch +and turn, half minded to run back to the hut. + +“Go on,” Mowgli called cheerfully. “I said there might be singing. That +call will follow up to Khanhiwara. It is Favour of the Jungle.” + +Messua urged her husband forward, and the darkness shut down on them and +Mother Wolf as Bagheera rose up almost under Mowgli’s feet, trembling +with delight of the night that drives the Jungle People wild. + +“I am ashamed of thy brethren,” he said, purring. “What? Did they not +sing sweetly to Buldeo?” said Mowgli. + +“Too well! Too well! They made even ME forget my pride, and, by the +Broken Lock that freed me, I went singing through the Jungle as though I +were out wooing in the spring! Didst thou not hear us?” + +“I had other game afoot. Ask Buldeo if he liked the song. But where +are the Four? I do not wish one of the Man-Pack to leave the gates +to-night.” + +“What need of the Four, then?” said Bagheera, shifting from foot to +foot, his eyes ablaze, and purring louder than ever. “I can hold them, +Little Brother. Is it killing at last? The singing and the sight of the +men climbing up the trees have made me very ready. Who is Man that we +should care for him--the naked brown digger, the hairless and toothless, +the eater of earth? I have followed him all day--at noon--in the white +sunlight. I herded him as the wolves herd buck. I am Bagheera! Bagheera! +Bagheera! As I dance with my shadow, so danced I with those men. Look!” + The great panther leaped as a kitten leaps at a dead leaf whirling +overhead, struck left and right into the empty air, that sang under the +strokes, landed noiselessly, and leaped again and again, while the +half purr, half growl gathered head as steam rumbles in a boiler. “I +am Bagheera--in the jungle--in the night, and my strength is in me. Who +shall stay my stroke? Man-cub, with one blow of my paw I could beat thy +head flat as a dead frog in the summer!” + +“Strike, then!” said Mowgli, in the dialect of the village, NOT the +talk of the Jungle, and the human words brought Bagheera to a full stop, +flung back on haunches that quivered under him, his head just at the +level of Mowgli’s. Once more Mowgli stared, as he had stared at the +rebellious cubs, full into the beryl-green eyes till the red glare +behind their green went out like the light of a lighthouse shut off +twenty miles across the sea; till the eyes dropped, and the big head +with them--dropped lower and lower, and the red rasp of a tongue grated +on Mowgli’s instep. + +“Brother--Brother--Brother!” the boy whispered, stroking steadily and +lightly from the neck along the heaving back. “Be still, be still! It is +the fault of the night, and no fault of thine.” + +“It was the smells of the night,” said Bagheera penitently. “This air +cries aloud to me. But how dost THOU know?” + +Of course the air round an Indian village is full of all kinds of +smells, and to any creature who does nearly all his thinking through his +nose, smells are as maddening as music and drugs are to human beings. +Mowgli gentled the panther for a few minutes longer, and he lay down +like a cat before a fire, his paws tucked under his breast, and his eyes +half shut. + +“Thou art of the Jungle and NOT of the Jungle,” he said at last. “And I +am only a black panther. But I love thee, Little Brother.” + +“They are very long at their talk under the tree,” Mowgli said, without +noticing the last sentence. “Buldeo must have told many tales. They +should come soon to drag the woman and her man out of the trap and put +them into the Red Flower. They will find that trap sprung. Ho! ho!” + +“Nay, listen,” said Bagheera. “The fever is out of my blood now. Let +them find ME there! Few would leave their houses after meeting me. It is +not the first time I have been in a cage; and I do not think they will +tie ME with cords.” + +“Be wise, then,” said Mowgli, laughing; for he was beginning to feel as +reckless as the panther, who had glided into the hut. + +“Pah!” Bagheera grunted. “This place is rank with Man, but here is just +such a bed as they gave me to lie upon in the King’s cages at Oodeypore. +Now I lie down.” Mowgli heard the strings of the cot crack under the +great brute’s weight. “By the Broken Lock that freed me, they will think +they have caught big game! Come and sit beside me, Little Brother; we +will give them ‘good hunting’ together!” + +“No; I have another thought in my stomach. The Man-Pack shall not know +what share I have in the sport. Make thine own hunt. I do not wish to +see them.” + +“Be it so,” said Bagheera. “Ah, now they come!” + +The conference under the peepul-tree had been growing noisier and +noisier, at the far end of the village. It broke in wild yells, and +a rush up the street of men and women, waving clubs and bamboos and +sickles and knives. Buldeo and the Brahmin were at the head of it, but +the mob was close at their heels, and they cried, “The witch and the +wizard! Let us see if hot coins will make them confess! Burn the hut +over their heads! We will teach them to shelter wolf-devils! Nay, beat +them first! Torches! More torches! Buldeo, heat the gun-barrels!” + +Here was some little difficulty with the catch of the door. It had been +very firmly fastened, but the crowd tore it away bodily, and the light +of the torches streamed into the room where, stretched at full length on +the bed, his paws crossed and lightly hung down over one end, black +as the Pit, and terrible as a demon, was Bagheera. There was one +half-minute of desperate silence, as the front ranks of the crowd clawed +and tore their way back from the threshold, and in that minute +Bagheera raised his head and yawned--elaborately, carefully, and +ostentatiously--as he would yawn when he wished to insult an equal. +The fringed lips drew back and up; the red tongue curled; the lower jaw +dropped and dropped till you could see half-way down the hot gullet; and +the gigantic dog-teeth stood clear to the pit of the gums till they rang +together, upper and under, with the snick of steel-faced wards shooting +home round the edges of a safe. Next instant the street was empty; +Bagheera had leaped back through the window, and stood at Mowgli’s +side, while a yelling, screaming torrent scrambled and tumbled one over +another in their panic haste to get to their own huts. + +“They will not stir till day comes,” said Bagheera quietly. “And now?” + +The silence of the afternoon sleep seemed to have overtaken the village; +but, as they listened, they could hear the sound of heavy grain-boxes +being dragged over earthen floors and set down against doors. Bagheera +was quite right; the village would not stir till daylight. Mowgli sat +still, and thought, and his face grew darker and darker. + +“What have I done?” said Bagheera, at last coming to his feet, fawning. + +“Nothing but great good. Watch them now till the day. I sleep.” Mowgli +ran off into the Jungle, and dropped like a dead man across a rock, and +slept and slept the day round, and the night back again. + +When he waked, Bagheera was at his side, and there was a newly-killed +buck at his feet. Bagheera watched curiously while Mowgli went to work +with his skinning-knife, ate and drank, and turned over with his chin in +his hands. + +“The man and the woman are come safe within eye-shot of Khanhiwara,” + Bagheera said. “Thy lair mother sent the word back by Chil, the Kite. +They found a horse before midnight of the night they were freed, and +went very quickly. Is not that well?” + +“That is well,” said Mowgli. + +“And thy Man-Pack in the village did not stir till the sun was high this +morning. Then they ate their food and ran back quickly to their houses.” + +“Did they, by chance, see thee?” + +“It may have been. I was rolling in the dust before the gate at dawn, +and I may have made also some small song to myself. Now, Little Brother, +there is nothing more to do. Come hunting with me and Baloo. He has new +hives that he wishes to show, and we all desire thee back again as of +old. Take off that look which makes even me afraid! The man and woman +will not be put into the Red Flower, and all goes well in the Jungle. Is +it not true? Let us forget the Man-Pack.” + +“They shall be forgotten in a little while. Where does Hathi feed +to-night?” + +“Where he chooses. Who can answer for the Silent One? But why? What is +there Hathi can do which we cannot?” + +“Bid him and his three sons come here to me.” + +“But, indeed, and truly, Little Brother, it is not--it is not seemly +to say ‘Come,’ and ‘Go,’ to Hathi. Remember, he is the Master of the +Jungle, and before the Man-Pack changed the look on thy face, he taught +thee the Master-words of the Jungle.” + +“That is all one. I have a Master-word for him now. Bid him come to +Mowgli, the Frog: and if he does not hear at first, bid him come because +of the Sack of the Fields of Bhurtpore.” + +“The Sack of the Fields of Bhurtpore,” Bagheera repeated two or three +times to make sure. “I go. Hathi can but be angry at the worst, and +I would give a moon’s hunting to hear a Master-word that compels the +Silent One.” + +He went away, leaving Mowgli stabbing furiously with his skinning-knife +into the earth. Mowgli had never seen human blood in his life before +till he had seen, and--what meant much more to him--smelled Messua’s +blood on the thongs that bound her. And Messua had been kind to +him, and, so far as he knew anything about love, he loved Messua as +completely as he hated the rest of mankind. But deeply as he loathed +them, their talk, their cruelty, and their cowardice, not for anything +the Jungle had to offer could he bring himself to take a human life, and +have that terrible scent of blood back again in his nostrils. His plan +was simpler, but much more thorough; and he laughed to himself when he +thought that it was one of old Buldeo’s tales told under the peepul-tree +in the evening that had put the idea into his head. + +“It WAS a Master-word,” Bagheera whispered in his ear. “They were +feeding by the river, and they obeyed as though they were bullocks. Look +where they come now!” + +Hathi and his three sons had arrived, in their usual way, without a +sound. The mud of the river was still fresh on their flanks, and Hathi +was thoughtfully chewing the green stem of a young plantain-tree that he +had gouged up with his tusks. But every line in his vast body showed to +Bagheera, who could see things when he came across them, that it was not +the Master of the Jungle speaking to a Man-cub, but one who was afraid +coming before one who was not. His three sons rolled side by side, +behind their father. + +Mowgli hardly lifted his head as Hathi gave him “Good hunting.” He kept +him swinging and rocking, and shifting from one foot to another, for +a long time before he spoke; and when he opened his mouth it was to +Bagheera, not to the elephants. + +“I will tell a tale that was told to me by the hunter ye hunted to-day,” + said Mowgli. “It concerns an elephant, old and wise, who fell into a +trap, and the sharpened stake in the pit scarred him from a little above +his heel to the crest of his shoulder, leaving a white mark.” Mowgli +threw out his hand, and as Hathi wheeled the moonlight showed a long +white scar on his slaty side, as though he had been struck with a +red-hot whip. “Men came to take him from the trap,” Mowgli continued, +“but he broke his ropes, for he was strong, and went away till his +wound was healed. Then came he, angry, by night to the fields of +those hunters. And I remember now that he had three sons. These things +happened many, many Rains ago, and very far away--among the fields of +Bhurtpore. What came to those fields at the next reaping, Hathi?” + +“They were reaped by me and by my three sons,” said Hathi. + +“And to the ploughing that follows the reaping?” said Mowgli. + +“There was no ploughing,” said Hathi. + +“And to the men that live by the green crops on the ground?” said +Mowgli. + +“They went away.” + +“And to the huts in which the men slept?” said Mowgli. + +“We tore the roofs to pieces, and the Jungle swallowed up the walls,” + said Hathi. + +“And what more?” said Mowgli. + +“As much good ground as I can walk over in two nights from the east to +the west, and from the north to the south as much as I can walk over in +three nights, the Jungle took. We let in the Jungle upon five villages; +and in those villages, and in their lands, the grazing-ground and the +soft crop-grounds, there is not one man to-day who takes his food from +the ground. That was the Sack of the Fields of Bhurtpore, which I and +my three sons did; and now I ask, Man-cub, how the news of it came to +thee?” said Hathi. + +“A man told me, and now I see even Buldeo can speak truth. It was well +done, Hathi with the white mark; but the second time it shall be done +better, for the reason that there is a man to direct. Thou knowest the +village of the Man-Pack that cast me out? They are idle, senseless, and +cruel; they play with their mouths, and they do not kill the weaker for +food, but for sport. When they are full-fed they would throw their own +breed into the Red Flower. This I have seen. It is not well that they +should live here any more. I hate them!” + +“Kill, then,” said the youngest of Hathi’s three sons, picking up a tuft +of grass, dusting it against his fore-legs, and throwing it away, while +his little red eyes glanced furtively from side to side. + +“What good are white bones to me?” Mowgli answered angrily. “Am I the +cub of a wolf to play in the sun with a raw head? I have killed Shere +Khan, and his hide rots on the Council Rock; but--but I do not know +whither Shere Khan is gone, and my stomach is still empty. Now I +will take that which I can see and touch. Let in the Jungle upon that +village, Hathi!” + +Bagheera shivered, and cowered down. He could understand, if the worst +came to the worst, a quick rush down the village street, and a right and +left blow into a crowd, or a crafty killing of men as they ploughed in +the twilight; but this scheme for deliberately blotting out an entire +village from the eyes of man and beast frightened him. Now he saw why +Mowgli had sent for Hathi. No one but the long-lived elephant could plan +and carry through such a war. + +“Let them run as the men ran from the fields of Bhurtpore, till we have +the rain-water for the only plough, and the noise of the rain on the +thick leaves for the pattering of their spindles--till Bagheera and I +lair in the house of the Brahmin, and the buck drink at the tank behind +the temple! Let in the Jungle, Hathi!” + +“But I--but we have no quarrel with them, and it needs the red rage +of great pain ere we tear down the places where men sleep,” said Hathi +doubtfully. + +“Are ye the only eaters of grass in the Jungle? Drive in your peoples. +Let the deer and the pig and the nilghai look to it. Ye need never show +a hand’s-breadth of hide till the fields are naked. Let in the Jungle, +Hathi!” + +“There will be no killing? My tusks were red at the Sack of the Fields +of Bhurtpore, and I would not wake that smell again.” + +“Nor I. I do not wish even their bones to lie on the clean earth. Let +them go and find a fresh lair. They cannot stay here. I have seen and +smelled the blood of the woman that gave me food--the woman whom they +would have killed but for me. Only the smell of the new grass on their +door-steps can take away that smell. It burns in my mouth. Let in the +Jungle, Hathi!” + +“Ah!” said Hathi. “So did the scar of the stake burn on my hide till we +watched the villages die under in the spring growth. Now I see. Thy war +shall be our war. We will let in the jungle!” + +Mowgli had hardly time to catch his breath--he was shaking all over with +rage and hate before the place where the elephants had stood was empty, +and Bagheera was looking at him with terror. + +“By the Broken Lock that freed me!” said the Black Panther at last. “Art +THOU the naked thing I spoke for in the Pack when all was young? +Master of the Jungle, when my strength goes, speak for me--speak for +Baloo--speak for us all! We are cubs before thee! Snapped twigs under +foot! Fawns that have lost their doe!” + +The idea of Bagheera being a stray fawn upset Mowgli altogether, and he +laughed and caught his breath, and sobbed and laughed again, till he had +to jump into a pool to make himself stop. Then he swam round and round, +ducking in and out of the bars of the moonlight like the frog, his +namesake. + +By this time Hathi and his three sons had turned, each to one point of +the compass, and were striding silently down the valleys a mile away. +They went on and on for two days’ march--that is to say, a long sixty +miles--through the Jungle; and every step they took, and every wave of +their trunks, was known and noted and talked over by Mang and Chil and +the Monkey People and all the birds. Then they began to feed, and fed +quietly for a week or so. Hathi and his sons are like Kaa, the Rock +Python. They never hurry till they have to. + +At the end of that time--and none knew who had started it--a rumour went +through the Jungle that there was better food and water to be found in +such and such a valley. The pig--who, of course, will go to the ends of +the earth for a full meal--moved first by companies, scuffling over the +rocks, and the deer followed, with the small wild foxes that live on +the dead and dying of the herds; and the heavy-shouldered nilghai moved +parallel with the deer, and the wild buffaloes of the swamps came after +the nilghai. The least little thing would have turned the scattered, +straggling droves that grazed and sauntered and drank and grazed again; +but whenever there was an alarm some one would rise up and soothe them. +At one time it would be Ikki the Porcupine, full of news of good feed +just a little farther on; at another Mang would cry cheerily and flap +down a glade to show it was all empty; or Baloo, his mouth full of +roots, would shamble alongside a wavering line and half frighten, half +romp it clumsily back to the proper road. Very many creatures broke back +or ran away or lost interest, but very many were left to go forward. At +the end of another ten days or so the situation was this. The deer and +the pig and the nilghai were milling round and round in a circle of +eight or ten miles radius, while the Eaters of Flesh skirmished round +its edge. And the centre of that circle was the village, and round the +village the crops were ripening, and in the crops sat men on what they +call machans--platforms like pigeon-perches, made of sticks at the top +of four poles--to scare away birds and other stealers. Then the deer +were coaxed no more. The Eaters of Flesh were close behind them, and +forced them forward and inward. + +It was a dark night when Hathi and his three sons slipped down from the +Jungle, and broke off the poles of the machans with their trunks; they +fell as a snapped stalk of hemlock in bloom falls, and the men that +tumbled from them heard the deep gurgling of the elephants in their +ears. Then the vanguard of the bewildered armies of the deer broke down +and flooded into the village grazing-grounds and the ploughed fields; +and the sharp-hoofed, rooting wild pig came with them, and what the deer +left the pig spoiled, and from time to time an alarm of wolves would +shake the herds, and they would rush to and fro desperately, treading +down the young barley, and cutting flat the banks of the irrigating +channels. Before the dawn broke the pressure on the outside of the +circle gave way at one point. The Eaters of Flesh had fallen back and +left an open path to the south, and drove upon drove of buck fled along +it. Others, who were bolder, lay up in the thickets to finish their meal +next night. + +But the work was practically done. When the villagers looked in the +morning they saw their crops were lost. And that meant death if they did +not get away, for they lived year in and year out as near to starvation +as the Jungle was near to them. When the buffaloes were sent to graze +the hungry brutes found that the deer had cleared the grazing-grounds, +and so wandered into the Jungle and drifted off with their wild mates; +and when twilight fell the three or four ponies that belonged to the +village lay in their stables with their heads beaten in. Only Bagheera +could have given those strokes, and only Bagheera would have thought of +insolently dragging the last carcass to the open street. + +The villagers had no heart to make fires in the fields that night, so +Hathi and his three sons went gleaning among what was left; and where +Hathi gleans there is no need to follow. The men decided to live on +their stored seed-corn until the rains had fallen, and then to take +work as servants till they could catch up with the lost year; but as +the grain-dealer was thinking of his well-filled crates of corn, and the +prices he would levy at the sale of it, Hathi’s sharp tusks were picking +out the corner of his mud-house, and smashing open the big wicker chest, +leeped with cow-dung, where the precious stuff lay. + +When that last loss was discovered, it was the Brahmin’s turn to speak. +He had prayed to his own Gods without answer. It might be, he said, +that, unconsciously, the village had offended some one of the Gods of +the Jungle, for, beyond doubt, the Jungle was against them. So they sent +for the head-man of the nearest tribe of wandering Gonds--little, wise, +and very black hunters, living in the deep Jungle, whose fathers came of +the oldest race in India--the aboriginal owners of the land. They made +the Gond welcome with what they had, and he stood on one leg, his bow in +his hand, and two or three poisoned arrows stuck through his top-knot, +looking half afraid and half contemptuously at the anxious villagers +and their ruined fields. They wished to know whether his Gods--the Old +Gods--were angry with them and what sacrifices should be offered. The +Gond said nothing, but picked up a trail of the Karela, the vine that +bears the bitter wild gourd, and laced it to and fro across the temple +door in the face of the staring red Hindu image. Then he pushed with his +hand in the open air along the road to Khanhiwara, and went back to his +Jungle, and watched the Jungle People drifting through it. He knew that +when the Jungle moves only white men can hope to turn it aside. + +There was no need to ask his meaning. The wild gourd would grow where +they had worshipped their God, and the sooner they saved themselves the +better. + +But it is hard to tear a village from its moorings. They stayed on as +long as any summer food was left to them, and they tried to gather nuts +in the Jungle, but shadows with glaring eyes watched them, and rolled +before them even at mid-day; and when they ran back afraid to their +walls, on the tree-trunks they had passed not five minutes before the +bark would be stripped and chiselled with the stroke of some great +taloned paw. The more they kept to their village, the bolder grew the +wild things that gambolled and bellowed on the grazing-grounds by the +Waingunga. They had no time to patch and plaster the rear walls of the +empty byres that backed on to the Jungle; the wild pig trampled them +down, and the knotty-rooted vines hurried after and threw their elbows +over the new-won ground, and the coarse grass bristled behind the vines +like the lances of a goblin army following a retreat. The unmarried men +ran away first, and carried the news far and near that the village was +doomed. Who could fight, they said, against the Jungle, or the Gods +of the Jungle, when the very village cobra had left his hole in the +platform under the peepul-tree? So their little commerce with the +outside world shrunk as the trodden paths across the open grew fewer +and fainter. At last the nightly trumpetings of Hathi and his three sons +ceased to trouble them; for they had no more to be robbed of. The crop +on the ground and the seed in the ground had been taken. The outlying +fields were already losing their shape, and it was time to throw +themselves on the charity of the English at Khanhiwara. + +Native fashion, they delayed their departure from one day to another +till the first Rains caught them and the unmended roofs let in a flood, +and the grazing-ground stood ankle deep, and all life came on with a +rush after the heat of the summer. Then they waded out--men, women, +and children--through the blinding hot rain of the morning, but turned +naturally for one farewell look at their homes. + +They heard, as the last burdened family filed through the gate, a crash +of falling beams and thatch behind the walls. They saw a shiny, +snaky black trunk lifted for an instant, scattering sodden thatch. It +disappeared, and there was another crash, followed by a squeal. Hathi +had been plucking off the roofs of the huts as you pluck water-lilies, +and a rebounding beam had pricked him. He needed only this to unchain +his full strength, for of all things in the Jungle the wild elephant +enraged is the most wantonly destructive. He kicked backward at a mud +wall that crumbled at the stroke, and, crumbling, melted to yellow +mud under the torrent of rain. Then he wheeled and squealed, and tore +through the narrow streets, leaning against the huts right and left, +shivering the crazy doors, and crumpling up the caves; while his +three sons raged behind as they had raged at the Sack of the Fields of +Bhurtpore. + +“The Jungle will swallow these shells,” said a quiet voice in the +wreckage. “It is the outer wall that must lie down,” and Mowgli, with +the rain sluicing over his bare shoulders and arms, leaped back from a +wall that was settling like a tired buffalo. + +“All in good time,” panted Hathi. “Oh, but my tusks were red at +Bhurtpore; To the outer wall, children! With the head! Together! Now!” + +The four pushed side by side; the outer wall bulged, split, and fell, +and the villagers, dumb with horror, saw the savage, clay-streaked +heads of the wreckers in the ragged gap. Then they fled, houseless and +foodless, down the valley, as their village, shredded and tossed and +trampled, melted behind them. + +A month later the place was a dimpled mound, covered with soft, green +young stuff; and by the end of the Rains there was the roaring jungle in +full blast on the spot that had been under plough not six months before. + + + + +MOWGLI’S SONG AGAINST PEOPLE + + I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines-- + I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines! + The roofs shall fade before it, + The house-beams shall fall, + And the Karela, the bitter Karela, + Shall cover it all! + + In the gates of these your councils my people shall sing, + In the doors of these your garners the Bat-folk shall cling; + And the snake shall be your watchman, + By a hearthstone unswept; + For the Karela, the bitter Karela, + Shall fruit where ye slept! + + Ye shall not see my strikers; ye shall hear them and guess; + By night, before the moon-rise, I will send for my cess, + And the wolf shall be your herdsman + By a landmark removed, + For the Karela, the bitter Karela, + Shall seed where ye loved! + + I will reap your fields before you at the hands of a host; + Ye shall glean behind my reapers, for the bread that is lost, + And the deer shall be your oxen + By a headland untilled, + For the Karela, the bitter Karela, + Shall leaf where ye build! + + I have untied against you the club-footed vines, + I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines. + The trees--the trees are on you! + The house-beams shall fall, + And the Karela, the bitter Karela, + Shall cover you all! + + + + +THE UNDERTAKERS + + When ye say to Tabaqui, “My Brother!” when ye call the + Hyena to meat, + Ye may cry the Full Truce with Jacala--the Belly that runs + on four feet. + Jungle Law + +“Respect the aged!” + +“It was a thick voice--a muddy voice that would have made you shudder--a +voice like something soft breaking in two. There was a quaver in it, a +croak and a whine. + +“Respect the aged! O Companions of the River--respect the aged!” + +Nothing could be seen on the broad reach of the river except a +little fleet of square-sailed, wooden-pinned barges, loaded with +building-stone, that had just come under the railway bridge, and were +driving down-stream. They put their clumsy helms over to avoid the +sand-bar made by the scour of the bridge-piers, and as they passed, +three abreast, the horrible voice began again: + +“O Brahmins of the River--respect the aged and infirm!” + +A boatman turned where he sat on the gunwale, lifted up his hand, said +something that was not a blessing, and the boats creaked on through +the twilight. The broad Indian river, that looked more like a chain +of little lakes than a stream, was as smooth as glass, reflecting the +sandy-red sky in mid-channel, but splashed with patches of yellow and +dusky purple near and under the low banks. Little creeks ran into the +river in the wet season, but now their dry mouths hung clear above +water-line. On the left shore, and almost under the railway bridge, +stood a mud-and-brick and thatch-and-stick village, whose main street, +full of cattle going back to their byres, ran straight to the river, and +ended in a sort of rude brick pier-head, where people who wanted to +wash could wade in step by step. That was the Ghaut of the village of +Mugger-Ghaut. + +Night was falling fast over the fields of lentils and rice and cotton +in the low-lying ground yearly flooded by the river; over the reeds +that fringed the elbow of the bend, and the tangled jungle of the +grazing-grounds behind the still reeds. The parrots and crows, who had +been chattering and shouting over their evening drink, had flown inland +to roost, crossing the out-going battalions of the flying-foxes; and +cloud upon cloud of water-birds came whistling and “honking” to +the cover of the reed-beds. There were geese, barrel-headed and +black-backed, teal, widgeon, mallard, and sheldrake, with curlews, and +here and there a flamingo. + +A lumbering Adjutant-crane brought up the rear, flying as though each +slow stroke would be his last. + +“Respect the aged! Brahmins of the River--respect the aged!” + +The Adjutant half turned his head, sheered a little in the direction of +the voice, and landed stiffly on the sand-bar below the bridge. Then you +saw what a ruffianly brute he really was. His back view was immensely +respectable, for he stood nearly six feet high, and looked rather like a +very proper bald-headed parson. In front it was different, for his Ally +Sloper-like head and neck had not a feather to them, and there was a +horrible raw-skin pouch on his neck under his chin--a hold-all for the +things his pick-axe beak might steal. His legs were long and thin and +skinny, but he moved them delicately, and looked at them with pride as +he preened down his ashy-gray tail-feathers, glanced over the smooth of +his shoulder, and stiffened into “Stand at attention.” + +A mangy little Jackal, who had been yapping hungrily on a low bluff, +cocked up his ears and tail, and scuttered across the shallows to join +the Adjutant. + +He was the lowest of his caste--not that the best of jackals are good +for much, but this one was peculiarly low, being half a beggar, half a +criminal--a cleaner-up of village rubbish-heaps, desperately timid or +wildly bold, everlastingly hungry, and full of cunning that never did +him any good. + +“Ugh!” he said, shaking himself dolefully as he landed. “May the red +mange destroy the dogs of this village! I have three bites for each flea +upon me, and all because I looked--only looked, mark you--at an old shoe +in a cow-byre. Can I eat mud?” He scratched himself under his left ear. + +“I heard,” said the Adjutant, in a voice like a blunt saw going through +a thick board--“I HEARD there was a new-born puppy in that same shoe.” + +“To hear is one thing; to know is another,” said the Jackal, who had a +very fair knowledge of proverbs, picked up by listening to men round the +village fires of an evening. + +“Quite true. So, to make sure, I took care of that puppy while the dogs +were busy elsewhere.” + +“They were VERY busy,” said the Jackal. “Well, I must not go to the +village hunting for scraps yet awhile. And so there truly was a blind +puppy in that shoe?” + +“It is here,” said the Adjutant, squinting over his beak at his full +pouch. “A small thing, but acceptable now that charity is dead in the +world.” + +“Ahai! The world is iron in these days,” wailed the Jackal. Then his +restless eye caught the least possible ripple on the water, and he went +on quickly: “Life is hard for us all, and I doubt not that even our +excellent master, the Pride of the Ghaut and the Envy of the River----” + +“A liar, a flatterer, and a Jackal were all hatched out of the same +egg,” said the Adjutant to nobody in particular; for he was rather a +fine sort of a liar on his own account when he took the trouble. + +“Yes, the Envy of the River,” the Jackal repeated, raising his voice. +“Even he, I doubt not, finds that since the bridge has been built good +food is more scarce. But on the other hand, though I would by no means +say this to his noble face, he is so wise and so virtuous--as I, alas I +am not----” + +“When the Jackal owns he is gray, how black must the Jackal be!” + muttered the Adjutant. He could not see what was coming. + +“That his food never fails, and in consequence----” + +There was a soft grating sound, as though a boat had just touched in +shoal water. The Jackal spun round quickly and faced (it is always +best to face) the creature he had been talking about. It was a +twenty-four-foot crocodile, cased in what looked like treble-riveted +boiler-plate, studded and keeled and crested; the yellow points of his +upper teeth just overhanging his beautifully fluted lower jaw. It +was the blunt-nosed Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut, older than any man in the +village, who had given his name to the village; the demon of the ford +before the railway bridge, came--murderer, man-eater, and local fetish +in one. He lay with his chin in the shallows, keeping his place by an +almost invisible rippling of his tail, and well the Jackal knew that one +stroke of that same tail in the water would carry the Mugger up the bank +with the rush of a steam-engine. + +“Auspiciously met, Protector of the Poor!” he fawned, backing at every +word. “A delectable voice was heard, and we came in the hopes of sweet +conversation. My tailless presumption, while waiting here, led me, +indeed, to speak of thee. It is my hope that nothing was overheard.” + +Now the Jackal had spoken just to be listened to, for he knew flattery +was the best way of getting things to eat, and the Mugger knew that +the Jackal had spoken for this end, and the Jackal knew that the Mugger +knew, and the Mugger knew that the Jackal knew that the Mugger knew, and +so they were all very contented together. + +The old brute pushed and panted and grunted up the bank, mumbling, +“Respect the aged and infirm!” and all the time his little eyes burned +like coals under the heavy, horny eyelids on the top of his triangular +head, as he shoved his bloated barrel-body along between his crutched +legs. Then he settled down, and, accustomed as the Jackal was to his +ways, he could not help starting, for the hundredth time, when he saw +how exactly the Mugger imitated a log adrift on the bar. He had even +taken pains to lie at the exact angle a naturally stranded log would +make with the water, having regard to the current of the season at the +time and place. All this was only a matter of habit, of course, because +the Mugger had come ashore for pleasure; but a crocodile is never quite +full, and if the Jackal had been deceived by the likeness he would not +have lived to philosophise over it. + +“My child, I heard nothing,” said the Mugger, shutting one eye. “The +water was in my ears, and also I was faint with hunger. Since the +railway bridge was built my people at my village have ceased to love me; +and that is breaking my heart.” + +“Ah, shame!” said the Jackal. “So noble a heart, too! But men are all +alike, to my mind.” + +“Nay, there are very great differences indeed,” the Mugger answered +gently. “Some are as lean as boat-poles. Others again are fat as +young ja--dogs. Never would I causelessly revile men. They are of all +fashions, but the long years have shown me that, one with another, they +are very good. Men, women, and children--I have no fault to find with +them. And remember, child, he who rebukes the World is rebuked by the +World.” + +“Flattery is worse than an empty tin can in the belly. But that which we +have just heard is wisdom,” said the Adjutant, bringing down one foot. + +“Consider, though, their ingratitude to this excellent one,” began the +Jackal tenderly. + +“Nay, nay, not ingratitude!” the Mugger said. “They do not think for +others; that is all. But I have noticed, lying at my station below the +ford, that the stairs of the new bridge are cruelly hard to climb, both +for old people and young children. The old, indeed, are not so worthy of +consideration, but I am grieved--I am truly grieved--on account of the +fat children. Still, I think, in a little while, when the newness of the +bridge has worn away, we shall see my people’s bare brown legs bravely +splashing through the ford as before. Then the old Mugger will be +honoured again.” + +“But surely I saw Marigold wreaths floating off the edge of the Ghaut +only this noon,” said the Adjutant. + +Marigold wreaths are a sign of reverence all India over. + +“An error--an error. It was the wife of the sweetmeat-seller. She loses +her eyesight year by year, and cannot tell a log from me--the Mugger of +the Ghaut. I saw the mistake when she threw the garland, for I was lying +at the very foot of the Ghaut, and had she taken another step I might +have shown her some little difference. Yet she meant well, and we must +consider the spirit of the offering.” + +“What good are marigold wreaths when one is on the rubbish-heap?” said +the Jackal, hunting for fleas, but keeping one wary eye on his Protector +of the Poor. + +“True, but they have not yet begun to make the rubbish-heap that shall +carry ME. Five times have I seen the river draw back from the village +and make new land at the foot of the street. Five times have I seen the +village rebuilt on the banks, and I shall see it built yet five times +more. I am no faithless, fish-hunting Gavial, I, at Kasi to-day and +Prayag to-morrow, as the saying is, but the true and constant watcher of +the ford. It is not for nothing, child, that the village bears my name, +and ‘he who watches long,’ as the saying is, ‘shall at last have his +reward.’” + +“_I_ have watched long--very long--nearly all my life, and my reward has +been bites and blows,” said the Jackal. + +“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the Adjutant. + + “In August was the Jackal born; + The Rains fell in September; + ‘Now such a fearful flood as this,’ + Says he, ‘I can’t remember!’” + +There is one very unpleasant peculiarity about the Adjutant. At +uncertain times he suffers from acute attacks of the fidgets or cramp +in his legs, and though he is more virtuous to behold than any of the +cranes, who are all immensely respectable, he flies off into wild, +cripple-stilt war-dances, half opening his wings and bobbing his bald +head up and down; while for reasons best known to himself he is very +careful to time his worst attacks with his nastiest remarks. At the last +word of his song he came to attention again, ten times adjutaunter than +before. + +The Jackal winced, though he was full three seasons old, but you cannot +resent an insult from a person with a beak a yard long, and the power of +driving it like a javelin. The Adjutant was a most notorious coward, but +the Jackal was worse. + +“We must live before we can learn,” said the Mugger, “and there is this +to say: Little jackals are very common, child, but such a mugger as I am +is not common. For all that, I am not proud, since pride is destruction; +but take notice, it is Fate, and against his Fate no one who swims or +walks or runs should say anything at all. I am well contented with Fate. +With good luck, a keen eye, and the custom of considering whether a +creek or a backwater has an outlet to it ere you ascend, much may be +done.” + +“Once I heard that even the Protector of the Poor made a mistake,” said +the Jackal viciously. + +“True; but there my Fate helped me. It was before I had come to my +full growth--before the last famine but three (by the Right and Left of +Gunga, how full used the streams to be in those days!). Yes, I was young +and unthinking, and when the flood came, who so pleased as I? A little +made me very happy then. The village was deep in flood, and I swam above +the Ghaut and went far inland, up to the rice-fields, and they were deep +in good mud. I remember also a pair of bracelets (glass they were, +and troubled me not a little) that I found that evening. Yes, glass +bracelets; and, if my memory serves me well, a shoe. I should have +shaken off both shoes, but I was hungry. I learned better later. Yes. +And so I fed and rested me; but when I was ready to go to the river +again the flood had fallen, and I walked through the mud of the main +street. Who but I? Came out all my people, priests and women and +children, and I looked upon them with benevolence. The mud is not a good +place to fight in. Said a boatman, ‘Get axes and kill him, for he is the +Mugger of the ford.’ ‘Not so,’ said the Brahmin. ‘Look, he is driving +the flood before him! He is the godling of the village.’ Then they +threw many flowers at me, and by happy thought one led a goat across the +road.” + +“How good--how very good is goat!” said the Jackal. + +“Hairy--too hairy, and when found in the water more than likely to hide +a cross-shaped hook. But that goat I accepted, and went down to the +Ghaut in great honour. Later, my Fate sent me the boatman who had +desired to cut off my tail with an axe. His boat grounded upon an old +shoal which you would not remember.” + +“We are not ALL jackals here,” said the Adjutant. “Was it the shoal made +where the stone-boats sank in the year of the great drouth--a long shoal +that lasted three floods?” + +“There were two,” said the Mugger; “an upper and a lower shoal.” + +“Ay, I forgot. A channel divided them, and later dried up again,” said +the Adjutant, who prided himself on his memory. + +“On the lower shoal my well-wisher’s craft grounded. He was sleeping in +the bows, and, half awake, leaped over to his waist--no, it was no more +than to his knees--to push off. His empty boat went on and touched again +below the next reach, as the river ran then. I followed, because I knew +men would come out to drag it ashore.” + +“And did they do so?” said the Jackal, a little awe-stricken. This was +hunting on a scale that impressed him. + +“There and lower down they did. I went no farther, but that gave me +three in one day--well-fed manjis (boatmen) all, and, except in the +case of the last (then I was careless), never a cry to warn those on the +bank.” + +“Ah, noble sport! But what cleverness and great judgment it requires!” + said the Jackal. + +“Not cleverness, child, but only thought. A little thought in life +is like salt upon rice, as the boatmen say, and I have thought deeply +always. The Gavial, my cousin, the fish-eater, has told me how hard it +is for him to follow his fish, and how one fish differs from the other, +and how he must know them all, both together and apart. I say that is +wisdom; but, on the other hand, my cousin, the Gavial, lives among his +people. MY people do not swim in companies, with their mouths out of the +water, as Rewa does; nor do they constantly rise to the surface of the +water, and turn over on their sides, like Mohoo and little Chapta; nor +do they gather in shoals after flood, like Batchua and Chilwa.” + +“All are very good eating,” said the Adjutant, clattering his beak. + +“So my cousin says, and makes a great to-do over hunting them, but +they do not climb the banks to escape his sharp nose. MY people are +otherwise. Their life is on the land, in the houses, among the cattle. +I must know what they do, and what they are about to do; and adding the +tail to the trunk, as the saying is, I make up the whole elephant. Is +there a green branch and an iron ring hanging over a doorway? The old +Mugger knows that a boy has been born in that house, and must some +day come down to the Ghaut to play. Is a maiden to be married? The old +Mugger knows, for he sees the men carry gifts back and forth; and she, +too, comes down to the Ghaut to bathe before her wedding, and--he is +there. Has the river changed its channel, and made new land where there +was only sand before? The Mugger knows.” + +“Now, of what use is that knowledge?” said the Jackal. “The river has +shifted even in my little life.” Indian rivers are nearly always moving +about in their beds, and will shift, sometimes, as much as two or three +miles in a season, drowning the fields on one bank, and spreading good +silt on the other. + +“There is no knowledge so useful,” said the Mugger, “for new land means +new quarrels. The Mugger knows. Oho! the Mugger knows. As soon as the +water has drained off, he creeps up the little creeks that men think +would not hide a dog, and there he waits. Presently comes a farmer +saying he will plant cucumbers here, and melons there, in the new land +that the river has given him. He feels the good mud with his bare +toes. Anon comes another, saying he will put onions, and carrots, and +sugar-cane in such and such places. They meet as boats adrift meet, +and each rolls his eye at the other under the big blue turban. The old +Mugger sees and hears. Each calls the other ‘Brother,’ and they go to +mark out the boundaries of the new land. The Mugger hurries with them +from point to point, shuffling very low through the mud. Now they begin +to quarrel! Now they say hot words! Now they pull turbans! Now they lift +up their lathis (clubs), and, at last, one falls backward into the mud, +and the other runs away. When he comes back the dispute is settled, as +the iron-bound bamboo of the loser witnesses. Yet they are not grateful +to the Mugger. No, they cry ‘Murder!’ and their families fight with +sticks, twenty a-side. My people are good people--upland Jats--Malwais +of the Bet. They do not give blows for sport, and, when the fight is +done, the old Mugger waits far down the river, out of sight of the +village, behind the kikar-scrub yonder. Then come they down, my +broad-shouldered Jats--eight or nine together under the stars, bearing +the dead man upon a bed. They are old men with gray beards, and voices +as deep as mine. They light a little fire--ah! how well I know that +fire!--and they drink tobacco, and they nod their heads together forward +in a ring, or sideways toward the dead man upon the bank. They say the +English Law will come with a rope for this matter, and that such a man’s +family will be ashamed, because such a man must be hanged in the great +square of the Jail. Then say the friends of the dead, ‘Let him hang!’ +and the talk is all to do over again--once, twice, twenty times in the +long night. Then says one, at last, ‘The fight was a fair fight. Let us +take blood-money, a little more than is offered by the slayer, and we +will say no more about it.’ Then do they haggle over the blood-money, +for the dead was a strong man, leaving many sons. Yet before amratvela +(sunrise) they put the fire to him a little, as the custom is, and the +dead man comes to me, and HE says no more about it. Aha! my children, +the Mugger knows--the Mugger knows--and my Malwah Jats are a good +people!” + +“They are too close--too narrow in the hand for my crop,” croaked the +Adjutant. “They waste not the polish on the cow’s horn, as the saying +is; and, again, who can glean after a Malwai?” + +“Ah, I--glean--THEM,” said the Mugger. + +“Now, in Calcutta of the South, in the old days,” the Adjutant went on, +“everything was thrown into the streets, and we picked and chose. Those +wore dainty seasons. But to-day they keep their streets as clean as the +outside of an egg, and my people fly away. To be clean is one thing; +to dust, sweep, and sprinkle seven times a day wearies the very Gods +themselves.” + +“There was a down-country jackal had it from a brother, who told me, +that in Calcutta of the South all the jackals were as fat as otters in +the Rains,” said the Jackal, his mouth watering at the bare thought of +it. + +“Ah, but the white-faces are there--the English, and they bring dogs +from somewhere down the river in boats--big fat dogs--to keep those same +jackals lean,” said the Adjutant. + +“They are, then, as hard-hearted as these people? I might have known. +Neither earth, sky, nor water shows charity to a jackal. I saw the tents +of a white-face last season, after the Rains, and I also took a new +yellow bridle to eat. The white-faces do not dress their leather in the +proper way. It made me very sick.” + +“That was better than my case,” said the Adjutant. “When I was in my +third season, a young and a bold bird, I went down to the river where +the big boats come in. The boats of the English are thrice as big as +this village.” + +“He has been as far as Delhi, and says all the people there walk on +their heads,” muttered the Jackal. The Mugger opened his left eye, and +looked keenly at the Adjutant. + +“It is true,” the big bird insisted. “A liar only lies when he hopes +to be believed. No one who had not seen those boats COULD believe this +truth.” + +“THAT is more reasonable,” said the Mugger. “And then?” + +“From the insides of this boat they were taking out great pieces of +white stuff, which, in a little while, turned to water. Much split off, +and fell about on the shore, and the rest they swiftly put into a house +with thick walls. But a boatman, who laughed, took a piece no larger +than a small dog, and threw it to me. I--all my people--swallow without +reflection, and that piece I swallowed as is our custom. Immediately I +was afflicted with an excessive cold which, beginning in my crop, ran +down to the extreme end of my toes, and deprived me even of speech, +while the boatmen laughed at me. Never have I felt such cold. I danced +in my grief and amazement till I could recover my breath and then +I danced and cried out against the falseness of this world; and the +boatmen derided me till they fell down. The chief wonder of the matter, +setting aside that marvellous coldness, was that there was nothing at +all in my crop when I had finished my lamentings!” + +The Adjutant had done his very best to describe his feelings after +swallowing a seven-pound lump of Wenham Lake ice, off an American +ice-ship, in the days before Calcutta made her ice by machinery; but +as he did not know what ice was, and as the Mugger and the Jackal knew +rather less, the tale missed fire. + +“Anything,” said the Mugger, shutting his left eye again--“ANYTHING is +possible that comes out of a boat thrice the size of Mugger-Ghaut. My +village is not a small one.” + +There was a whistle overhead on the bridge, and the Delhi Mail +slid across, all the carriages gleaming with light, and the shadows +faithfully following along the river. It clanked away into the dark +again; but the Mugger and the Jackal were so well used to it that they +never turned their heads. + +“Is that anything less wonderful than a boat thrice the size of +Mugger-Ghaut?” said the bird, looking up. + +“I saw that built, child. Stone by stone I saw the bridge-piers rise, +and when the men fell off (they were wondrous sure-footed for the most +part--but WHEN they fell) I was ready. After the first pier was made +they never thought to look down the stream for the body to burn. There, +again, I saved much trouble. There was nothing strange in the building +of the bridge,” said the Mugger. + +“But that which goes across, pulling the roofed carts! That is strange,” + the Adjutant repeated. “It is, past any doubt, a new breed of bullock. +Some day it will not be able to keep its foothold up yonder, and will +fall as the men did. The old Mugger will then be ready.” + +The Jackal looked at the Adjutant and the Adjutant looked at the Jackal. +If there was one thing they were more certain of than another, it was +that the engine was everything in the wide world except a bullock. The +Jackal had watched it time and again from the aloe hedges by the side of +the line, and the Adjutant had seen engines since the first locomotive +ran in India. But the Mugger had only looked up at the thing from below, +where the brass dome seemed rather like a bullock’s hump. + +“M--yes, a new kind of bullock,” the Mugger repeated ponderously, +to make himself quite sure in his own mind; and “Certainly it is a +bullock,” said the Jackal. + +“And again it might be----” began the Mugger pettishly. + +“Certainly--most certainly,” said the Jackal, without waiting for the +other to finish. + +“What?” said the Mugger angrily, for he could feel that the others knew +more than he did. “What might it be? _I_ never finished my words. You +said it was a bullock.” + +“It is anything the Protector of the Poor pleases. I am HIS servant--not +the servant of the thing that crosses the river.” + +“Whatever it is, it is white-face work,” said the Adjutant; “and for my +own part, I would not lie out upon a place so near to it as this bar.” + +“You do not know the English as I do,” said the Mugger. “There was a +white-face here when the bridge was built, and he would take a boat +in the evenings and shuffle with his feet on the bottom-boards, and +whisper: ‘Is he here? Is he there? Bring me my gun.’ I could hear him +before I could see him--each sound that he made--creaking and puffing +and rattling his gun, up and down the river. As surely as I had picked +up one of his workmen, and thus saved great expense in wood for the +burning, so surely would he come down to the Ghaut, and shout in a loud +voice that he would hunt me, and rid the river of me--the Mugger of +Mugger-Ghaut! ME! Children, I have swum under the bottom of his boat for +hour after hour, and heard him fire his gun at logs; and when I was well +sure he was wearied, I have risen by his side and snapped my jaws in his +face. When the bridge was finished he went away. All the English hunt in +that fashion, except when they are hunted.” + +“Who hunts the white-faces?” yapped the Jackal excitedly. + +“No one now, but I have hunted them in my time.” + +“I remember a little of that Hunting. I was young then,” said the +Adjutant, clattering his beak significantly. + +“I was well established here. My village was being builded for the third +time, as I remember, when my cousin, the Gavial, brought me word of rich +waters above Benares. At first I would not go, for my cousin, who is a +fish-eater, does not always know the good from the bad; but I heard my +people talking in the evenings, and what they said made me certain.” + +“And what did they say?” the Jackal asked. + +“They said enough to make me, the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut, leave water +and take to my feet. I went by night, using the littlest streams as they +served me; but it was the beginning of the hot weather, and all streams +were low. I crossed dusty roads; I went through tall grass; I climbed +hills in the moonlight. Even rocks did I climb, children--consider this +well. I crossed the tail of Sirhind, the waterless, before I could +find the set of the little rivers that flow Gungaward. I was a month’s +journey from my own people and the river that I knew. That was very +marvellous!” + +“What food on the way?” said the Jackal, who kept his soul in his little +stomach, and was not a bit impressed by the Mugger’s land travels. + +“That which I could find--COUSIN,” said the Mugger slowly, dragging each +word. + +Now you do not call a man a cousin in India unless you think you can +establish some kind of blood-relationship, and as it is only in old +fairy-tales that the Mugger ever marries a jackal, the Jackal knew for +what reason he had been suddenly lifted into the Mugger’s family circle. +If they had been alone he would not have cared, but the Adjutant’s eyes +twinkled with mirth at the ugly jest. + +“Assuredly, Father, I might have known,” said the Jackal. A mugger +does not care to be called a father of jackals, and the Mugger of +Mugger-Ghaut said as much--and a great deal more which there is no use +in repeating here. + +“The Protector of the Poor has claimed kinship. How can I remember the +precise degree? Moreover, we eat the same food. He has said it,” was the +Jackal’s reply. + +That made matters rather worse, for what the Jackal hinted at was that +the Mugger must have eaten his food on that land-march fresh and fresh +every day, instead of keeping it by him till it was in a fit and proper +condition, as every self-respecting mugger and most wild beasts do when +they can. Indeed, one of the worst terms of contempt along the River-bed +is “eater of fresh meat.” It is nearly as bad as calling a man a +cannibal. + +“That food was eaten thirty seasons ago,” said the Adjutant quietly. “If +we talk for thirty seasons more it will never come back. Tell us, now, +what happened when the good waters were reached after thy most wonderful +land journey. If we listened to the howling of every jackal the business +of the town would stop, as the saying is.” + +The Mugger must have been grateful for the interruption, because he went +on, with a rush: + +“By the Right and Left of Gunga! when I came there never did I see such +waters!” + +“Were they better, then, than the big flood of last season?” said the +Jackal. + +“Better! That flood was no more than comes every five years--a handful +of drowned strangers, some chickens, and a dead bullock in muddy water +with cross-currents. But the season I think of, the river was low, +smooth, and even, and, as the Gavial had warned me, the dead English +came down, touching each other. I got my girth in that season--my +girth and my depth. From Agra, by Etawah and the broad waters by +Allahabad----” + +“Oh, the eddy that set under the walls of the fort at Allahabad!” said +the Adjutant. “They came in there like widgeon to the reeds, and round +and round they swung--thus!” + +He went off into his horrible dance again, while the Jackal looked on +enviously. He naturally could not remember the terrible year of the +Mutiny they were talking about. The Mugger continued: + +“Yes, by Allahabad one lay still in the slack-water and let twenty go +by to pick one; and, above all, the English were not cumbered with +jewellery and nose-rings and anklets as my women are nowadays. To +delight in ornaments is to end with a rope for a necklace, as the saying +is. All the muggers of all the rivers grew fat then, but it was my Fate +to be fatter than them all. The news was that the English were being +hunted into the rivers, and by the Right and Left of Gunga! we believed +it was true. So far as I went south I believed it to be true; and I went +down-stream beyond Monghyr and the tombs that look over the river.” + +“I know that place,” said the Adjutant. “Since those days Monghyr is a +lost city. Very few live there now.” + +“Thereafter I worked up-stream very slowly and lazily, and a little +above Monghyr there came down a boatful of white-faces--alive! They +were, as I remember, women, lying under a cloth spread over sticks, and +crying aloud. There was never a gun fired at us, the watchers of the +fords in those days. All the guns were busy elsewhere. We could hear +them day and night inland, coming and going as the wind shifted. I rose +up full before the boat, because I had never seen white-faces alive, +though I knew them well--otherwise. A naked white child kneeled by the +side of the boat, and, stooping over, must needs try to trail his hands +in the river. It is a pretty thing to see how a child loves running +water. I had fed that day, but there was yet a little unfilled space +within me. Still, it was for sport and not for food that I rose at the +child’s hands. They were so clear a mark that I did not even look when I +closed; but they were so small that though my jaws rang true--I am sure +of that--the child drew them up swiftly, unhurt. They must have passed +between tooth and tooth--those small white hands. I should have caught +him cross-wise at the elbows; but, as I said, it was only for sport and +desire to see new things that I rose at all. They cried out one after +another in the boat, and presently I rose again to watch them. The boat +was too heavy to push over. They were only women, but he who trusts +a woman will walk on duckweed in a pool, as the saying is: and by the +Right and Left of Gunga, that is truth!” + +“Once a woman gave me some dried skin from a fish,” said the Jackal. “I +had hoped to get her baby, but horse-food is better than the kick of a +horse, as the saying is. What did thy woman do?” + +“She fired at me with a short gun of a kind I have never seen before or +since. Five times, one after another” (the Mugger must have met with an +old-fashioned revolver); “and I stayed open-mouthed and gaping, my head +in the smoke. Never did I see such a thing. Five times, as swiftly as I +wave my tail--thus!” + +The Jackal, who had been growing more and more interested in the story, +had just time to leap back as the huge tail swung by like a scythe. + +“Not before the fifth shot,” said the Mugger, as though he had never +dreamed of stunning one of his listeners--“not before the fifth shot +did I sink, and I rose in time to hear a boatman telling all those +white women that I was most certainly dead. One bullet had gone under +a neck-plate of mine. I know not if it is there still, for the reason I +cannot turn my head. Look and see, child. It will show that my tale is +true.” + +“I?” said the Jackal. “Shall an eater of old shoes, a bone-cracker, +presume, to doubt the word of the Envy of the River? May my tail be +bitten off by blind puppies if the shadow of such a thought has crossed +my humble mind! The Protector of the Poor has condescended to inform me, +his slave, that once in his life he has been wounded by a woman. That is +sufficient, and I will tell the tale to all my children, asking for no +proof.” + +“Over-much civility is sometimes no better than over-much discourtesy, +for, as the saying is, one can choke a guest with curds. I do NOT desire +that any children of thine should know that the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut +took his only wound from a woman. They will have much else to think of +if they get their meat as miserably as does their father.” + +“It is forgotten long ago! It was never said! There never was a white +woman! There was no boat! Nothing whatever happened at all.” + +The Jackal waved his brush to show how completely everything was wiped +out of his memory, and sat down with an air. + +“Indeed, very many things happened,” said the Mugger, beaten in his +second attempt that night to get the better of his friend. (Neither bore +malice, however. Eat and be eaten was fair law along the river, and the +Jackal came in for his share of plunder when the Mugger had finished +a meal.) “I left that boat and went up-stream, and, when I had reached +Arrah and the back-waters behind it, there were no more dead English. +The river was empty for a while. Then came one or two dead, in red +coats, not English, but of one kind all--Hindus and Purbeeahs--then five +and six abreast, and at last, from Arrah to the North beyond Agra, it +was as though whole villages had walked into the water. They came out +of little creeks one after another, as the logs come down in the Rains. +When the river rose they rose also in companies from the shoals they +had rested upon; and the falling flood dragged them with it across the +fields and through the Jungle by the long hair. All night, too, going +North, I heard the guns, and by day the shod feet of men crossing fords, +and that noise which a heavy cart-wheel makes on sand under water; and +every ripple brought more dead. At last even I was afraid, for I said: +‘If this thing happen to men, how shall the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut +escape?’ There were boats, too, that came up behind me without sails, +burning continually, as the cotton-boats sometimes burn, but never +sinking.” + +“Ah!” said the Adjutant. “Boats like those come to Calcutta of the +South. They are tall and black, they beat up the water behind them with +a tail, and they----” + +“Are thrice as big as my village. MY boats were low and white; they beat +up the water on either side of them and were no larger than the boats +of one who speaks truth should be. They made me very afraid, and I +left water and went back to this my river, hiding by day and walking +by night, when I could not find little streams to help me. I came to +my village again, but I did not hope to see any of my people there. +Yet they were ploughing and sowing and reaping, and going to and fro in +their fields, as quietly as their own cattle.” + +“Was there still good food in the river?” said the Jackal. + +“More than I had any desire for. Even I--and I do not eat mud--even +I was tired, and, as I remember, a little frightened of this constant +coming down of the silent ones. I heard my people say in my village +that all the English were dead; but those that came, face down, with the +current were NOT English, as my people saw. Then my people said that it +was best to say nothing at all, but to pay the tax and plough the land. +After a long time the river cleared, and those that came down it had +been clearly drowned by the floods, as I could well see; and though it +was not so easy then to get food, I was heartily glad of it. A little +killing here and there is no bad thing--but even the Mugger is sometimes +satisfied, as the saying is.” + +“Marvellous! Most truly marvellous!” said the Jackal. “I am become fat +through merely hearing about so much good eating. And afterward what, if +it be permitted to ask, did the Protector of the Poor do?” + +“I said to myself--and by the Right and Left of Gunga! I locked my jaws +on that vow--I said I would never go roving any more. So I lived by the +Ghaut, very close to my own people, and I watched over them year after +year; and they loved me so much that they threw marigold wreaths at my +head whenever they saw it lift. Yes, and my Fate has been very kind to +me, and the river is good enough to respect my poor and infirm presence; +only----” + +“No one is all happy from his beak to his tail,” said the Adjutant +sympathetically. “What does the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut need more?” + +“That little white child which I did not get,” said the Mugger, with a +deep sigh. “He was very small, but I have not forgotten. I am old now, +but before I die it is my desire to try one new thing. It is true they +are a heavy-footed, noisy, and foolish people, and the sport would be +small, but I remember the old days above Benares, and, if the child +lives, he will remember still. It may be he goes up and down the bank +of some river, telling how he once passed his hands between the teeth of +the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut, and lived to make a tale of it. My Fate has +been very kind, but that plagues me sometimes in my dreams--the thought +of the little white child in the bows of that boat.” He yawned, and +closed his jaws. “And now I will rest and think. Keep silent, my +children, and respect the aged.” + +He turned stiffly, and shuffled to the top of the sand-bar, while the +Jackal drew back with the Adjutant to the shelter of a tree stranded on +the end nearest the railway bridge. + +“That was a pleasant and profitable life,” he grinned, looking up +inquiringly at the bird who towered above him. “And not once, mark you, +did he think fit to tell me where a morsel might have been left along +the banks. Yet I have told HIM a hundred times of good things wallowing +down-stream. How true is the saying, ‘All the world forgets the Jackal +and the Barber when the news has been told!’ Now he is going to sleep! +Arrh!” + +“How can a jackal hunt with a Mugger?” said the Adjutant coolly. “Big +thief and little thief; it is easy to say who gets the pickings.” + +The Jackal turned, whining impatiently, and was going to curl himself +up under the tree-trunk, when suddenly he cowered, and looked up through +the draggled branches at the bridge almost above his head. + +“What now?” said the Adjutant, opening his wings uneasily. + +“Wait till we see. The wind blows from us to them, but they are not +looking for us--those two men.” + +“Men, is it? My office protects me. All India knows I am holy.” The +Adjutant, being a first-class scavenger, is allowed to go where he +pleases, and so this one never flinched. + +“I am not worth a blow from anything better than an old shoe,” said the +Jackal, and listened again. “Hark to that footfall!” he went on. “That +was no country leather, but the shod foot of a white-face. Listen +again! Iron hits iron up there! It is a gun! Friend, those heavy-footed, +foolish English are coming to speak with the Mugger.” + +“Warn him, then. He was called Protector of the Poor by some one not +unlike a starving Jackal but a little time ago.” + +“Let my cousin protect his own hide. He has told me again and again +there is nothing to fear from the white-faces. They must be white-faces. +Not a villager of Mugger-Ghaut would dare to come after him. See, I said +it was a gun! Now, with good luck, we shall feed before daylight. He +cannot hear well out of water, and--this time it is not a woman!” + +A shiny barrel glittered for a minute in the moonlight on the girders. +The Mugger was lying on the sand-bar as still as his own shadow, his +fore-feet spread out a little, his head dropped between them, snoring +like a--mugger. + +A voice on the bridge whispered: “It’s an odd shot--straight down +almost--but as safe as houses. Better try behind the neck. Golly! what +a brute! The villagers will be wild if he’s shot, though. He’s the deota +[godling] of these parts.” + +“Don’t care a rap,” another voice answered; “he took about fifteen of my +best coolies while the bridge was building, and it’s time he was put +a stop to. I’ve been after him in a boat for weeks. Stand by with the +Martini as soon as I’ve given him both barrels of this.” + +“Mind the kick, then. A double four-bore’s no joke.” + +“That’s for him to decide. Here goes!” + +There was a roar like the sound of a small cannon (the biggest sort of +elephant-rifle is not very different from some artillery), and a double +streak of flame, followed by the stinging crack of a Martini, whose long +bullet makes nothing of a crocodile’s plates. But the explosive bullets +did the work. One of them struck just behind the Mugger’s neck, a +hand’s-breadth to the left of the backbone, while the other burst a +little lower down, at the beginning of the tail. In ninety-nine cases +out of a hundred a mortally-wounded crocodile can scramble to deep water +and get away; but the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut was literally broken into +three pieces. He hardly moved his head before the life went out of him, +and he lay as flat as the Jackal. + +“Thunder and lightning! Lightning and thunder!” said that miserable +little beast. “Has the thing that pulls the covered carts over the +bridge tumbled at last?” + +“It is no more than a gun,” said the Adjutant, though his very +tail-feathers quivered. “Nothing more than a gun. He is certainly dead. +Here come the white-faces.” + +The two Englishmen had hurried down from the bridge and across to the +sand-bar, where they stood admiring the length of the Mugger. Then a +native with an axe cut off the big head, and four men dragged it across +the spit. + +“The last time that I had my hand in a Mugger’s mouth,” said one of the +Englishmen, stooping down (he was the man who had built the bridge), “it +was when I was about five years old--coming down the river by boat to +Monghyr. I was a Mutiny baby, as they call it. Poor mother was in the +boat, too, and she often told me how she fired dad’s old pistol at the +beast’s head.” + +“Well, you’ve certainly had your revenge on the chief of the clan--even +if the gun has made your nose bleed. Hi, you boatmen! Haul that head up +the bank, and we’ll boil it for the skull. The skin’s too knocked about +to keep. Come along to bed now. This was worth sitting up all night for, +wasn’t it?” + +***** + +Curiously enough, the Jackal and the Adjutant made the very same remark +not three minutes after the men had left. + + + + +A RIPPLE SONG + + Once a ripple came to land + In the golden sunset burning-- + Lapped against a maiden’s hand, + By the ford returning. + + Dainty foot and gentle breast-- + Here, across, be glad and rest. + “Maiden, wait,” the ripple saith. + “Wait awhile, for I am Death!” + + “Where my lover calls I go-- + Shame it were to treat him coldly-- + ‘Twas a fish that circled so, + Turning over boldly.” + + Dainty foot and tender heart, + Wait the loaded ferry-cart. + “Wait, ah, wait!” the ripple saith; + “Maiden, wait, for I am Death!” + + “When my lover calls I haste-- + Dame Disdain was never wedded!” + Ripple-ripple round her waist, + Clear the current eddied. + + Foolish heart and faithful hand, + Little feet that touched no land. + Far away the ripple sped, + Ripple--ripple--running red! + + + + +THE KING’S ANKUS + + These are the Four that are never content, that have never + been filled since the Dews began-- + Jacala’s mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the + Ape, and the Eyes of Man. + Jungle Saying. + +Kaa, the big Rock Python, had changed his skin for perhaps the +two-hundredth time since his birth; and Mowgli, who never forgot that +he owed his life to Kaa for a night’s work at Cold Lairs, which you may +perhaps remember, went to congratulate him. Skin-changing always makes +a snake moody and depressed till the new skin begins to shine and look +beautiful. Kaa never made fun of Mowgli any more, but accepted him, as +the other Jungle People did, for the Master of the Jungle, and brought +him all the news that a python of his size would naturally hear. What +Kaa did not know about the Middle Jungle, as they call it,--the life +that runs close to the earth or under it, the boulder, burrow, and +the tree-bole life,--might have been written upon the smallest of his +scales. + +That afternoon Mowgli was sitting in the circle of Kaa’s great coils, +fingering the flaked and broken old skin that lay all looped and twisted +among the rocks just as Kaa had left it. Kaa had very courteously packed +himself under Mowgli’s broad, bare shoulders, so that the boy was really +resting in a living arm-chair. + +“Even to the scales of the eyes it is perfect,” said Mowgli, under his +breath, playing with the old skin. “Strange to see the covering of one’s +own head at one’s own feet!” + +“Ay, but I lack feet,” said Kaa; “and since this is the custom of all +my people, I do not find it strange. Does thy skin never feel old and +harsh?” + +“Then go I and wash, Flathead; but, it is true, in the great heats I +have wished I could slough my skin without pain, and run skinless.” + +“I wash, and ALSO I take off my skin. How looks the new coat?” + +Mowgli ran his hand down the diagonal checkerings of the immense back. +“The Turtle is harder-backed, but not so gay,” he said judgmatically. +“The Frog, my name-bearer, is more gay, but not so hard. It is very +beautiful to see--like the mottling in the mouth of a lily.” + +“It needs water. A new skin never comes to full colour before the first +bath. Let us go bathe.” + +“I will carry thee,” said Mowgli; and he stooped down, laughing, to +lift the middle section of Kaa’s great body, just where the barrel was +thickest. A man might just, as well have tried to heave up a two-foot +water-main; and Kaa lay still, puffing with quiet amusement. Then the +regular evening game began--the Boy in the flush of his great strength, +and the Python in his sumptuous new skin, standing up one against the +other for a wrestling match--a trial of eye and strength. Of course, +Kaa could have crushed a dozen Mowglis if he had let himself go; but he +played carefully, and never loosed one-tenth of his power. Ever since +Mowgli was strong enough to endure a little rough handling, Kaa had +taught him this game, and it suppled his limbs as nothing else could. +Sometimes Mowgli would stand lapped almost to his throat in Kaa’s +shifting coils, striving to get one arm free and catch him by +the throat. Then Kaa would give way limply, and Mowgli, with both +quick-moving feet, would try to cramp the purchase of that huge tail as +it flung backward feeling for a rock or a stump. They would rock to +and fro, head to head, each waiting for his chance, till the beautiful, +statue-like group melted in a whirl of black-and-yellow coils and +struggling legs and arms, to rise up again and again. “Now! now! now!” + said Kaa, making feints with his head that even Mowgli’s quick hand +could not turn aside. “Look! I touch thee here, Little Brother! Here, +and here! Are thy hands numb? Here again!” + +The game always ended in one way--with a straight, driving blow of the +head that knocked the boy over and over. Mowgli could never learn the +guard for that lightning lunge, and, as Kaa said, there was not the +least use in trying. + +“Good hunting!” Kaa grunted at last; and Mowgli, as usual, was shot away +half a dozen yards, gasping and laughing. He rose with his fingers full +of grass, and followed Kaa to the wise snake’s pet bathing-place--a +deep, pitchy-black pool surrounded with rocks, and made interesting by +sunken tree-stumps. The boy slipped in, Jungle-fashion, without a sound, +and dived across; rose, too, without a sound, and turned on his back, +his arms behind his head, watching the moon rising above the rocks, +and breaking up her reflection in the water with his toes. Kaa’s +diamond-shaped head cut the pool like a razor, and came out to rest +on Mowgli’s shoulder. They lay still, soaking luxuriously in the cool +water. + +“It is VERY good,” said Mowgli at last, sleepily. “Now, in the Man-Pack, +at this hour, as I remember, they laid them down upon hard pieces of +wood in the inside of a mud-trap, and, having carefully shut out all the +clean winds, drew foul cloth over their heavy heads and made evil songs +through their noses. It is better in the Jungle.” + +A hurrying cobra slipped down over a rock and drank, gave them “Good +hunting!” and went away. + +“Sssh!” said Kaa, as though he had suddenly remembered something. “So +the Jungle gives thee all that thou hast ever desired, Little Brother?” + +“Not all,” said Mowgli, laughing; “else there would be a new and strong +Shere Khan to kill once a moon. Now, I could kill with my own hands, +asking no help of buffaloes. And also I have wished the sun to shine in +the middle of the Rains, and the Rains to cover the sun in the deep of +summer; and also I have never gone empty but I wished that I had killed +a goat; and also I have never killed a goat but I wished it had been +buck; nor buck but I wished it had been nilghai. But thus do we feel, +all of us.” + +“Thou hast no other desire?” the big snake demanded. + +“What more can I wish? I have the Jungle, and the favour of the Jungle! +Is there more anywhere between sunrise and sunset?” + +“Now, the Cobra said----” Kaa began. “What cobra? He that went away just +now said nothing. He was hunting.” + +“It was another.” + +“Hast thou many dealings with the Poison People? I give them their own +path. They carry death in the fore-tooth, and that is not good--for they +are so small. But what hood is this thou hast spoken with?” + +Kaa rolled slowly in the water like a steamer in a beam sea. “Three or +four moons since,” said he, “I hunted in Cold Lairs, which place thou +hast not forgotten. And the thing I hunted fled shrieking past the tanks +and to that house whose side I once broke for thy sake, and ran into the +ground.” + +“But the people of Cold Lairs do not live in burrows.” Mowgli knew that +Kaa was telling of the Monkey People. + +“This thing was not living, but seeking to live,” Kaa replied, with +a quiver of his tongue. “He ran into a burrow that led very far. I +followed, and having killed, I slept. When I waked I went forward.” + +“Under the earth?” + +“Even so, coming at last upon a White Hood [a white cobra], who spoke of +things beyond my knowledge, and showed me many things I had never before +seen.” + +“New game? Was it good hunting?” Mowgli turned quickly on his side. + +“It was no game, and would have broken all my teeth; but the White Hood +said that a man--he spoke as one that knew the breed--that a man would +give the breath under his ribs for only the sight of those things.” + +“We will look,” said Mowgli. “I now remember that I was once a man.” + +“Slowly--slowly. It was haste killed the Yellow Snake that ate the sun. +We two spoke together under the earth, and I spoke of thee, naming thee +as a man. Said the White Hood (and he is indeed as old as the Jungle): +‘It is long since I have seen a man. Let him come, and he shall see all +these things, for the least of which very many men would die.’” + +“That MUST be new game. And yet the Poison People do not tell us when +game is afoot. They are an unfriendly folk.” + +“It is NOT game. It is--it is--I cannot say what it is.” + +“We will go there. I have never seen a White Hood, and I wish to see the +other things. Did he kill them?” + +“They are all dead things. He says he is the keeper of them all.” + +“Ah! As a wolf stands above meat he has taken to his own lair. Let us +go.” + +Mowgli swam to bank, rolled on the grass to dry himself, and the two +set off for Cold Lairs, the deserted city of which you may have heard. +Mowgli was not the least afraid of the Monkey People in those days, +but the Monkey People had the liveliest horror of Mowgli. Their tribes, +however, were raiding in the Jungle, and so Cold Lairs stood empty and +silent in the moonlight. Kaa led up to the ruins of the queens’ pavilion +that stood on the terrace, slipped over the rubbish, and dived down +the half-choked staircase that went underground from the centre of +the pavilion. Mowgli gave the snake-call,--“We be of one blood, ye and +I,”--and followed on his hands and knees. They crawled a long distance +down a sloping passage that turned and twisted several times, and at +last came to where the root of some great tree, growing thirty feet +overhead, had forced out a solid stone in the wall. They crept through +the gap, and found themselves in a large vault, whose domed roof had +been also broken away by tree-roots so that a few streaks of light +dropped down into the darkness. + +“A safe lair,” said Mowgli, rising to his firm feet, “but over-far to +visit daily. And now what do we see?” + +“Am I nothing?” said a voice in the middle of the vault; and Mowgli saw +something white move till, little by little, there stood up the hugest +cobra he had ever set eyes on--a creature nearly eight feet long, +and bleached by being in darkness to an old ivory-white. Even the +spectacle-marks of his spread hood had faded to faint yellow. His eyes +were as red as rubies, and altogether he was most wonderful. + +“Good hunting!” said Mowgli, who carried his manners with his knife, and +that never left him. + +“What of the city?” said the White Cobra, without answering the +greeting. “What of the great, the walled city--the city of a hundred +elephants and twenty thousand horses, and cattle past counting--the city +of the King of Twenty Kings? I grow deaf here, and it is long since I +heard their war-gongs.” + +“The Jungle is above our heads,” said Mowgli. “I know only Hathi and his +sons among elephants. Bagheera has slain all the horses in one village, +and--what is a King?” + +“I told thee,” said Kaa softly to the Cobra,--“I told thee, four moons +ago, that thy city was not.” + +“The city--the great city of the forest whose gates are guarded by the +King’s towers--can never pass. They builded it before my father’s father +came from the egg, and it shall endure when my son’s sons are as white +as I! Salomdhi, son of Chandrabija, son of Viyeja, son of Yegasuri, made +it in the days of Bappa Rawal. Whose cattle are YE?” + +“It is a lost trail,” said Mowgli, turning to Kaa. “I know not his +talk.” + +“Nor I. He is very old. Father of Cobras, there is only the Jungle here, +as it has been since the beginning.” + +“Then who is HE,” said the White Cobra, “sitting down before me, +unafraid, knowing not the name of the King, talking our talk through a +man’s lips? Who is he with the knife and the snake’s tongue?” + +“Mowgli they call me,” was the answer. “I am of the Jungle. The wolves +are my people, and Kaa here is my brother. Father of Cobras, who art +thou?” + +“I am the Warden of the King’s Treasure. Kurrun Raja builded the stone +above me, in the days when my skin was dark, that I might teach death +to those who came to steal. Then they let down the treasure through the +stone, and I heard the song of the Brahmins my masters.” + +“Umm!” said Mowgli to himself. “I have dealt with one Brahmin already, +in the Man-Pack, and--I know what I know. Evil comes here in a little.” + +“Five times since I came here has the stone been lifted, but always to +let down more, and never to take away. There are no riches like these +riches--the treasures of a hundred kings. But it is long and long since +the stone was last moved, and I think that my city has forgotten.” + +“There is no city. Look up. Yonder are roots of the great trees tearing +the stones apart. Trees and men do not grow together,” Kaa insisted. + +“Twice and thrice have men found their way here,” the White Cobra +answered savagely; “but they never spoke till I came upon them groping +in the dark, and then they cried only a little time. But ye come with +lies, Man and Snake both, and would have me believe the city is not, and +that my wardship ends. Little do men change in the years. But I change +never! Till the stone is lifted, and the Brahmins come down singing the +songs that I know, and feed me with warm milk, and take me to the light +again, I--I--_I_, and no other, am the Warden of the King’s Treasure! +The city is dead, ye say, and here are the roots of the trees? Stoop +down, then, and take what ye will. Earth has no treasure like to these. +Man with the snake’s tongue, if thou canst go alive by the way that thou +hast entered it, the lesser Kings will be thy servants!” + +“Again the trail is lost,” said Mowgli coolly. “Can any jackal have +burrowed so deep and bitten this great White Hood? He is surely mad. +Father of Cobras, I see nothing here to take away.” + +“By the Gods of the Sun and Moon, it is the madness of death upon the +boy!” hissed the Cobra. “Before thine eyes close I will allow thee this +favour. Look thou, and see what man has never seen before!” + +“They do not well in the Jungle who speak to Mowgli of favours,” said +the boy, between his teeth; “but the dark changes all, as I know. I will +look, if that please thee.” + +He stared with puckered-up eyes round the vault, and then lifted up from +the floor a handful of something that glittered. + +“Oho!” said he, “this is like the stuff they play with in the Man-Pack: +only this is yellow and the other was brown.” + +He let the gold pieces fall, and move forward. The floor of the vault +was buried some five or six feet deep in coined gold and silver that had +burst from the sacks it had been originally stored in, and, in the long +years, the metal had packed and settled as sand packs at low tide. On it +and in it and rising through it, as wrecks lift through the sand, were +jewelled elephant-howdahs of embossed silver, studded with plates of +hammered gold, and adorned with carbuncles and turquoises. There were +palanquins and litters for carrying queens, framed and braced with +silver and enamel, with jade-handled poles and amber curtain-rings; +there were golden candlesticks hung with pierced emeralds that quivered +on the branches; there were studded images, five feet high, of forgotten +gods, silver with jewelled eyes; there were coats of mail, gold inlaid +on steel, and fringed with rotted and blackened seed-pearls; there +were helmets, crested and beaded with pigeon’s-blood rubies; there were +shields of lacquer, of tortoise-shell and rhinoceros-hide, strapped +and bossed with red gold and set with emeralds at the edge; there were +sheaves of diamond-hilted swords, daggers, and hunting-knives; there +were golden sacrificial bowls and ladles, and portable altars of a shape +that never sees the light of day; there were jade cups and bracelets; +there were incense-burners, combs, and pots for perfume, henna, and +eye-powder, all in embossed gold; there were nose-rings, armlets, +head-bands, finger-rings, and girdles past any counting; there were +belts, seven fingers broad, of square-cut diamonds and rubies, and +wooden boxes, trebly clamped with iron, from which the wood had fallen +away in powder, showing the pile of uncut star-sapphires, opals, +cat’s-eyes, sapphires, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and garnets within. + +The White Cobra was right. No mere money would begin to pay the value of +this treasure, the sifted pickings of centuries of war, plunder, trade, +and taxation. The coins alone were priceless, leaving out of count all +the precious stones; and the dead weight of the gold and silver alone +might be two or three hundred tons. Every native ruler in India to-day, +however poor, has a hoard to which he is always adding; and though, once +in a long while, some enlightened prince may send off forty or fifty +bullock-cart loads of silver to be exchanged for Government securities, +the bulk of them keep their treasure and the knowledge of it very +closely to themselves. + +But Mowgli naturally did not understand what these things meant. The +knives interested him a little, but they did not balance so well as +his own, and so he dropped them. At last he found something really +fascinating laid on the front of a howdah half buried in the coins. +It was a three-foot ankus, or elephant-goad--something like a small +boat-hook. The top was one round, shining ruby, and eight inches of +the handle below it were studded with rough turquoises close together, +giving a most satisfactory grip. Below them was a rim of jade with a +flower-pattern running round it--only the leaves were emeralds, and +the blossoms were rubies sunk in the cool, green stone. The rest of +the handle was a shaft of pure ivory, while the point--the spike and +hook--was gold-inlaid steel with pictures of elephant-catching; and the +pictures attracted Mowgli, who saw that they had something to do with +his friend Hathi the Silent. + +The White Cobra had been following him closely. + +“Is this not worth dying to behold?” he said. “Have I not done thee a +great favour?” + +“I do not understand,” said Mowgli. “The things are hard and cold, and +by no means good to eat. But this”--he lifted the ankus--“I desire to +take away, that I may see it in the sun. Thou sayest they are all thine? +Wilt thou give it to me, and I will bring thee frogs to eat?” + +The White Cobra fairly shook with evil delight. “Assuredly I will give +it,” he said. “All that is here I will give thee--till thou goest away.” + +“But I go now. This place is dark and cold, and I wish to take the +thorn-pointed thing to the Jungle.” + +“Look by thy foot! What is that there?” Mowgli picked up something white +and smooth. “It is the bone of a man’s head,” he said quietly. “And here +are two more.” + +“They came to take the treasure away many years ago. I spoke to them in +the dark, and they lay still.” + +“But what do I need of this that is called treasure? If thou wilt +give me the ankus to take away, it is good hunting. If not, it is good +hunting none the less. I do not fight with the Poison People, and I was +also taught the Master-word of thy tribe.” + +“There is but one Master-word here. It is mine!” + +Kaa flung himself forward with blazing eyes. “Who bade me bring the +Man?” he hissed. + +“I surely,” the old Cobra lisped. “It is long since I have seen Man, and +this Man speaks our tongue.” + +“But there was no talk of killing. How can I go to the Jungle and say +that I have led him to his death?” said Kaa. + +“I talk not of killing till the time. And as to thy going or not going, +there is the hole in the wall. Peace, now, thou fat monkey-killer! I +have but to touch thy neck, and the Jungle will know thee no longer. +Never Man came here that went away with the breath under his ribs. I am +the Warden of the Treasure of the King’s City!” + +“But, thou white worm of the dark, I tell thee there is neither king nor +city! The Jungle is all about us!” cried Kaa. + +“There is still the Treasure. But this can be done. Wait awhile, Kaa of +the Rocks, and see the boy run. There is room for great sport here. Life +is good. Run to and fro awhile, and make sport, boy!” + +Mowgli put his hand on Kaa’s head quietly. + +“The white thing has dealt with men of the Man-Pack until now. He does +not know me,” he whispered. “He has asked for this hunting. Let him have +it.” Mowgli had been standing with the ankus held point down. He flung +it from him quickly and it dropped crossways just behind the great +snake’s hood, pinning him to the floor. In a flash, Kaa’s weight was +upon the writhing body, paralysing it from hood to tail. The red eyes +burned, and the six spare inches of the head struck furiously right and +left. + +“Kill!” said Kaa, as Mowgli’s hand went to his knife. + +“No,” he said, as he drew the blade; “I will never kill again save for +food. But look you, Kaa!” He caught the snake behind the hood, forced +the mouth open with the blade of the knife, and showed the terrible +poison-fangs of the upper jaw lying black and withered in the gum. The +White Cobra had outlived his poison, as a snake will. + +“THUU” (“It is dried up”--Literally, a rotted out tree-stump), said +Mowgli; and motioning Kaa away, he picked up the ankus, setting the +White Cobra free. + +“The King’s Treasure needs a new Warden,” he said gravely. “Thuu, thou +hast not done well. Run to and fro and make sport, Thuu!” + +“I am ashamed. Kill me!” hissed the White Cobra. + +“There has been too much talk of killing. We will go now. I take the +thorn-pointed thing, Thuu, because I have fought and worsted thee.” + +“See, then, that the thing does not kill thee at last. It is Death! +Remember, it is Death! There is enough in that thing to kill the men of +all my city. Not long wilt thou hold it, Jungle Man, nor he who takes it +from thee. They will kill, and kill, and kill for its sake! My strength +is dried up, but the ankus will do my work. It is Death! It is Death! It +is Death!” + +Mowgli crawled out through the hole into the passage again, and the last +that he saw was the White Cobra striking furiously with his harmless +fangs at the stolid golden faces of the gods that lay on the floor, and +hissing, “It is Death!” + +They were glad to get to the light of day once more; and when they +were back in their own Jungle and Mowgli made the ankus glitter in the +morning light, he was almost as pleased as though he had found a bunch +of new flowers to stick in his hair. + +“This is brighter than Bagheera’s eyes,” he said delightedly, as he +twirled the ruby. “I will show it to him; but what did the Thuu mean +when he talked of death?” + +“I cannot say. I am sorrowful to my tail’s tail that he felt not thy +knife. There is always evil at Cold Lairs--above ground or below. But +now I am hungry. Dost thou hunt with me this dawn?” said Kaa. + +“No; Bagheera must see this thing. Good hunting!” Mowgli danced off, +flourishing the great ankus, and stopping from time to time to admire +it, till he came to that part of the Jungle Bagheera chiefly used, +and found him drinking after a heavy kill. Mowgli told him all his +adventures from beginning to end, and Bagheera sniffed at the ankus +between whiles. When Mowgli came to the White Cobra’s last words, the +Panther purred approvingly. + +“Then the White Hood spoke the thing which is?” Mowgli asked quickly. + +“I was born in the King’s cages at Oodeypore, and it is in my stomach +that I know some little of Man. Very many men would kill thrice in a +night for the sake of that one big red stone alone.” + +“But the stone makes it heavy to the hand. My little bright knife is +better; and--see! the red stone is not good to eat. Then WHY would they +kill?” + +“Mowgli, go thou and sleep. Thou hast lived among men, and----” + +“I remember. Men kill because they are not hunting;--for idleness and +pleasure. Wake again, Bagheera. For what use was this thorn-pointed +thing made?” + +Bagheera half opened his eyes--he was very sleepy--with a malicious +twinkle. + +“It was made by men to thrust into the head of the sons of Hathi, so +that the blood should pour out. I have seen the like in the street of +Oodeypore, before our cages. That thing has tasted the blood of many +such as Hathi.” + +“But why do they thrust into the heads of elephants?” + +“To teach them Man’s Law. Having neither claws nor teeth, men make these +things--and worse.” + +“Always more blood when I come near, even to the things the Man-Pack +have made,” said Mowgli disgustedly. He was getting a little tired of +the weight of the ankus. “If I had known this, I would not have taken +it. First it was Messua’s blood on the thongs, and now it is Hathi’s. I +will use it no more. Look!” + +The ankus flew sparkling, and buried itself point down thirty yards +away, between the trees. “So my hands are clean of Death,” said Mowgli, +rubbing his palms on the fresh, moist earth. “The Thuu said Death would +follow me. He is old and white and mad.” + +“White or black, or death or life, _I_ am going to sleep, Little +Brother. I cannot hunt all night and howl all day, as do some folk.” + +Bagheera went off to a hunting-lair that he knew, about two miles off. +Mowgli made an easy way for himself up a convenient tree, knotted three +or four creepers together, and in less time than it takes to tell was +swinging in a hammock fifty feet above ground. Though he had no positive +objection to strong daylight, Mowgli followed the custom of his +friends, and used it as little as he could. When he waked among the very +loud-voiced peoples that live in the trees, it was twilight once more, +and he had been dreaming of the beautiful pebbles he had thrown away. + +“At least I will look at the thing again,” he said, and slid down a +creeper to the earth; but Bagheera was before him. Mowgli could hear him +snuffing in the half light. + +“Where is the thorn-pointed thing?” cried Mowgli. + +“A man has taken it. Here is the trail.” + +“Now we shall see whether the Thuu spoke truth. If the pointed thing is +Death, that man will die. Let us follow.” + +“Kill first,” said Bagheera. “An empty stomach makes a careless eye. Men +go very slowly, and the Jungle is wet enough to hold the lightest mark.” + +They killed as soon as they could, but it was nearly three hours before +they finished their meat and drink and buckled down to the trail. The +Jungle People know that nothing makes up for being hurried over your +meals. + +“Think you the pointed thing will turn in the man’s hand and kill him?” + Mowgli asked. “The Thuu said it was Death.” + +“We shall see when we find,” said Bagheera, trotting with his head low. +“It is single-foot” (he meant that there was only one man), “and the +weight of the thing has pressed his heel far into the ground.” + +“Hai! This is as clear as summer lightning,” Mowgli answered; and they +fell into the quick, choppy trail-trot in and out through the checkers +of the moonlight, following the marks of those two bare feet. + +“Now he runs swiftly,” said Mowgli. “The toes are spread apart.” They +went on over some wet ground. “Now why does he turn aside here?” + +“Wait!” said Bagheera, and flung himself forward with one superb bound +as far as ever he could. The first thing to do when a trail ceases to +explain itself is to cast forward without leaving, your own confusing +foot-marks on the ground. Bagheera turned as he landed, and faced +Mowgli, crying, “Here comes another trail to meet him. It is a smaller +foot, this second trail, and the toes turn inward.” + +Then Mowgli ran up and looked. “It is the foot of a Gond hunter,” he +said. “Look! Here he dragged his bow on the grass. That is why the first +trail turned aside so quickly. Big Foot hid from Little Foot.” + +“That is true,” said Bagheera. “Now, lest by crossing each other’s +tracks we foul the signs, let each take one trail. I am Big Foot, Little +Brother, and thou art Little Foot, the Gond.” + +Bagheera leaped back to the original trail, leaving Mowgli stooping +above the curious narrow track of the wild little man of the woods. + +“Now,” said Bagheera, moving step by step along the chain of footprints, +“I, Big Foot, turn aside here. Now I hide me behind a rock and stand +still, not daring to shift my feet. Cry thy trail, Little Brother.” + +“Now, I, Little Foot, come to the rock,” said Mowgli, running up his +trail. “Now, I sit down under the rock, leaning upon my right hand, and +resting my bow between my toes. I wait long, for the mark of my feet is +deep here.” + +“I also,” said Bagheera, hidden behind the rock. “I wait, resting the end +of the thorn-pointed thing upon a stone. It slips, for here is a scratch +upon the stone. Cry thy trail, Little Brother.” + +“One, two twigs and a big branch are broken here,” said Mowgli, in an +undertone. “Now, how shall I cry THAT? Ah! It is plain now. I, Little +Foot, go away making noises and tramplings so that Big Foot may hear +me.” He moved away from the rock pace by pace among the trees, his +voice rising in the distance as he approached a little cascade. “I--go, +far--away--to--where--the--noise--of--falling-water--covers--my--noise; +and--here--I--wait. Cry thy trail, Bagheera, Big Foot!” + +The panther had been casting in every direction to see how Big Foot’s +trail led away from behind the rock. Then he gave tongue: + +“I come from behind the rock upon my knees, dragging the thorn-pointed +thing. Seeing no one, I run. I, Big Foot, run swiftly. The trail is +clear. Let each follow his own. I run!” + +Bagheera swept on along the clearly-marked trail, and Mowgli followed +the steps of the Gond. For some time there was silence in the Jungle. + +“Where art thou, Little Foot?” cried Bagheera. Mowgli’s voice answered +him not fifty yards to the right. + +“Um!” said the Panther, with a deep cough. “The two run side by side, +drawing nearer!” + +They raced on another half-mile, always keeping about the same distance, +till Mowgli, whose head was not so close to the ground as Bagheera’s, +cried: “They have met. Good hunting--look! Here stood Little Foot, with +his knee on a rock--and yonder is Big Foot indeed!” + +Not ten yards in front of them, stretched across a pile of broken rocks, +lay the body of a villager of the district, a long, small-feathered Gond +arrow through his back and breast. + +“Was the Thuu so old and so mad, Little Brother?” said Bagheera gently. +“Here is one death, at least.” + +“Follow on. But where is the drinker of elephant’s blood--the red-eyed +thorn?” + +“Little Foot has it--perhaps. It is single-foot again now.” + +The single trail of a light man who had been running quickly and bearing +a burden on his left shoulder held on round a long, low spur of dried +grass, where each footfall seemed, to the sharp eyes of the trackers, +marked in hot iron. + +Neither spoke till the trail ran up to the ashes of a camp-fire hidden +in a ravine. + +“Again!” said Bagheera, checking as though he had been turned into +stone. + +The body of a little wizened Gond lay with its feet in the ashes, and +Bagheera looked inquiringly at Mowgli. + +“That was done with a bamboo,” said the boy, after one glance. “I have +used such a thing among the buffaloes when I served in the Man-Pack. +The Father of Cobras--I am sorrowful that I made a jest of him--knew +the breed well, as I might have known. Said I not that men kill for +idleness?” + +“Indeed, they killed for the sake of the red and blue stones,” Bagheera +answered. “Remember, I was in the King’s cages at Oodeypore.” + +“One, two, three, four tracks,” said Mowgli, stooping over the ashes. +“Four tracks of men with shod feet. They do not go so quickly as Gonds. +Now, what evil had the little woodman done to them? See, they talked +together, all five, standing up, before they killed him. Bagheera, let +us go back. My stomach is heavy in me, and yet it heaves up and down +like an oriole’s nest at the end of a branch.” + +“It is not good hunting to leave game afoot. Follow!” said the panther. +“Those eight shod feet have not gone far.” + +No more was said for fully an hour, as they worked up the broad trail of +the four men with shod feet. + +It was clear, hot daylight now, and Bagheera said, “I smell smoke.” + +Men are always more ready to eat than to run, Mowgli answered, trotting +in and out between the low scrub bushes of the new Jungle they were +exploring. Bagheera, a little to his left, made an indescribable noise +in his throat. + +“Here is one that has done with feeding,” said he. A tumbled bundle +of gay-coloured clothes lay under a bush, and round it was some spilt +flour. + +“That was done by the bamboo again,” said Mowgli. “See! that white dust +is what men eat. They have taken the kill from this one,--he carried +their food,--and given him for a kill to Chil, the Kite.” + +“It is the third,” said Bagheera. + +“I will go with new, big frogs to the Father of Cobras, and feed him +fat,” said Mowgli to himself. “The drinker of elephant’s blood is Death +himself--but still I do not understand!” + +“Follow!” said Bagheera. + +They had not gone half a mile farther when they heard Ko, the Crow, +singing the death-song in the top of a tamarisk under whose shade three +men were lying. A half-dead fire smoked in the centre of the circle, +under an iron plate which held a blackened and burned cake of unleavened +bread. Close to the fire, and blazing in the sunshine, lay the +ruby-and-turquoise ankus. + +“The thing works quickly; all ends here,” said Bagheera. “How did THESE +die, Mowgli? There is no mark on any.” + +A Jungle-dweller gets to learn by experience as much as many doctors +know of poisonous plants and berries. Mowgli sniffed the smoke that came +up from the fire, broke off a morsel of the blackened bread, tasted it, +and spat it out again. + +“Apple of Death,” he coughed. “The first must have made it ready in the +food for THESE, who killed him, having first killed the Gond.” + +“Good hunting, indeed! The kills follow close,” said Bagheera. + +“Apple of Death” is what the Jungle call thorn-apple or dhatura, the +readiest poison in all India. + +“What now?” said the panther. “Must thou and I kill each other for +yonder red-eyed slayer?” + +“Can it speak?” said Mowgli in a whisper. “Did I do it a wrong when I +threw it away? Between us two it can do no wrong, for we do not desire +what men desire. If it be left here, it will assuredly continue to kill +men one after another as fast as nuts fall in a high wind. I have no +love to men, but even I would not have them die six in a night.” + +“What matter? They are only men. They killed one another, and were well +pleased,” said Bagheera. “That first little woodman hunted well.” + +“They are cubs none the less; and a cub will drown himself to bite the +moon’s light on the water. The fault was mine,” said Mowgli, who spoke +as though he knew all about everything. “I will never again bring into +the Jungle strange things--not though they be as beautiful as flowers. +This”--he handled the ankus gingerly--“goes back to the Father of +Cobras. But first we must sleep, and we cannot sleep near these +sleepers. Also we must bury HIM, lest he run away and kill another six. +Dig me a hole under that tree.” + +“But, Little Brother,” said Bagheera, moving off to the spot, “I tell +thee it is no fault of the blood-drinker. The trouble is with the men.” + +“All one,” said Mowgli. “Dig the hole deep. When we wake I will take him +up and carry him back.” + +***** + +Two nights later, as the White Cobra sat mourning in the darkness of +the vault, ashamed, and robbed, and alone, the turquoise ankus whirled +through the hole in the wall, and clashed on the floor of golden coins. + +“Father of Cobras,” said Mowgli (he was careful to keep the other side +of the wall), “get thee a young and ripe one of thine own people to help +thee guard the King’s Treasure, so that no man may come away alive any +more.” + +“Ah-ha! It returns, then. I said the thing was Death. How comes it that +thou art still alive?” the old Cobra mumbled, twining lovingly round the +ankus-haft. + +“By the Bull that bought me, I do not know! That thing has killed six +times in a night. Let him go out no more.” + + + + +THE SONG OF THE LITTLE HUNTER + + Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, + Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, + Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh-- + He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear! + + Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade, + And the whisper spreads and widens far and near; + And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now-- + He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear! + + Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks + are ribbed with light, + When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear, + Comes a breathing hard behind thee--snuffle-snuffle + through the night-- + It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! + + On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go; + In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear; + But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left + thy cheek-- + It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! + + When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered + pine-trees fall, + When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer; + Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more + loud than all-- + It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! + + Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless + boulders leap-- + Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear-- + But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against + thy side + Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter--this is Fear! + + + + +QUIQUERN + + The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow-- + They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go. + The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight; + “They sell their furs to the trading-post: they sell their souls + to the white. + The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler’s + crew; + Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few. + But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man’s ken-- + Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the + last of the Men! + Translation. + +“He has opened his eyes. Look!” + +“Put him in the skin again. He will be a strong dog. On the fourth month +we will name him.” + +“For whom?” said Amoraq. + +Kadlu’s eye rolled round the skin-lined snow-house till it fell on +fourteen-year-old Kotuko sitting on the sleeping-bench, making a button +out of walrus ivory. “Name him for me,” said Kotuko, with a grin. “I +shall need him one day.” + +Kadlu grinned back till his eyes were almost buried in the fat of his +flat cheeks, and nodded to Amoraq, while the puppy’s fierce mother +whined to see her baby wriggling far out of reach in the little sealskin +pouch hung above the warmth of the blubber-lamp. Kotuko went on with his +carving, and Kadlu threw a rolled bundle of leather dog-harnesses into a +tiny little room that opened from one side of the house, slipped off his +heavy deerskin hunting-suit, put it into a whalebone-net that hung above +another lamp, and dropped down on the sleeping-bench to whittle at +a piece of frozen seal-meat till Amoraq, his wife, should bring the +regular dinner of boiled meat and blood-soup. He had been out since +early dawn at the seal-holes, eight miles away, and had come home with +three big seal. Half-way down the long, low snow passage or tunnel +that led to the inner door of the house you could hear snappings and +yelpings, as the dogs of his sleigh-team, released from the day’s work, +scuffled for warm places. + +When the yelpings grew too loud Kotuko lazily rolled off the +sleeping-bench, and picked up a whip with an eighteen-inch handle of +springy whalebone, and twenty-five feet of heavy, plaited thong. He +dived into the passage, where it sounded as though all the dogs were +eating him alive; but that was no more than their regular grace before +meals. When he crawled out at the far end, half a dozen furry heads +followed him with their eyes as he went to a sort of gallows of +whale-jawbones, from which the dog’s meat was hung; split off the frozen +stuff in big lumps with a broad-headed spear; and stood, his whip in +one hand and the meat in the other. Each beast was called by name, the +weakest first, and woe betide any dog that moved out of his turn; for +the tapering lash would shoot out like thonged lightning, and flick away +an inch or so of hair and hide. Each beast growled, snapped, choked once +over his portion, and hurried back to the protection of the passage, +while the boy stood upon the snow under the blazing Northern Lights and +dealt out justice. The last to be served was the big black leader of +the team, who kept order when the dogs were harnessed; and to him Kotuko +gave a double allowance of meat as well as an extra crack of the whip. + +“Ah!” said Kotuko, coiling up the lash, “I have a little one over the +lamp that will make a great many howlings. SARPOK! Get in!” + +He crawled back over the huddled dogs, dusted the dry snow from his +furs with the whalebone beater that Amoraq kept by the door, tapped the +skin-lined roof of the house to shake off any icicles that might have +fallen from the dome of snow above, and curled up on the bench. The +dogs in the passage snored and whined in their sleep, the boy-baby in +Amoraq’s deep fur hood kicked and choked and gurgled, and the mother of +the newly-named puppy lay at Kotuko’s side, her eyes fixed on the bundle +of sealskin, warm and safe above the broad yellow flame of the lamp. + +And all this happened far away to the north, beyond Labrador, beyond +Hudson’s Strait, where the great tides heave the ice about, north of +Melville Peninsula--north even of the narrow Fury and Hecla Straits--on +the north shore of Baffin Land, where Bylot’s Island stands above the +ice of Lancaster Sound like a pudding-bowl wrong side up. North of +Lancaster Sound there is little we know anything about, except North +Devon and Ellesmere Land; but even there live a few scattered people, +next door, as it were, to the very Pole. + +Kadlu was an Inuit,--what you call an Esquimau,--and his tribe, some +thirty persons all told, belonged to the Tununirmiut--“the country lying +at the back of something.” In the maps that desolate coast is written +Navy Board Inlet, but the Inuit name is best, because the country lies +at the very back of everything in the world. For nine months of the year +there is only ice and snow, and gale after gale, with a cold that no +one can realise who has never seen the thermometer even at zero. For six +months of those nine it is dark; and that is what makes it so horrible. +In the three months of the summer it only freezes every other day and +every night, and then the snow begins to weep off on the southerly +slopes, and a few ground-willows put out their woolly buds, a tiny +stonecrop or so makes believe to blossom, beaches of fine gravel and +rounded stones run down to the open sea, and polished boulders and +streaked rocks lift up above the granulated snow. But all that is gone +in a few weeks, and the wild winter locks down again on the land; while +at sea the ice tears up and down the offing, jamming and ramming, and +splitting and hitting, and pounding and grounding, till it all freezes +together, ten feet thick, from the land outward to deep water. + +In the winter Kadlu would follow the seal to the edge of this land-ice, +and spear them as they came up to breathe at their blow-holes. The +seal must have open water to live and catch fish in, and in the deep of +winter the ice would sometimes run eighty miles without a break from the +nearest shore. In the spring he and his people retreated from the floes +to the rocky mainland, where they put up tents of skins, and snared the +sea-birds, or speared the young seal basking on the beaches. Later, they +would go south into Baffin Land after the reindeer, and to get their +year’s store of salmon from the hundreds of streams and lakes of the +interior; coming back north in September or October for the musk-ox +hunting and the regular winter sealery. This travelling was done with +dog-sleighs, twenty and thirty miles a day, or sometimes down the coast +in big skin “woman-boats,” when the dogs and the babies lay among the +feet of the rowers, and the women sang songs as they glided from cape to +cape over the glassy, cold waters. All the luxuries that the Tununirmiut +knew came from the south--driftwood for sleigh-runners, rod-iron for +harpoon-tips, steel knives, tin kettles that cooked food much better +than the old soap-stone affairs, flint and steel, and even matches, as +well as coloured ribbons for the women’s hair, little cheap mirrors, +and red cloth for the edging of deerskin dress-jackets. Kadlu traded the +rich, creamy, twisted narwhal horn and musk-ox teeth (these are just +as valuable as pearls) to the Southern Inuit, and they, in turn, traded +with the whalers and the missionary-posts of Exeter and Cumberland +Sounds; and so the chain went on, till a kettle picked up by a ship’s +cook in the Bhendy Bazaar might end its days over a blubber-lamp +somewhere on the cool side of the Arctic Circle. + +Kadlu, being a good hunter, was rich in iron harpoons, snow-knives, +bird-darts, and all the other things that make life easy up there in the +great cold; and he was the head of his tribe, or, as they say, “the +man who knows all about it by practice.” This did not give him any +authority, except now and then he could advise his friends to change +their hunting-grounds; but Kotuko used it to domineer a little, in the +lazy, fat Inuit fashion, over the other boys, when they came out at +night to play ball in the moonlight, or to sing the Child’s Song to the +Aurora Borealis. + +But at fourteen an Inuit feels himself a man, and Kotuko was tired of +making snares for wild-fowl and kit-foxes, and most tired of all of +helping the women to chew seal-and deer-skins (that supples them as +nothing else can) the long day through, while the men were out hunting. +He wanted to go into the quaggi, the Singing-House, when the hunters +gathered there for their mysteries, and the angekok, the sorcerer, +frightened them into the most delightful fits after the lamps were put +out, and you could hear the Spirit of the Reindeer stamping on the roof; +and when a spear was thrust out into the open black night it came back +covered with hot blood. He wanted to throw his big boots into the net +with the tired air of the head of a family, and to gamble with the +hunters when they dropped in of an evening and played a sort of +home-made roulette with a tin pot and a nail. There were hundreds of +things that he wanted to do, but the grown men laughed at him and said, +“Wait till you have been in the buckle, Kotuko. Hunting is not ALL +catching.” + +Now that his father had named a puppy for him, things looked brighter. +An Inuit does not waste a good dog on his son till the boy knows +something of dog-driving; and Kotuko was more than sure that he knew +more than everything. + +If the puppy had not had an iron constitution he would have died from +over-stuffing and over-handling. Kotuko made him a tiny harness with a +trace to it, and hauled him all over the house-floor, shouting: “Aua! +Ja aua!” (Go to the right). “Choiachoi! Ja choiachoi!” (Go to the left). +“Ohaha!” (Stop). The puppy did not like it at all, but being fished for +in this way was pure happiness beside being put to the sleigh for the +first time. He just sat down on the snow, and played with the seal-hide +trace that ran from his harness to the pitu, the big thong in the bows +of the sleigh. Then the team started, and the puppy found the heavy +ten-foot sleigh running up his back, and dragging him along the snow, +while Kotuko laughed till the tears ran down his face. There followed +days and days of the cruel whip that hisses like the wind over ice, and +his companions all bit him because he did not know his work, and the +harness chafed him, and he was dot allowed to sleep with Kotuko any +more, but had to take the coldest place in the passage. It was a sad +time for the puppy. + +The boy learned, too, as fast as the dog; though a dog-sleigh is a +heart-breaking thing to manage. Each beast is harnessed, the weakest +nearest to the driver, by his own separate trace, which runs under +his left fore-leg to the main thong, where it is fastened by a sort +of button and loop which can be slipped by a turn of the wrist, thus +freeing one dog at a time. This is very necessary, because young dogs +often get the trace between their hind legs, where it cuts to the bone. +And they one and all WILL go visiting their friends as they run, jumping +in and out among the traces. Then they fight, and the result is more +mixed than a wet fishing-line next morning. A great deal of trouble can +be avoided by scientific use of the whip. Every Inuit boy prides himself +as being a master of the long lash; but it is easy to flick at a mark on +the ground, and difficult to lean forward and catch a shirking dog just +behind the shoulders when the sleigh is going at full speed. If you call +one dog’s name for “visiting,” and accidentally lash another, the two +will fight it out at once, and stop all the others. Again, if you travel +with a companion and begin to talk, or by yourself and sing, the dogs +will halt, turn round, and sit down to hear what you have to say. Kotuko +was run away from once or twice through forgetting to block the sleigh +when he stopped; and he broke many lashings, and ruined a few thongs +before he could be trusted with a full team of eight and the light +sleigh. Then he felt himself a person of consequence, and on smooth, +black ice, with a bold heart and a quick elbow, he smoked along over +the levels as fast as a pack in full cry. He would go ten miles to the +seal-holes, and when he was on the hunting-grounds he would twitch a +trace loose from the pitu, and free the big black leader, who was +the cleverest dog in the team. As soon as the dog had scented a +breathing-hole, Kotuko would reverse the sleigh, driving a couple of +sawed-off antlers, that stuck up like perambulator-handles from the +back-rest, deep into the snow, so that the team could not get away. Then +he would crawl forward inch by inch, and wait till the seal came up +to breathe. Then he would stab down swiftly with his spear and +running-line, and presently would haul his seal up to the lip of the +ice, while the black leader came up and helped to pull the carcass +across the ice to the sleigh. That was the time when the harnessed dogs +yelled and foamed with excitement, and Kotuko laid the long lash like a +red-hot bar across all their faces, till the carcass froze stiff. Going +home was the heavy work. The loaded sleigh had to be humoured among the +rough ice, and the dogs sat down and looked hungrily at the seal instead +of pulling. At last they would strike the well-worn sleigh-road to the +village, and toodle-kiyi along the ringing ice, heads down and tails +up, while Kotuko struck up the “An-gutivaun tai-na tau-na-ne taina” (The +Song of the Returning Hunter), and voices hailed him from house to house +under all that dim, star-littern sky. + +When Kotuko the dog came to his full growth he enjoyed himself too. He +fought his way up the team steadily, fight after fight, till one fine +evening, over their food, he tackled the big, black leader (Kotuko the +boy saw fair play), and made second dog of him, as they say. So he was +promoted to the long thong of the leading dog, running five feet in +advance of all the others: it was his bounden duty to stop all fighting, +in harness or out of it, and he wore a collar of copper wire, very thick +and heavy. On special occasions he was fed with cooked food inside the +house, and sometimes was allowed to sleep on the bench with Kotuko. He +was a good seal-dog, and would keep a musk-ox at bay by running round +him and snapping at his heels. He would even--and this for a sleigh-dog +is the last proof of bravery--he would even stand up to the gaunt Arctic +wolf, whom all dogs of the North, as a rule, fear beyond anything +that walks the snow. He and his master--they did not count the team of +ordinary dogs as company--hunted together, day after day and night +after night, fur-wrapped boy and savage, long-haired, narrow-eyed, +white-fanged, yellow brute. All an Inuit has to do is to get food and +skins for himself and his family. The women-folk make the skins into +clothing, and occasionally help in trapping small game; but the bulk +of the food--and they eat enormously--must be found by the men. If the +supply fails there is no one up there to buy or beg or borrow from. The +people must die. + +An Inuit does not think of these chances till he is forced to. Kadlu, +Kotuko, Amoraq, and the boy-baby who kicked about in Amoraq’s fur hood +and chewed pieces of blubber all day, were as happy together as any +family in the world. They came of a very gentle race--an Inuit seldom +loses his temper, and almost never strikes a child--who did not know +exactly what telling a real lie meant, still less how to steal. They +were content to spear their living out of the heart of the bitter, +hopeless cold; to smile oily smiles, and tell queer ghost and fairy +tales of evenings, and eat till they could eat no more, and sing the +endless woman’s song: “Amna aya, aya amna, ah! ah!” through the long +lamp-lighted days as they mended their clothes and their hunting-gear. + +But one terrible winter everything betrayed them. The Tununirmiut +returned from the yearly salmon-fishing, and made their houses on the +early ice to the north of Bylot’s Island, ready to go after the seal +as soon as the sea froze. But it was an early and savage autumn. All +through September there were continuous gales that broke up the smooth +seal-ice when it was only four or five feet thick, and forced it inland, +and piled a great barrier, some twenty miles broad, of lumped and ragged +and needly ice, over which it was impossible to draw the dog-sleighs. +The edge of the floe off which the seal were used to fish in winter +lay perhaps twenty miles beyond this barrier, and out of reach of the +Tununirmiut. Even so, they might have managed to scrape through the +winter on their stock of frozen salmon and stored blubber, and what +the traps gave them, but in December one of their hunters came across a +tupik (a skin-tent) of three women and a girl nearly dead, whose men +had come down from the far North and been crushed in their little skin +hunting-boats while they were out after the long-horned narwhal. Kadlu, +of course, could only distribute the women among the huts of the winter +village, for no Inuit dare refuse a meal to a stranger. He never knows +when his own turn may come to beg. Amoraq took the girl, who was about +fourteen, into her own house as a sort of servant. From the cut of her +sharp-pointed hood, and the long diamond pattern of her white deer-skin +leggings, they supposed she came from Ellesmere Land. She had never seen +tin cooking-pots or wooden-shod sleighs before; but Kotuko the boy and +Kotuko the dog were rather fond of her. + +Then all the foxes went south, and even the wolverine, that growling, +blunt-headed little thief of the snow, did not take the trouble to +follow the line of empty traps that Kotuko set. The tribe lost a +couple of their best hunters, who were badly crippled in a fight with +a musk-ox, and this threw more work on the others. Kotuko went out, day +after day, with a light hunting-sleigh and six or seven of the strongest +dogs, looking till his eyes ached for some patch of clear ice where +a seal might perhaps have scratched a breathing-hole. Kotuko the dog +ranged far and wide, and in the dead stillness of the ice-fields +Kotuko the boy could hear his half-choked whine of excitement, above a +seal-hole three miles away, as plainly as though he were at his elbow. +When the dog found a hole the boy would build himself a little, low snow +wall to keep off the worst of the bitter wind, and there he would wait +ten, twelve, twenty hours for the seal to come up to breathe, his eyes +glued to the tiny mark he had made above the hole to guide the downward +thrust of his harpoon, a little seal-skin mat under his feet, and his +legs tied together in the tutareang (the buckle that the old hunters +had talked about). This helps to keep a man’s legs from twitching as he +waits and waits and waits for the quick-eared seal to rise. Though there +is no excitement in it, you can easily believe that the sitting still in +the buckle with the thermometer perhaps forty degrees below zero is +the hardest work an Inuit knows. When a seal was caught, Kotuko the dog +would bound forward, his trace trailing behind him, and help to pull the +body to the sleigh, where the tired and hungry dogs lay sullenly under +the lee of the broken ice. + +A seal did not go very far, for each mouth in the little village had a +right to be filled, and neither bone, hide, nor sinew was wasted. The +dogs’ meat was taken for human use, and Amoraq fed the team with pieces +of old summer skin-tents raked out from under the sleeping-bench, and +they howled and howled again, and waked to howl hungrily. One could +tell by the soap-stone lamps in the huts that famine was near. In good +seasons, when blubber was plentiful, the light in the boat-shaped lamps +would be two feet high--cheerful, oily, and yellow. Now it was a +bare six inches: Amoraq carefully pricked down the moss wick, when an +unwatched flame brightened for a moment, and the eyes of all the family +followed her hand. The horror of famine up there in the great cold is +not so much dying, as dying in the dark. All the Inuit dread the dark +that presses on them without a break for six months in each year; and +when the lamps are low in the houses the minds of people begin to be +shaken and confused. + +But worse was to come. + +The underfed dogs snapped and growled in the passages, glaring at the +cold stars, and snuffing into the bitter wind, night after night. When +they stopped howling the silence fell down again as solid and heavy as a +snowdrift against a door, and men could hear the beating of their blood +in the thin passages of the ear, and the thumping of their own hearts, +that sounded as loud as the noise of sorcerers’ drums beaten across +the snow. One night Kotuko the dog, who had been unusually sullen in +harness, leaped up and pushed his head against Kotuko’s knee. Kotuko +patted him, but the dog still pushed blindly forward, fawning. Then +Kadlu waked, and gripped the heavy wolf-like head, and stared into the +glassy eyes. The dog whimpered and shivered between Kadlu’s knees. The +hair rose about his neck, and he growled as though a stranger were at +the door; then he barked joyously, and rolled on the ground, and bit at +Kotuko’s boot like a puppy. + +“What is it?” said Kotuko; for he was beginning to be afraid. + +“The sickness,” Kadlu answered. “It is the dog sickness.” Kotuko the dog +lifted his nose and howled and howled again. + +“I have not seen this before. What will he do?” said Kotuko. + +Kadlu shrugged one shoulder a little, and crossed the hut for his short +stabbing-harpoon. The big dog looked at him, howled again, and slunk +away down the passage, while the other dogs drew aside right and left to +give him ample room. When he was out on the snow he barked furiously, as +though on the trail of a musk-ox, and, barking and leaping and frisking, +passed out of sight. His trouble was not hydrophobia, but simple, plain +madness. The cold and the hunger, and, above all, the dark, had turned +his head; and when the terrible dog-sickness once shows itself in a +team, it spreads like wild-fire. Next hunting-day another dog sickened, +and was killed then and there by Kotuko as he bit and struggled among +the traces. Then the black second dog, who had been the leader in the +old days, suddenly gave tongue on an imaginary reindeer-track, and when +they slipped him from the pitu he flew at the throat of an ice-cliff, +and ran away as his leader had done, his harness on his back. After that +no one would take the dogs out again. They needed them for something +else, and the dogs knew it; and though they were tied down and fed by +hand, their eyes were full of despair and fear. To make things worse, +the old women began to tell ghost-tales, and to say that they had met +the spirits of the dead hunters lost that autumn, who prophesied all +sorts of horrible things. + +Kotuko grieved more for the loss of his dog than anything else; for +though an Inuit eats enormously he also knows how to starve. But the +hunger, the darkness, the cold, and the exposure told on his strength, +and he began to hear voices inside his head, and to see people who +were not there, out of the tail of his eye. One night--he had unbuckled +himself after ten hours’ waiting above a “blind” seal-hole, and was +staggering back to the village faint and dizzy--he halted to lean +his back against a boulder which happened to be supported like a +rocking-stone on a single jutting point of ice. His weight disturbed the +balance of the thing, it rolled over ponderously, and as Kotuko +sprang aside to avoid it, slid after him, squeaking and hissing on the +ice-slope. + +That was enough for Kotuko. He had been brought up to believe that every +rock and boulder had its owner (its inua), who was generally a one-eyed +kind of a Woman-Thing called a tornaq, and that when a tornaq meant to +help a man she rolled after him inside her stone house, and asked him +whether he would take her for a guardian spirit. (In summer thaws the +ice-propped rocks and boulders roll and slip all over the face of the +land, so you can easily see how the idea of live stones arose.) Kotuko +heard the blood beating in his ears as he had heard it all day, and +he thought that was the tornaq of the stone speaking to him. Before he +reached home he was quite certain that he had held a long conversation +with her, and as all his people believed that this was quite possible, +no one contradicted him. + +“She said to me, ‘I jump down, I jump down from my place on the snow,’” + cried Kotuko, with hollow eyes, leaning forward in the half-lighted hut. +“She said, ‘I will be a guide.’ She said, ‘I will guide you to the good +seal-holes.’ To-morrow I go out, and the tornaq will guide me.” + +Then the angekok, the village sorcerer, came in, and Kotuko told him the +tale a second time. It lost nothing in the telling. + +“Follow the tornait [the spirits of the stones], and they will bring us +food again,” said the angekok. + +Now the girl from the North had been lying near the lamp, eating very +little and saying less for days past; but when Amoraq and Kadlu next +morning packed and lashed a little hand-sleigh for Kotuko, and loaded it +with his hunting-gear and as much blubber and frozen seal-meat as they +could spare, she took the pulling-rope, and stepped out boldly at the +boy’s side. + +“Your house is my house,” she said, as the little bone-shod sleigh +squeaked and bumped behind them in the awful Arctic night. + +“My house is your house,” said Kotuko; “but I think that we shall both +go to Sedna together.” + +Now Sedna is the Mistress of the Underworld, and the Inuit believe that +every one who dies must spend a year in her horrible country before +going to Quadliparmiut, the Happy Place, where it never freezes and the +fat reindeer trot up when you call. + +Through the village people were shouting: “The tornait have spoken to +Kotuko. They will show him open ice. He will bring us the seal again!” + Their voices were soon swallowed up by the cold, empty dark, and +Kotuko and the girl shouldered close together as they strained on the +pulling-rope or humoured the sleigh through the ice in the direction of +the Polar Sea. Kotuko insisted that the tornaq of the stone had told him +to go north, and north they went under Tuktuqdjung the Reindeer--those +stars that we call the Great Bear. + +No European could have made five miles a day over the ice-rubbish and +the sharp-edged drifts; but those two knew exactly the turn of the wrist +that coaxes a sleigh round a hummock, the jerk that nearly lifts it +out of an ice-crack, and the exact strength that goes to the few quiet +strokes of the spear-head that make a path possible when everything +looks hopeless. + +The girl said nothing, but bowed her head, and the long wolverine-fur +fringe of her ermine hood blew across her broad, dark face. The sky +above them was an intense velvety black, changing to bands of Indian +red on the horizon, where the great stars burned like street-lamps. From +time to time a greenish wave of the Northern Lights would roll across +the hollow of the high heavens, flick like a flag, and disappear; or +a meteor would crackle from darkness to darkness, trailing a shower of +sparks behind. Then they could see the ridged and furrowed surface of +the floe tipped and laced with strange colours--red, copper, and bluish; +but in the ordinary starlight everything turned to one frost-bitten +gray. The floe, as you will remember, had been battered and tormented by +the autumn gales till it was one frozen earthquake. There were gullies +and ravines, and holes like gravel-pits, cut in ice; lumps and scattered +pieces frozen down to the original floor of the floe; blotches of old +black ice that had been thrust under the floe in some gale and heaved +up again; roundish boulders of ice; saw-like edges of ice carved by the +snow that flies before the wind; and sunken pits where thirty or forty +acres lay below the level of the rest of the field. From a little +distance you might have taken the lumps for seal or walrus, overturned +sleighs or men on a hunting expedition, or even the great Ten-legged +White Spirit-Bear himself; but in spite of these fantastic shapes, all +on the very edge of starting into life, there was neither sound nor the +least faint echo of sound. And through this silence and through this +waste, where the sudden lights flapped and went out again, the sleigh +and the two that pulled it crawled like things in a nightmare--a +nightmare of the end of the world at the end of the world. + +When they were tired Kotuko would make what the hunters call a +“half-house,” a very small snow hut, into which they would huddle with +the travelling-lamp, and try to thaw out the frozen seal-meat. When they +had slept, the march began again--thirty miles a day to get ten miles +northward. The girl was always very silent, but Kotuko muttered +to himself and broke out into songs he had learned in the +Singing-House--summer songs, and reindeer and salmon songs--all horribly +out of place at that season. He would declare that he heard the tornaq +growling to him, and would run wildly up a hummock, tossing his arms and +speaking in loud, threatening tones. To tell the truth, Kotuko was very +nearly crazy for the time being; but the girl was sure that he was being +guided by his guardian spirit, and that everything would come right. +She was not surprised, therefore, when at the end of the fourth march +Kotuko, whose eyes were burning like fire-balls in his head, told her +that his tornaq was following them across the snow in the shape of a +two-headed dog. The girl looked where Kotuko pointed, and something +seemed to slip into a ravine. It was certainly not human, but everybody +knew that the tornait preferred to appear in the shape of bear and seal, +and such like. + +It might have been the Ten-legged White Spirit-Bear himself, or it might +have been anything, for Kotuko and the girl were so starved that their +eyes were untrustworthy. They had trapped nothing, and seen no trace of +game since they had left the village; their food would not hold out for +another week, and there was a gale coming. A Polar storm can blow for +ten days without a break, and all that while it is certain death to +be abroad. Kotuko laid up a snow-house large enough to take in the +hand-sleigh (never be separated from your meat), and while he was +shaping the last irregular block of ice that makes the key-stone of the +roof, he saw a Thing looking at him from a little cliff of ice half a +mile away. The air was hazy, and the Thing seemed to be forty feet long +and ten feet high, with twenty feet of tail and a shape that quivered +all along the outlines. The girl saw it too, but instead of crying aloud +with terror, said quietly, “That is Quiquern. What comes after?” + +“He will speak to me,” said Kotuko; but the snow-knife trembled in his +hand as he spoke, because however much a man may believe that he is a +friend of strange and ugly spirits, he seldom likes to be taken quite +at his word. Quiquern, too, is the phantom of a gigantic toothless +dog without any hair, who is supposed to live in the far North, and to +wander about the country just before things are going to happen. They +may be pleasant or unpleasant things, but not even the sorcerers care to +speak about Quiquern. He makes the dogs go mad. Like the Spirit-Bear, he +has several extra pairs of legs,--six or eight,--and this Thing jumping +up and down in the haze had more legs than any real dog needed. Kotuko +and the girl huddled into their hut quickly. Of course if Quiquern had +wanted them, he could have torn it to pieces above their heads, but the +sense of a foot-thick snow-wall between themselves and the wicked dark +was great comfort. The gale broke with a shriek of wind like the shriek +of a train, and for three days and three nights it held, never varying +one point, and never lulling even for a minute. They fed the stone lamp +between their knees, and nibbled at the half-warm seal-meat, and watched +the black soot gather on the roof for seventy-two long hours. The girl +counted up the food in the sleigh; there was not more than two days’ +supply, and Kotuko looked over the iron heads and the deer-sinew +fastenings of his harpoon and his seal-lance and his bird-dart. There +was nothing else to do. + +“We shall go to Sedna soon--very soon,” the girl whispered. “In three +days we shall lie down and go. Will your tornaq do nothing? Sing her an +angekok’s song to make her come here.” + +He began to sing in the high-pitched howl of the magic songs, and the +gale went down slowly. In the middle of his song the girl started, laid +her mittened hand and then her head to the ice floor of the hut. Kotuko +followed her example, and the two kneeled, staring into each other’s +eyes, and listening with every nerve. He ripped a thin sliver of +whalebone from the rim of a bird-snare that lay on the sleigh, and, +after straightening, set it upright in a little hole in the ice, firming +it down with his mitten. It was almost as delicately adjusted as a +compass-needle, and now instead of listening they watched. The thin rod +quivered a little--the least little jar in the world; then it vibrated +steadily for a few seconds, came to rest, and vibrated again, this time +nodding to another point of the compass. + +“Too soon!” said Kotuko. “Some big floe has broken far away outside.” + +The girl pointed at the rod, and shook her head. “It is the big +breaking,” she said. “Listen to the ground-ice. It knocks.” + +When they kneeled this time they heard the most curious muffled grunts +and knockings, apparently under their feet. Sometimes it sounded as +though a blind puppy were squeaking above the lamp; then as if a stone +were being ground on hard ice; and again, like muffled blows on a drum; +but all dragged out and made small, as though they travelled through a +little horn a weary distance away. + +“We shall not go to Sedna lying down,” said Kotuko. “It is the breaking. +The tornaq has cheated us. We shall die.” + +All this may sound absurd enough, but the two were face to face with +a very real danger. The three days’ gale had driven the deep water of +Baffin’s Bay southerly, and piled it on to the edge of the far-reaching +land-ice that stretches from Bylot’s Island to the west. Also, the +strong current which sets east out of Lancaster Sound carried with it +mile upon mile of what they call pack-ice--rough ice that has not frozen +into fields; and this pack was bombarding the floe at the same time +that the swell and heave of the storm-worked sea was weakening and +undermining it. What Kotuko and the girl had been listening to were the +faint echoes of that fight thirty or forty miles away, and the little +tell-tale rod quivered to the shock of it. + +Now, as the Inuit say, when the ice once wakes after its long winter +sleep, there is no knowing what may happen, for solid floe-ice changes +shape almost as quickly as a cloud. The gale was evidently a spring gale +sent out of time, and anything was possible. + +Yet the two were happier in their minds than before. If the floe broke +up there would be no more waiting and suffering. Spirits, goblins, and +witch-people were moving about on the racking ice, and they might find +themselves stepping into Sedna’s country side by side with all sorts of +wild Things, the flush of excitement still on them. When they left the +hut after the gale, the noise on the horizon was steadily growing, and +the tough ice moaned and buzzed all round them. + +“It is still waiting,” said Kotuko. + +On the top of a hummock sat or crouched the eight-legged Thing that they +had seen three days before--and it howled horribly. + +“Let us follow,” said the girl. “It may know some way that does not lead +to Sedna”; but she reeled from weakness as she took the pulling-rope. +The Thing moved off slowly and clumsily across the ridges, heading +always toward the westward and the land, and they followed, while the +growling thunder at the edge of the floe rolled nearer and nearer. The +floe’s lip was split and cracked in every direction for three or four +miles inland, and great pans of ten-foot-thick ice, from a few yards +to twenty acres square, were jolting and ducking and surging into one +another, and into the yet unbroken floe, as the heavy swell took and +shook and spouted between them. This battering-ram ice was, so to speak, +the first army that the sea was flinging against the floe. The incessant +crash and jar of these cakes almost drowned the ripping sound of sheets +of pack-ice driven bodily under the floe as cards are hastily pushed +under a tablecloth. Where the water was shallow these sheets would be +piled one atop of the other till the bottommost touched mud fifty feet +down, and the discoloured sea banked behind the muddy ice till the +increasing pressure drove all forward again. In addition to the floe and +the pack-ice, the gale and the currents were bringing down true bergs, +sailing mountains of ice, snapped off from the Greenland side of the +water or the north shore of Melville Bay. They pounded in solemnly, +the waves breaking white round them, and advanced on the floe like an +old-time fleet under full sail. A berg that seemed ready to carry the +world before it would ground helplessly in deep water, reel over, and +wallow in a lather of foam and mud and flying frozen spray, while a much +smaller and lower one would rip and ride into the flat floe, flinging +tons of ice on either side, and cutting a track half a mile long before +it was stopped. Some fell like swords, shearing a raw-edged canal; +and others splintered into a shower of blocks, weighing scores of tons +apiece, that whirled and skirted among the hummocks. Others, again, rose +up bodily out of the water when they shoaled, twisted as though in +pain, and fell solidly on their sides, while the sea threshed over their +shoulders. This trampling and crowding and bending and buckling and +arching of the ice into every possible shape was going on as far as the +eye could reach all along the north line of the floe. From where +Kotuko and the girl were, the confusion looked no more than an uneasy, +rippling, crawling movement under the horizon; but it came toward them +each moment, and they could hear, far away to landward a heavy booming, +as it might have been the boom of artillery through a fog. That showed +that the floe was being jammed home against the iron cliffs of Bylot’s +Island, the land to the southward behind them. + +“This has never been before,” said Kotuko, staring stupidly. “This is +not the time. How can the floe break NOW?” + +“Follow THAT!” the girl cried, pointing to the Thing half limping, +half running distractedly before them. They followed, tugging at the +hand-sleigh, while nearer and nearer came the roaring march of the ice. +At last the fields round them cracked and starred in every direction, +and the cracks opened and snapped like the teeth of wolves. But where +the Thing rested, on a mound of old and scattered ice-blocks some fifty +feet high, there was no motion. Kotuko leaped forward wildly, dragging +the girl after him, and crawled to the bottom of the mound. The talking +of the ice grew louder and louder round them, but the mound stayed fast, +and, as the girl looked at him, he threw his right elbow upward and +outward, making the Inuit sign for land in the shape of an island. And +land it was that the eight-legged, limping Thing had led them to--some +granite-tipped, sand-beached islet off the coast, shod and sheathed and +masked with ice so that no man could have told it from the floe, but at +the bottom solid earth, and not shifting ice! The smashing and rebound +of the floes as they grounded and splintered marked the borders of it, +and a friendly shoal ran out to the northward, and turned aside the rush +of the heaviest ice, exactly as a ploughshare turns over loam. There was +danger, of course, that some heavily squeezed ice-field might shoot up +the beach, and plane off the top of the islet bodily; but that did not +trouble Kotuko and the girl when they made their snow-house and began +to eat, and heard the ice hammer and skid along the beach. The Thing +had disappeared, and Kotuko was talking excitedly about his power over +spirits as he crouched round the lamp. In the middle of his wild sayings +the girl began to laugh, and rock herself backward and forward. + +Behind her shoulder, crawling into the hut crawl by crawl, there were +two heads, one yellow and one black, that belonged to two of the most +sorrowful and ashamed dogs that ever you saw. Kotuko the dog was one, +and the black leader was the other. Both were now fat, well-looking, and +quite restored to their proper minds, but coupled to each other in an +extraordinary fashion. When the black leader ran off, you remember, his +harness was still on him. He must have met Kotuko the dog, and played or +fought with him, for his shoulder-loop had caught in the plaited copper +wire of Kotuko’s collar, and had drawn tight, so that neither could get +at the trace to gnaw it apart, but each was fastened sidelong to +his neighbour’s neck. That, with the freedom of hunting on their own +account, must have helped to cure their madness. They were very sober. + +The girl pushed the two shamefaced creatures towards Kotuko, and, +sobbing with laughter, cried, “That is Quiquern, who led us to safe +ground. Look at his eight legs and double head!” + +Kotuko cut them free, and they fell into his arms, yellow and black +together, trying to explain how they had got their senses back again. +Kotuko ran a hand down their ribs, which were round and well clothed. +“They have found food,” he said, with a grin. “I do not think we shall +go to Sedna so soon. My tornaq sent these. The sickness has left them.” + +As soon as they had greeted Kotuko, these two, who had been forced to +sleep and eat and hunt together for the past few weeks, flew at each +other’s throat, and there was a beautiful battle in the snow-house. +“Empty dogs do not fight,” Kotuko said. “They have found the seal. Let +us sleep. We shall find food.” + +When they waked there was open water on the north beach of the island, +and all the loosened ice had been driven landward. The first sound of +the surf is one of the most delightful that the Inuit can hear, for it +means that spring is on the road. Kotuko and the girl took hold of hands +and smiled, for the clear, full roar of the surge among the ice +reminded them of salmon and reindeer time and the smell of blossoming +ground-willows. Even as they looked, the sea began to skim over between +the floating cakes of ice, so intense was the cold; but on the horizon +there was a vast red glare, and that was the light of the sunken sun. +It was more like hearing him yawn in his sleep than seeing him rise, and +the glare lasted for only a few minutes, but it marked the turn of the +year. Nothing, they felt, could alter that. + +Kotuko found the dogs fighting over a fresh-killed seal who was +following the fish that a gale always disturbs. He was the first of some +twenty or thirty seal that landed on the island in the course of the +day, and till the sea froze hard there were hundreds of keen black heads +rejoicing in the shallow free water and floating about with the floating +ice. + +It was good to eat seal-liver again; to fill the lamps recklessly with +blubber, and watch the flame blaze three feet in the air; but as soon +as the new sea-ice bore, Kotuko and the girl loaded the hand-sleigh, and +made the two dogs pull as they had never pulled in their lives, for they +feared what might have happened in their village. The weather was as +pitiless as usual; but it is easier to draw a sleigh loaded with good +food than to hunt starving. They left five-and-twenty seal carcasses +buried in the ice of the beach, all ready for use, and hurried back to +their people. The dogs showed them the way as soon as Kotuko told them +what was expected, and though there was no sign of a landmark, in two +days they were giving tongue outside Kadlu’s house. Only three dogs +answered them; the others had been eaten, and the houses were all dark. +But when Kotuko shouted, “Ojo!” (boiled meat), weak voices replied, and +when he called the muster of the village name by name, very distinctly, +there were no gaps in it. + +An hour later the lamps blazed in Kadlu’s house; snow-water was heating; +the pots were beginning to simmer, and the snow was dripping from the +roof, as Amoraq made ready a meal for all the village, and the boy-baby +in the hood chewed at a strip of rich nutty blubber, and the hunters +slowly and methodically filled themselves to the very brim with +seal-meat. Kotuko and the girl told their tale. The two dogs sat between +them, and whenever their names came in, they cocked an ear apiece and +looked most thoroughly ashamed of themselves. A dog who has once gone +mad and recovered, the Inuit say, is safe against all further attacks. + +“So the tornaq did not forget us,” said Kotuko. “The storm blew, the ice +broke, and the seal swam in behind the fish that were frightened by the +storm. Now the new seal-holes are not two days distant. Let the good +hunters go to-morrow and bring back the seal I have speared--twenty-five +seal buried in the ice. When we have eaten those we will all follow the +seal on the floe.” + +“What do YOU do?” said the sorcerer in the same sort of voice as he used +to Kadlu, richest of the Tununirmiut. + +Kadlu looked at the girl from the North, and said quietly, “WE build a +house.” He pointed to the north-west side of Kadlu’s house, for that is +the side on which the married son or daughter always lives. + +The girl turned her hands palm upward, with a little despairing shake +of her head. She was a foreigner, picked up starving, and could bring +nothing to the housekeeping. + +Amoraq jumped from the bench where she sat, and began to sweep things +into the girl’s lap--stone lamps, iron skin-scrapers, tin kettles, +deer-skins embroidered with musk-ox teeth, and real canvas-needles such +as sailors use--the finest dowry that has ever been given on the far +edge of the Arctic Circle, and the girl from the North bowed her head +down to the very floor. + +“Also these!” said Kotuko, laughing and signing to the dogs, who thrust +their cold muzzles into the girl’s face. + +“Ah,” said the angekok, with an important cough, as though he had been +thinking it all over. “As soon as Kotuko left the village I went to the +Singing-House and sang magic. I sang all the long nights, and called +upon the Spirit of the Reindeer. MY singing made the gale blow that +broke the ice and drew the two dogs toward Kotuko when the ice would +have crushed his bones. MY song drew the seal in behind the broken ice. +My body lay still in the quaggi, but my spirit ran about on the ice, and +guided Kotuko and the dogs in all the things they did. I did it.” + +Everybody was full and sleepy, so no one contradicted; and the angekok, +by virtue of his office, helped himself to yet another lump of boiled +meat, and lay down to sleep with the others in the warm, well-lighted, +oil-smelling home. + +***** + +Now Kotuko, who drew very well in the Inuit fashion, scratched pictures +of all these adventures on a long, flat piece of ivory with a hole at +one end. When he and the girl went north to Ellesmere Land in the year +of the Wonderful Open Winter, he left the picture-story with Kadlu, who +lost it in the shingle when his dog-sleigh broke down one summer on the +beach of Lake Netilling at Nikosiring, and there a Lake Inuit found +it next spring and sold it to a man at Imigen who was interpreter on a +Cumberland Sound whaler, and he sold it to Hans Olsen, who was afterward +a quartermaster on board a big steamer that took tourists to the North +Cape in Norway. When the tourist season was over, the steamer ran +between London and Australia, stopping at Ceylon, and there Olsen sold +the ivory to a Cingalese jeweller for two imitation sapphires. I found +it under some rubbish in a house at Colombo, and have translated it from +one end to the other. + + + + +‘ANGUTIVAUN TAINA’ + +[This is a very free translation of the Song of the Returning Hunter, +as the men used to sing it after seal-spearing. The Inuit always repeat +things over and over again.] + + Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood, + Our furs with the drifted snow, + As we come in with the seal--the seal! + In from the edge of the floe. + + Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq! + And the yelping dog-teams go, + And the long whips crack, and the men come back, + Back from the edge of the floe! + + We tracked our seal to his secret place, + We heard him scratch below, + We made our mark, and we watched beside, + Out on the edge of the floe. + + We raised our lance when he rose to breathe, + We drove it downward--so! + And we played him thus, and we killed him thus, + Out on the edge of the floe. + + Our gloves are glued with the frozen blood, + Our eyes with the drifting snow; + But we come back to our wives again, + Back from the edge of the floe! + + Au jana! Aua! Oha! Haq! + And the loaded dog-teams go, + And the wives can hear their men come back. + Back from the edge of the floe! + + + + +RED DOG + + For our white and our excellent nights---for the nights of + swift running. + Fair ranging, far seeing, good hunting, sure cunning! + For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed! + For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started! + For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is + standing at bay, + For the risk and the riot of night! + For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day, + It is met, and we go to the fight. + Bay! O Bay! + +It was after the letting in of the Jungle that the pleasantest part of +Mowgli’s life began. He had the good conscience that comes from paying +debts; all the Jungle was his friend, and just a little afraid of him. +The things that he did and saw and heard when he was wandering from one +people to another, with or without his four companions, would make many +many stories, each as long as this one. So you will never be told how +he met the Mad Elephant of Mandla, who killed two-and-twenty bullocks +drawing eleven carts of coined silver to the Government Treasury, +and scattered the shiny rupees in the dust; how he fought Jacala, the +Crocodile, all one long night in the Marshes of the North, and broke his +skinning-knife on the brute’s back-plates; how he found a new and longer +knife round the neck of a man who had been killed by a wild boar, and +how he tracked that boar and killed him as a fair price for the knife; +how he was caught up once in the Great Famine, by the moving of the +deer, and nearly crushed to death in the swaying hot herds; how he saved +Hathi the Silent from being once more trapped in a pit with a stake +at the bottom, and how, next day, he himself fell into a very cunning +leopard-trap, and how Hathi broke the thick wooden bars to pieces above +him; how he milked the wild buffaloes in the swamp, and how---- + +But we must tell one tale at a time. Father and Mother Wolf died, and +Mowgli rolled a big boulder against the mouth of their cave, and cried +the Death Song over them; Baloo grew very old and stiff, and even +Bagheera, whose nerves were steel and whose muscles were iron, was a +shade slower on the kill than he had been. Akela turned from gray to +milky white with pure age; his ribs stuck out, and he walked as though +he had been made of wood, and Mowgli killed for him. But the young +wolves, the children of the disbanded Seeonee Pack, throve and +increased, and when there were about forty of them, masterless, +full-voiced, clean-footed five-year-olds, Akela told them that they +ought to gather themselves together and follow the Law, and run under +one head, as befitted the Free People. + +This was not a question in which Mowgli concerned himself, for, as he +said, he had eaten sour fruit, and he knew the tree it hung from; but +when Phao, son of Phaona (his father was the Gray Tracker in the days +of Akela’s headship), fought his way to the leadership of the Pack, +according to the Jungle Law, and the old calls and songs began to ring +under the stars once more, Mowgli came to the Council Rock for memory’s +sake. When he chose to speak the Pack waited till he had finished, and +he sat at Akela’s side on the rock above Phao. Those were days of good +hunting and good sleeping. No stranger cared to break into the jungles +that belonged to Mowgli’s people, as they called the Pack, and the young +wolves grew fat and strong, and there were many cubs to bring to the +Looking-over. Mowgli always attended a Looking-over, remembering the +night when a black panther bought a naked brown baby into the pack, +and the long call, “Look, look well, O Wolves,” made his heart flutter. +Otherwise, he would be far away in the Jungle with his four brothers, +tasting, touching, seeing, and feeling new things. + +One twilight when he was trotting leisurely across the ranges to give +Akela the half of a buck that he had killed, while the Four jogged +behind him, sparring a little, and tumbling one another over for joy of +being alive, he heard a cry that had never been heard since the bad days +of Shere Khan. It was what they call in the Jungle the pheeal, a hideous +kind of shriek that the jackal gives when he is hunting behind a tiger, +or when there is a big killing afoot. If you can imagine a mixture of +hate, triumph, fear, and despair, with a kind of leer running through +it, you will get some notion of the pheeal that rose and sank and +wavered and quavered far away across the Waingunga. The Four stopped at +once, bristling and growling. Mowgli’s hand went to his knife, and he +checked, the blood in his face, his eyebrows knotted. + +“There is no Striped One dare kill here,” he said. + +“That is not the cry of the Forerunner,” answered Gray Brother. “It is +some great killing. Listen!” + +It broke out again, half sobbing and half chuckling, just as though the +jackal had soft human lips. Then Mowgli drew deep breath, and ran to the +Council Rock, overtaking on his way hurrying wolves of the Pack. +Phao and Akela were on the Rock together, and below them, every nerve +strained, sat the others. The mothers and the cubs were cantering off to +their lairs; for when the pheeal cries it is no time for weak things to +be abroad. + +They could hear nothing except the Waingunga rushing and gurgling in +the dark, and the light evening winds among the tree-tops, till suddenly +across the river a wolf called. It was no wolf of the Pack, for they +were all at the Rock. The note changed to a long, despairing bay; and +“Dhole!” it said, “Dhole! dhole! dhole!” They heard tired feet on the +rocks, and a gaunt wolf, streaked with red on his flanks, his right +fore-paw useless, and his jaws white with foam, flung himself into the +circle and lay gasping at Mowgli’s feet. + +“Good hunting! Under whose Headship?” said Phao gravely. + +“Good hunting! Won-tolla am I,” was the answer. He meant that he was +a solitary wolf, fending for himself, his mate, and his cubs in +some lonely lair, as do many wolves in the south. Won-tolla means an +Outlier--one who lies out from any Pack. Then he panted, and they could +see his heart-beats shake him backward and forward. + +“What moves?” said Phao, for that is the question all the Jungle asks +after the pheeal cries. + +“The dhole, the dhole of the Dekkan--Red Dog, the Killer! They came +north from the south saying the Dekkan was empty and killing out by the +way. When this moon was new there were four to me--my mate and three +cubs. She would teach them to kill on the grass plains, hiding to +drive the buck, as we do who are of the open. At midnight I heard them +together, full tongue on the trail. At the dawn-wind I found them stiff +in the grass--four, Free People, four when this moon was new. Then +sought I my Blood-Right and found the dhole.” + +“How many?” said Mowgli quickly; the Pack growled deep in their throats. + +“I do not know. Three of them will kill no more, but at the last they +drove me like the buck; on my three legs they drove me. Look, Free +People!” + +He thrust out his mangled fore-foot, all dark with dried blood. There +were cruel bites low down on his side, and his throat was torn and +worried. + +“Eat,” said Akela, rising up from the meat Mowgli had brought him, and +the Outlier flung himself on it. + +“This shall be no loss,” he said humbly, when he had taken off the first +edge of his hunger. “Give me a little strength, Free People, and I also +will kill. My lair is empty that was full when this moon was new, and +the Blood Debt is not all paid.” + +Phao heard his teeth crack on a haunch-bone and grunted approvingly. + +“We shall need those jaws,” said he. “Were there cubs with the dhole?” + +“Nay, nay. Red Hunters all: grown dogs of their Pack, heavy and strong +for all that they eat lizards in the Dekkan.” + +What Won-tolla had said meant that the dhole, the red hunting-dog of the +Dekkan, was moving to kill, and the Pack knew well that even the tiger +will surrender a new kill to the dhole. They drive straight through the +Jungle, and what they meet they pull down and tear to pieces. Though +they are not as big nor half as cunning as the wolf, they are very +strong and very numerous. The dhole, for instance, do not begin to call +themselves a pack till they are a hundred strong; whereas forty wolves +make a very fair pack indeed. Mowgli’s wanderings had taken him to +the edge of the high grassy downs of the Dekkan, and he had seen the +fearless dholes sleeping and playing and scratching themselves in the +little hollows and tussocks that they use for lairs. He despised and +hated them because they did not smell like the Free People, because they +did not live in caves, and, above all, because they had hair between +their toes while he and his friends were clean-footed. But he knew, for +Hathi had told him, what a terrible thing a dhole hunting-pack was. Even +Hathi moves aside from their line, and until they are killed, or till +game is scarce, they will go forward. + +Akela knew something of the dholes, too, for he said to Mowgli quietly, +“It is better to die in a Full Pack than leaderless and alone. This is +good hunting, and--my last. But, as men live, thou hast very many more +nights and days, Little Brother. Go north and lie down, and if any live +after the dhole has gone by he shall bring thee word of the fight.” + + +“Ah,” said Mowgli, quite gravely, “must I go to the marshes and catch +little fish and sleep in a tree, or must I ask help of the Bandar-log +and crack nuts, while the Pack fight below?” + +“It is to the death,” said Akela. “Thou hast never met the dhole--the +Red Killer. Even the Striped One----” + +“Aowa! Aowa!” said Mowgli pettingly. “I have killed one striped ape, and +sure am I in my stomach that Shere Khan would have left his own mate for +meat to the dhole if he had winded a pack across three ranges. Listen +now: There was a wolf, my father, and there was a wolf, my mother, and +there was an old gray wolf (not too wise: he is white now) was my father +and my mother. Therefore I--” he raised his voice, “I say that when the +dhole come, and if the dhole come, Mowgli and the Free People are of +one skin for that hunting; and I say, by the Bull that bought me--by the +Bull Bagheera paid for me in the old days which ye of the Pack do not +remember--_I_ say, that the Trees and the River may hear and hold fast +if I forget; _I_ say that this my knife shall be as a tooth to the +Pack--and I do not think it is so blunt. This is my Word which has gone +from me.” + +“Thou dost not know the dhole, man with a wolf’s tongue,” said +Won-tolla. “I look only to clear the Blood Debt against them ere they +have me in many pieces. They move slowly, killing out as they go, but in +two days a little strength will come back to me and I turn again for the +Blood Debt. But for YE, Free People, my word is that ye go north and eat +but little for a while till the dhole are gone. There is no meat in this +hunting.” + +“Hear the Outlier!” said Mowgli with a laugh. “Free People, we must go +north and dig lizards and rats from the bank, lest by any chance we meet +the dhole. He must kill out our hunting-grounds, while we lie hid in the +north till it please him to give us our own again. He is a dog--and the +pup of a dog--red, yellow-bellied, lairless, and haired between every +toe! He counts his cubs six and eight at the litter, as though he were +Chikai, the little leaping rat. Surely we must run away, Free People, +and beg leave of the peoples of the north for the offal of dead cattle! +Ye know the saying: ‘North are the vermin; south are the lice. WE are +the Jungle.’ Choose ye, O choose. It is good hunting! For the Pack--for +the Full Pack--for the lair and the litter; for the in-kill and the +out-kill; for the mate that drives the doe and the little, little cub +within the cave; it is met!--it is met!--it is met!” + +The Pack answered with one deep, crashing bark that sounded in the night +like a big tree falling. “It is met!” they cried. “Stay with these,” + said Mowgli to the Four. “We shall need every tooth. Phao and Akela must +make ready the battle. I go to count the dogs.” + +“It is death!” Won-tolla cried, half rising. “What can such a hairless +one do against the Red Dog? Even the Striped One, remember----” + +“Thou art indeed an Outlier,” Mowgli called back; “but we will speak +when the dholes are dead. Good hunting all!” + +He hurried off into the darkness, wild with excitement, hardly looking +where he set foot, and the natural consequence was that he tripped full +length over Kaa’s great coils where the python lay watching a deer-path +near the river. + +“Kssha!” said Kaa angrily. “Is this jungle-work, to stamp and tramp and +undo a night’s hunting--when the game are moving so well, too?” + +“The fault was mine,” said Mowgli, picking himself up. “Indeed I was +seeking thee, Flathead, but each time we meet thou art longer and +broader by the length of my arm. There is none like thee in the Jungle, +wise, old, strong, and most beautiful Kaa.” + +“Now whither does THIS trail lead?” Kaa’s voice was gentler. “Not a +moon since there was a Manling with a knife threw stones at my head and +called me bad little tree-cat names, because I lay asleep in the open.” + +“Ay, and turned every driven deer to all the winds, and Mowgli was +hunting, and this same Flathead was too deaf to hear his whistle, and +leave the deer-roads free,” Mowgli answered composedly, sitting down +among the painted coils. + +“Now this same Manling comes with soft, tickling words to this same +Flathead, telling him that he is wise and strong and beautiful, and +this same old Flathead believes and makes a place, thus, for this same +stone-throwing Manling, and--Art thou at ease now? Could Bagheera give +thee so good a resting-place?” + +Kaa had, as usual, made a sort of soft half-hammock of himself under +Mowgli’s weight. The boy reached out in the darkness, and gathered in +the supple cable-like neck till Kaa’s head rested on his shoulder, and +then he told him all that had happened in the Jungle that night. + +“Wise I may be,” said Kaa at the end; “but deaf I surely am. Else I +should have heard the pheeal. Small wonder the Eaters of Grass are +uneasy. How many be the dhole?” + +“I have not yet seen. I came hot-foot to thee. Thou art older than +Hathi. But oh, Kaa,”--here Mowgli wriggled with sheerjoy,--“it will be +good hunting. Few of us will see another moon.” + +“Dost THOU strike in this? Remember thou art a Man; and remember what +Pack cast thee out. Let the Wolf look to the Dog. THOU art a Man.” + +“Last year’s nuts are this year’s black earth,” said Mowgli. “It is true +that I am a Man, but it is in my stomach that this night I have said +that I am a Wolf. I called the River and the Trees to remember. I am of +the Free People, Kaa, till the dhole has gone by.” + +“Free People,” Kaa grunted. “Free thieves! And thou hast tied thyself +into the death-knot for the sake of the memory of the dead wolves? This +is no good hunting.” + +“It is my Word which I have spoken. The Trees know, the River knows. +Till the dhole have gone by my Word comes not back to me.” + +“Ngssh! This changes all trails. I had thought to take thee away with me +to the northern marshes, but the Word--even the Word of a little, naked, +hairless Manling--is the Word. Now I, Kaa, say----” + +“Think well, Flathead, lest thou tie thyself into the death-knot also. I +need no Word from thee, for well I know----” + +“Be it so, then,” said Kaa. “I will give no Word; but what is in thy +stomach to do when the dhole come?” + +“They must swim the Waingunga. I thought to meet them with my knife in +the shallows, the Pack behind me; and so stabbing and thrusting, we a +little might turn them down-stream, or cool their throats.” + +“The dhole do not turn and their throats are hot,” said Kaa. “There will +be neither Manling nor Wolf-cub when that hunting is done, but only dry +bones.” + +“Alala! If we die, we die. It will be most good hunting. But my stomach +is young, and I have not seen many Rains. I am not wise nor strong. Hast +thou a better plan, Kaa?” + +“I have seen a hundred and a hundred Rains. Ere Hathi cast his +milk-tushes my trail was big in the dust. By the First Egg, I am older +than many trees, and I have seen all that the Jungle has done.” + +“But THIS is new hunting,” said Mowgli. “Never before have the dhole +crossed our trail.” + +“What is has been. What will be is no more than a forgotten year +striking backward. Be still while I count those my years.” + +For a long hour Mowgli lay back among the coils, while Kaa, his head +motionless on the ground, thought of all that he had seen and known +since the day he came from the egg. The light seemed to go out of his +eyes and leave them like stale opals, and now and again he made little +stiff passes with his head, right and left, as though he were hunting in +his sleep. Mowgli dozed quietly, for he knew that there is nothing like +sleep before hunting, and he was trained to take it at any hour of the +day or night. + +Then he felt Kaa’s back grow bigger and broader below him as the huge +python puffed himself out, hissing with the noise of a sword drawn from +a steel scabbard. + +“I have seen all the dead seasons,” Kaa said at last, “and the +great trees and the old elephants, and the rocks that were bare and +sharp-pointed ere the moss grew. Art THOU still alive, Manling?” + +“It is only a little after moonset,” said Mowgli. “I do not +understand----” + +“Hssh! I am again Kaa. I knew it was but a little time. Now we will +go to the river, and I will show thee what is to be done against the +dhole.” + +He turned, straight as an arrow, for the main stream of the Waingunga, +plunging in a little above the pool that hid the Peace Rock, Mowgli at +his side. + +“Nay, do not swim. I go swiftly. My back, Little Brother.” + +Mowgli tucked his left arm round Kaa’s neck, dropped his right close to +his body, and straightened his feet. Then Kaa breasted the current as +he alone could, and the ripple of the checked water stood up in a frill +round Mowgli’s neck, and his feet were waved to and fro in the eddy +under the python’s lashing sides. A mile or two above the Peace Rock +the Waingunga narrows between a gorge of marble rocks from eighty to +a hundred feet high, and the current runs like a mill-race between and +over all manner of ugly stones. But Mowgli did not trouble his head +about the water; little water in the world could have given him a +moment’s fear. He was looking at the gorge on either side and sniffing +uneasily, for there was a sweetish-sourish smell in the air, very like +the smell of a big ant-hill on a hot day. Instinctively he lowered +himself in the water, only raising his head to breathe from time to +time, and Kaa came to anchor with a double twist of his tail round a +sunken rock, holding Mowgli in the hollow of a coil, while the water +raced on. + +“This is the Place of Death,” said the boy. “Why do we come here?” + +“They sleep,” said Kaa. “Hathi will not turn aside for the Striped One. +Yet Hathi and the Striped One together turn aside for the dhole, and the +dhole they say turn aside for nothing. And yet for whom do the Little +People of the Rocks turn aside? Tell me, Master of the Jungle, who is +the Master of the Jungle?” + +“These,” Mowgli whispered. “It is the Place of Death. Let us go.” + +“Nay, look well, for they are asleep. It is as it was when I was not the +length of thy arm.” + +The split and weatherworn rocks of the gorge of the Waingunga had been +used since the beginning of the Jungle by the Little People of the +Rocks--the busy, furious, black wild bees of India; and, as Mowgli knew +well, all trails turned off half a mile before they reached the gorge. +For centuries the Little People had hived and swarmed from cleft to +cleft, and swarmed again, staining the white marble with stale honey, +and made their combs tall and deep in the dark of the inner caves, where +neither man nor beast nor fire nor water had ever touched them. The +length of the gorge on both siaes was hung as it were with black +shimmery velvet curtains, and Mowgli sank as he looked, for those were +the clotted millions of the sleeping bees. There were other lumps and +festoons and things like decayed tree-trunks studded on the face of the +rock, the old combs of past years, or new cities built in the shadow of +the windless gorge, and huge masses of spongy, rotten trash had rolled +down and stuck among the trees and creepers that clung to the rock-face. +As he listened he heard more than once the rustle and slide of a +honey-loaded comb turning over or failing away somewhere in the dark +galleries; then a booming of angry wings, and the sullen drip, drip, +drip, of the wasted honey, guttering along till it lipped over some +ledge in the open air and sluggishly trickled down on the twigs. There +was a tiny little beach, not five feet broad, on one side of the river, +and that was piled high with the rubbish of uncounted years. There were +dead bees, drones, sweepings, and stale combs, and wings of marauding +moths that had strayed in after honey, all tumbled in smooth piles of +the finest black dust. The mere sharp smell of it was enough to frighten +anything that had no wings, and knew what the Little People were. + +Kaa moved up-stream again till he came to a sandy bar at the head of the +gorge. + +“Here is this season’s kill,” said he. “Look!” On the bank lay the +skeletons of a couple of young deer and a buffalo. Mowgli could see +that neither wolf nor jackal had touched the hones, which were laid out +naturally. + +“They came beyond the line; they did not know the Law,” murmured +Mowgli, “and the Little People killed them. Let us go ere they wake.” + +“They do not wake till the dawn,” said Kaa. “Now I will tell thee. A +hunted buck from the south, many, many Rains ago, came hither from the +south, not knowing the Jungle, a Pack on his trail. Being made blind by +fear, he leaped from above, the Pack running by sight, for they were +hot and blind on the trail. The sun was high, and the Little People were +many and very angry. Many, too, were those of the Pack who leaped into +the Waingunga, but they were dead ere they took water. Those who did not +leap died also in the rocks above. But the buck lived.” + +“How?” + +“Because he came first, running for his life, leaping ere the Little +People were aware, and was in the river when they gathered to kill. +The Pack, following, was altogether lost under the weight of the Little +People.” + +“The buck lived?” Mowgli repeated slowly. + +“At least he did not die THEN, though none waited his coming down with +a strong body to hold him safe against the water, as a certain old fat, +deaf, yellow Flathead would wait for a Manling--yea, though there were +all the dholes of the Dekkan on his trail. What is in thy stomach?” + Kaa’s head was close to Mowgli’s ear; and it was a little time before +the boy answered. + +“It is to pull the very whiskers of Death, but--Kaa, thou art, indeed, +the wisest of all the Jungle.” + +“So many have said. Look now, if the dhole follow thee----” + +“As surely they will follow. Ho! ho! I have many little thorns under my +tongue to prick into their hides.” + +“If they follow thee hot and blind, looking only at thy shoulders, those +who do not die up above will take water either here or lower down, for +the Little People will rise up and cover them. Now the Waingunga is +hungry water, and they will have no Kaa to hold them, but will go down, +such as live, to the shallows by the Seeonee Lairs, and there thy Pack +may meet them by the throat.” + +“Ahai! Eowawa! Better could not be till the Rains fall in the dry +season. There is now only the little matter of the run and the leap. +I will make me known to the dholes, so that they shall follow me very +closely.” + +“Hast thou seen the rocks above thee? From the landward side?” + +“Indeed, no. That I had forgotten.” + +“Go look. It is all rotten ground, cut and full of holes. One of thy +clumsy feet set down without seeing would end the hunt. See, I leave +thee here, and for thy sake only I will carry word to the Pack that they +may know where to look for the dhole. For myself, I am not of one skin +with ANY wolf.” + +When Kaa disliked an acquaintance he could be more unpleasant than any +of the Jungle People, except perhaps Bagheera. He swam down-stream, +and opposite the Rock he came on Phao and Akela listening to the night +noises. + +“Hssh! Dogs,” he said cheerfully. “The dholes will come down-stream. If +ye be not afraid ye can kill them in the shallows.” + +“When come they?” said Phao. “And where is my Man-cub?” said Akela. + +“They come when they come,” said Kaa. “Wait and see. As for THY Man-cub, +from whom thou hast taken a Word and so laid him open to Death, THY +Man-cub is with ME, and if he be not already dead the fault is none +of thine, bleached dog! Wait here for the dhole, and be glad that the +Man-cub and I strike on thy side.” + +Kaa flashed up-stream again, and moored himself in the middle of +the gorge, looking upward at the line of the cliff. Presently he saw +Mowgli’s head move against the stars, and then there was a whizz in +the air, the keen, clean schloop of a body falling feet first, and next +minute the boy was at rest again in the loop of Kaa’s body. + +“It is no leap by night,” said Mowgli quietly. “I have jumped twice as +far for sport; but that is an evil place above--low bushes and gullies +that go down very deep, all full of the Little People. I have put big +stones one above the other by the side of three gullies. These I shall +throw down with my feet in running, and the Little People will rise up +behind me, very angry.” + +“That is Man’s talk and Man’s cunning,” said Kaa. “Thou art wise, but +the Little People are always angry.” + +“Nay, at twilight all wings near and far rest for a while. I will play +with the dhole at twilight, for the dhole hunts best by day. He follows +now Won-tolla’s blood-trail.” + +“Chil does not leave a dead ox, nor the dhole the blood-trail,” said +Kaa. + +“Then I will make him a new blood-trail, of his own blood, if I can, and +give him dirt to eat. Thou wilt stay here, Kaa, till I come again with +my dholes?” + +“Ay, but what if they kill thee in the Jungle, or the Little People kill +thee before thou canst leap down to the river?” + +“When to-morrow comes we will kill for to-morrow,” said Mowgli, quoting +a Jungle saying; and again, “When I am dead it is time to sing the Death +Song. Good hunting, Kaa!” + +He loosed his arm from the python’s neck and went down the gorge like +a log in a freshet, paddling toward the far bank, where he found +slack-water, and laughing aloud from sheer happiness. There was nothing +Mowgli liked better than, as he himself said, “to pull the whiskers +of Death,” and make the Jungle know that he was their overlord. He had +often, with Baloo’s help, robbed bees’ nests in single trees, and +he knew that the Little People hated the smell of wild garlic. So he +gathered a small bundle of it, tied it up with a bark string, and then +followed Won-tolla’s blood-trail, as it ran southerly from the Lairs, +for some five miles, looking at the trees with his head on one side, and +chuckling as he looked. + +“Mowgli the Frog have I been,” said he to himself; “Mowgli the Wolf have +I said that I am. Now Mowgli the Ape must I be before I am Mowgli the +Buck. At the end I shall be Mowgli the Man. Ho!” and he slid his thumb +along the eighteen-inch blade of his knife. + +Won-tolla’s trail, all rank with dark blood-spots, ran under a forest of +thick trees that grew close together and stretched away north-eastward, +gradually growing thinner and thinner to within two miles of the Bee +Rocks. From the last tree to the low scrub of the Bee Rocks was open +country, where there was hardly cover enough to hide a wolf. Mowgli +trotted along under the trees, judging distances between branch and +branch, occasionally climbing up a trunk and taking a trial leap from +one tree to another till he came to the open ground, which he studied +very carefully for an hour. Then he turned, picked up Won-tolla’s trail +where he had left it, settled himself in a tree with an outrunning +branch some eight feet from the ground, and sat still, sharpening his +knife on the sole of his foot and singing to himself. + +A little before mid-day, when the sun was very warm, he heard the patter +of feet and smelt the abominable smell of the dhole-pack as they trotted +pitilessly along Won-tolla’s trail. Seen from above, the red dhole does +not look half the size of a wolf, but Mowgli knew how strong his feet +and jaws were. He watched the sharp bay head of the leader snuffing +along the trail, and gave him “Good hunting!” + +The brute looked up, and his companions halted behind him, scores and +scores of red dogs with low-hung tails, heavy shoulders, weak quarters, +and bloody mouths. The dholes are a very silent people as a rule, and +they have no manners even in their own Jungle. Fully two hundred must +have gathered below him, but he could see that the leaders sniffed +hungrily on Won-tolla’s trail, and tried to drag the Pack forward. That +would never do, or they would be at the Lairs in broad daylight, and +Mowgli meant to hold them under his tree till dusk. + +“By whose leave do ye come here?” said Mowgli. + +“All Jungles are our Jungle,” was the reply, and the dhole that gave +it bared his white teeth. Mowgli looked down with a smile, and imitated +perfectly the sharp chitter-chatter of Chikai, the leaping rat of the +Dekkan, meaning the dholes to understand that he considered them no +better than Chikai. The Pack closed up round the tree-trunk and the +leader bayed savagely, calling Mowgli a tree-ape. For an answer Mowgli +stretched down one naked leg and wriggled his bare toes just above the +leader’s head. That was enough, and more than enough, to wake the Pack +to stupid rage. Those who have hair between their toes do not care to be +reminded of it. Mowgli caught his foot away as the leader leaped up, and +said sweetly: “Dog, red dog! Go back to the Dekkan and eat lizards. Go to +Chikai thy brother--dog, dog--red, red dog! There is hair between every +toe!” He twiddled his toes a second time. + +“Come down ere we starve thee out, hairless ape!” yelled the Pack, and +this was exactly what Mowgli wanted. He laid himself down along the +branch, his cheek to the bark, his right arm free, and there he told the +Pack what he thought and knew about them, their manners, their customs, +their mates, and their puppies. There is no speech in the world so +rancorous and so stinging as the language the Jungle People use to show +scorn and contempt. When you come to think of it you will see how this +must be so. As Mowgli told Kaa, he had many little thorns under his +tongue, and slowly and deliberately he drove the dholes from silence to +growls, from growls to yells, and from yells to hoarse slavery ravings. +They tried to answer his taunts, but a cub might as well have tried to +answer Kaa in a rage; and all the while Mowgli’s right hand lay crooked +at his side, ready for action, his feet locked round the branch. The big +bay leader had leaped many times in the air, but Mowgli dared not risk +a false blow. At last, made furious beyond his natural strength, he +bounded up seven or eight feet clear of the ground. Then Mowgli’s hand +shot out like the head of a tree-snake, and gripped him by the scruff +of his neck, and the branch shook with the jar as his weight fell back, +almost wrenching Mowgli to the ground. But he never loosed his grip, and +inch by inch he hauled the beast, hanging like a drowned jackal, up on +the branch. With his left hand he reached for his knife and cut off the +red, bushy tail, flinging the dhole back to earth again. That was all he +needed. The Pack would not go forward on Won-tolla’s trail now till they +had killed Mowgli or Mowgli had killed them. He saw them settle down +in circles with a quiver of the haunches that meant they were going +to stay, and so he climbed to a higher crotch, settled his back +comfortably, and went to sleep. + +After three or four hours he waked and counted the Pack. They were all +there, silent, husky, and dry, with eyes of steel. The sun was beginning +to sink. In half an hour the Little People of the Rocks would be ending +their labours, and, as you know, the dhole does not fight best in the +twilight. + +“I did not need such faithful watchers,” he said politely, standing up +on a branch, “but I will remember this. Ye be true dholes, but to my +thinking over much of one kind. For that reason I do not give the big +lizard-eater his tail again. Art thou not pleased, Red Dog?” + +“I myself will tear out thy stomach!” yelled the leader, scratching at +the foot of the tree. + +“Nay, but consider, wise rat of the Dekkan. There will now be many +litters of little tailless red dogs, yea, with raw red stumps that sting +when the sand is hot. Go home, Red Dog, and cry that an ape has done +this. Ye will not go? Come, then, with me, and I will make you very +wise!” + +He moved, Bandar-log fashion, into the next tree, and so on into the +next and the next, the Pack following with lifted hungry heads. Now and +then he would pretend to fall, and the Pack would tumble one over the +other in their haste to be at the death. It was a curious sight--the boy +with the knife that shone in the low sunlight as it sifted through the +upper branches, and the silent Pack with their red coats all aflame, +huddling and following below. When he came to the last tree he took the +garlic and rubbed himself all over carefully, and the dholes yelled with +scorn. “Ape with a wolf’s tongue, dost thou think to cover thy scent?” + they said. “We follow to the death.” + +“Take thy tail,” said Mowgli, flinging it back along the course he had +taken. The Pack instinctively rushed after it. “And follow now--to the +death.” + +He had slipped down the tree-trunk, and headed like the wind in bare +feet for the Bee Rocks, before the dholes saw what he would do. + +They gave one deep howl, and settled down to the long, lobbing canter +that can at the last run down anything that runs. Mowgli knew their +pack-pace to be much slower than that of the wolves, or he would never +have risked a two-mile run in full sight. They were sure that the boy +was theirs at last, and he was sure that he held them to play with as he +pleased. All his trouble was to keep them sufficiently hot behind him +to prevent their turning off too soon. He ran cleanly, evenly, and +springily; the tailless leader not five yards behind him; and the Pack +tailing out over perhaps a quarter of a mile of ground, crazy and blind +with the rage of slaughter. So he kept his distance by ear, reserving +his last effort for the rush across the Bee Rocks. + +The Little People had gone to sleep in the early twilight, for it +was not the season of late blossoming flowers; but as Mowgli’s first +foot-falls rang hollow on the hollow ground he heard a sound as though +all the earth were humming. Then he ran as he had never run in his life +before, spurned aside one--two--three of the piles of stones into the +dark, sweet-smelling gullies; heard a roar like the roar of the sea in a +cave; saw with the tail of his eye the air grow dark behind him; saw the +current of the Waingunga far below, and a flat, diamond-shaped head +in the water; leaped outward with all his strength, the tailless dhole +snapping at his shoulder in mid-air, and dropped feet first to the +safety of the river, breathless and triumphant. There was not a sting +upon him, for the smell of the garlic had checked the Little People for +just the few seconds that he was among them. When he rose Kaa’s coils +were steadying him and things were bounding over the edge of the +cliff--great lumps, it seemed, of clustered bees falling like plummets; +but before any lump touched water the bees flew upward and the body of a +dhole whirled down-stream. Overhead they could hear furious short yells +that were drowned in a roar like breakers--the roar of the wings of the +Little People of the Rocks. Some of the dholes, too, had fallen into the +gullies that communicated with the underground caves, and there choked +and fought and snapped among the tumbled honeycombs, and at last, borne +up, even when they were dead, on the heaving waves of bees beneath +them, shot out of some hole in the river-face, to roll over on the black +rubbish-heaps. There were dholes who had leaped short into the trees +on the cliffs, and the bees blotted out their shapes; but the greater +number of them, maddened by the stings, had flung themselves into the +river; and, as Kaa said, the Waingunga was hungry water. + +Kaa held Mowgli fast till the boy had recovered his breath. + +“We may not stay here,” he said. “The Little People are roused indeed. +Come!” + +Swimming low and diving as often as he could, Mowgli went down the +river, knife in hand. + +“Slowly, slowly,” said Kaa. “One tooth does not kill a hundred unless +it be a cobra’s, and many of the dholes took water swiftly when they saw +the Little People rise.” + +“The more work for my knife, then. Phai! How the Little People follow!” + Mowgli sank again. The face of the water was blanketed with wild bees, +buzzing sullenly and stinging all they found. + +“Nothing was ever yet lost by silence,” said Kaa--no sting could +penetrate his scales--“and thou hast all the long night for the hunting. +Hear them howl!” + +Nearly half the pack had seen the trap their fellows rushed into, and +turning sharp aside had flung themselves into the water where the gorge +broke down in steep banks. Their cries of rage and their threats against +the “tree-ape” who had brought them to their shame mixed with the yells +and growls of those who had been punished by the Little People. To +remain ashore was death, and every dhole knew it. Their pack was swept +along the current, down to the deep eddies of the Peace Pool, but even +there the angry Little People followed and forced them to the water +again. Mowgli could hear the voice of the tailless leader bidding his +people hold on and kill out every wolf in Seeonee. But he did not waste +his time in listening. + +“One kills in the dark behind us!” snapped a dhole. “Here is tainted +water!” + +Mowgli had dived forward like an otter, twitched a struggling dhole +under water before he could open his mouth, and dark rings rose as the +body plopped up, turning on its side. The dholes tried to turn, but the +current prevented them, and the Little People darted at the heads and +ears, and they could hear the challenge of the Seeonee Pack growing +louder and deeper in the gathering darkness. Again Mowgli dived, and +again a dhole went under, and rose dead, and again the clamour broke +out at the rear of the pack; some howling that it was best to go ashore, +others calling on their leader to lead them back to the Dekkan, and +others bidding Mowgli show himself and be killed. + +“They come to the fight with two stomachs and several voices,” said Kaa. +“The rest is with thy brethren below yonder, The Little People go back +to sleep. They have chased us far. Now I, too, turn back, for I am not +of one skin with any wolf. Good hunting, Little Brother, and remember +the dhole bites low.” + +A wolf came running along the bank on three legs, leaping up and down, +laying his head sideways close to the ground, hunching his back, and +breaking high into the air, as though he were playing with his cubs. It +was Won-tolla, the Outlier, and he said never a word, but continued his +horrible sport beside the dholes. They had been long in the water now, +and were swimming wearily, their coats drenched and heavy, their bushy +tails dragging like sponges, so tired and shaken that they, too, were +silent, watching the pair of blazing eyes that moved abreast. + +“This is no good hunting,” said one, panting. + +“Good hunting!” said Mowgli, as he rose boldly at the brute’s side, and +sent the long knife home behind the shoulder, pushing hard to avoid his +dying snap. + +“Art thou there, Man-cub?” said Won-tolla across the water. + +“Ask of the dead, Outlier,” Mowgli replied. “Have none come down-stream? +I have filled these dogs’ mouths with dirt; I have tricked them in the +broad daylight, and their leader lacks his tail, but here be some few +for thee still. Whither shall I drive them?” + +“I will wait,” said Won-tolla. “The night is before me.” + +Nearer and nearer came the bay of the Seeonee wolves. “For the Pack, +for the Full Pack it is met!” and a bend in the river drove the dholes +forward among the sands and shoals opposite the Lairs. + +Then they saw their mistake. They should have landed half a mile higher +up, and rushed the wolves on dry ground. Now it was too late. The bank +was lined with burning eyes, and except for the horrible pheeal that had +never stopped since sundown, there was no sound in the Jungle. It seemed +as though Won-tolla were fawning on them to come ashore; and “Turn +and take hold!” said the leader of the dholes. The entire Pack flung +themselves at the shore, threshing and squattering through the shoal +water, till the face of the Waingunga was all white and torn, and the +great ripples went from side to side, like bow-waves from a boat. Mowgli +followed the rush, stabbing and slicing as the dholes, huddled together, +rushed up the river-beach in one wave. + +Then the long fight began, heaving and straining and splitting and +scattering and narrowing and broadening along the red, wet sands, and +over and between the tangled tree-roots, and through and among the +bushes, and in and out of the grass clumps; for even now the dholes were +two to one. But they met wolves fighting for all that made the Pack, +and not only the short, high, deep-chested, white-tusked hunters of the +Pack, but the anxious-eyed lahinis--the she-wolves of the lair, as the +saying is--fighting for their litters, with here and there a yearling +wolf, his first coat still half woolly, tugging and grappling by their +sides. A wolf, you must know, flies at the throat or snaps at the flank, +while a dhole, by preference, bites at the belly; so when the dholes +were struggling out of the water and had to raise their heads, the odds +were with the wolves. On dry land the wolves suffered; but in the water +or ashore, Mowgli’s knife came and went without ceasing. The Four had +worried their way to his side. Gray Brother, crouched between the boy’s +knees, was protecting his stomach, while the others guarded his back +and either side, or stood over him when the shock of a leaping, yelling +dhole who had thrown himself full on the steady blade bore him down. For +the rest, it was one tangled confusion--a locked and swaying mob that +moved from right to left and from left to right along the bank; and also +ground round and round slowly on its own centre. Here would be a heaving +mound, like a water-blister in a whirlpool, which would break like a +water-blister, and throw up four or five mangled dogs, each striving to +get back to the centre; here would be a single wolf borne down by two or +three dholes, laboriously dragging them forward, and sinking the while; +here a yearling cub would be held up by the pressure round him, though +he had been killed early, while his mother, crazed with dumb rage, +rolled over and over, snapping, and passing on; and in the middle of the +thickest press, perhaps, one wolf and one dhole, forgetting everything +else, would be manoeuvring for first hold till they were whirled away by +a rush of furious fighters. Once Mowgli passed Akela, a dhole on either +flank, and his all but toothless jaws closed over the loins of a third; +and once he saw Phao, his teeth set in the throat of a dhole, tugging +the unwilling beast forward till the yearlings could finish him. But the +bulk of the fight was blind flurry and smother in the dark; hit, trip, +and tumble, yelp, groan, and worry-worry-worry, round him and behind him +and above him. As the night wore on, the quick, giddy-go-round motion +increased. The dholes were cowed and afraid to attack the stronger +wolves, but did not yet dare to run away. Mowgli felt that the end was +coming soon, and contented himself with striking merely to cripple. The +yearlings were growing bolder; there was time now and again to breathe, +and pass a word to a friend, and the mere flicker of the knife would +sometimes turn a dog aside. + +“The meat is very near the bone,” Gray Brother yelled. He was bleeding +from a score of flesh-wounds. + +“But the bone is yet to be cracked,” said Mowgli. “Eowawa! THUS do we do +in the Jungle!” The red blade ran like a flame along the side of a dhole +whose hind-quarters were hidden by the weight of a clinging wolf. + +“My kill!” snorted the wolf through his wrinkled nostrils. “Leave him to +me.” + +“Is thy stomach still empty, Outlier?” said Mowgli. Won-tolla was +fearfully punished, but his grip had paralysed the dhole, who could not +turn round and reach him. + +“By the Bull that bought me,” said Mowgli, with a bitter laugh, “it is +the tailless one!” And indeed it was the big bay-coloured leader. + +“It is not wise to kill cubs and lahinis,” Mowgli went on +philosophically, wiping the blood out of his eyes, “unless one has also +killed the Outlier; and it is in my stomach that this Won-tolla kills +thee.” + +A dhole leaped to his leader’s aid; but before his teeth had found +Won-tolla’s flank, Mowgli’s knife was in his throat, and Gray Brother +took what was left. + +“And thus do we do in the Jungle,” said Mowgli. + +Won-tolla said not a word, only his jaws were closing and closing on the +backbone as his life ebbed. The dhole shuddered, his head dropped, and +he lay still, and Won-tolla dropped above him. + +“Huh! The Blood Debt is paid,” said Mowgli. “Sing the song, Won-tolla.” + +“He hunts no more,” said Gray Brother; “and Akela, too, is silent this +long time.” + +“The bone is cracked!” thundered Phao, son of Phaona. “They go! Kill, +kill out, O hunters of the Free People!” + +Dhole after dhole was slinking away from those dark and bloody sands to +the river, to the thick Jungle, up-stream or down-stream as he saw the +road clear. + +“The debt! The debt!” shouted Mowgli. “Pay the debt! They have slain the +Lone Wolf! Let not a dog go!” + +He was flying to the river, knife in hand, to check any dhole who dared +to take water, when, from under a mound of nine dead, rose Akela’s head +and fore-quarters, and Mowgli dropped on his knees beside the Lone Wolf. + +“Said I not it would be my last fight?” Akela gasped. “It is good +hunting. And thou, Little Brother?” + +“I live, having killed many.” + +“Even so. I die, and I would--I would die by thee, Little Brother.” + +Mowgli took the terrible scarred head on his knees, and put his arms +round the torn neck. + +“It is long since the old days of Shere Khan, and a Man-cub that rolled +naked in the dust.” + +“Nay, nay, I am a wolf. I am of one skin with the Free People,” Mowgli +cried. “It is no will of mine that I am a man.” + +“Thou art a man, Little Brother, wolfling of my watching. Thou art a +man, or else the Pack had fled before the dhole. My life I owe to thee, +and to-day thou hast saved the Pack even as once I saved thee. Hast thou +forgotten? All debts are paid now. Go to thine own people. I tell thee +again, eye of my eye, this hunting is ended. Go to thine own people.” + +“I will never go. I will hunt alone in the Jungle. I have said it.” + +“After the summer come the Rains, and after the Rains comes the spring. +Go back before thou art driven.” + +“Who will drive me?” + +“Mowgli will drive Mowgli. Go back to thy people. Go to Man.” + +“When Mowgli drives Mowgli I will go,” Mowgli answered. + +“There is no more to say,” said Akela. “Little Brother, canst thou raise +me to my feet? I also was a leader of the Free People.” + +Very carefully and gently Mowgli lifted the bodies aside, and raised +Akela to his feet, both arms round him, and the Lone Wolf drew a long +breath, and began the Death Song that a leader of the Pack should sing +when he dies. It gathered strength as he went on, lifting and lifting, +and ringing far across the river, till it came to the last “Good +hunting!” and Akela shook himself clear of Mowgli for an instant, and, +leaping into the air, fell backward dead upon his last and most terrible +kill. + +Mowgli sat with his head on his knees, careless of anything else, while +the remnant of the flying dholes were being overtaken and run down by +the merciless lahinis. Little by little the cries died away, and the +wolves returned limping, as their wounds stiffened, to take stock of the +losses. Fifteen of the Pack, as well as half a dozen lahinis, lay dead +by the river, and of the others not one was unmarked. And Mowgli sat +through it all till the cold daybreak, when Phao’s wet, red muzzle was +dropped in his hand, and Mowgli drew back to show the gaunt body of +Akela. + +“Good hunting!” said Phao, as though Akela were still alive, and then +over his bitten shoulder to the others: “Howl, dogs! A Wolf has died +to-night!” + +But of all the Pack of two hundred fighting dholes, whose boast was +that all jungles were their Jungle, and that no living thing could stand +before them, not one returned to the Dekkan to carry that word. + + + + +CHIL’S SONG + +[This is the song that Chil sang as the kites dropped down one after +another to the river-bed, when the great fight was finished. Chil is +good friends with everybody, but he is a cold-blooded kind of creature +at heart, because he knows that almost everybody in the Jungle comes to +him in the long-run.] + + These were my companions going forth by night-- + (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) + Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight. + (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) + Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain, + Word I gave them underfoot of buck upon the plain. + Here’s an end of every trail--they shall not speak again! + + They that called the hunting-cry--they that followed fast-- + (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) + They that bade the sambhur wheel, or pinned him as he passed-- + (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) + They that lagged behind the scent--they that ran before, + They that shunned the level horn--they that overbore. + Here’s an end of every trail--they shall not follow more. + These were my companions. Pity ‘twas they died! + (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) + Now come I to comfort them that knew them in their pride. + (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) + Tattered flank and sunken eye, open mouth and red, + Locked and lank and lone they lie, the dead upon their dead. + Here’s an end of every trail--and here my hosts are fed. + + + + +THE SPRING RUNNING + + Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle! + He that was our Brother goes away. + Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle,-- + Answer, who shall turn him--who shall stay? + + Man goes to Man! He is weeping in the Jungle: + He that was our Brother sorrows sore! + Man goes to Man! (Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!) + To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more. + +The second year after the great fight with Red Dog and the death of +Akela, Mowgli must have been nearly seventeen years old. He looked +older, for hard exercise, the best of good eating, and baths whenever +he felt in the least hot or dusty, had given him strength and growth far +beyond his age. He could swing by one hand from a top branch for half +an hour at a time, when he had occasion to look along the tree-roads. +He could stop a young buck in mid-gallop and throw him sideways by the +head. He could even jerk over the big, blue wild boars that lived in +the Marshes of the North. The Jungle People who used to fear him for his +wits feared him now for his strength, and when he moved quietly on his +own affairs the mere whisper of his coming cleared the wood-paths. And +yet the look in his eyes was always gentle. Even when he fought, his +eyes never blazed as Bagheera’s did. They only grew more and more +interested and excited; and that was one of the things that Bagheera +himself did not understand. + +He asked Mowgli about it, and the boy laughed and said. “When I miss the +kill I am angry. When I must go empty for two days I am very angry. Do +not my eyes talk then?” + +“The mouth is hungry,” said Bagheera, “but the eyes say nothing. +Hunting, eating, or swimming, it is all one--like a stone in wet or dry +weather.” Mowgli looked at him lazily from under his long eyelashes, +and, as usual, the panther’s head dropped. Bagheera knew his master. + +They were lying out far up the side of a hill overlooking the Waingunga, +and the morning mists hung below them in bands of white and green. As +the sun rose it changed into bubbling seas of red gold, churned off, +and let the low rays stripe the dried grass on which Mowgli and Bagheera +were resting. It was the end of the cold weather, the leaves and +the trees looked worn and faded, and there was a dry, ticking rustle +everywhere when the wind blew. A little leaf tap-tap-tapped furiously +against a twig, as a single leaf caught in a current will. It roused +Bagheera, for he snuffed the morning air with a deep, hollow cough, +threw himself on his back, and struck with his fore-paws at the nodding +leaf above. + +“The year turns,” he said. “The Jungle goes forward. The Time of New +Talk is near. That leaf knows. It is very good.” + +“The grass is dry,” Mowgli answered, pulling up a tuft. “Even +Eye-of-the-Spring [that is a little trumpet-shaped, waxy red flower +that runs in and out among the grasses]--even Eye-of-the Spring is shut, +and... Bagheera, IS it well for the Black Panther so to lie on his back +and beat with his paws in the air, as though he were the tree-cat?” + +“Aowh?” said Bagheera. He seemed to be thinking of other things. + +“I say, IS it well for the Black Panther so to mouth and cough, and howl +and roll? Remember, we be the Masters of the Jungle, thou and I.” + +“Indeed, yes; I hear, Man-cub.” Bagheera rolled over hurriedly and sat +up, the dust on his ragged black flanks. (He was just casting his winter +coat.) “We be surely the Masters of the Jungle! Who is so strong as +Mowgli? Who so wise?” There was a curious drawl in the voice that made +Mowgli turn to see whether by any chance the Black Panther were making +fun of him, for the Jungle is full of words that sound like one thing, +but mean another. “I said we be beyond question the Masters of the +Jungle,” Bagheera repeated. “Have I done wrong? I did not know that the +Man-cub no longer lay upon the ground. Does he fly, then?” + +Mowgli sat with his elbows on his knees, looking out across the valley +at the daylight. Somewhere down in the woods below a bird was trying +over in a husky, reedy voice the first few notes of his spring song. +It was no more than a shadow of the liquid, tumbling call he would be +pouring later, but Bagheera heard it. + +“I said the Time of New Talk is near,” growled the panther, switching +his tail. + +“I hear,” Mowgli answered. “Bagheera, why dost thou shake all over? The +sun is warm.” + +“That is Ferao, the scarlet woodpecker,” said Bagheera. “HE has not +forgotten. Now I, too, must remember my song,” and he began purring and +crooning to himself, harking back dissatisfied again and again. + +“There is no game afoot,” said Mowgli. + +“Little Brother, are BOTH thine ears stopped? That is no killing-word, +but my song that I make ready against the need.” + +“I had forgotten. I shall know when the Time of New Talk is here, +because then thou and the others all run away and leave me alone.” + Mowgli spoke rather savagely. + +“But, indeed, Little Brother,” Bagheera began, “we do not always----” + +“I say ye do,” said Mowgli, shooting out his forefinger angrily. “Ye DO +run away, and I, who am the Master of the Jungle, must needs walk alone. +How was it last season, when I would gather sugar-cane from the fields +of a Man-Pack? I sent a runner--I sent thee!--to Hathi, bidding him to +come upon such a night and pluck the sweet grass for me with his trunk.” + +“He came only two nights later,” said Bagheera, cowering a little; “and +of that long, sweet grass that pleased thee so he gathered more than any +Man-cub could eat in all the nights of the Rains. That was no fault of +mine.” + +“He did not come upon the night when I sent him the word. No, he was +trumpeting and running and roaring through the valleys in the moonlight. +His trail was like the trail of three elephants, for he would not hide +among the trees. He danced in the moonlight before the houses of the +Man-Pack. I saw him, and yet he would not come to me; and _I_ am the +Master of the Jungle!” + +“It was the Time of New Talk,” said the panther, always very humble. +“Perhaps, Little Brother, thou didst not that time call him by a +Master-word? Listen to Ferao, and be glad!” + +Mowgli’s bad temper seemed to have boiled itself away. He lay back with +his head on his arms, his eyes shut. “I do not know--nor do I care,” he +said sleepily. “Let us sleep, Bagheera. My stomach is heavy in me. Make +me a rest for my head.” + +The panther lay down again with a sigh, because he could hear Ferao +practising and repractising his song against the Springtime of New Talk, +as they say. + +In an Indian Jungle the seasons slide one into the other almost without +division. There seem to be only two--the wet and the dry; but if you +look closely below the torrents of rain and the clouds of char and dust +you will find all four going round in their regular ring. Spring is the +most wonderful, because she has not to cover a clean, bare field with +new leaves and flowers, but to drive before her and to put away the +hanging-on, over-surviving raffle of half-green things which the gentle +winter has suffered to live, and to make the partly-dressed stale earth +feel new and young once more. And this she does so well that there is no +spring in the world like the Jungle spring. + +There is one day when all things are tired, and the very smells, as they +drift on the heavy air, are old and used. One cannot explain this, but +it feels so. Then there is another day--to the eye nothing whatever has +changed--when all the smells are new and delightful, and the whiskers of +the Jungle People quiver to their roots, and the winter hair comes away +from their sides in long, draggled locks. Then, perhaps, a little rain +falls, and all the trees and the bushes and the bamboos and the mosses +and the juicy-leaved plants wake with a noise of growing that you can +almost hear, and under this noise runs, day and night, a deep hum. THAT +is the noise of the spring--a vibrating boom which is neither bees, nor +falling water, nor the wind in tree-tops, but the purring of the warm, +happy world. + +Up to this year Mowgli had always delighted in the turn of the seasons. +It was he who generally saw the first Eye-of-the-Spring deep down among +the grasses, and the first bank of spring clouds, which are like nothing +else in the Jungle. His voice could be heard in all sorts of wet, +star-lighted, blossoming places, helping the big frogs through their +choruses, or mocking the little upside-down owls that hoot through the +white nights. Like all his people, spring was the season he chose for +his flittings--moving, for the mere joy of rushing through the warm air, +thirty, forty, or fifty miles between twilight and the morning star, and +coming back panting and laughing and wreathed with strange flowers. The +Four did not follow him on these wild ringings of the Jungle, but went +off to sing songs with other wolves. The Jungle People are very busy +in the spring, and Mowgli could hear them grunting and screaming and +whistling according to their kind. Their voices then are different from +their voices at other times of the year, and that is one of the reasons +why spring in the Jungle is called the Time of New Talk. + +But that spring, as he told Bagheera, his stomach was changed in him. +Ever since the bamboo shoots turned spotty-brown he had been looking +forward to the morning when the smells should change. But when the +morning came, and Mor the Peacock, blazing in bronze and blue and gold, +cried it aloud all along the misty woods, and Mowgli opened his mouth to +send on the cry, the words choked between his teeth, and a feeling came +over him that began at his toes and ended in his hair--a feeling of pure +unhappiness, so that he looked himself over to be sure that he had not +trod on a thorn. Mor cried the new smells, the other birds took it +over, and from the rocks by the Waingunga he heard Bagheera’s hoarse +scream--something between the scream of an eagle and the neighing of +a horse. There was a yelling and scattering of Bandar-log in the +new-budding branches above, and there stood Mowgli, his chest, filled to +answer Mor, sinking in little gasps as the breath was driven out of it +by this unhappiness. + +He stared all round him, but he could see no more than the mocking +Bandar-log scudding through the trees, and Mor, his tail spread in full +splendour, dancing on the slopes below. + +“The smells have changed,” screamed Mor. “Good hunting, Little Brother! +Where is thy answer?” + +“Little Brother, good hunting!” whistled Chil the Kite and his mate, +swooping down together. The two baffed under Mowgli’s nose so close that +a pinch of downy white feathers brushed away. + +A light spring rain--elephant-rain they call it--drove across the Jungle +in a belt half a mile wide, left the new leaves wet and nodding behind, +and died out in a double rainbow and a light roll of thunder. The spring +hum broke out for a minute, and was silent, but all the Jungle Folk +seemed to be giving tongue at once. All except Mowgli. + +“I have eaten good food,” he said to himself. “I have drunk good +water. Nor does my throat burn and grow small, as it did when I bit the +blue-spotted root that Oo the Turtle said was clean food. But my stomach +is heavy, and I have given very bad talk to Bagheera and others, people +of the Jungle and my people. Now, too, I am hot and now I am cold, and +now I am neither hot nor cold, but angry with that which I cannot see. +Huhu! It is time to make a running! To-night I will cross the ranges; +yes, I will make a spring running to the Marshes of the North, and back +again. I have hunted too easily too long. The Four shall come with me, +for they grow as fat as white grubs.” + +He called, but never one of the Four answered. They were far beyond +earshot, singing over the spring songs--the Moon and Sambhur Songs--with +the wolves of the pack; for in the spring-time the Jungle People make +very little difference between the day and the night. He gave the sharp, +barking note, but his only answer was the mocking maiou of the little +spotted tree-cat winding in and out among the branches for early birds’ +nests. At this he shook all over with rage, and half drew his knife. +Then he became very haughty, though there was no one to see him, and +stalked severely down the hillside, chin up and eyebrows down. But never +a single one of his people asked him a question, for they were all too +busy with their own affairs. + +“Yes,” said Mowgli to himself, though in his heart he knew that he had +no reason. “Let the Red Dhole come from the Dekkan, or the Red Flower +dance among the bamboos, and all the Jungle runs whining to Mowgli, +calling him great elephant-names. But now, because Eye-of-the-Spring is +red, and Mor, forsooth, must show his naked legs in some spring dance, +the Jungle goes mad as Tabaqui.... By the Bull that bought me! am I the +Master of the Jungle, or am I not? Be silent! What do ye here?” + +A couple of young wolves of the Pack were cantering down a path, looking +for open ground in which to fight. (You will remember that the Law of +the Jungle forbids fighting where the Pack can see.) Their neck-bristles +were as stiff as wire, and they bayed furiously, crouching for the first +grapple. Mowgli leaped forward, caught one outstretched throat in either +hand, expecting to fling the creatures backward as he had often done in +games or Pack hunts. But he had never before interfered with a spring +fight. The two leaped forward and dashed him aside, and without word to +waste rolled over and over close locked. + +Mowgli was on his feet almost before he fell, his knife and his white +teeth were bared, and at that minute he would have killed both for no +reason but that they were fighting when he wished them to be quiet, +although every wolf has full right under the Law to fight. He danced +round them with lowered shoulders and quivering hand, ready to send in +a double blow when the first flurry of the scuffle should be over; +but while he waited the strength seemed to ebb from his body, the +knife-point lowered, and he sheathed the knife and watched. + +“I have surely eaten poison,” he sighed at last. “Since I broke up the +Council with the Red Flower--since I killed Shere Khan--none of the Pack +could fling me aside. And these be only tail-wolves in the Pack, little +hunters! My strength is gone from me, and presently I shall die. Oh, +Mowgli, why dost thou not kill them both?” + +The fight went on till one wolf ran away, and Mowgli was left alone on +the torn and bloody ground, looking now at his knife, and now at his +legs and arms, while the feeling of unhappiness he had never known +before covered him as water covers a log. + +He killed early that evening and ate but little, so as to be in good +fettle for his spring running, and he ate alone because all the Jungle +People were away singing or fighting. It was a perfect white night, +as they call it. All green things seemed to have made a month’s growth +since the morning. The branch that was yellow-leaved the day before +dripped sap when Mowgli broke it. The mosses curled deep and warm over +his feet, the young grass had no cutting edges, and all the voices of +the Jungle boomed like one deep harp-string touched by the moon--the +Moon of New Talk, who splashed her light full on rock and pool, slipped +it between trunk and creeper, and sifted it through a million leaves. +Forgetting his unhappiness, Mowgli sang aloud with pure delight as he +settled into his stride. It was more like flying than anything else, for +he had chosen the long downward slope that leads to the Northern Marshes +through the heart of the main Jungle, where the springy ground deadened +the fall of his feet. A man-taught man would have picked his way with +many stumbles through the cheating moonlight, but Mowgli’s muscles, +trained by years of experience, bore him up as though he were a feather. +When a rotten log or a hidden stone turned under his foot he saved +himself, never checking his pace, without effort and without thought. +When he tired of ground-going he threw up his hands monkey-fashion to +the nearest creeper, and seemed to float rather than to climb up into +the thin branches, whence he would follow a tree-road till his mood +changed, and he shot downward in a long, leafy curve to the levels +again. There were still, hot hollows surrounded by wet rocks where he +could hardly breathe for the heavy scents of the night flowers and the +bloom along the creeper buds; dark avenues where the moonlight lay in +belts as regular as checkered marbles in a church aisle; thickets where +the wet young growth stood breast-high about him and threw its arms +round his waist; and hilltops crowned with broken rock, where he leaped +from stone to stone above the lairs of the frightened little foxes. He +would hear, very faint and far off, the chug-drug of a boar sharpening +his tusks on a bole; and would come across the great gray brute all +alone, scribing and rending the bark of a tall tree, his mouth dripping +with foam, and his eyes blazing like fire. Or he would turn aside to the +sound of clashing horns and hissing grunts, and dash past a couple of +furious sambhur, staggering to and fro with lowered heads, striped with +blood that showed black in the moonlight. Or at some rushing ford he +would hear Jacala the Crocodile bellowing like a bull, or disturb a +twined knot of the Poison People, but before they could strike he would +be away and across the glistening shingle, and deep in the Jungle again. + +So he ran, sometimes shouting, sometimes singing to himself, the +happiest thing in all the Jungle that night, till the smell of the +flowers warned him that he was near the marshes, and those lay far +beyond his farthest hunting-grounds. + +Here, again, a man-trained man would have sunk overhead in three +strides, but Mowgli’s feet had eyes in them, and they passed him from +tussock to tussock and clump to quaking clump without asking help from +the eyes in his head. He ran out to the middle of the swamp, disturbing +the duck as he ran, and sat down on a moss-coated tree-trunk lapped in +the black water. The marsh was awake all round him, for in the spring +the Bird People sleep very lightly, and companies of them were coming +or going the night through. But no one took any notice of Mowgli sitting +among the tall reeds humming songs without words, and looking at the +soles of his hard brown feet in case of neglected thorns. All his +unhappiness seemed to have been left behind in his own Jungle, and he +was just beginning a full-throat song when it came back again--ten times +worse than before. + +This time Mowgli was frightened. “It is here also!” he said half aloud. +“It has followed me,” and he looked over his shoulder to see whether +the It were not standing behind him. “There is no one here.” The night +noises of the marsh went on, but never a bird or beast spoke to him, and +the new feeling of misery grew. + +“I have surely eaten poison,” he said in an awe-stricken voice. “It must +be that carelessly I have eaten poison, and my strength is going from +me. I was afraid--and yet it was not _I_ that was afraid--Mowgli was +afraid when the two wolves fought. Akela, or even Phao, would have +silenced them; yet Mowgli was afraid. That is true sign I have eaten +poison.... But what do they care in the Jungle? They sing and howl and +fight, and run in companies under the moon, and I--Hai-mai!--I am dying +in the marshes, of that poison which I have eaten.” He was so sorry for +himself that he nearly wept. “And after,” he went on, “they will find +me lying in the black water. Nay, I will go back to my own Jungle, and I +will die upon the Council Rock, and Bagheera, whom I love, if he is not +screaming in the valley--Bagheera, perhaps, may watch by what is left +for a little, lest Chil use me as he used Akela.” + +A large, warm tear splashed down on his knee, and, miserable as he was, +Mowgli felt happy that he was so miserable, if you can understand +that upside-down sort of happiness. “As Chil the Kite used Akela,” he +repeated, “on the night I saved the Pack from Red Dog.” He was quiet +for a little, thinking of the last words of the Lone Wolf, which you, +of course, remember. “Now Akela said to me many foolish things before he +died, for when we die our stomachs change. He said... None the less, I +AM of the Jungle!” + +In his excitement, as he remembered the fight on Waingunga bank, he +shouted the last words aloud, and a wild buffalo-cow among the reeds +sprang to her knees, snorting, “Man!” + +“Uhh!” said Mysa the Wild Buffalo (Mowgli could hear him turn in his +wallow), “THAT is no man. It is only the hairless wolf of the Seeonee +Pack. On such nights runs he to and fro.” + +“Uhh!” said the cow, dropping her head again to graze, “I thought it was +Man.” + +“I say no. Oh, Mowgli, is it danger?” lowed Mysa. + +“Oh, Mowgli, is it danger?” the boy called back mockingly. “That is all +Mysa thinks for: Is it danger? But for Mowgli, who goes to and fro in +the Jungle by night, watching, what do ye care?” + +“How loud he cries!” said the cow. “Thus do they cry,” Mysa answered +contemptuously, “who, having torn up the grass, know not how to eat it.” + +“For less than this,” Mowgli groaned to himself, “for less than this even +last Rains I had pricked Mysa out of his wallow, and ridden him through +the swamp on a rush halter.” He stretched a hand to break one of the +feathery reeds, but drew it back with a sigh. Mysa went on steadily +chewing the cud, and the long grass ripped where the cow grazed. “I will +not die HERE,” he said angrily. “Mysa, who is of one blood with Jacala +and the pig, would see me. Let us go beyond the swamp and see what +comes. Never have I run such a spring running--hot and cold together. +Up, Mowgli!” + +He could not resist the temptation of stealing across the reeds to Mysa +and pricking him with the point of his knife. The great dripping bull +broke out of his wallow like a shell exploding, while Mowgli laughed +till he sat down. + +“Say now that the hairless wolf of the Seeonee Pack once herded thee, +Mysa,” he called. + +“Wolf! THOU?” the bull snorted, stamping in the mud. “All the jungle +knows thou wast a herder of tame cattle--such a man’s brat as shouts in +the dust by the crops yonder. THOU of the Jungle! What hunter would have +crawled like a snake among the leeches, and for a muddy jest--a jackal’s +jest--have shamed me before my cow? Come to firm ground, and I will--I +will...” Mysa frothed at the mouth, for Mysa has nearly the worst temper +of any one in the Jungle. + +Mowgli watched him puff and blow with eyes that never changed. When +he could make himself heard through the pattering mud, he said: “What +Man-Pack lair here by the marshes, Mysa? This is new Jungle to me.” + +“Go north, then,” roared the angry bull, for Mowgli had pricked him +rather sharply. “It was a naked cow-herd’s jest. Go and tell them at the +village at the foot of the marsh.” + +“The Man-Pack do not love jungle-tales, nor do I think, Mysa, that a +scratch more or less on thy hide is any matter for a council. But I will +go and look at this village. Yes, I will go. Softly now. It is not every +night that the Master of the Jungle comes to herd thee.” + +He stepped out to the shivering ground on the edge of the marsh, well +knowing that Mysa would never charge over it and laughed, as he ran, to +think of the bull’s anger. + +“My strength is not altogether gone,” he said. “It may be that the poison +is not to the bone. There is a star sitting low yonder.” He looked at it +between his half-shut hands. “By the Bull that bought me, it is the Red +Flower--the Red Flower that I lay beside before--before I came even +to the first Seeonee Pack! Now that I have seen, I will finish the +running.” + +The marsh ended in a broad plain where a light twinkled. It was a long +time since Mowgli had concerned himself with the doings of men, but this +night the glimmer of the Red Flower drew him forward. + +“I will look,” said he, “as I did in the old days, and I will see how +far the Man-Pack has changed.” + +Forgetting that he was no longer in his own Jungle, where he could do +what he pleased, he trod carelessly through the dew-loaded grasses till +he came to the hut where the light stood. Three or four yelping dogs +gave tongue, for he was on the outskirts of a village. + +“Ho!” said Mowgli, sitting down noiselessly, after sending back a deep +wolf-growl that silenced the curs. “What comes will come. Mowgli, what +hast thou to do any more with the lairs of the Man-Pack?” He rubbed his +mouth, remembering where a stone had struck it years ago when the other +Man-Pack had cast him out. + +The door of the hut opened, and a woman stood peering out into the +darkness. A child cried, and the woman said over her shoulder, “Sleep. +It was but a jackal that waked the dogs. In a little time morning +comes.” + +Mowgli in the grass began to shake as though he had fever. He knew that +voice well, but to make sure he cried softly, surprised to find how +man’s talk came back, “Messua! O Messua!” + +“Who calls?” said the woman, a quiver in her voice. + +“Hast thou forgotten?” said Mowgli. His throat was dry as he spoke. + +“If it be THOU, what name did I give thee? Say!” She had half shut the +door, and her hand was clutching at her breast. + +“Nathoo! Ohe, Nathoo!” said Mowgli, for, as you remember, that was the +name Messua gave him when he first came to the Man-Pack. + +“Come, my son,” she called, and Mowgli stepped into the light, and +looked full at Messua, the woman who had been good to him, and whose +life he had saved from the Man-Pack so long before. She was older, +and her hair was gray, but her eyes and her voice had not changed. +Woman-like, she expected to find Mowgli where she had left him, and her +eyes travelled upward in a puzzled way from his chest to his head, that +touched the top of the door. + +“My son,” she stammered; and then, sinking to his feet: “But it is no +longer my son. It is a Godling of the Woods! Ahai!” + +As he stood in the red light of the oil-lamp, strong, tall, and +beautiful, his long black hair sweeping over his shoulders, the knife +swinging at his neck, and his head crowned with a wreath of white +jasmine, he might easily have been mistaken for some wild god of a +jungle legend. The child half asleep on a cot sprang up and shrieked +aloud with terror. Messua turned to soothe him, while Mowgli stood +still, looking in at the water-jars and the cooking-pots, the grain-bin, +and all the other human belongings that he found himself remembering so +well. + +“What wilt thou eat or drink?” Messua murmured. “This is all thine. We +owe our lives to thee. But art thou him I called Nathoo, or a Godling, +indeed?” + +“I am Nathoo,” said Mowgli, “I am very far from my own place. I saw this +light, and came hither. I did not know thou wast here.” + +“After we came to Khanhiwara,” Messua said timidly, “the English +would have helped us against those villagers that sought to burn us. +Rememberest thou?” + +“Indeed, I have not forgotten.” + +“But when the English Law was made ready, we went to the village of +those evil people, and it was no more to be found.” + +“That also I remember,” said Mowgli, with a quiver of his nostril. + +“My man, therefore, took service in the fields, and at last--for, +indeed, he was a strong man--we held a little land here. It is not so +rich as the old village, but we do not need much--we two.” + +“Where is he the man that dug in the dirt when he was afraid on that +night?” + +“He is dead--a year.” + +“And he?” Mowgli pointed to the child. + +“My son that was born two Rains ago. If thou art a Godling, give him the +Favour of the Jungle, that he may be safe among thy--thy people, as we +were safe on that night.” + +She lifted up the child, who, forgetting his fright, reached out to play +with the knife that hung on Mowgli’s chest, and Mowgli put the little +fingers aside very carefully. + +“And if thou art Nathoo whom the tiger carried away,” Messua went on, +choking, “he is then thy younger brother. Give him an elder brother’s +blessing.” + +“Hai-mai! What do I know of the thing called a blessing? I am neither +a Godling nor his brother, and--O mother, mother, my heart is heavy in +me.” He shivered as he set down the child. + +“Like enough,” said Messua, bustling among the cooking-pots. “This comes +of running about the marshes by night. Beyond question, the fever +had soaked thee to the marrow.” Mowgli smiled a little at the idea of +anything in the Jungle hurting him. “I will make a fire, and thou shalt +drink warm milk. Put away the jasmine wreath: the smell is heavy in so +small a place.” + +Mowgli sat down, muttering, with his face in his hands. All manner of +strange feelings that he had never felt before were running over him, +exactly as though he had been poisoned, and he felt dizzy and a little +sick. He drank the warm milk in long gulps, Messua patting him on the +shoulder from time to time, not quite sure whether he were her son +Nathoo of the long ago days, or some wonderful Jungle being, but glad to +feel that he was at least flesh and blood. + +“Son,” she said at last,--her eyes were full of pride,--“have any told +thee that thou art beautiful beyond all men?” + +“Hah?” said Mowgli, for naturally he had never heard anything of the +kind. Messua laughed softly and happily. The look in his face was enough +for her. + +“I am the first, then? It is right, though it comes seldom, that a +mother should tell her son these good things. Thou art very beautiful. +Never have I looked upon such a man.” + +Mowgli twisted his head and tried to see over his own hard shoulder, and +Messua laughed again so long that Mowgli, not knowing why, was forced to +laugh with her, and the child ran from one to the other, laughing too. + +“Nay, thou must not mock thy brother,” said Messua, catching him to +her breast. “When thou art one-half as fair we will marry thee to the +youngest daughter of a king, and thou shalt ride great elephants.” + +Mowgli could not understand one word in three of the talk here; the warm +milk was taking effect on him after his long run, so he curled up and +in a minute was deep asleep, and Messua put the hair back from his eyes, +threw a cloth over him, and was happy. Jungle-fashion, he slept out the +rest of that night and all the next day; for his instincts, which never +wholly slept, warned him there was nothing to fear. He waked at last +with a bound that shook the hut, for the cloth over his face made him +dream of traps; and there he stood, his hand on his knife, the sleep all +heavy in his rolling eyes, ready for any fight. + +Messua laughed, and set the evening meal before him. There were only +a few coarse cakes baked over the smoky fire, some rice, and a lump of +sour preserved tamarinds--just enough to go on with till he could get +to his evening kill. The smell of the dew in the marshes made him hungry +and restless. He wanted to finish his spring running, but the child +insisted on sitting in his arms, and Messua would have it that his long, +blue-black hair must be combed out. So she sang, as she combed, foolish +little baby-songs, now calling Mowgli her son, and now begging him to +give some of his jungle power to the child. The hut door was closed, but +Mowgli heard a sound he knew well, and saw Messua’s jaw drop with horror +as a great gray paw came under the bottom of the door, and Gray Brother +outside whined a muffled and penitent whine of anxiety and fear. + +“Out and wait! Ye would not come when I called,” said Mowgli in +Jungle-talk, without turning his head, and the great gray paw +disappeared. + +“Do not--do not bring thy--thy servants with thee,” said Messua. “I--we +have always lived at peace with the Jungle.” + +“It is peace,” said Mowgli, rising. “Think of that night on the road to +Khanhiwara. There were scores of such folk before thee and behind +thee. But I see that even in springtime the Jungle People do not always +forget. Mother, I go.” + +Messua drew aside humbly--he was indeed a wood-god, she thought; but as +his hand was on the door the mother in her made her throw her arms round +Mowgli’s neck again and again. + +“Come back!” she whispered. “Son or no son, come back, for I love +thee--Look, he too grieves.” + +The child was crying because the man with the shiny knife was going +away. + +“Come back again,” Messua repeated. “By night or by day this door is +never shut to thee.” + +Mowgli’s throat worked as though the cords in it were being pulled, and +his voice seemed to be dragged from it as he answered, “I will surely +come back.” + +“And now,” he said, as he put by the head of the fawning wolf on the +threshold, “I have a little cry against thee, Gray Brother. Why came ye +not all four when I called so long ago?” + +“So long ago? It was but last night. I--we--were singing in the Jungle +the new songs, for this is the Time of New Talk. Rememberest thou?” + +“Truly, truly.” + +“And as soon as the songs were sung,” Gray Brother went on earnestly, +“I followed thy trail. I ran from all the others and followed hot-foot. +But, O Little Brother, what hast THOU done, eating and sleeping with the +Man-Pack?” + +“If ye had come when I called, this had never been,” said Mowgli, +running much faster. + +“And now what is to be?” said Gray Brother. Mowgli was going to answer +when a girl in a white cloth came down some path that led from the +outskirts of the village. Gray Brother dropped out of sight at once, and +Mowgli backed noiselessly into a field of high-springing crops. He could +almost have touched her with his hand when the warm, green stalks closed +before his face and he disappeared like a ghost. The girl screamed, for +she thought she had seen a spirit, and then she gave a deep sigh. Mowgli +parted the stalks with his hands and watched her till she was out of +sight. + +“And now I do not know,” he said, sighing in his turn. “WHY did ye not +come when I called?” + +“We follow thee--we follow thee,” Gray Brother mumbled, licking at +Mowgli’s heel. “We follow thee always, except in the Time of the New +Talk.” + +“And would ye follow me to the Man-Pack?” Mowgli whispered. + +“Did I not follow thee on the night our old Pack cast thee out? Who +waked thee lying among the crops?” + +“Ay, but again?” + +“Have I not followed thee to-night?” + +“Ay, but again and again, and it may be again, Gray Brother?” + +Gray Brother was silent. When he spoke he growled to himself, “The Black +One spoke truth.” + +“And he said?” + +“Man goes to Man at the last. Raksha, our mother, said----” + +“So also said Akela on the night of Red Dog,” Mowgli muttered. + +“So also says Kaa, who is wiser than us all.” + +“What dost thou say, Gray Brother?” + +“They cast thee out once, with bad talk. They cut thy mouth with stones. +They sent Buldeo to slay thee. They would have thrown thee into the Red +Flower. Thou, and not I, hast said that they are evil and senseless. +Thou, and not I--I follow my own people--didst let in the Jungle upon +them. Thou, and not I, didst make song against them more bitter even +than our song against Red Dog.” + +“I ask thee what THOU sayest?” + +They were talking as they ran. Gray Brother cantered on a while +without replying, and then he said,--between bound and bound as it +were,--“Man-cub--Master of the Jungle--Son of Raksha, Lair-brother to +me--though I forget for a little while in the spring, thy trail is my +trail, thy lair is my lair, thy kill is my kill, and thy death-fight +is my death-fight. I speak for the Three. But what wilt thou say to the +Jungle?” + +“That is well thought. Between the sight and the kill it is not good to +wait. Go before and cry them all to the Council Rock, and I will tell +them what is in my stomach. But they may not come--in the Time of New +Talk they may forget me.” + +“Hast thou, then, forgotten nothing?” snapped Gray Brother over his +shoulder, as he laid himself down to gallop, and Mowgli followed, +thinking. + +At any other season the news would have called all the Jungle together +with bristling necks, but now they were busy hunting and fighting and +killing and singing. From one to another Gray Brother ran, crying, “The +Master of the Jungle goes back to Man! Come to the Council Rock.” And +the happy, eager People only answered, “He will return in the summer +heats. The Rains will drive him to lair. Run and sing with us, Gray +Brother.” + +“But the Master of the Jungle goes back to Man,” Gray Brother would +repeat. + +“Eee--Yoawa? Is the Time of New Talk any less sweet for that?” they +would reply. So when Mowgli, heavy-hearted, came up through the +well-remembered rocks to the place where he had been brought into the +Council, he found only the Four, Baloo, who was nearly blind with age, +and the heavy, cold-blooded Kaa coiled around Akela’s empty seat. + +“Thy trail ends here, then, Manling?” said Kaa, as Mowgli threw himself +down, his face in his hands. “Cry thy cry. We be of one blood, thou and +I--man and snake together.” + +“Why did I not die under Red Dog?” the boy moaned. “My strength is gone +from me, and it is not any poison. By night and by day I hear a double +step upon my trail. When I turn my head it is as though one had hidden +himself from me that instant. I go to look behind the trees and he is +not there. I call and none cry again; but it is as though one listened +and kept back the answer. I lie down, but I do not rest. I run the +spring running, but I am not made still. I bathe, but I am not made +cool. The kill sickens me, but I have no heart to fight except I kill. +The Red Flower is in my body, my bones are water--and--I know not what I +know.” + +“What need of talk?” said Baloo slowly, turning his head to where Mowgli +lay. “Akela by the river said it, that Mowgli should drive Mowgli +back to the Man-Pack. I said it. But who listens now to Baloo? +Bagheera--where is Bagheera this night?--he knows also. It is the Law.” + +“When we met at Cold Lairs, Manling, I knew it,” said Kaa, turning a +little in his mighty coils. “Man goes to Man at the last, though the +Jungle does not cast him out.” + +The Four looked at one another and at Mowgli, puzzled but obedient. + +“The Jungle does not cast me out, then?” Mowgli stammered. + +Gray Brother and the Three growled furiously, beginning, “So long as we +live none shall dare----” But Baloo checked them. + +“I taught thee the Law. It is for me to speak,” he said; “and, though I +cannot now see the rocks before me, I see far. Little Frog, take thine +own trail; make thy lair with thine own blood and pack and people; but +when there is need of foot or tooth or eye, or a word carried swiftly by +night, remember, Master of the Jungle, the Jungle is thine at call.” + +“The Middle Jungle is thine also,” said Kaa. “I speak for no small +people.” + +“Hai-mai, my brothers,” cried Mowgli, throwing up his arms with a sob. +“I know not what I know! I would not go; but I am drawn by both feet. +How shall I leave these nights?” + +“Nay, look up, Little Brother,” Baloo repeated. “There is no shame in +this hunting. When the honey is eaten we leave the empty hive.” + +“Having cast the skin,” said Kaa, “we may not creep into it afresh. It +is the Law.” + +“Listen, dearest of all to me,” said Baloo. There is neither word nor +will here to hold thee back. Look up! Who may question the Master of the +Jungle? I saw thee playing among the white pebbles yonder when thou wast +a little frog; and Bagheera, that bought thee for the price of a young +bull newly killed, saw thee also. Of that Looking Over we two only +remain; for Raksha, thy lair-mother, is dead with thy lair-father; the +old Wolf-Pack is long since dead; thou knowest whither Shere Khan went, +and Akela died among the dholes, where, but for thy wisdom and strength, +the second Seeonee Pack would also have died. There remains nothing but +old bones. It is no longer the Man-cub that asks leave of his Pack, but +the Master of the Jungle that changes his trail. Who shall question Man +in his ways?” + +“But Bagheera and the Bull that bought me,” said Mowgli. “I would +not----” + +His words were cut short by a roar and a crash in the thicket below, and +Bagheera, light, strong, and terrible as always, stood before him. + +“Therefore,” he said, stretching out a dripping right paw, “I did not +come. It was a long hunt, but he lies dead in the bushes now--a bull in +his second year--the Bull that frees thee, Little Brother. All debts +are paid now. For the rest, my word is Baloo’s word.” He licked Mowgli’s +foot. “Remember, Bagheera loved thee,” he cried, and bounded away. At +the foot of the hill he cried again long and loud, “Good hunting on a +new trail, Master of the Jungle! Remember, Bagheera loved thee.” + +“Thou hast heard,” said Baloo. “There is no more. Go now; but first come +to me. O wise Little Frog, come to me!” + +“It is hard to cast the skin,” said Kaa as Mowgli sobbed and sobbed, +with his head on the blind bear’s side and his arms round his neck, +while Baloo tried feebly to lick his feet. + +“The stars are thin,” said Gray Brother, snuffing at the dawn wind. +“Where shall we lair to-day? for from now, we follow new trails.” + +***** + +And this is the last of the Mowgli stories. + + + + +THE OUTSONG + +[This is the song that Mowgli heard behind him in the Jungle till he +came to Messua’s door again.] + + Baloo + + For the sake of him who showed + One wise Frog the Jungle-Road, + Keep the Law the Man-Pack make-- + For thy blind old Baloo’s sake! + Clean or tainted, hot or stale, + Hold it as it were the Trail, + Through the day and through the night, + Questing neither left nor right. + For the sake of him who loves + Thee beyond all else that moves, + When thy Pack would make thee pain, + Say: “Tabaqui sings again.” + When thy Pack would work thee ill, + Say: “Shere Khan is yet to kill.” + When the knife is drawn to slay, + Keep the Law and go thy way. + (Root and honey, palm and spathe, + Guard a cub from harm and scathe!) + Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, + Jungle-Favour go with thee! + + + Kaa + + Anger is the egg of Fear-- + Only lidless eyes are clear. + Cobra-poison none may leech. + Even so with Cobra-speech. + Open talk shall call to thee + Strength, whose mate is Courtesy. + Send no lunge beyond thy length; + Lend no rotten bough thy strength. + Gauge thy gape with buck or goat, + Lest thine eye should choke thy throat, + After gorging, wouldst thou sleep? + Look thy den is hid and deep, + Lest a wrong, by thee forgot, + Draw thy killer to the spot. + East and West and North and South, + Wash thy hide and close thy mouth. + (Pit and rift and blue pool-brim, + Middle-Jungle follow him!) + Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, + Jungle-Favour go with thee! + + + Bagheera + + In the cage my life began; + Well I know the worth of Man. + By the Broken Lock that freed-- + Man-cub, ‘ware the Man-cub’s breed! + Scenting-dew or starlight pale, + Choose no tangled tree-cat trail. + Pack or council, hunt or den, + Cry no truce with Jackal-Men. + Feed them silence when they say: + “Come with us an easy way.” + Feed them silence when they seek + Help of thine to hurt the weak. + Make no banaar’s boast of skill; + Hold thy peace above the kill. + Let nor call nor song nor sign + Turn thee from thy hunting-line. + (Morning mist or twilight clear, + Serve him, Wardens of the Deer!) + Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, + Jungle-Favour go with thee! + + + The Three + + On the trail that thou must tread + To the thresholds of our dread, + Where the Flower blossoms red; + Through the nights when thou shalt lie + Prisoned from our Mother-sky, + Hearing us, thy loves, go by; + In the dawns when thou shalt wake + To the toil thou canst not break, + Heartsick for the Jungle’s sake: + Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, + Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy, + Jungle-Favour go with thee! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Second Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 1937-0.txt or 1937-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/1937/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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