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What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that ye hurry by?
Brother, I go to my lair—to die.
 NOW we must go back to the first tale. When Mowgli left the wolf's cave after the fight with the Pack at the
Council Rock, he went down to the plowed lands where the villagers lived, but he would not stop there because
it was too near to the jungle, and he knew that he had made at least one bad enemy at the Council. So he
hurried on, keeping to the rough road that ran down the valley, and followed it at a steady jog-trot for
nearly twenty miles, till he came to a country that he did not know. The valley opened out into a great plain
dotted over with rocks
 and cut up by ravines. At one end stood a little village, and at the other the thick jungle came down in a
sweep to the grazing-grounds, and stopped there as though it had been cut off with a hoe. All over the plain,
cattle and buffaloes were grazing, and when the little boys in charge of the herds saw Mowgli they shouted and
ran away, and the yellow pariah dogs that hang about every Indian village barked. Mowgli walked on, for he was
feeling hungry, and when he came to the village gate he saw the big thorn-bush that was drawn up before the
gate at twilight, pushed to one side.
"Umph!" he said, for he had come across more than one such barricade in his night rambles after things to eat.
"So men are afraid of the People of the Jungle here also." He sat down by the gate, and when a man came out he
stood up, opened his mouth, and pointed down it to show that he wanted food. The man stared, and ran back up
the one street of the village shouting for the priest, who was a big, fat man dressed in white, with a red and
yellow mark on his forehead. The priest came to the gate, and with him at least a hundred people, who stared
and talked and shouted and pointed at Mowgli.
"They have no manners, these Men Folk," said
 Mowgli to himself. "Only the gray ape would behave as they do." So he threw back his long hair and frowned at
"What is there to be afraid of?" said the priest. "Look at the marks on his arms and legs. They are the bites
of wolves. He is but a wolf-child run away from the jungle."
Of course, in playing together, the cubs had often nipped Mowgli harder than they intended, and there were
white scars all over his arms and legs. But he would have been the last person in the world to call these
bites, for he knew what real biting meant.
"Arré! Arré!" said two or three women together. "To be bitten by wolves, poor child! He is a
handsome boy. He has eyes like red fire. By my honor, Messua, he is not unlike thy boy that was taken by the
"Let me look," said a woman with heavy copper rings on her wrists and ankles, and she peered at Mowgli under
the palm of her hand. "Indeed he is not. He is thinner, but he has the very look of my boy."
The priest was a clever man, and he knew that Messua was wife to the richest villager in the place. So he
looked up at the sky for a minute and said
 solemnly: "What the jungle has taken the jungle has restored. Take the boy into thy house, my sister, and
forget not to honor the priest who sees so far into the lives of men."
"By the Bull that bought me," said Mowgli to himself, "but all this talking is like another looking-over by
the Pack! Well, if I am a man, a man I must become."
The crowd parted as the woman beckoned Mowgli to her hut, where there was a red lacquered bedstead, a great
earthen grain chest with funny raised patterns on it, half a dozen copper cooking pots, an image of a Hindu
god in a little alcove, and on the wall a real looking glass, such as they sell at the country fairs.
She gave him a long drink of milk and some bread, and then she laid her hand on his head and looked into his
eyes; for she thought perhaps that he might be her real son come back from the jungle where the tiger had
taken him. So she said, "Nathoo, O Nathoo!" Mowgli did not show that he knew the name. "Dost thou not remember
the day when I gave thee thy new shoes?" She touched his foot, and it was almost as hard as horn. "No," she
said sorrowfully, "those feet have never worn shoes, but
 thou art very like my Nathoo, and thou shalt be my son."
Mowgli was uneasy, because he had never been under a roof before. But as he looked at the thatch, he saw that
he could tear it out any time if he wanted to get away, and that the window had no fastenings. "What is the
good of a man," he said to himself at last, "if he does not understand man's talk? Now I am as silly and dumb
as a man would be with us in the jungle. I must speak their talk."
It was not for fun that he had learned while he was with the wolves to imitate the challenge of bucks in the
jungle and the grunt of the little wild pig. So, as soon as Messua pronounced a word Mowgli would imitate it
almost perfectly, and before dark he had learned the names of many things in the hut.
There was a difficulty at bedtime, because Mowgli would not sleep under anything that looked so like a panther
trap as that hut, and when they shut the door he went through the window. "Give him his will," said Messua's
husband. "Remember he can never till now have slept on a bed. If he is indeed sent in the place of our son he
will not run away."
So Mowgli stretched himself in some long, clean grass at the edge of the field, but before he had closed
 his eyes a soft gray nose poked him under the chin.
"Phew!" said Gray Brother (he was the eldest of Mother Wolf's cubs). "This is a poor reward for following thee
twenty miles. Thou smellest of wood smoke and cattle—altogether like a man already. Wake, Little
Brother; I bring news."
"Are all well in the jungle?" said Mowgli, hugging him.
"All except the wolves that were burned with the Red Flower. Now, listen. Shere Khan has gone away to hunt far
off till his coat grows again, for he is badly singed. When he returns he swears that he will lay thy bones in
"There are two words to that. I also have made a little promise. But news is always good. I am tired
to-night,—very tired with new things, Gray Brother,—but bring me the news always."
"Thou wilt not forget that thou art a wolf? Men will not make thee forget?" said Gray Brother anxiously.
"Never. I will always remember that I love thee and all in our cave. But also I will always remember that I
have been cast out of the Pack."
"And that thou mayest be cast out of another
 pack. Men are only men, Little Brother, and their talk is like the talk of frogs in a pond. When I come down
here again, I will wait for thee in the bamboos at the edge of the grazing-ground."
"WAKE, LITTLE BROTHER; I BRING NEWS."
For three months after that night Mowgli hardly ever left the village gate, he was so busy learning the ways
and customs of men. First he had to wear a cloth round him, which annoyed him horribly; and then he had to
learn about money, which he did not in the least understand, and about plowing, of which he did not see the
use. Then the little children in the village made him very angry. Luckily, the Law of the Jungle had taught
him to keep his temper, for in the jungle life and food depend on keeping your temper; but when they made fun
of him because he would not play games or fly kites, or because he mispronounced some word, only the knowledge
that it was unsportsmanlike to kill little naked cubs kept him from picking them up and breaking them in two.
He did not know his own strength in the least. In the jungle he knew he was weak compared with the beasts, but
in the village people said that he was as strong as a bull.
And Mowgli had not the faintest idea of the difference that caste makes between man and man. When
 the potter's donkey slipped in the clay pit, Mowgli hauled it out by the tail, and helped to stack the pots
for their journey to the market at Khanhiwara. That was very shocking, too, for the potter is a low-caste man,
and his donkey is worse. When the priest scolded him, Mowgli threatened to put him on the donkey too, and the
priest told Messua's husband that Mowgli had better be set to work as soon as possible; and the village
head-man told Mowgli that he would have to go out with the buffaloes next day, and herd them while they
grazed. No one was more pleased than Mowgli; and that night, because he had been appointed a servant of the
village, as it were, he went off to a circle that met every evening on a masonry platform under a great
fig-tree. It was the village club, and the head-man and the watchman and the barber, who knew all the gossip
of the village, and old Buldeo, the village hunter, who had a Tower musket, met and smoked. The monkeys sat
and talked in the upper branches, and there was a hole under the platform where a cobra lived, and he had his
little platter of milk every night because he was sacred; and the old men sat around the tree and talked, and
pulled at the big huqas (the water-pipes) till far into the night. They told wonderful tales of
 gods and men and ghosts; and Buldeo told even more wonderful ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle, till
the eyes of the children sitting outside the circle bulged out of their heads. Most of the tales were about
animals, for the jungle was always at their door. The deer and the wild pig grubbed up their crops, and now
and again the tiger carried off a man at twilight, within sight of the village gates.
Mowgli, who naturally knew something about what they were talking of, had to cover his face not to show that
he was laughing, while Buldeo, the Tower musket across his knees, climbed on from one wonderful story to
another, and Mowgli's shoulders shook.
Buldeo was explaining how the tiger that had carried away Messua's son was a ghost-tiger, and his body was
inhabited by the ghost of a wicked, old money-lender, who had died some years ago. "And I know that this is
true," he said, "because Purun Dass always limped from the blow that he got in a riot when his account books
were burned, and the tiger that I speak of he limps, too, for the tracks of his pads are
"True, true, that must be the truth," said the gray-beards, nodding together.
 "Are all these tales such cobwebs and moon talk?" said Mowgli. "That tiger limps because he was born lame, as
everyone knows. To talk of the soul of a money-lender in a beast that never had the courage of a jackal is
Buldeo was speechless with surprise for a moment, and the head-man stared.
"Oho! It is the jungle brat, is it?" said Buldeo. "If thou art so wise, better bring his hide to Khanhiwara,
for the Government has set a hundred rupees on his life. Better still, talk not when thy elders speak."
Mowgli rose to go. "All the evening I have lain here listening," he called back over his shoulder, "and,
except once or twice, Buldeo has not said one word of truth concerning the jungle, which is at his very doors.
How, then, shall I believe the tales of ghosts and gods and goblins which he says he has seen?"
"It is full time that boy went to herding," said the head-man, while Buldeo puffed and snorted at Mowgli's
"ARE ALL THESE TALES SUCH COBWEBS AND MOON TALK?" SAID MOWGLI.
The custom of most Indian villages is for a few boys to take the cattle and buffaloes out to graze in the
early morning, and bring them back at night;
 and the very cattle that would trample a white man to death allow themselves to be banged and bullied and
shouted at by children that hardly come up to their noses. So long as the boys keep with the herds they are
safe, for not even the tiger will charge a mob of cattle. But if they straggle to pick flowers or hunt
lizards, they are sometimes carried off. Mowgli went through the village street in the dawn, sitting on the
back of Rama, the great herd bull. The slaty-blue buffaloes, with their long, backward-sweeping horns and
savage eyes, rose out their byres, one by one, and followed him, and Mowgli made it very clear to the children
with him that he was the master. He beat the buffaloes with a long, polished bamboo, and told Kamya, one of
the boys, to graze the cattle by themselves, while he went on with the buffaloes, and to be very careful not
to stray away from the herd.
An Indian grazing ground is all rocks and scrub and tussocks and little ravines, among which the herds scatter
and disappear. The buffaloes generally keep to the pools and muddy places, where they lie wallowing or basking
in the warm mud for hours. Mowgli drove them on to the edge of the plain where the Waingunga came out of the
jungle; then he
 dropped from Rama's neck, trotted off to a bamboo clump, and found Gray Brother. "Ah," said Gray Brother, "I
have waited here very many days. What is the meaning of this cattle-herding work?"
"It is an order," said Mowgli. "I am a village herd for a while. What news of Shere Khan?"
"He has come back to this country, and has waited here a long time for thee. Now he has gone off again, for
the game is scarce. But he means to kill thee."
"Very good," said Mowgli. "So long as he is away do thou or one of the four brothers sit on that rock, so that
I can see thee as I come out of the village. When he comes back wait for me in the ravine by the
dhak tree in the center of the plain. We need not walk into Shere Khan's mouth."
Then Mowgli picked out a shady place, and lay down and slept while the buffaloes grazed round him. Herding in
India is one of the laziest things in the world. The cattle move and crunch, and lie down, and move on again,
and they do not even low. They only grunt, and the buffaloes very seldom say anything, but get down into the
muddy pools one after another, and work their way into the mud till only their noses and staring china-blue
eyes show above the surface, and then they lie like logs. The sun
 makes the rocks dance in the heat, and the herd children hear one kite (never any more) whistling almost out
of sight overhead, and they know that if they died, or a cow died, that kite would sweep down, and the next
kite miles away would see him drop and follow, and the next, and the next, and almost before they were dead
there would be a score of hungry kites come out of nowhere. Then they sleep and wake and sleep again, and
weave little baskets of dried grass and put grasshoppers in them; or catch two praying mantises and make them
fight; or string a necklace of red and black jungle nuts; or watch a lizard basking on a rock, or a snake
hunting a frog near the wallows. Then they sing long, long songs with odd native quavers at the end of them,
and the day seems longer than most people's whole lives, and perhaps they make a mud castle with mud figures
of men and horses and buffaloes, and put reeds into the men's hands, and pretend that they are kings and the
figures are their armies, or that they are gods to be worshiped. Then evening comes and the children call, and
the buffaloes lumber up out of the sticky mud with noises like gunshots going off one after the other, and
they all string across the gray plain back to the twinkling village lights.
 Day after day Mowgli would lead the buffaloes out to their wallows, and day after day he would see Gray
Brother's back a mile and a half away across the plain (so he knew that Shere Khan had not come back), and day
after day he would lie on the grass listening to the noises round him, and dreaming of old days in the jungle.
If Shere Khan had made a false step with his lame paw up in the jungles by the Waingunga, Mowgli would have
heard him in those long, still mornings.
 At last a day came when he did not see Gray Brother at the signal place, and he laughed and headed the
buffaloes for the ravine by the dhak tree, which was all covered with golden-red flowers. There
sat Gray Brother, every bristle on his back lifted.
"He has hidden for a month to throw thee off thy guard. He crossed the ranges last night with Tabaqui,
hot-foot on thy trail," said the Wolf, panting.
Mowgli frowned. "I am not afraid of Shere Khan, but Tabaqui is very cunning."
"Have no fear," said Gray Brother, licking his lips a little. "I met Tabaqui in the dawn. Now he is telling
all his wisdom to the kites, but he told me everything before I broke his back. Shere Khan's plan is to wait
for thee at the village gate this evening—for thee and for no one else. He is lying up now, in the big
dry ravine of the Waingunga."
"Has he eaten today, or does he hunt empty?" said Mowgli, for the answer meant life and death to him.
"He killed at dawn,—a pig,—and he has drunk too. Remember, Shere Khan could never fast, even for
the sake of revenge."
"Oh! Fool, fool! What a cub's cub it is! Eaten
 and drunk too, and he thinks that I shall wait till he has slept! Now, where does he lie up? If there were
but ten of us we might pull him down as he lies. These buffaloes will not charge unless they wind him, and I
cannot speak their language. Can we get behind his track so that they may smell it?"
"He swam far down the Waingunga to cut that off," said Gray Brother.
"Tabaqui told him that, I know. He would never have thought of it alone." Mowgli stood with his finger in his
mouth, thinking. "The big ravine of the Waingunga. That opens out on the plain not half a mile from here. I
can take the herd round through the jungle to the head of the ravine and then sweep down—but he would
slink out at the foot. We must block that end. Gray Brother, canst thou cut the herd in two for me?"
"Not I, perhaps—but I have brought a wise helper." Gray Brother trotted off and dropped into a hole.
Then there lifted up a huge gray head that Mowgli knew well, and the hot air was filled with the most desolate
cry of all the jungle—the hunting howl of a wolf at midday.
"Akela! Akela!" said Mowgli, clapping his hands. "I might have known that thou wouldst not forget
 me. We have a big work in hand. Cut the herd in two, Akela. Keep the cows and calves together, and the bulls
and the plow buffaloes by themselves."
The two wolves ran, ladies'-chain fashion, in and out of the herd, which snorted and threw up its head, and
separated into two clumps. In one, the cow-buffaloes stood with their calves in the center, and glared and
pawed, ready, if a wolf would only stay still, to charge down and trample the life out of him. In the other,
the bulls and the young bulls snorted and stamped, but though they looked more imposing they were much less
dangerous, for they had no calves to protect. No six men could have divided the herd so neatly.
"What orders!" panted Akela. "They are trying to join again."
Mowgli slipped on to Rama's back. "Drive the bulls away to the left, Akela. Gray Brother, when we are gone,
hold the cows together, and drive them into the foot of the ravine."
"How far?" said Gray Brother, panting and snapping.
"Till the sides are higher than Shere Khan can jump," shouted Mowgli. "Keep them there till we come down." The
bulls swept off as Akela bayed,
 and Gray Brother stopped in front of the cows. They charged down on him, and he ran just before them to the
foot of the ravine, as Akela drove the bulls far to the left.
"Well done! Another charge and they are fairly started. Careful, now—careful, Akela. A snap too much and
the bulls will charge. Hujah! This is wilder work than driving black-buck. Didst thou think these
creatures could move so swiftly?" Mowgli called.
"I have—have hunted these too in my time," gasped Akela in the dust. "Shall I turn them into the
"Ay! Turn. Swiftly turn them! Rama is mad with rage. Oh, if I could only tell him what I need of him to-day."
The bulls were turned, to the right this time, and crashed into the standing thicket. The other herd children,
watching with the cattle half a mile away, hurried to the village as fast as their legs could carry them,
crying that the buffaloes had gone mad and run away.
But Mowgli's plan was simple enough. All he wanted to do was to make a big circle uphill and get at the head
of the ravine, and then take the bulls
 down it and catch Shere Khan between the bulls and the cows; for he knew that after a meal and a full drink
Shere Khan would not be in any condition to fight or to clamber up the sides of the ravine. He was soothing
the buffaloes now by voice, and Akela had dropped far to the rear, only whimpering once or twice to hurry the
rear-guard. It was a long, long circle, for they did not wish to get too near the ravine and give Shere Khan
warning. At last Mowgli rounded up the bewildered herd at the head of the ravine on a grassy patch that sloped
steeply down to the ravine itself. From that height you could see across the tops of the trees down to the
plain below; but what Mowgli looked at was the sides of the ravine, and he saw with a great deal of
satisfaction that they ran nearly straight up and down, while the vines and creepers that hung over them would
give no foothold to a tiger who wanted to get out.
"Let them breathe, Akela," he said, holding up his hand. "They have not winded him yet. Let them breathe. I
must tell Shere Khan who comes. We have him in the trap."
He put his hands to his mouth and shouted down the ravine—it was almost like shouting down a
tunnel—and the echoes jumped from rock to rock.
 After a long time there came back the drawling, sleepy snarl of a full-fed tiger just wakened.
"Who calls?" said Shere Khan, and a splendid peacock fluttered up out of the ravine screeching.
"I, Mowgli. Cattle thief, it is time to come to the Council Rock! Down—hurry them down, Akela! Down,
The herd paused for an instant at the edge of the slope, but Akela gave tongue in the full hunting-yell, and
they pitched over one after the other, just as steamers shoot rapids, the sand and stones spurting up round
them. Once started, there was no chance of stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed of the ravine Rama
winded Shere Khan and bellowed.
"Ha! Ha!" said Mowgli, on his back. "Now thou knowest!" and the torrent of black horns, foaming muzzles, and
staring eyes whirled down the ravine just as boulders go down in floodtime; the weaker buffaloes being
shouldered out to the sides of the ravine where they tore through the creepers. They knew what the business
was before them—the terrible charge of the buffalo herd against which no tiger can hope to stand. Shere
Khan heard the thunder of their hoofs, picked himself up, and lumbered down the ravine, looking from side to
side for some way of escape, but
 the walls of the ravine were straight and he had to hold on, heavy with his dinner and his drink, willing to
do anything rather than fight. The herd splashed through the pool he had just left, bellowing till the narrow
cut rang. Mowgli heard an answering bellow from the foot of the ravine, saw Shere Khan turn (the tiger knew if
the worst came to the worst it was better to meet the bulls than the cows with their calves), and then Rama
tripped, stumbled, and went on again over something soft, and, with the bulls at his heels, crashed full into
the other herd, while the weaker buffaloes were lifted clean off their feet by the shock of the meeting. That
charge carried both herds out into the plain, goring and stamping and snorting. Mowgli watched his time, and
slipped off Rama's neck, laying about him right and left with his stick.
"Quick, Akela! Break them up. Scatter them, or they will be fighting one another. Drive them away, Akela.
Hai, Rama! Hai, hai, hai! my children. Softly now, softly! It is all over."
Akela and Gray Brother ran to and fro nipping the buffaloes' legs, and though the herd wheeled once to charge
up the ravine again, Mowgli managed to turn Rama, and the others followed him to the wallows.
 Shere Khan needed no more trampling. He was dead, and the kites were coming for him already.
"Brothers, that was a dog's death," said Mowgli, feeling for the knife he always carried in a sheath round his
neck now that he lived with men. "But he would never have shown fight. His hide will look well on the Council
Rock. We must get to work swiftly."
A boy trained among men would never have dreamed of skinning a ten-foot tiger alone, but Mowgli knew better
than anyone else how an animal's skin is fitted on, and how it can be taken off. But it was hard work, and
Mowgli slashed and tore and grunted for an hour, while the wolves lolled out their tongues, or came forward
and tugged as he ordered them.
Presently a hand fell on his shoulder, and looking up he saw Buldeo with the Tower musket. The children had
told the village about the buffalo stampede, and Buldeo went out angrily, only too anxious to correct Mowgli
for not taking better care of the herd. The wolves dropped out of sight as soon as they saw the man coming.
"What is this folly?" said Buldeo angrily. "To think that thou canst skin a tiger! Where did the
 buffaloes kill him? It is the Lame Tiger too, and there is a hundred rupees on his head. Well, well, we will
overlook thy letting the herd run off, and perhaps I will give thee one of the rupees of the reward when I
have taken the skin to Khanhiwara." He fumbled in his waist cloth for flint and steel, and stooped down to
singe Shere Khan's whiskers. Most native hunters always singe a tiger's whiskers to prevent his ghost from
"Hum!" said Mowgli, half to himself as he ripped back the skin of a forepaw. "So thou wilt take the hide to
Khanhiwara for the reward, and perhaps give me one rupee? Now it is in my mind that I need the skin for my own
use. Heh! Old man, take away that fire!"
"What talk is this to the chief hunter of the village? Thy luck and the stupidity of thy buffaloes have helped
thee to this kill. The tiger has just fed, or he would have gone twenty miles by this time. Thou canst not
even skin him properly, little beggar brat, and forsooth I, Buldeo, must be told not to singe his whiskers.
Mowgli, I will not give thee one anna of the reward, but only a very big beating. Leave the carcass!"
"By the Bull that bought me," said Mowgli, who
 was trying to get at the shoulder, "must I stay babbling to an old ape all noon? Here, Akela, this man
Buldeo, who was still stooping over Shere Khan's head, found himself sprawling on the grass, with a gray wolf
standing over him, while Mowgli went on skinning as though he were alone in all India.
"Ye-es," he said, between his teeth. "Thou art altogether right, Buldeo. Thou wilt never give me one anna of
the reward. There is an old war between this lame tiger and myself—a very old war, and—I have
To do Buldeo justice, if he had been ten years younger he would have taken his chance with Akela had he met
the wolf in the woods, but a wolf who obeyed the orders of this boy who had private wars with man-eating
tigers was not a common animal. It was sorcery, magic of the worst kind, thought Buldeo, and he wondered
whether the amulet round his neck would protect him. He lay as still as still, expecting every minute to see
Mowgli turn into a tiger too.
"Maharaj! Great King," he said at last in a husky whisper.
"Yes," said Mowgli, without turning his head, chuckling a little.
BULDEO LAY AS STILL AS STILL, EXPECTING EVERY MINUTE TO SEE
MOWGLI TURN INTO A TIGER, TOO.
 "I am an old man. I did not know that thou wast anything more than a herdsboy. May I rise up and go away, or
will thy servant tear me to pieces?"
"Go, and peace go with thee. Only, another time do not meddle with my game. Let him go, Akela."
Buldeo hobbled away to the village as fast as he could, looking back over his shoulder in case Mowgli should
change into something terrible. When he got to the village he told a tale of magic and enchantment and sorcery
that made the priest look very grave.
Mowgli went on with his work, but it was nearly twilight before he and the wolves had drawn the great gay skin
clear of the body.
"Now we must hide this and take the buffaloes home! Help me to herd them, Akela."
The herd rounded up in the misty twilight, and when they got near the village Mowgli saw lights, and heard the
conches and bells in the temple blowing and banging. Half the village seemed to be waiting for him by the
gate. "That is because I have killed Shere Khan," he said to himself. But a shower of stones whistled about
his ears, and the villagers shouted: "Sorcerer! Wolf's brat! Jungle demon!
 Go away! Get hence quickly or the priest will turn thee into a wolf again. Shoot, Buldeo, shoot!"
The old Tower musket went off with a bang, and a young buffalo bellowed in pain.
"More sorcery!" shouted the villagers. "He can turn bullets. Buldeo, that was thy buffalo."
"Now what is this?" said Mowgli, bewildered, as the stones flew thicker.
"They are not unlike the Pack, these brothers of thine," said Akela, sitting down composedly. "It is in my
head that, if bullets mean anything, they would cast thee out."
"Wolf! Wolf's cub! Go away!" shouted the priest, waving a sprig of the sacred tulsi plant.
"Again? Last time it was because I was a man. This time it is because I am a wolf. Let us go, Akela."
A woman—it was Messua—ran across to the herd, and cried: "Oh, my son, my son! They say thou art a
sorcerer who can turn himself into a beast at will. I do not believe, but go away or they will kill thee.
Buldeo says thou art a wizard, but I know thou hast avenged Nathoo's death."
"Come back, Messua!" shouted the crowd. "Come back, or we will stone thee."
 Mowgli laughed a little short ugly laugh, for a stone had hit him in the mouth. "Run back, Messua. This is one
of the foolish tales they tell under the big tree at dusk. I have at least paid for thy son's life. Farewell;
and run quickly, for I shall send the herd in more swiftly than their brickbats. I am no wizard, Messua.
"Now, once more, Akela," he cried. "Bring the herd in."
The buffaloes were anxious enough to get to the village. They hardly needed Akela's yell, but charged through
the gate like a whirlwind, scattering the crowd right and left.
"Keep count!" shouted Mowgli scornfully. "It may be that I have stolen one of them. Keep count, for I will do
your herding no more. Fare you well, children of men, and thank Messua that I do not come in with my wolves
and hunt you up and down your street."
He turned on his heel and walked away with the Lone Wolf, and as he looked up at the stars he felt happy. "No
more sleeping in traps for me, Akela. Let us get Shere Khan's skin and go away. No, we will not hurt the
village, for Messua was kind to me."
 When the moon rose over the plain, making it look all milky, the horrified villagers saw Mowgli, with two
wolves at his heels and a bundle on his head, trotting across at the steady wolf's trot that eats up the long
miles like fire. Then they banged the temple bells and blew the conches louder than ever. And Messua cried,
and Buldeo embroidered the story of his adventures in the jungle, till he ended by saying that Akela stood up
on his hind legs and talked like a man.
WHEN THE MOON ROSE OVER THE PLAIN THE VILLAGERS SAW MOWGLI TROTTING
ACROSS, WITH TWO WOLES AT HIS HEELS.
The moon was just going down when Mowgli and
 the two wolves came to the hill of the Council Rock, and they stopped at Mother Wolf's cave.
"They have cast me out from the Man-Pack, Mother," shouted Mowgli, "but I come with the hide of Shere Khan to
keep my word."
Mother Wolf walked stiffly from the cave with the cubs behind her, and her eyes glowed as she saw the skin.
"I told him on that day, when he crammed his head and shoulders into this cave, hunting for thy life, Little
Frog—I told him that the hunter would be the hunted. It is well done."
"Little Brother, it is well done," said a deep voice in the thicket. "We were lonely in the jungle without
thee, and Bagheera came running to Mowgli's bare feet. They clambered up the Council Rock together, and Mowgli
spread the skin out on the flat stone where Akela used to sit, and pegged it down with four slivers of bamboo,
and Akela lay down upon it, and called the old call to the Council, 'Look—look well, O Wolves,' exactly
as he had called when Mowgli was first brought there."
Ever since Akela had been deposed, the Pack had been without a leader, hunting and fighting at their own
pleasure. But they answered the call from habit; and some of them were lame from the traps
 they had fallen into, and some limped from shot wounds, and some were mangy from eating bad food, and many
were missing. But they came to the Council Rock, all that were left of them, and saw Shere Khan's striped hide
on the rock, and the huge claws dangling at the end of the empty dangling feet. It was then that Mowgli made
up a song that came up into his throat all by itself, and he shouted it aloud, leaping up and down on the
rattling skin, and beating time with his heels till he had no more breath left, while Gray Brother and Akela
howled between the verses.
"Look well, O Wolves. Have I kept my word?" said Mowgli. And the wolves bayed "Yes," and one tattered wolf
"Lead us again, O Akela. Lead us again, O Man-cub, for we be sick of this lawlessness, and we would be the
Free People once more."
"Nay," purred Bagheera, "that may not be. When ye are full-fed, the madness may come upon you again. Not for
nothing are ye called the Free People. Ye fought for freedom, and it is yours. Eat it, O Wolves."
"Man-Pack and Wolf-Pack have cast me out," said Mowgli. "Now I will hunt alone in the jungle."
THEY CLAMBERED UP ON THE COUNCIL ROCK TOGETHER, AND MOWGLI
SPREAD THE SKIN OUT ON THE FLAT STONE.
 "And we will hunt with thee," said the four cubs.
So Mowgli went away and hunted with the four cubs in the jungle from that day on. But he was not always alone,
because, years afterward, he became a man and married.
But that is a story for grown-ups.