All the Mowgli Stories (Macmillan Collector's Library)

‘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 sheer joy,—‘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.’