「ハッ! ハッ!」とモウグリはその背にいて言った。「もう分かっただろう!」そして黒い角、泡を吹く鼻先、見開いた目の奔流が、洪水時の巨岩のように峡谷を一気に下った。弱い水牛は脇へ押しやられ、蔦を引き裂いた。彼らは目前の仕事――どの虎も立ち向かえぬ恐ろしい水牛の群れの突進――を知っていた。シア・カーンは蹄の雷鳴を聞き、身を起こして峡谷をよろよろと下り、逃げ道を求めてあちこち見たが、峡谷の壁は垂直で、彼は食事と飲み物で重く、戦うより他は何でもするという有様で踏みとどまらねばならなかった。群れは彼が just 去った水溜まりをバシャバシャと渡り、狭い峡谷が響くほど咆哮した。モウグリは下流から応える咆哮を聞き、シア・カーンが向きを変えるのを見た(虎は、最悪の場合、子牛のいる雌牛より雄牛に向かう方がましだと知っていた)。そしてラーマがつまずき、よろめき、柔らかいものの上をまた進み、雄牛を従えてもう一つの群れへ真っ向から突っ込み、弱い水牛は衝突の衝撃で足から綺麗に持ち上げられた。その突進は両方の群れを平原へと運び出し、突き刺し、足踏みし、鼻を鳴らした。モウグリは時を見計らってラーマの首から滑り降り、杖を右左に振るった。
「村の首席狩人に何という口の利き方だ。お前の運と水牛の馬鹿さがこの獲物を助けただけだ。虎は just 食った後だ、さもなきゃとっくに二十マイルも行っていたろう。お前にまともに剥げるわけがない、小乞食め、ましてや俺、ブルdeoがひげを焼くなと言われるとはな。モウグリ、お前には報奨金のアンナ一つやらん、ただのひどい折檻だ。死体から離れろ!」
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 dhk 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 jungle?”
“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, Rama, 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 haunting them.
“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 plagues me.”
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 won.”
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.
“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. Farewell!”
“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.
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 howled:
“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.”
“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.
Mowgli’s Song
THAT HE SANG AT THE COUNCIL ROCK WHEN HE
DANCED ON SHERE KHAN’S HIDE