The Jungle Book (28 page)
Authors: Rudyard Kipling
“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 remain 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 today? 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-Favor 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 skin and close thy mouth.
(Pit and rift and blue pool brim
Middle Jungle follow him!)
Wood and Water, Wind and Tree
,
Jungle-Favor go with thee!
Bagheera
In the cage my life began;
Well I know the ways of Man.
By the Broken Lock that freed—
Man-cub, ’ware the man-cub’s breed!
Scenting-dew or starlight pale,
Choose no idle 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
Bandar
’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-Favor go with thee!
The Three
On the trail that thou must tread
To the threshold 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
,
Jungle-Favor go with thee!
“RIKKI-TIKKI-TAVI” 
At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
“Nag, come up and dance with death!”
Eye to eye and head to head
(
Keep the measure, Nag
).
This shall end when one is dead
(
At thy pleasure, Nag
).
Turn for turn and twist for twist
(
Run and hide thee, Nag
).
Hah! The hooded Death has missed!
(
Woe betide thee, Nag
!)
T
his is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bathrooms of the big bungalow in Segowlie cantonment. Darzee the Tailorbird helped him, and Chuchundra the Muskrat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.
He was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits. His
eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink; he could scratch himself anywhere he pleased with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use; he could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottlebrush, and his war cry as he scuttled through the long grass was:
Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!
One day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying: “Here’s a dead mongoose. Let’s have a funeral.”
“No,” said his mother, “let’s take him in and dry him. Perhaps he isn’t really dead.”
They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked. So they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a little fire, and he opened his eyes and sneezed.
“Now,” said the big man (he was an Englishman who had just moved into the bungalow), “don’t frighten him, and we’ll see what he’ll do.”
It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity.
The motto of all the mongoose family is “Run and find out,” and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. He looked at the cotton wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy’s shoulder.
“Don’t be frightened, Teddy,” said his father. “That’s his way of making friends.”
“Ouch! He’s tickling under my chin,” said Teddy.
Rikki-tikki looked down between the boy’s collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose.
“Good gracious,” said Teddy’s mother, “and that’s a wild creature! I suppose he’s so tame because we’ve been kind to him.”
“All mongooses are like that,” said her husband. “If Teddy doesn’t pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he’ll run in and out of the house all day long. Let’s give him something to eat.”