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,