“How many?” said Mowgli quickly; the Pack growled deep in their throats.

“I do not know. Three of them will kill no more, but at the last they drove me like the buck; on my three legs they drove me. Look, Free People!”

He thrust out his mangled fore-foot, all dark with dried blood.

There were cruel bites low down on his side, and his throat was torn and worried.

“Eat,” said Akela, rising up from the meat Mowgli had brought him, and the Outlier flung himself on it.

“This shall be no loss,” he said humbly, when he had taken off the first edge of his hunger. “Give me a little strength, Free People, and I also will kill. My lair is empty that was full when this moon was new, and the Blood Debt is not all paid.”