“What Man-Pack lair here by the marshes, Mysa? This is new Jungle to me.”

“Go north, then,” roared the angry bull, for Mowgli had pricked him rather sharply.

“It was a naked cow-herd’s jest. Go and tell them at the village at the foot of the marsh.”

“The Man-Pack do not love jungle-tales, nor do I think, Mysa, that a scratch more or less on thy hide is any matter for a council. But I will go and look at this village. Yes, I will go. Softly now. It is not every night that the Master of the Jungle comes to herd thee.”

He stepped out to the shivering ground on the edge of the marsh, well knowing that Mysa would never charge over it and laughed, as he ran, to think of the bull’s