mistaken for some wild god of a jungle legend.

The child half asleep on a cot sprang up and shrieked aloud with terror. Messua turned to soothe him, while Mowgli stood still, looking in at the water-jars and the cooking-pots, the grain-bin, and all the other human belongings that he found himself remembering so well.

“What wilt thou eat or drink?” Messua murmured. “This is all thine. We owe our lives to thee. But art thou him I called Nathoo, or a Godling, indeed?”

“I am Nathoo,” said Mowgli, “I am very far from my own place. I saw this light, and came hither. I did not know thou wast here.”

“After we came to Khanhiwara,” Messua said timidly, “the