I will use it no more. Look!”

The ankus flew sparkling, and buried itself point down thirty yards away, between the trees. “So my hands are clean of Death,” said Mowgli, rubbing his palms on the fresh, moist earth. “The Thuu said Death would follow me. He is old and white and mad.”

“White or black, or death or life, I am going to sleep, Little Brother. I cannot hunt all night and howl all day, as do some folk.”

Bagheera went off to a hunting-lair that he knew, about two miles off. Mowgli made an easy way for himself up a convenient tree, knotted three or four creepers together, and in less time than it takes to tell was swinging in a hammock fifty feet above ground.