to eat than to run, Mowgli answered, trotting in and out between the low scrub bushes of the new Jungle they were exploring.

Bagheera, a little to his left, made an indescribable noise in his throat.

“Here is one that has done with feeding,” said he. A tumbled bundle of gay-coloured clothes lay under a bush, and round it was some spilt flour.

“That was done by the bamboo again,” said Mowgli. “See! that white dust is what men eat. They have taken the kill from this one, — he carried their food, — and given him for a kill to Chil, the Kite.”

“It is the third,” said Bagheera.

“I will go with new, big frogs to the Father of Cobras, and feed him fat,”