The Jungle Book

by Diane Wright Landolf

  Baloo chuckled with pride. Mowgli had remembered his lessons!

  “Thank you,” Bagheera said to Rann. “Next time I hunt, I will save some for you.”

  Bagheera, Baloo, and Kaa set off for the Lost City. Bagheera and Kaa traveled quickly. Baloo went at his own pace.

  Meanwhile, Mowgli had made his own plans. He paced back and forth through the city, shouting out the Hunting Call, but he got no answer. He began to pace closer and closer to the city wall. When he thought he was close enough, he made a quick dash to the wall.

  The monkeys pulled him back. “You don't know how lucky you are to be with us,” they told him. They pinched him. Then they brought him to a decaying marble terrace.

  “We are wonderful!” the Bandar-log said. “We are the most wonderful people in the jungle!” By the hundreds, the monkeys sang their own praises to Mowgli.

  Overhead, a cloud was moving toward the moon. In the minute of deeper darkness, Mowgli might have a chance to escape.

  At last the cloud blocked out the moon's light. Mowgli was about to make a move when he heard a familiar light step on the terrace. It was Bagheera!

  Swiftly and quietly, the panther struck at the crowd of monkeys around Mowgli. When they saw what was happening, the monkeys swarmed all over Bagheera. They bit him, scratched him, and pulled his hair.

  As Bagheera struggled, five or six of the monkeys grabbed Mowgli. They dragged him to the top of a ruined summerhouse. They pushed him through a hole in the dome.

  It was fifteen feet down. For most boys, it would have been a very bad fall. But Baloo had trained Mowgli well. He landed light on his feet.

  “Stay there until we've killed your friend,” the monkeys shouted down to him. “We'll play

  again later … if the poisonous snakes don't get you.”

  Poisonous snakes? The summerhouse must be full of cobras! Mowgli heard rustling and hissing all around him. Quickly, he greeted them in their own language. “We are one people, you and I,” he hissed.

  The cobras relaxed. “Stand still so you don't step on us,” they said.

  Mowgli stood as still as he could. He strained his ears to listen to how the fight was going. There was chattering and scuffling, and he could hear Bagheera cough as he bucked and twisted under the attack of the monkeys.

  Mowgli shouted to him, “Roll to the water tanks, Bagheera! Jump in the water!”

  Bagheera heard Mowgli's shout. He slowly fought his way to the water.

  Suddenly the Lost City echoed with a great, furious cry. Baloo had arrived! “Bagheera, I am here!” he bellowed. “Just wait till I get ahold of you, Bandar-log!”

  As he reached the terrace, a wave of monkeys covered Baloo. He squeezed some of them tightly to his body, then began batting the others in a steady rhythm.

  Bagheera finally reached the water tank. He threw himself in with a splash. It was too deep for the monkeys. They crowded around the tank, dancing up and down with rage. The panther struggled to keep his head out of the water. He looked around for Kaa. He was afraid the python had changed his mind.

  The confusion grew. Baloo went on fighting. Mang the bat flew back and forth and broadcast the news of the battle to the whole jungle. Hathi the elephant trumpeted. More monkeys rushed in to help the others.

  Then, with a clatter of loose stones, Kaa snaked over the wall. He came on fast, striking out at monkeys as he went.

  “It is Kaa! Run!” the monkeys screeched. What Kaa had told Baloo and Bagheera was true—the Bandar-log did fear Kaa more than any other creature. They scattered. They climbed higher up the walls and trees, shrieking, watching for what would happen next.

  Bagheera was out of breath from his fight and his struggle in the water. “Get the man cub and go,” he panted. “They may attack again.”

  “They will not move till I let them,” hissed Kaa. “Where is the man cub?”

  “Here!” cried Mowgli from the ruins. “I'm trapped! I can't climb out.”

  “Take him away,” called the cobras from the hole. “He dances like Mao the peacock. He will crush our babies.”

  Kaa laughed. “He has friends everywhere, this Mowgli,” he said. “Stand back! I am going to break down the wall.” He smashed the wall of the summerhouse with his nose, putting all his long, powerful body behind it.

  In a cloud of dust, the wall gave way. Mowgli burst out and flung himself at Baloo and Bagheera. He put one arm around each of them.

  “Are you hurt?” Baloo asked.

  “I am hungry, sore, and bruised,” Mowgli said. “But look at the two of you! They hurt you much more. You're bleeding.”

  “There is someone else who fought for you, Little Brother,” said Bagheera. He pointed to the great python. “Here is Kaa. You owe your life to him.”

  Mowgli thanked Kaa. He promised that someday he would help the python in any way he could. “Good hunting,” he said.

  “You have a brave heart,” Kaa said. “But go away with your friends now. You don't need to see what will happen next.”

  His friends should have listened to Kaa. Instead, Baloo went down to the water tank to get a drink. Bagheera smoothed his fur.

  Kaa glided into the center of the terrace. He shut his jaws with a snap, and all the monkeys looked at him. “Do you see me?” Kaa asked.

  “We see!” cried the monkeys.

  “Now watch the Dance of the Hunger of Kaa!” the python hissed.

  He began slithering in slow circles. He looped and coiled in figure eights. The monkeys were entranced. Even Bagheera and Baloo froze.

  “Come closer,” Kaa hummed.

  The monkeys moved closer. Baloo and Bagheera, too, drew nearer to Kaa.

  Only Mowgli did not fall under the spell. To him, Kaa was just making circles in the dust. He did not understand what was happening, but he could see his friends were caught in Kaa's trance.

  Mowgli put one hand on Baloo and one on Bagheera. The panther and bear shook themselves as if they were waking from a dream.

  “Come on. Let's go,” Mowgli whispered.

  So Mowgli, Baloo, and Bagheera slipped away into the jungle.

  For almost all of Mowgli's childhood, life in the jungle was good. He helped drive game for the wolf pack and had plenty to eat. He had good friends to keep him company.

  But one winter the rains did not come. Mowgli met Sahi the porcupine in a bamboo thicket. Sahi told him that the wild yams were drying up.

  Everyone knew that Sahi was a picky eater, so Mowgli just laughed. “What difference does that make to me?” he said.

  “Not much now, ” replied Sahi. “But we'll see what happens. Tell me, can you dive in the rock pool anymore?”

  “No,” said Mowgli. “The foolish water is all gone. I don't want to break my head.”

  “Your loss. A small crack might let in some wisdom,” said the porcupine.

  When Mowgli told Baloo what Sahi had said, the bear looked serious. “Hmm,” he said, half to himself. “Let's just wait and see how the mohwa tree blossoms.”

  Spring came, but Baloo's favorite tree never bloomed. The heat crept into the jungle. Everything turned yellow, then brown, and finally black. The green weeds and mosses dried up. The hidden pools sank down and caked over.

  Mowgli had never known what hunger meant until then. He scraped stale honey out of old, deserted beehives. He dug for grubs under the bark of the trees. Everyone in the jungle was starving.

  But worse than the hunger was the thirst. The heat sucked up all the moisture. The only water left was the thin trickle that had been the Waingunga River.

  One day Hathi the wild elephant saw a long, dry ridge of blue rock poke up from the center of the stream. Hathi was the oldest animal in the jungle, and he knew what he was looking at. It was the Peace Rock.

  Hathi lifted up his trunk and trumpeted. He was calling the Water Truce. The deer, wild pig, and buffalo joined the call. Then Chil the kite flew far and wide, spreading the news.

  The Water Truce meant that all anima
ls, predators and prey, could go to the river safely

  to drink. By the Law of the Jungle, nobody was allowed to hunt at the river during the Water Truce.

  All that hot summer, the animals gathered at the river to drink and get as cool as they could. They were thin and starved. Mowgli, who had no fur to cover himself up, looked the worst. His hair was matted. His ribs stuck out.

  One evening the animals came as usual to the river. Everyone talked about how bad things were. “Even men are dying,” said a young sambar, a kind of Indian deer. “I have seen them lying still in their fields. We are all in this together. Soon, we will lie still, too.”

  “The river has dried up even more since yesterday,” said Baloo.

  “It will pass, it will pass,” said Hathi, squirting water on his back and sides.

  Baloo looked at Mowgli. “I'm afraid the man cub won't last much longer,” he said.

  “Man cub this and man cub that,” rumbled a voice. Shere Khan, the lame tiger, had come down to drink and wash. As he dipped his face in the river, dark, oily streaks clouded the water. It was blood.

  “Ugh! Shere Khan, what shame have you brought here?” said Bagheera.

  “Man,” bragged Shere Khan. “I killed one an hour ago.”

  All the animals trembled with disbelief. “Man!” they cried. “He has killed man!”

  “Killing man at a time like this! Couldn't you find anything else to eat?” said Bagheera with disgust.

  “I killed for choice, not for food,” replied Shere Khan.

  Hathi looked angrily at the tiger. “You chose to kill man?” he said.

  “Yes. It was my night and my right,” said Shere Khan. “You know what I mean, Hathi.”

  “Yes, I know,” Hathi said. “But now that you've drunk your fill, go. The river is to drink, not to pollute. Only you would brag about your right at a time like this, when men and animals suffer together!”

  Hathi's three sons stepped forward threat-eningly. Shere Khan did not dare question Hathi's order. He slunk back to his lair.

  “What is this right Shere Khan was talking about?” Mowgli whispered to Bagheera. “I thought it was always shameful to kill a man.”

  “Ask Hathi. I do not know,” said Bagheera.

  Mowgli waited a minute. He was a little afraid to talk to the great elephant. But his curiosity was so strong that it gave him courage. “What is Shere Khan's right, Hathi?” Mowgli asked. The other animals echoed his question.

  “It is an old tale,” said Hathi, “a tale older than the jungle. Keep silence along the banks, and I will tell it.

  “You know, children, that of all things, you most fear man,” he began. There was a mutter of agreement. “And do you know why you fear man? This is why. In the beginning of the jungle, before anyone can remember, all the beasts walked together. No animal was afraid of another.”

  Hathi went on to tell the story of how the first tiger brought fear into the jungle. That fear was of man. The tiger was terrified of man, and it made him ashamed. He begged to have one night each year when he could walk among men unafraid.

  “From then on, the tiger has had his one night,” said Hathi. “He has always remembered the way man shamed the first of the tigers. So on his night, whenever the tiger sees man, he kills him.”

  Hathi looked around before finishing his story. “And only when there is a great fear over us all, as this drought has brought, can we of the jungle lay aside our little fears. Then we can meet together in one place, as we do now,” he said.

  “Man only fears the tiger for one night?” asked Mowgli.

  “Yes,” said Hathi.

  “But Shere Khan kills men two or three times a month,” Mowgli said.

  “You're right,” Hathi said. “But those times he springs from behind. He turns his face away, because he is afraid. Only on his one night does he go openly into the village and walk into the huts. And he never knows ahead of time what night will be his. He feels it come upon him when the moon rises. It could be any night of the year.”

  Mowgli knew then that Shere Khan was afraid of him. His fear made the white tiger ashamed. He would never let go of his feud with the man cub.

  Finally the rains came again, just as Hathi had promised they would. The Water Truce was over. The leaves grew green and strong. The mohwa tree blossomed once more.

  But Mowgli never forgot the lesson he learned that night at the dried-up river.

  Shere Khan hated and feared men. No matter how often Mowgli called himself a wolf, Shere Khan could never think of him as anything but a man.

  So the months and years passed, until Mowgli was about twelve years old. Akela, the leader of the wolf pack, was getting older, too. By the Law of the Jungle, a wolf could only lead the pack as long as he could lead the hunt.

  Mowgli saw more and more of Shere Khan the tiger. Many of the young wolves in the pack were friends with Shere Khan. If Akela had been younger and stronger, he would never have allowed it.

  The tiger was sly. He had gained the young wolves' trust by giving them scraps of food. Then he flattered them. He said he was surprised that such fine hunters would let themselves be ruled by an old, dying wolf and a man's cub. The young wolves grew to hate Mowgli.

  Bagheera warned Mowgli that Shere Khan was up to no good. He reminded him that Shere Khan had vowed to kill him someday.

  Mowgli just laughed. “I have you and I have Baloo,” he said carelessly. “Why should I be afraid?”

  “This is no joke,” said Bagheera. “Open your eyes! Shere Khan doesn't dare kill you here in the jungle, for fear of me and Baloo and your other friends. But Akela is getting old. Soon he will miss his target in the hunt, and he won't be the leader anymore. The young wolves listen to Shere Khan. He has taught them that a man's cub has no place in the pack. That is what they believe.”

  “But I was raised in the jungle!” Mowgli cried. “They are my brothers! I have pulled thorns from all their paws.”

  “You are still a man's cub,” Bagheera said. “Someday you will have to go back to your own kind. I think Akela will soon fail at the hunt. Then the pack will turn against both of you.”

  Bagheera paused, then went on. “I have an idea. Go down to the valley where the men have their huts. Take some of the Red Flower they grow there. That will give you better protection than any of your friends can. Get the Red Flower.”

  Bagheera was talking about fire. The animals of the jungle were terrified of fire, and none of them dared to call it by its name.

  “I will get some,” Mowgli agreed, unafraid.

  “Good,” said Bagheera. “Keep some in a pot for whenever you have need of it.”

  Mowgli darted away through the jungle. Suddenly he heard a howl that made him stop in his tracks. It was the wolf pack's hunt. He listened to the voices of the young wolves.

  “Spring, Akela!” they said.

  Mowgli heard the snap of teeth and a yelp. Akela had missed! He had failed at the hunt, just as Bagheera had predicted!

  Mowgli didn't wait to hear anything else. He dashed on as fast as he could.

  Soon he reached the fields where men grew their crops. He crept up outside one of their huts. He looked through the window and watched the fire in the fireplace. Night fell, and still Mowgli watched. He saw that the people looked very much like him.

  In the middle of the night, a woman got up and fed the fire with black lumps. In the morning, a child picked up a clay pot and filled it with red-hot charcoal. The child carried the pot outside when he went to milk the cows.

  “Is that all?” said Mowgli. “If a cub can do it, I can do it.” He walked boldly around the hut. He came face to face with the child and quickly took the pot from the boy's hand.

  Then Mowgli disappeared into the mist.

  When he was hidden again in the jungle, Mowgli stopped and looked at the pot of fire. He blew on it like he had seen the woman in the hut do. “This thing will die if I do not give it things to eat,” he said to himself. He fed it some twig
s and dried bark.

  Soon, Mowgli met Bagheera, who had come in search of him. The morning dew shone like moonstones on his black fur.

  “Akela has missed,” Bagheera said.

  Mowgli, of course, had already guessed this, but it was different to hear it was true.

  “They would have killed Akela at Council Rock last night,” Bagheera went on, “but they were looking for you.”

  “I was by the man huts. I am ready with the Red Flower. See?” Mowgli said. He held up the fire pot.

  Bagheera backed up a step. “Good,” he said. “Aren't you afraid?”

  Mowgli shook his head and said, “Why should I be afraid? I think I even remember that before I was a wolf, I used to lie in front of the Red Flower. It was nice and warm.”

  “Well, I have seen men put a dry branch into a pot like that, and the Red Flower bloomed at the end of it,” said Bagheera.

  Mowgli went home to the cave. All day, he practiced putting branches into the coals. He tried many different kinds of wood until he found the one that worked best.

  In the evening, Tabaqui came and told him that he was wanted at the council. Mowgli laughed in his face, to show he was not afraid. And when he came to Council Rock, he was still laughing.

  Instead of sitting on top of the rock, Akela lay next to it. This was a sign that the leadership was open. Shere Khan walked among the wolves.

  Mowgli sat down with the fire pot hidden snugly between his knees. Bagheera lay next to him.

  When Akela was in his prime, Shere Khan would never have dared talk at the council. Now he spoke freely.

  “He has no right to speak here,” Bagheera growled softly to Mowgli. “Say something.”

  Mowgli jumped up. “Does Shere Khan lead the pack?” he asked. “The leadership of the pack is up to the pack to decide.”

  All the wolves began talking and shouting at once. “Quiet, man's cub!” said many of the younger ones. But the older ones said Mowgli had kept their law and had the right to talk.

  Finally the oldest of the wolves said, “Let Akela speak!”