The Kipling Reader: Selections from the Books of Rudyard KiplingKipling, Rudyard
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The Kipling Reader: Selections from the Books of Rudyard Kipling
Kipling, Rudyard
Animals -- Fiction; English poetry; India -- Social life and customs -- Literary collections; Readers; Short stories, English
'How little! How naked, and--how bold!' said Mother Wolf, softly. The
baby was pushing his way between the cubs to get close to the warm
hide. 'Ahai! He is taking his meal with the others. And so this is a
man's cub. Now, was there ever a wolf that could boast of a man's cub
among her children?'
'I have heard now and again of such a thing, but never in our Pack or
in my time,' said Father Wolf. 'He is altogether without hair, and I
could kill him with a touch of my foot. But see, he looks up and is
not afraid.'
The moonlight was blocked out of the mouth of the cave, for Shere
Khan's great square head and shoulders were thrust into the entrance.
Tabaqui, behind him, was squeaking: 'My lord, my lord, it went in
here!'
'Shere Khan does us great honour,' said Father Wolf, but his eyes
were very angry. 'What does Shere Khan need?'
'My quarry. A man's cub went this way,' said Shere Khan. 'Its parents
have run off. Give it to me.'
Shere Khan had jumped at a woodcutters' camp-fire, as Father Wolf had
said, and was furious from the pain of his burned feet. But Father
Wolf knew that the mouth of the cave was too narrow for a tiger to
come in by. Even where he was, Shere Khan's shoulders and fore paws
were cramped for want of room, as a man's would be if he tried to
fight in a barrel.
'The Wolves are a free people,' said Father Wolf. 'They take orders
from the Head of the Pack, and not from any striped cattle-dealer.
The man's cub is ours--to kill if we choose.'
'Ye choose and ye do not choose! What talk is this of choosing? By
the bull that I killed, am I to stand nosing into your dog's den for
my fair dues? It is I, Shere Khan, who speak!'
The tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder. Mother Wolf shook
herself clear of the cubs and sprang forward, her eyes, like two
green moons in the darkness, facing the blazing eyes of Shere Khan.
'And it is I, Raksha [The Demon], who answer. The man's cub is mine,
Lungri--mine to me! He shall not be killed. He shall live to run with
the Pack and to hunt with the Pack; and in the end, look you, hunter
of little naked cubs--frog-eater--fish-killer--he shall hunt _thee_!
Now get hence, or by the Sambhur that I killed (_I_ eat no starved
cattle), back thou goest to thy mother, burned beast of the jungle,
lamer than ever thou earnest into the world! Go!'
Father Wolf looked on amazed. He had almost forgotten the days when
he had won Mother Wolf in fair fight from five other wolves, when she
ran in the Pack and was not called The Demon for compliment's sake.
Shere Khan might have faced Father Wolf, but he could not stand up
against Mother Wolf, for he knew that where he was she had all the
advantage of the ground, and would fight to the death. So he backed
out of the cave-mouth growling, and when he was clear he shouted:--
'Each dog barks in his own yard! We will see what the Pack will say
to this fostering of man-cubs. The cub is mine, and to my teeth he
will come in the end, O bush-tailed thieves!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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