"It was the smells of the night," said Bagheera penitently. "This air cries aloud to me. But how dost _thou_ know?" Of course the air round an Indian village is full of all kinds of smells, and to any creature who does nearly all his thinking through his nose, smells are as maddening as music and drugs are to human beings. Mowgli gentled the panther for a few minutes longer, and he lay down like a cat before a fire, his paws tucked under his breast, and his eyes half shut. "Thou art of the Jungle and _not_ of the Jungle," he said at last. "And I am only a black panther. But I love thee, Little Brother." "They are very long at their talk under the tree," Mowgli said, without noticing the last sentence. "Buldeo must have told many tales. They should come soon to drag the woman and her man out of the trap and put them into the Red Flower. They will find that trap sprung. Ho! ho!" "Nay, listen," said Bagheera. "The fever is out of my blood now. Let them find _me_ there! Few would leave their houses after meeting me. It is not the first time I have been in a cage; and I do not think they will tie _me_ with cords." "Be wise, then," said Mowgli, laughing; for he was beginning to feel as reckless as the panther, who had glided into the hut. "Pah!" Bagheera grunted. "This place is rank with Man, but here is just such a bed as they gave me to lie upon in the King's cages at Oodeypore. Now I lie down." Mowgli heard the strings of the cot crack under the great brute's weight. "By the Broken Lock that freed me, they will think they have caught big game! Come and sit beside me, Little Brother; we will give them 'good hunting' together!" "No; I have another thought in my stomach. The Man-Pack shall not know what share I have in the sport. Make thine own hunt. I do not wish to see them." "Be it so," said Bagheera. "Ah, now they come!" The conference under the peepul-tree had been growing noisier and noisier, at the far end of the village. It broke in wild yells, and a rush up the street of men and women, waving clubs and bamboos and sickles and knives. Buldeo and the Brahmin were at the head of it, but the mob was close at their heels, and they cried, "The witch and the wizard! Let us see if hot coins will make them confess! Burn the hut over their heads! We will teach them to shelter wolf-devils! Nay, beat them first! Torches! More torches! Buldeo, heat the gun-barrels!"