"I will carry thee," said Mowgli; and he stooped down, laughing, to
lift the middle section of Kaa's great body, just where the barrel was
thickest. A man might just as well have tried to heave up a two-foot
water-main; and Kaa lay still, puffing with quiet amusement. Then the
regular evening game began--the boy in the flush of his great
strength, and the Python in his sumptuous new skin, standing up one
against the other for a wrestling-match--a trial of eye and strength.
Of course, Kaa could have crushed a dozen Mowglis if he had let
himself go; but he played carefully, and never loosed one tenth of his
power. Ever since Mowgli was strong enough to endure a little rough
handling, Kaa had taught him this game, and it suppled his limbs as
nothing else could. Sometimes Mowgli would stand lapped almost to his
throat in Kaa's shifting coils, striving to get one arm free and
catch him by the throat. Then Kaa would give way limply, and Mowgli,
with both quick-moving feet, would try to cramp the purchase of that
huge tail as it flung backward feeling for a rock or a stump. They
would rock to and fro, head to head, each waiting for his chance, till
the beautiful, statue-like group melted in a whirl of black-and-yellow
coils and struggling legs and arms, to rise up again and again. "Now!
now! now!" said Kaa, making feints with his head that even Mowgli's
quick hand could not turn aside. "Look! I touch thee here, Little
Brother! Here, and here! Are thy hands numb? Here again!"
The game always ended in one way--with a straight, driving blow of the
head that knocked the boy over and over. Mowgli could never learn the
guard for that lightning lunge, and, as Kaa said, there was not the
least use in trying.
"Good hunting!" Kaa grunted at last; and Mowgli, as usual, was shot
away half a dozen yards, gasping and laughing. He rose with his
fingers full of grass, and followed Kaa to the wise snake's pet
bathing-place--a deep, pitchy-black pool surrounded with rocks, and
made interesting by sunken tree-stumps. The boy slipped in,
Jungle-fashion, without a sound, and dived across; rose, too, without
a sound, and turned on his back, his arms behind his head, watching
the moon rising above the rocks, and breaking up her reflection in the
water with his toes. Kaa's diamond-shaped head cut the pool like a
razor, and came out to rest on Mowgli's shoulder. They lay still,
soaking luxuriously in the cool water.
"It is _very_ good," said Mowgli at last, sleepily. "Now, in the
Man-Pack, at this hour, as I remember, they laid them down upon hard
pieces of wood in the inside of a mud-trap, and, having carefully shut
out all the clean winds, drew foul cloth over their heavy heads, and
made evil songs through their noses. It is better in the Jungle."
A hurrying cobra slipped down over a rock and drank, gave them "Good
hunting!" and went away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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