"Not good! What would ye have? That naked thing running to
and fro makes a monkey-jest of those who have once been good
hunters, and pulls the best of us by the whiskers for sport."
This was Shere Khan, the Lame Tiger, limping down to the water.
He waited a little to enjoy the sensation he made among the
deer on the opposite to lap, growling: "The jungle has become a
whelping-ground for naked cubs now. Look at me, Man-cub!"

Mowgli looked--stared, rather--as insolently as he knew how,
and in a minute Shere Khan turned away uneasily. "Man-cub this,
and Man-cub that," he rumbled, going on with his drink, "the
cub is neither man nor cub, or he would have been afraid. Next
season I shall have to beg his leave for a drink. Augrh!"

"That may come, too," said Bagheera, looking him steadily
between the eyes. "That may come, too--Faugh, Shere Khan!--what
new shame hast thou brought here?"

The Lame Tiger had dipped his chin and jowl in the water, and
dark, oily streaks were floating from it down-stream.

"Man!" said Shere Khan coolly, "I killed an hour since."
He went on purring and growling to himself.

The line of beasts shook and wavered to and fro, and a whisper
went up that grew to a cry. "Man! Man! He has killed Man!"
Then all looked towards Hathi, the wild elephant, but he seemed
not to hear. Hathi never does anything till the time comes,
and that is one of the reasons why he lives so long.