my son--my son!"

"Son or sorcerer, what good will that do us?" the man answered.
"We be as dead already."

"Yonder is the road to the Jungle"--Mowgli pointed through the
window. "Your hands and feet are free. Go now."

"We do not know the Jungle, my son, as--as thou knowest," Messua
began. "I do not think that I could walk far."

"And the men and women would he upon our backs and drag us here
again," said the husband.

"H'm!" said Mowgli, and he tickled the palm of his hand with the
tip of his skinning-knife; "I have no wish to do harm to any one
of this village--YET. But I do not think they will stay thee.
In a little while they will have much else to think upon. Ah!"
he lifted his head and listened to shouting and trampling
outside. "So they have let Buldeo come home at last?"

"He was sent out this morning to kill thee," Messua cried.
"Didst thou meet him?"

"Yes--we--I met him. He has a tale to tell and while he is
telling it there is time to do much. But first I will learn
what they mean. Think where ye would go, and tell me when
I come back."

He bounded through the window and ran along again outside the