"He has come back to this country, and has waited here a long
time for thee. Now he has gone off again, for the game is scarce.
But he means to kill thee."
"Very good," said Mowgli. "So long as he is away do thou or
one of the four brothers sit on that rock, so that I can see thee
as I come out of the village. When he comes back wait for me in
the ravine by the dhak tree in the center of the plain. We need
not walk into Shere Khan's mouth."
Then Mowgli picked out a shady place, and lay down and
slept while the buffaloes grazed round him. Herding in India is
one of the laziest things in the world. The cattle move and
crunch, and lie down, and move on again, and they do not even
low. They only grunt, and the buffaloes very seldom say
anything, but get down into the muddy pools one after another,
and work their way into the mud till only their noses and staring
china-blue eyes show above the surface, and then they lie like
logs. The sun makes the rocks dance in the heat, and the herd
children hear one kite (never any more) whistling almost out of
sight overhead, and they know that if they died, or a cow died,
that kite would sweep down, and the next kite miles away would
see him drop and follow, and the next, and the next, and almost
before they were dead there would be a score of hungry kites
come out of nowhere. Then they sleep and wake and sleep again,
and weave little baskets of dried grass and put grasshoppers in
them; or catch two praying mantises and make them fight; or
string a necklace of red and black jungle nuts; or watch a lizard
basking on a rock, or a snake hunting a frog near the wallows.
Then they sing long, long songs with odd native quavers at the
end of them, and the day seems longer than most people's whole
lives, and perhaps they make a mud castle with mud figures of
men and horses and buffaloes, and put reeds into the men's
hands, and pretend that they are kings and the figures are their
armies, or that they are gods to be worshiped. Then evening
comes and the children call, and the buffaloes lumber up out of
the sticky mud with noises like gunshots going off one after the
other, and they all string across the gray plain back to the
twinkling village lights. Day after day Mowgli would lead the buffaloes out to their
wallows, and day after day he would see Gray Brother's back a
mile and a half away across the plain (so he knew that Shere
Khan had not come back), and day after day he would lie on the
grass listening to the noises round him, and dreaming of old
days in the jungle. If Shere Khan had made a false step with his
lame paw up in the jungles by the Waingunga, Mowgli would
have heard him in those long, still mornings.
At last a day came when he did not see Gray Brother at the
signal place, and he laughed and headed the buffaloes for the
ravine by the dhk tree, which was all covered with golden-red
flowers. There sat Gray Brother, every bristle on his back lifted.
"He has hidden for a month to throw thee off thy guard. He
crossed the ranges last night with Tabaqui, hot-foot on thy trail,"
said the Wolf, panting.
Mowgli frowned. "I am not afraid of Shere Khan, but Tabaqui
is very cunning."
"Have no fear," said Gray Brother, licking his lips a little. "I
met Tabaqui in the dawn. Now he is telling all his wisdom to the
kites, but he told me everything before I broke his back. Shere
Khan's plan is to wait for thee at the village gate this evening—
for thee and for no one else. He is lying up now, in the big dry
ravine of the Waingunga."
"Has he eaten today, or does he hunt empty?" said Mowgli, for
the answer meant life and death to him.
"He killed at dawn,—a pig,—and he has drunk too.
Remember, Shere Khan could never fast, even for the sake of
revenge."
"Oh! Fool, fool! What a cub's cub it is! Eaten and drunk too,
and he thinks that I shall wait till he has slept! Now, where does
he lie up? If there were but ten of us we might pull him down as
he lies. These buffaloes will not charge unless they wind him,
and I cannot speak their language. Can we get behind his track
so that they may smell it?" "Till the sides are higher than Shere Khan can jump," shouted
Mowgli. "Keep them there till we come down." The bulls swept
off as Akela bayed, and Gray Brother stopped in front of the
cows. They charged down on him, and he ran just before them
to the foot of the ravine, as Akela drove the bulls far to the left.
"Well done! Another charge and they are fairly started.
Careful, now—careful, Akela. A snap too much and the bulls will
charge. Hujah! This is wilder work than driving black-buck.
Didst thou think these creatures could move so swiftly?" Mowgli
called.
"I have—have hunted these too in my time," gasped Akela in
the dust. "Shall I turn them into the jungle?"
"Ay! Turn. Swiftly turn them! Rama is mad with rage. Oh, if I
could only tell him what I need of him to-day."
The bulls were turned, to the right this time, and crashed into
the standing thicket. The other herd children, watching with the
cattle half a mile away, hurried to the village as fast as their legs
could carry them, crying that the buffaloes had gone mad and
run away.
But Mowgli's plan was simple enough. All he wanted to do
was to make a big circle uphill and get at the head of the ravine,
and then take the bulls down it and catch Shere Khan between
the bulls and the cows; for he knew that after a meal and a full
drink Shere Khan would not be in any condition to fight or to
clamber up the sides of the ravine. He was soothing the
buffaloes now by voice, and Akela had dropped far to the rear,
only whimpering once or twice to hurry the rear-guard. It was a
long, long circle, for they did not wish to get too near the ravine
and give Shere Khan warning. At last Mowgli rounded up the
bewildered herd at the head of the ravine on a grassy patch that
sloped steeply down to the ravine itself. From that height you
could see across the tops of the trees down to the plain below;
but what Mowgli looked at was the sides of the ravine, and he
saw with a great deal of satisfaction that they ran nearly straight up and down, while the vines and creepers that hung over them
would give no foothold to a tiger who wanted to get out.
"Let them breathe, Akela," he said, holding up his hand. "They
have not winded him yet. Let them breathe. I must tell Shere
Khan who comes. We have him in the trap."
He put his hands to his mouth and shouted down the ravine—
it was almost like shouting down a tunnel—and the echoes
jumped from rock to rock.
After a long time there came back the drawling, sleepy snarl of
a full-fed tiger just wakened.
"Who calls?" said Shere Khan, and a splendid peacock
fluttered up out of the ravine screeching.
"I, Mowgli. Cattle thief, it is time to come to the Council Rock!
Down—hurry them down, Akela! Down, Rama, down!"
The herd paused for an instant at the edge of the slope, but
Akela gave tongue in the full hunting-yell, and they pitched over
one after the other, just as steamers shoot rapids, the sand and
stones spurting up round them. Once started, there was no
chance of stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed of the
ravine Rama winded Shere Khan and bellowed.
"Ha! Ha!" said Mowgli, on his back. "Now thou knowest!" and
the torrent of black horns, foaming muzzles, and staring eyes
whirled down the ravine just as boulders go down in floodtime;
the weaker buffaloes being shouldered out to the sides of the
ravine where they tore through the creepers. They knew what
the business was before them—the terrible charge of the buffalo
herd against which no tiger can hope to stand. Shere Khan heard
the thunder of their hoofs, picked himself up, and lumbered
down the ravine, looking from side to side for some way of
escape, but the walls of the ravine were straight and he had to
hold on, heavy with his dinner and his drink, willing to do
anything rather than fight. The herd splashed through the pool
he had just left, bellowing till the narrow cut rang. Mowgli heard
an answering bellow from the foot of the ravine, saw Shere Khan....