The Jungle Book

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On a warm evening in the Seeonee hills, Father Wolf woke up, yawned, and stretched his paws one by one. Mother Wolf lay beside him, her grey muzzle resting on four tumbling, squealing cubs. The moon shone into the mouth of the cave. Suddenly a small shadow with a bushy tail appeared at the entrance. It was Tabaqui the Jackal — a creature the jungle both despised and feared. He slunk everywhere, spreading gossip and scrounging scraps from village rubbish heaps. But when Tabaqui went mad — and it happened — even the tiger would run away. After crunching a bone he had found in the corner, the jackal mentioned as if in passing: Shere Khan, the great tiger of the Waingunga River, had decided to hunt in these hills. Father Wolf was furious — by the Law of the Jungle no one may change hunting grounds without warning. Mother Wolf shook her head quietly: lame Shere Khan had frightened away the people in his own territory, and now he would bring trouble here. When Tabaqui slipped away, a roar rose from the valley below. The tiger was hunting. But then the roar turned into an angry howl — Shere Khan had leapt at a woodcutter's campfire and burned his paws. In the night silence, something rustled in the bushes and began climbing straight toward the cave.

Father Wolf crouched ready to spring — then froze. Directly before him, clinging to a low branch, stood a small naked child. Plump, brown, barely old enough to walk. He looked up at the wolf — and laughed. Father Wolf took the baby gently in his jaws — so carefully that not one tooth touched the skin — and laid him among the cubs. Mother Wolf bent her head: the man-cub was pushing fearlessly between the pups, seeking warmth. "Mowgli — the Frog," she said softly. "That is what I shall call you." But then the moonlight in the cave went dark. Shere Khan's great square head was thrust into the narrow entrance. The tiger demanded the child — he considered him his rightful prey. Father Wolf answered calmly: wolves take orders only from the head of the Pack, not from a striped cattle-killer. Then Mother Wolf stepped forward. Her eyes glowed in the darkness like two green moons. "This is my cub, Lame One," she said. "He shall live, run with the Pack, and hunt with the Pack. And when he is grown — he shall hunt thee. Go!" Shere Khan backed away and vanished into the night, snarling his parting words: "We shall see what the Pack says!"