The Jungle Book - Chapter Three

This is Chapter Three from the classic work of fiction "The Jungle Book". Within this chapter are scenes of action as well as mentions and depictions of conflict that some may not find suitable for sensitive listeners. Despite this, I sincerely hope you will enjoy this reading.

Transcript

Good evening.

My name is Bill Larson.

And tonight,

I'll be continuing the story of The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling.

Tiger,

Tiger.

What of the hunting,

Hunter Bold?

Brother,

The watch was long and cold.

What of the quarry ye went to kill?

Brother,

He crops in the jungle still.

Where is the power that made your pride?

Brother,

It ebbs from my flank and side.

Where is the haste that ye hurry by?

Brother,

I go to my lair to die.

Now,

We must go back to the first tale.

When Mowgli left the Wolf's Cave after the fight with the pack at the Council Rock,

He went down to the ploughed lands where the villagers lived.

But he would not stop there,

Because it was too near to the jungle,

And he knew that he had made at least one bad enemy at the Council.

So he hurried on,

Keeping to the rough road that ran down the valley,

And followed it at a steady jog-trod for nearly twenty miles,

Till he came to a country that he did not know.

The valley opened out into a great plain dotted over with rocks and cut up by ravines.

At one end stood a little village,

And at the other the thick jungle came down in a sweep to the grazing grounds,

And stopped there as though it had been cut off with a hoe.

All over the plain cattle and buffaloes were grazing,

And when the little boys in charge of the herd saw Mowgli,

They shouted and ran away,

And the yellow pariah dogs that hang about every Indian village barked.

Mowgli walked on,

For he was feeling hungry,

And when he came to the village gate he saw the big thorn bush that was drawn up before the gate at twilight pushed to one side.

Hmph,

He said,

For he had come across more than one such barricade in his night rambles after things to eat.

So men are afraid of the people of the jungle here also.

He sat down by the gate,

And when a man came out he stood up,

Opened his mouth,

And pointed down it to show that he wanted food.

The man stared,

And ran back up the one street of the village shouting for the priest,

Who was a big fat man dressed in white,

With a red and yellow mark on his forehead.

The priest came to the gate,

And with him at least a hundred people,

Who stared and talked and shouted and pointed at Mowgli.

They have no manners these menfolk,

Said Mowgli to himself.

Only the great ape would behave as they do.

So he threw back his long hair and frowned at the crowd.

What is there to be afraid of,

Said the priest.

Look at the marks on his arms and legs.

They are the bites of wolves.

He is but a wolf-child run away from the jungle.

Of course,

In playing together,

The cubs had often nipped Mowgli harder than they intended,

And there were white scars all over his arms and legs.

But he would have been the last person in the world to call these bites,

For he knew what real biting meant.

Arry,

Arry,

Said two or three women together.

To be bitten by wolves,

Poor child.

He is a handsome boy.

He has eyes like red fire.

By my honor,

Messua,

He is not unlike thy boy that was taken by the tiger.

Let me look,

Said a woman with heavy copper rings on her wrists and ankles,

And she peered at Mowgli under the palm of her hand.

Indeed he is not.

He is thinner,

But he has the very look of my boy.

The priest was a clever man,

And he knew that Messua was wife to the richest villager in the place.

So he looked up at the sky for a minute and said solemnly,

What the jungle has taken,

The jungle has restored.

Take the boy into thy house,

My sister,

And forget not to honor the priest who sees so far into the lives of men.

By the bull that bought me,

Said Mowgli to himself,

But all this talking is like another looking over by the pack.

Well,

If I am a man,

A man I must become.

The crowd parted as the woman beckoned Mowgli to her hut,

Where there was a red lacquered bedstead,

A great earthen-grain chest with funny raised patterns on it,

Half a dozen copper cooking pots,

An image of a Hindu god in a little alcove,

And on the wall a real looking glass,

Such as they sell at the country fairs.

She gave him a long drink of milk and some bread,

And then she laid her hand on his head and looked into his eyes,

For she thought perhaps that he might be her real son come back from the jungle where the tiger had taken him.

So she said,

Natu,

Oh Natu.

Mowgli did not show that he knew the name.

Dost thou not remember the day when I gave thee thy new shoes?

She touched his foot,

And it was almost as hard as horn.

No,

She said sorrowfully,

Those feet have never worn shoes,

But thou art very much like my Natu,

And thou shalt be my son.

Mowgli was uneasy,

Because he had never been under a roof before,

But as he looked at the thatch he saw that he could tear it out at any time if he wanted to get away,

And that the window had no fastenings.

What is the good of a man,

He said to himself at last,

If he does not understand man's talk?

Now I am as silly and dumb as a man would be with us in the jungle.

I must speak their talk.

It was not for fun that he had learned while he was with the wolves to imitate the challenge of bucks in the jungle and the grunt of the little wild pig.

So as soon as Masua pronounced a word,

Mowgli would imitate it almost perfectly,

And before dark he had learned the names of many things in the hut.

There was a difficulty at bedtime,

Because Mowgli would not sleep under anything that looked so like a panther trap as that hut,

And when they shut the door he went through the window.

Give him his will,

Said Masua's husband.

Remember,

He can never till now have slept on a bed.

If he is indeed sent in the place of our son,

He will not run away.

So Mowgli stretched himself in some long clean grass at the edge of the field.

Soon before he had closed his eyes,

A soft gray nose poked him under the chin.

Phew!

Said Gray Brother.

He was the eldest of Mother Wolf's cubs.

This is a poor reward for following thee twenty miles.

How smellest of wood smoke and cattle,

Altogether like a man already.

Wake little brother,

I bring news.

Are all well in the jungle?

Said Mowgli,

Hugging him.

All except the wolves that were burned with the red flower.

Now listen,

Shere Khan has gone away to hunt far off till his coat grows again,

For he is badly singed.

When he returns,

He swears that he will lay thy bones in the Wai Gunga.

There are two words to that.

I also have made a little promise,

But news is always good.

I am tired tonight.

Very tired with new things,

Gray Brother.

But bring me the news always.

Thou wilt not forget that thou art a wolf.

Men will not make thee forget,

Said Gray Brother anxiously.

Never.

I will always remember that I love thee and all in our cave.

But also I will always remember that I have been cast out of the pack.

And that thou mayest be cast out of another pack.

Men are only men,

Little brother,

And their talk is like the talk of frogs in a pond.

When I come down here again,

I will wait for thee in the bamboos at the edge of the grazing ground.

For three months after that night,

Mowgli hardly ever left the village gate.

He was so busy learning the ways and customs of men.

First,

He had to wear a cloth around him,

Which annoyed him horribly.

And then he had to learn about money,

Which he did not in the least understand,

And about plowing,

Of which he did not see the use.

Then the little children in the village made him very angry.

Luckily,

The law of the jungle had taught him to keep his temper.

For in the jungle,

Life and food depend on keeping your temper.

But when they made fun of him because he would not play games or fly kites,

Or because he mispronounced some word,

Only the knowledge that two wrongs did not make a right kept Mowgli's temper at bay.

He did not know his own strength in the least.

In the jungle,

He knew he was weak compared with the beasts.

But in the village,

People said that he was as strong as a bull.

And Mowgli had not the faintest idea of the difference that caste makes between man and man.

When the potter's donkey slipped in the clay pit,

Mowgli hauled it out by the tail and helped to stack the pots for their journey to the market at Kanewara.

That was very shocking too,

For the potter is a low caste man,

And his donkey is worse.

When the priest scolded him,

Mowgli threatened to put him on the donkey too,

And the priest told Missua's husband that Mowgli had better be set to work as soon as possible.

And the village headman told Mowgli that he would have to go out with the buffaloes next day and herd them while they grazed.

No one was more pleased than Mowgli.

And that night,

Because he had been appointed a servant of the village as it were,

He went off to a circle that met every evening on a masonry platform under a great fig tree.

It was the village club,

And the headman,

And the watchman,

And the barber who knew all the gossip of the village,

And old Buldeo,

The village hunter who had a tower musket,

Met and smoked.

The monkeys sat and talked in the upper branches,

And there was a hole under the platform where a cobra lived,

And he had his little platter of milk every night because he was sacred.

And the old men sat around the tree and talked,

And pulled at the big hookahs till far into the night.

They told wonderful tales of gods and men and ghosts,

And Buldeo told even more wonderful ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle,

Till the eyes of the children sitting outside the circle bulged out of their heads.

Most of the tales were about animals,

For the jungle was always at their door.

The deer and the wild pig grubbed up their crops,

And now and again the tiger carried off a man at twilight within sight of the village gates.

Mowgli,

Who naturally knew something about what they were talking of,

Had to cover his face so as not to show that he was laughing,

While Buldeo,

The tower musket across his knees,

Climbed on from one wonderful story to another,

And Mowgli's shoulders shook.

Buldeo was explaining how the tiger that had carried away Messua's son was a ghost tiger,

And his body was inhabited by the ghost of a wicked old moneylender who had died some years ago.

And I know that this is true,

He said,

Because Purandas always limped from the blow that he got in a riot when his account books were burned,

And the tiger that I speak of,

He limps too,

For the tracks of his pads are unequal.

True,

True,

That must be the truth,

Said the gray beards,

Nodding together.

Are all these tales such cobwebs and moon talk,

Said Mowgli?

That tiger limps because he was born lame,

As everyone knows.

To talk of the soul of a moneylender and a beast that never had the courage of a jackal is child's talk.

Buldeo was speechless with surprise for a moment,

And the headman stared.

Oh,

It is the jungle-brat,

Is it?

Said Buldeo.

If thou art so wise,

Better bring his hide to Kanwhaara,

For the government has set a hundred rupees on his life.

But there's still,

Talk not when thy elders speak.

Mowgli rose to go.

All the evening I have lain here listening,

He called back over his shoulder.

And except once or twice,

Buldeo has not said one word of truth concerning the jungle,

Which is at his very doors.

How then shall I believe the tales of ghosts and gods and goblins which he says he has seen?

It is full time that boy went to herding,

Said the headman,

While Buldeo puffed and snorted at Mowgli's impertinence.

The custom of most Indian villages is for a few boys to take the cattle and buffaloes out to graze in the early morning,

And bring them back at night.

The very cattle that would trample a white man allow themselves to be shouted at by children that hardly come up to their noses.

So as long as the boys keep with the herds,

They are safe,

For not even the tiger will charge a mob of cattle.

But if they straggle to pick flowers or hunt lizards,

They are sometimes carried off.

Mowgli went through the village street in the dawn,

Sitting on the back of Rama,

The great herd bull.

The slaty blue buffaloes,

With their long backward sweeping horns and savage eyes,

Rose out their buyers one by one and followed him.

And Mowgli made it very clear to the children with him that he was the master.

He herded the buffaloes with a long polished bamboo and told Kamya,

One of the boys,

To graze the cattle by themselves,

While he went on with the buffaloes,

And to be very careful not to stray away from the herd.

An Indian grazing ground is all rocks and scrub and tussocks and little ravines,

Among which the herds scatter and disappear.

The buffaloes generally keep to the pools and muddy places,

Where they lie wallowing or basking in the warm mud for hours.

Mowgli drove them on to the edge of the plain where the waigunga came out of the jungle.

Then he dropped from Rama's neck,

Trotted off to a bamboo clump,

And found Gray Brother.

Ah,

Said Gray Brother,

I have waited here very many days.

What is the meaning of this cattle herding work?

It is an order,

Said Mowgli.

I am a village herd for a while.

What news of Shere Khan?

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 dock 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.

They do not hear 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,

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 the kings,

And the figures are their armies,

Or that they are gods to be worshipped.

Then evening comes,

And the children call,

And the buffaloes lumber up out of the sticky mud with noses like gunshots going off one after the other,

And they all string across the grey 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 Grey Brothers 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 Wai Gunga,

Mowgli would have heard him in those long still mornings.

At last a day came when he did not see Grey Brother at the signal place,

And he laughed and headed the buffaloes for the ravine by the dock tree which was all covered with golden red flowers.

There sat Grey 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 Tabaki,

Hot foot on thy trail,

Said the wolf panting.

Mowgli frowned,

I am not afraid of Shere Khan,

But Tabaki is very cunning.

Have no fear,

Said Grey Brother,

Licking his lips a little.

I met Tabaki 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 Wai Gunga.

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 is 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?

He swam far down the Wai Gunga to cut that off,

Said Grey Brother.

He told him that,

I know.

He would never have thought of it alone.

Mowgli stood with his finger in his mouth,

Thinking.

The big ravine of the Wai Gunga,

That opens out on the plain not half a mile from here.

I can take the herd round through the jungle to the head of the ravine and then sweep down,

Thought he would slink out at the foot.

We must block that end.

Grey Brother,

Canst thou cut the herd in two for me?

Not I,

Perhaps,

But I have brought a wise helper.

Grey Brother trotted off and dropped into a hole.

Then there lifted up a huge grey head that Mowgli knew well,

And the hot air was filled with the most desolate cry of all the jungle,

The hunting howl of a wolf at midday.

Akela,

Akela,

Said Mowgli,

Clapping his hands.

I might have known that thou would not forget me.

We have a big work in hand.

Cut the herd in two,

Akela.

Keep the cows and calves together,

And the bulls and the plow-buffalos by themselves.

What orders,

Panted Akela?

They are trying to join again.

Mowgli slipped onto Rama's back.

Drive the bulls away to the left,

Akela.

Grey Brother,

When we are gone,

Hold the cows together and drive them into the foot of the ravine.

How far?

Said Grey Brother,

Panting and snapping.

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 bade,

And Grey 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.

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 hunted these two in my time,

Gasped Akela in the dust.

Shall I turn them into the jungle?

I swiftly turned them.

Rama is mad with rage.

Oh,

If I could only tell him what I need of him today.

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 clamor 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 when 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 to 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 drawing,

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.

"'Aye,

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 streamers shoot rapids,

The sand and stone spurting up round them.

One 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 flood-time.

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 heard,

Against which no tiger can hope to stand.

Shere Khan heard the thunder of their hooves,

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 turn.

The tiger knew if the worst came to the worst,

It was better to meet the bulls than the cows with their calves.

And then Rama tripped,

Stumbled,

And went on again over something soft.

Shere Khan,

With the bulls at his heels,

Crashed full into the other herd,

While the weaker buffaloes were lifted clean off their feet by the shock of the meeting.

That charge carried both herds out into the plain,

Goring and stamping and snorting.

Mowgli watched his time,

And slipped off Rama's neck,

Laying about him right and left.

Quick,

Akila,

Break them up,

Scatter them,

Or they will be fighting one another.

Drive them away,

Akila.

Hi Rama.

Hi,

Hi,

Hi,

My children.

I'm sorry,

Now.

Softly,

It is all over.

Akila and Gray Brother ran to and fro,

Nipping the buffalo's legs.

And though the herd wheeled once to charge up the ravine again,

Mowgli managed to turn Rama,

And the others followed him to the wallows.

Shere Khan needed no more trampling.

Brothers,

Said Mowgli,

His hide will look well on the council rock.

This is an old war between this lame tiger and myself.

A very old war,

And I have won.

Now,

We must take the buffaloes home.

Help me to herd them,

Akila.

The buffaloes were anxious enough to get to the village.

Mowgli turned on his heel and walked away with the lone wolf.

And as he looked up at the stars,

He felt happy.

No more sleeping in traps for me,

Akila.

Let us get Shere Khan's skin and go away.

The moon was just going down when Mowgli and the two wolves came to the hill of the council rock,

And they stopped at Mother Wolf's cave.

They have cast me out from the man-pack,

Mother,

Shouted Mowgli.

But I come with the hide of Shere Khan to keep my word.

Mother Wolf walked stiffly from the cave with the cubs behind her,

And her eyes glowed as she saw the skin.

I told him on that day,

When he crammed his head and shoulders into this cave,

Hunting for thy life,

Little frog,

I told him that the hunter would be the hunted.

It is well done.

Little brother,

It is well done,

Said a deep voice in the thicket.

We were lonely in the jungle without thee,

And Bagheera came running to Mowgli's bare feet.

They clamored up the council rock together,

And Mowgli spread the skin out on the flat stone where Achila used to sit,

And pegged it down with four slivers of bamboo.

And Achila lay down upon it,

And called the old call to the council.

Look,

Look well,

O wolves,

Exactly as he had called when Mowgli was first brought there.

Ever since Achila had been deposed,

The pack had been without a leader,

Hunting and fighting at their own pleasure.

But they answered the call from habit,

And some of them were lame from the traps they had fallen into,

And some limped from shot wounds,

And some were mangy from eating bad food,

And many were missing.

But they came to the council rock,

All that were left of them,

And saw Shere Khan striped hide on the rock,

And the huge claws dangling at the end of the empty dangling feet.

It was then that Mowgli made up a song that came up into his throat all by itself,

And he shouted it aloud,

Leaping up and down on the rattling skin,

And beating time with his heels till he had no more breath left,

While Gray Brother and Achila howled between the verses.

Look well,

O wolves,

Have I kept my word,

Said Mowgli,

And the wolves bade,

Yes.

And one tattered wolf howled.

Lead us again,

O Achila,

Lead us again,

O man-cub,

For we be sick of this lawlessness,

And we would be the free people once more.

Nay,

Purred Bagheera,

That may not be.

When ye are full-fed,

The madness may come upon you again.

Not for nothing are ye called the free people.

Ye fought for freedom,

And it is yours.

Eat it,

O wolves.

Man-pack and wolf-pack have cast me out,

Said Mowgli.

Now I will hunt alone in the jungle.

And we will hunt with thee,

Said the four cubs.

So Mowgli went away and hunted with the four cubs in the jungle from that day on.

But he was not always alone,

Because years afterward he became a man and married.

But that is a story for grown-ups.

Reviews

So good.

Thank you. This has always been my favorite story and it is beautifully read!

TSOOOSHGR

Gtreat story but I am mad at the ending

So excellent, I feel asleep before the end :)
I’m going to keep trying to finish this haha :)