The Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling, Alev Lytle Croutier

the lower limbs of the next tree. Sometimes he could see for miles and miles across the still green jungle, as a man on the top of a mast can see for miles across the sea, and then the branches and leaves would lash him across the face, and he and his two guards would be almost down to earth again. So, bounding and crashing and whooping and yelling, the whole tribe of
Bandar-log
swept along the tree-roads with Mowgli their prisoner.
    For a time he was afraid of being dropped. Then he grew angry but knew better than to struggle, and then he began to think. The first thing was to send back word to Baloo and Bagheera, for, at the pace the monkeys were going, he knew his friends would be left far behind. It was useless to look down, for he could only see the top-sides of the branches, so he stared upwards and saw, far away in the blue, Chil the Kite balancing and wheeling as he kept watch over the jungle waiting for things to die. Chil saw that the monkeys were carrying something, and dropped a few hundred yards to find out whether their load was good to eat. He whistled with surprise when he saw Mowgli being dragged up to a tree-top and heard him give the kite call for “We be of one blood, thou and I.” The waves of the branches closed over the boy, but Chil balanced away to the next tree in time to see the little brown face come up again. “Mark my trail,” Mowgli shouted. “Tell Baloo of the Seeonee Pack and Bagheera of the Council Rock.”
    “In whose name, Brother?” Chil had never seen Mowgli before, though of course he had heard of him.
    “Mowgli the Frog. Man-cub they call me! Mark my trail!”
    The last words were shrieked as he was being swung through the air, but Chil nodded and rose up till he looked no bigger than a speck of dust, and there he hung, watching with his telescope eyes the swaying of the tree-tops as Mowgli’s escort whirled along.
    “They never go far,” he said with a chuckle. “They never do what they set out to do. Always pecking at new things are the
Bandar-log.
This time, if I have any eyesight, they have pecked down trouble for themselves, for Baloo is no fledgeling and Bagheera can, as I know, kill more than goats.”
    So he rocked on his wings, his feet gathered up under him, and waited.
    Meantime, Baloo and Bagheera were furious with rage and grief. Bagheera climbed as he had never climbed before, but the thin branches broke beneath his weight, and he slipped down, his claws full of bark.
    “Why didst thou not warn the man-cub?” he roared to poor Baloo, who had set off at a clumsy trot in the hope of overtaking the monkeys. “What was the use of half slaying him with blows if thou didst not warn him?”
    “Haste! O haste! We—we may catch them yet!” Baloo panted.
    “At that speed! It would not tire a wounded cow. Teacher of the Law—cub-beater—a mile of that rolling to and fro would burst thee open. Sit still and think! Make a plan. This is no time for chasing. They may drop him if we follow too close.”
    “
Arrula! Whoo!
They may have dropped him already, being tired of carrying him. Who can trust the
Bandar-log?
Put dead bats on my head! Give me black bones to eat! Roll me into the hives of the wild bees that I may be stung to death, and bury me with the hyena, for I am the most miserable of bears!
Arulala! Wahooa!
O Mowgli, Mowgli! Why did I not warn thee against the Monkey-Folk instead of breaking thy head? Now perhaps Imay have knocked the day’s lesson out of his mind, and he will be alone in the jungle without the Master Words.”
    Baloo clasped his paws over his ears and rolled to and fro moaning.
    “At least he gave me all the words correctly a little time ago,” said Bagheera, impatiently. “Baloo, thou hast neither memory nor respect. What would the jungle think if I, the Black Panther, curled myself up like Sahi the Porcupine, and howled?”
    “What do I care what the jungle thinks? He may be dead by now.”
    “Unless and until they drop him from the