stop himself.
The result was that he shot up straight into the air for four or five
feet, landing almost where he left ground.

'Man!' he snapped. 'A man's cub. Look!'

Directly in front of him, holding on by a low branch, stood a naked
brown baby who could just walk--as soft and as dimpled a little atom
as ever came to a wolf's cave at night. He looked up into Father
Wolf's face, and laughed.

'Is that a man's cub?' said Mother Wolf. 'I have never seen one.
Bring it here.'

A wolf accustomed to moving his own cubs can, if necessary, mouth an
egg without breaking it, and though Father Wolf's jaws closed right
on the child's back not a tooth even scratched the skin, as he laid
it down among the cubs.

'How little! How naked, and--how bold!' said Mother Wolf, softly. The
baby was pushing his way between the cubs to get close to the warm
hide. 'Ahai! He is taking his meal with the others. And so this is a
man's cub. Now, was there ever a wolf that could boast of a man's cub
among her children?'

'I have heard now and again of such a thing, but never in our Pack or
in my time,' said Father Wolf. 'He is altogether without hair, and I
could kill him with a touch of my foot. But see, he looks up and is
not afraid.'

The moonlight was blocked out of the mouth of the cave, for Shere
Khan's great square head and shoulders were thrust into the entrance.
Tabaqui, behind him, was squeaking: 'My lord, my lord, it went in
here!'

'Shere Khan does us great honour,' said Father Wolf, but his eyes
were very angry. 'What does Shere Khan need?'

'My quarry. A man's cub went this way,' said Shere Khan. 'Its parents
have run off. Give it to me.'

Shere Khan had jumped at a woodcutters' camp-fire, as Father Wolf had
said, and was furious from the pain of his burned feet. But Father
Wolf knew that the mouth of the cave was too narrow for a tiger to
come in by. Even where he was, Shere Khan's shoulders and fore paws
were cramped for want of room, as a man's would be if he tried to
fight in a barrel.

'The Wolves are a free people,' said Father Wolf. 'They take orders
from the Head of the Pack, and not from any striped cattle-dealer.
The man's cub is ours--to kill if we choose.'

'Ye choose and ye do not choose! What talk is this of choosing? By
the bull that I killed, am I to stand nosing into your dog's den for
my fair dues? It is I, Shere Khan, who speak!'

The tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder. Mother Wolf shook