To do Buldeo justice, if he had been ten years younger he would have
taken his chance with Akela had he met the wolf in the woods, but a
wolf who obeyed the orders of this boy who had private wars with
man-eating tigers was not a common animal. It was sorcery, magic of
the worst kind, thought Buldeo, and he wondered whether the amulet
round his neck would protect him. He lay as still as still, expecting
every minute to see Mowgli turn into a tiger, too.

'Maharaj! Great King,' he said at last, in a husky whisper.

'Yes,' said Mowgli, without turning his head, chuckling a little.

'I am an old man. I did not know that thou wast anything more than a
herdsboy. May I rise up and go away, or will thy servant tear me to
pieces?'

'Go, and peace go with thee. Only, another time do not meddle with my
game. Let him go, Akela.'

Buldeo hobbled away to the village as fast as he could, looking back
over his shoulder in case Mowgli should change into something
terrible. When he got to the village he told a tale of magic and
enchantment and sorcery that made the priest look very grave.

Mowgli went on with his work, but it was nearly twilight before he
and the wolves had drawn the great gray skin clear of the body.

'Now we must hide this and take the buffaloes home! Help me to herd
them, Akela.'

The herd rounded up in the misty twilight, and when they got near the
village Mowgli saw lights, and heard the conches and bells in the
temple blowing and banging. Half the village seemed to be waiting for
him by the gate. 'That is because I have killed Shere Khan,' he said
to himself; but a shower of stones whistled about his ears, and the
villagers shouted: 'Sorcerer! Wolfs brat! Jungle-demon! Go away! Get
hence quickly, or the priest will turn thee into a wolf again. Shoot,
Buldeo, shoot!'

The old Tower musket went off with a bang, and a young buffalo
bellowed in pain.

'More sorcery!' shouted the villagers. 'He can turn bullets. Buldeo,
that was _thy_ buffalo.'

'Now what is this?' said. Mowgli, bewildered, as the stones flew
thicker.

'They are not unlike the Pack, these brothers of thine,' said Akela,
sitting down composedly. 'It is in my head that, if bullets mean
anything, they would cast thee out.'

'Wolf! Wolf's cub! Go away!' shouted the priest, waving a sprig of
the sacred _tulsi_ plant.

'Again? Last time it was because I was a man. This time it is because
I am a wolf. Let us go, Akela.'

A woman--it w