in the ashes, and
Bagheera looked inquiringly at Mowgli.

"That was done with a bamboo," said the boy, after one glance. "I have
used such a thing among the buffaloes when I served in the Man-Pack.
The Father of Cobras--I am sorrowful that I made a jest of him--knew
the breed well, as I might have known. Said I not that men kill for
idleness?"

"Indeed, they killed for the sake of the red and blue stones," Bagheera
answered. "Remember, I was in the King's cages at Oodeypore."

"One, two, three, four tracks," said Mowgli, stooping over the ashes.
"Four tracks of men with shod feet. They do not go so quickly as Gonds.
Now, what evil had the little woodman done to them? See, they talked
together, all five, standing up, before they killed him. Bagheera, let
us go back. My stomach is heavy in me, and yet it heaves up and down
like an oriole's nest at the end of a branch."

"It is not good hunting to leave game afoot. Follow!" said the panther.
"Those eight shod feet have not gone far."

No more was said for fully an hour, as they worked up the broad trail of
the four men with shod feet.

It was clear, hot daylight now, and Bagheera said, "I smell smoke."

Men are always more ready to eat than to run, Mowgli answered, trotting
in and out between the low scrub bushes of the new Jungle they were
exploring. Bagheera, a little to his left, made an indescribable noise
in his throat.

"Here is one that has done with feeding," said he. A tumbled bundle
of gay-coloured clothes lay under a bush, and round it was some spilt
flour.

"That was done by the bamboo again," said Mowgli. "See! that white dust
is what men eat. They have taken the kill from this one,--he carried
their food,--and given him for a kill to Chil, the Kite."

"It is the third," said Bagheera.

"I will go with new, big frogs to the Father of Cobras, and feed him
fat," said Mowgli to himself. "The drinker of elephant's blood is Death
himself--but still I do not understand!"

"Follow!" said Bagheera.

They had not gone half a mile farther when they heard Ko, the Crow,
singing the death-song in the top of a tamarisk under whose shade three
men were lying. A half-dead fire smoked in the centre of the circle,
under an iron plate which held a blackened and burned cake of unleavened
bread. Close to the fire, and blazing in the sunshine, lay the
ruby-and-turquoise ankus.

"The thing works quickly; all ends here," said Bagheera. "How did THESE
die, Mowgli?