at," said Teddy's mother. "He may bite the
child." "He'll do no such thing," said the father. "Teddy's safer with
that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. If a snake
came into the nursery now--"

But Teddy's mother wouldn't think of anything so awful.

Early in the morning Rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda
riding on Teddy's shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled
egg. He sat on all their laps one after the other, because every
well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house mongoose some day
and have rooms to run about in; and Rikki-tikki's mother (she used to
live in the general's house at Segowlee) had carefully told Rikki what
to do if ever he came across white men.

Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen.
It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes, as big as
summer-houses, of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of
bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. "This
is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy
at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing
here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush.

It was Darzee, the Tailorbird, and his wife. They had made a beautiful
nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges
with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. The
nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried.

"What is the matter?" asked Rikki-tikki.

"We are very miserable," said Darzee. "One of our babies fell out of the
nest yesterday and Nag ate him."

"H'm!" said Rikki-tikki, "that is very sad--but I am a stranger here.
Who is Nag?"

Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for
from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss--a
horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then
inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag,
the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail.
When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed
balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion tuft balances in the wind,
and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never
change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of.

"Who is Nag?" said he. "I am Nag. The great God Brahm put his mark upon
all our people, when t