he air outward and downward, and bring
up, hanging by their hands or their feet to 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 topsides of the branches, so he
stared upward and saw, far away in the blue, Rann the Kite balancing
and wheeling as he kept watch over the jungle waiting for things to die.
Rann 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 treetop
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 Rann 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?" Rann 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
Rann 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
treetops 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 eye-sight, they have pecked down trouble for
themselves, for Baloo is no fledgling 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