TAVISTOCK PIGGIES NEED THAUCE POETRY
RABBI WALRUSJEWFAGHAM JOSH
READS OWN EULOGY
FOR FOURTY YEARS HE CARRIED THAT FUCKING WATCH UP HIS ASSHOLE CAUSE HE COULDN;T TALK ABOU THE CRAZY DULCE BASE REAL ESTATE DEAL FROM THE LAIENSvsNAZISvsNATIVEAMERICAN WAR OF 76
AND THOSE SHITTY CURTAINS
TRUST DERPINA
KARL MARX HAD THE LUTHERANS FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE THE JEWFAGHAM FULL OF PEDOBIGOT PEANUTBUTTERGLORY GAYLORD FLAVORS
THAUCE MENU POETRY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWIHxqyDzYg
>>10467936
>AREA 51 COWBELL INTENSIFIES
>>10467929
>and then the flying spaghetti monster had the draccos read some muhdick poetry to the three little tavistock piggies
>>10467915
>HOLY CRAP
>
>JEWFAGHAM READS OWN EULOGY
>>10467908
>BRAVE MOO WORLD
>>10467903
>AREA 51 COWBELL INTENSIFIES
>>10467894
>and then the flying spaghetti monster had the draccos read some muhdick poetry to the three little tavistock piggies
>>10467872
>>10467566
>>israel leaked gehy butt jew burgers everywhere
>
>interracial Pantifa protests
>>10467551
ARE YOUR TENDIES MICROWAVED YET?
GOODNIGHT RABBI JOSH BEN LEVI
THESE PIGGIES KEEP COMING AT ME
CAUSE THIS COWBELL
BRAVE MOO WORLD WITH JEWFAGHAM PORKS
40 YEARS AND FOUR FRICKIN NOVELS AGO
SOME HOBBITS
BLAH BLAH BLAH
YUM YUM
EUGENICS
DANCE POTATOES DANCE
Mowgli’s Song Against People
I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines —
I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines!
The roofs shall fade before it,
The house-beams shall fall,
And the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall cover it all!
In the gates of these your councils my people shall sing,
In the doors of these your garners the Bat-folk shall cling;
And the snake shall be your watchman,
By a hearthstone unswept;
For the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall fruit where ye slept!
Ye shall not see my strikers; ye shall hear them and guess;
By night, before the moon-rise, I will send for my cess,
And the wolf shall be your herdsman
By a landmark removed,
For the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall seed where ye loved!
I will reap your fields before you at the hands of a host;
Ye shall glean behind my reapers, for the bread that is lost,
And the deer shall be your oxen
By a headland untilled,
For the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall leaf where ye build!
I have untied against you the club-footed vines,
I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines.
The trees — the trees are on you!
The house-beams shall fall,
And the Karela, the bitter Karela,
Shall cover you all!
The King’s Ankus
These are the Four that are never content, that have never been filled since the Dews began —
Jacala’s mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man.
-Jungle Saying.
K aa, the big Rock Python, had changed his skin for perhaps the two-hundredth time since his birth; and Mowgli,
who never forgot that he owed his life to Kaa for a night’s work at Cold Lairs, which you may perhaps remember,
went to congratulate him. Skin-changing always makes a snake moody and depressed till the new skin begins to
shine and look beautiful. Kaa never made fun of Mowgli any more, but accepted him, as the other Jungle People did, for
the Master of the Jungle, and brought him all the news that a python of his size would naturally hear. What Kaa did not
know about the Middle Jungle, as they call it — the life that runs close to the earth or under it, the boulder, burrow, and the
tree-bole life — might have been written upon the smallest of his scales.
That afternoon Mowgli was sitting in the circle of Kaa’s great coils, fingering the flaked and broken old skin that lay all
looped and twisted among the rocks just as Kaa had left it. Kaa had very courteously packed himself under Mowgli’s broad,
bare shoulders, so that the boy was really resting in a living arm-chair.
“Even to the scales of the eyes it is perfect,” said Mowgli, under his breath, playing with the old skin. “Strange to see
the covering of one’s own head at one’s own feet!”
“Ay, but I lack feet,” said Kaa; “and since this is the custom of all my people, I do not find it strange. Does thy skin
never feel old and harsh?”
“Then go I and wash, Flathead; but, it is true, in the great heats I have wished I could slough my skin without pain, and
run skinless.”
“I wash, and ALSO I take off my skin. How looks the new coat?”
Mowgli ran his hand down the diagonal checkerings of the immense back. “The Turtle is harder-backed, but not so
gay,” he said judgmatically. “The Frog, my name-bearer, is more gay, but not so hard. It is very beautiful to see — like the
mottling in the mouth of a lily.”
“It needs water. A new skin never comes to full colour before the first bath. Let us go bathe.”
“I will carry thee,” said Mowgli; and he stooped down, laughing, to lift the middle section of Kaa’s great body, just
where the barrel was thickest. A man might just, as well have tried to heave up a two-foot water-main; and Kaa lay still,
puffing with quiet amusement. Then the regular evening game began — the Boy in the flush of his great strength, and the
Python in his sumptuous new skin, standing up one against the other for a wrestling match — a trial of eye and strength. Of
course, Kaa could have crushed a dozen Mowglis if he had let himself go; but he played carefully, and never loosed one-
tenth of his power. Ever since Mowgli was strong enough to endure a little rough handling, Kaa had taught him this game,
and it suppled his limbs as nothing else could. Sometimes Mowgli would stand lapped almost to his throat in Kaa’s shifting
coils, striving to get one arm free and catch him by the throat. Then Kaa would give way limply, and Mowgli, with both
quick-moving feet, would try to cramp the purchase of that huge tail as it flung backward feeling for a rock or a stump.
They would rock to and fro, head to head, each waiting for his chance, till the beautiful, statue-like group melted in a whirl
of black-and-yellow coils and struggling legs and arms, to rise up again and again. “Now! now! now!” said Kaa, making
feints with his head that even Mowgli’s quick hand could not turn aside. “Look! I touch thee here, Little Brother! Here, and
here! Are thy hands numb? Here again!”
The game always ended in one way — with a straight, driving blow of the head that knocked the boy over and over.
Mowgli could never learn the guard for that lightning lunge, and, as Kaa said, there was not the least use in trying.
“Good hunting!” Kaa grunted at last; and Mowgli, as usual, was shot away half a dozen yards, gasping and laughing.
He rose with his fingers full of grass, and followed Kaa to the wise snake’s pet bathing-place — a deep, pitchy-black pool
surrounded with rocks, and made interesting by sunken tree-stumps. The boy slipped in, Jungle-fashion, without a sound,
and dived across; rose, too, without a sound, and turned on his back, his arms behind his head, watching the moon rising
above the rocks, and breaking up her reflection in the water with his toes. Kaa’s diamond-shaped head cut the pool like a
razor, and came out to rest on Mowgli’s shoulder. They lay still, soaking luxuriously in the cool water.
“It is VERY good,” said Mowgli at last, sleepily. “Now, in the Man-Pack, at this hour, as I remember, they laid them
down upon hard pieces of wood in the inside of a mud-trap, and, having carefully shut out all the clean winds, drew foul
cloth over their heavy heads and made evil songs through their noses. It is better in the Jungle.”
A hurrying cobra slipped down over a rock and drank, gave them “Good hunting!” and went away.
“Sssh!” said Kaa, as though he had suddenly remembered something. “So the Jungle gives thee all that thou hast ever
desired, Little Brother?”
“Not all,” said Mowgli, laughing; “else there would be a new and strong Shere Khan to kill once a moon. Now, I could
kill with my own hands, asking no help of buffaloes. And also I have wished the sun to shine in the middle of the Rains, and
the Rains to cover the sun in the deep of summer; and also I have never gone empty but I wished that I had killed a goat;
and also I have never killed a goat but I wished it had been buck; nor buck but I wished it had been nilghai. But thus do we
feel, all of us.”
“Thou hast no other desire?” the big snake demanded.
“What more can I wish? I have the Jungle, and the favour of the Jungle! Is there more anywhere between sunrise and
sunset?”
“Now, the Cobra said-” Kaa began. “What cobra? He that went away just now said nothing. He was hunting.”
“It was another.”
“Hast thou many dealings with the Poison People? I give them their own path. They carry death in the fore-tooth, and
that is not good — for they are so small. But what hood is this thou hast spoken with?”
Kaa rolled slowly in the water like a steamer in a beam sea. “Three or four moons since,” said he, “I hunted in Cold
Lairs, which place thou hast not forgotten. And the thing I hunted fled shrieking past the tanks and to that house whose
side I once broke for thy sake, and ran into the ground.”
“But the people of Cold Lairs do not live in burrows.” Mowgli knew that Kaa was telling of the Monkey People.
“This thing was not living, but seeking to live,” Kaa replied, with a quiver of his tongue. “He ran into a burrow that led
very far. I followed, and having killed, I slept. When I waked I went forward.”
“Under the earth?”
“Even so, coming at last upon a White Hood [a white cobra], who spoke of things beyond my knowledge, and showed
me many things I had never before seen.”
“New game? Was it good hunting?” Mowgli turned quickly on his side.
“It was no game, and would have broken all my teeth; but the White Hood said that a man — he spoke as one that
knew the breed — that a man would give the breath under his ribs for only the sight of those things.”
“We will look,” said Mowgli. “I now remember that I was once a man.”
“Slowly — slowly. It was haste killed the Yellow Snake that ate the sun. We two spoke together under the earth, and I
spoke of thee, naming thee as a man. Said the White Hood (and he is indeed as old as the Jungle): ‘It is long since I have
seen a man. Let him come, and he shall see all these things, for the least of which very many men would die.’”
“That MUST be new game. And yet the Poison People do not tell us when game is afoot. They are an unfriendly folk.”
“It is NOT game. It is — it is — I cannot say what it is.”
“We will go there. I have never seen a White Hood, and I wish to see the other things. Did he kill them?”
“They are all dead things. He says he is the keeper of them all.”
“Ah! As a wolf stands above meat he has taken to his own lair. Let us go.”
Mowgli swam to bank, rolled on the grass to dry himself, and the two set off for Cold Lairs, the deserted city of which
you may have heard. Mowgli was not the least afraid of the Monkey People in those days, but the Monkey People had the
liveliest horror of Mowgli. Their tribes, however, were raiding in the Jungle, and so Cold Lairs stood empty and silent in
the moonlight. Kaa led up to the ruins of the queens’ pavilion that stood on the terrace, slipped over the rubbish, and dived
down the half-choked staircase that went underground from the centre of the pavilion. Mowgli gave the snake-call — “We
be of one blood, ye and I,”— and followed on his hands and knees. They crawled a long distance down a sloping passage
that turned and twisted several times, and at last came to where the root of some great tree, growing thirty feet overhead,
had forced out a solid stone in the wall. They crept through the gap, and found themselves in a large vault, whose domed
roof had been also broken away by tree-roots so that a few streaks of light dropped down into the darkness.
“A safe lair,” said Mowgli, rising to his firm feet, “but over-far to visit daily. And now what do we see?”
“Am I nothing?” said a voice in the middle of the vault; and Mowgli saw something white move till, little by little, there
stood up the hugest cobra he had ever set eyes on — a creature nearly eight feet long, and bleached by being in darkness to
an old ivory-white. Even the spectacle-marks of his spread hood had faded to faint yellow. His eyes were as red as rubies,
and altogether he was most wonderful.
“Good hunting!” said Mowgli, who carried his manners with his knife, and that never left him.
“What of the city?” said the White Cobra, without answering the greeting. “What of the great, the walled city — the city
of a hundred elephants and twenty thousand horses, and cattle past counting — the city of the King of Twenty Kings? I
grow deaf here, and it is long since I heard their war-gongs.”
“The Jungle is above our heads,” said Mowgli. “I know only Hathi and his sons among elephants. Bagheera has slain
all the horses in one village, and — what is a King?”
“I told thee,” said Kaa softly to the Cobra — “I told thee, four moons ago, that thy city was not.”
“The city — the great city of the forest whose gates are guarded by the King’s towers — can never pass. They builded it
before my father’s father came from the egg, and it shall endure when my son’s sons are as white as I! Salomdhi, son of
Chandrabija, son of Viyeja, son of Yegasuri, made it in the days of Bappa Rawal. Whose cattle are YE?”
“It is a lost trail,” said Mowgli, turning to Kaa. “I know not his talk.”
“Nor I. He is very old. Father of Cobras, there is only the Jungle here, as it has been since the beginning.”
“Then who is HE,” said the White Cobra, “sitting down before me, unafraid, knowing not the name of the King, talking
our talk through a man’s lips? Who is he with the knife and the snake’s tongue?”
“Mowgli they call me,” was the answer. “I am of the Jungle. The wolves are my people, and Kaa here is my brother.
Father of Cobras, who art thou?”
“I am the Warden of the King’s Treasure. Kurrun Raja builded the stone above me, in the days when my skin was dark,
that I might teach death to those who came to steal. Then they let down the treasure through the stone, and I heard the
song of the Brahmins my masters.”
“Umm!” said Mowgli to himself. “I have dealt with one Brahmin already, in the Man-Pack, and — I know what I know.
Evil comes here in a little.”
“Five times since I came here has the stone been lifted, but always to let down more, and never to take away. There are
no riches like these riches — the treasures of a hundred kings. But it is long and long since the stone was last moved, and I
think that my city has forgotten.”
“There is no city. Look up. Yonder are roots of the great trees tearing the stones apart. Trees and men do not grow
together,” Kaa insisted.
“Twice and thrice have men found their way here,” the White Cobra answered savagely; “but they never spoke till I
came upon them groping in the dark, and then they cried only a little time. But ye come with lies, Man and Snake both, and
would have me believe the city is not, and that my wardship ends. Little do men change in the years. But I change never!
Till the stone is lifted, and the Brahmins come down singing the songs that I know, and feed me with warm milk, and take
me to the light again, I— I— I, and no other, am the Warden of the King’s Treasure! The city is dead, ye say, and here are
the roots of the trees? Stoop down, then, and take what ye will. Earth has no treasure like to these. Man with the snake’s
tongue, if thou canst go alive by the way that thou hast entered it, the lesser Kings will be thy servants!”
“Again the trail is lost,” said Mowgli coolly. “Can any jackal have burrowed so deep and bitten this great White Hood?
He is surely mad. Father of Cobras, I see nothing here to take away.”
“By the Gods of the Sun and Moon, it is the madness of death upon the boy!” hissed the Cobra. “Before thine eyes close
I will allow thee this favour. Look thou, and see what man has never seen before!”
“They do not well in the Jungle who speak to Mowgli of favours,” said the boy, between his teeth; “but the dark
changes all, as I know. I will look, if that please thee.”
He stared with puckered-up eyes round the vault, and then lifted up from the floor a handful of something that
glittered.
“Oho!” said he, “this is like the stuff they play with in the Man-Pack: only this is yellow and the other was brown.”
He let the gold pieces fall, and move forward. The floor of the vault was buried some five or six feet deep in coined gold
and silver that had burst from the sacks it had been originally stored in, and, in the long years, the metal had packed and
settled as sand packs at low tide. On it and in it and rising through it, as wrecks lift through the sand, were jewelled
elephant-howdahs of embossed silver, studded with plates of hammered gold, and adorned with carbuncles and
turquoises. There were palanquins and litters for carrying queens, framed and braced with silver and enamel, with jade-
handled poles and amber curtain-rings; there were golden candlesticks hung with pierced emeralds that quivered on the
branches; there were studded images, five feet high, of forgotten gods, silver with jewelled eyes; there were coats of mail,
gold inlaid on steel, and fringed with rotted and blackened seed-pearls; there were helmets, crested and beaded with
pigeon’s-blood rubies; there were shields of lacquer, of tortoise-shell and rhinoceros-hide, strapped and bossed with red
gold and set with emeralds at the edge; there were sheaves of diamond-hilted swords, daggers, and hunting-knives; there
were golden sacrificial bowls and ladles, and portable altars of a shape that never sees the light of day; there were jade cups
and bracelets; there were incense-burners, combs, and pots for perfume, henna, and eye-powder, all in embossed gold;
there were nose-rings, armlets, head-bands, finger-rings, and girdles past any counting; there were belts, seven fingers
broad, of square-cut diamonds and rubies, and wooden boxes, trebly clamped with iron, from which the wood had fallen
away in powder, showing the pile of uncut star-sapphires, opals, cat’s-eyes, sapphires, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and
garnets within.
The White Cobra was right. No mere money would begin to pay the value of this treasure, the sifted pickings of
centuries of war, plunder, trade, and taxation. The coins alone were priceless, leaving out of count all the precious stones;
and the dead weight of the gold and silver alone might be two or three hundred tons. Every native ruler in India today,
however poor, has a hoard to which he is always adding; and though, once in a long while, some enlightened prince may
send off forty or fifty bullock-cart loads of silver to be exchanged for Government securities, the bulk of them keep their
treasure and the knowledge of it very closely to themselves.
But Mowgli naturally did not understand what these things meant. The knives interested him a little, but they did not
balance so well as his own, and so he dropped them. At last he found something really fascinating laid on the front of a
howdah half buried in the coins. It was a three-foot ankus, or elephant-goad — something like a small boat-hook. The top
was one round, shining ruby, and eight inches of the handle below it were studded with rough turquoises close together,
giving a most satisfactory grip. Below them was a rim of jade with a flower-pattern running round it — only the leaves were
emeralds, and the blossoms were rubies sunk in the cool, green stone. The rest of the handle was a shaft of pure ivory,
while the point — the spike and hook — was gold-inlaid steel with pictures of elephant-catching; and the pictures attracted
Mowgli, who saw that they had something to do with his friend Hathi the Silent.
The White Cobra had been following him closely.
“Is this not worth dying to behold?” he said. “Have I not done thee a great favour?”
“I do not understand,” said Mowgli. “The things are hard and cold, and by no means good to eat. But this”— he lifted
the ankus —“I desire to take away, that I may see it in the sun. Thou sayest they are all thine? Wilt thou give it to me, and I
will bring thee frogs to eat?”
The White Cobra fairly shook with evil delight. “Assuredly I will give it,” he said. “All that is here I will give thee — till
thou goest away.”
“But I go now. This place is dark and cold, and I wish to take the thorn-pointed thing to the Jungle.”
“Look by thy foot! What is that there?” Mowgli picked up something white and smooth. “It is the bone of a man’s
head,” he said quietly. “And here are two more.”
“They came to take the treasure away many years ago. I spoke to them in the dark, and they lay still.”
“But what do I need of this that is called treasure? If thou wilt give me the ankus to take away, it is good hunting. If
not, it is good hunting none the less. I do not fight with the Poison People, and I was also taught the Master-word of thy
tribe.”
“There is but one Master-word here. It is mine!”
Kaa flung himself forward with blazing eyes. “Who bade me bring the Man?” he hissed.
“I surely,” the old Cobra lisped. “It is long since I have seen Man, and this Man speaks our tongue.
“But there was no talk of killing. How can I go to the Jungle and say that I have led him to his death?” said Kaa.
“I talk not of killing till the time. And as to thy going or not going, there is the hole in the wall. Peace, now, thou fat
monkey-killer! I have but to touch thy neck, and the Jungle will know thee no longer. Never Man came here that went away
with the breath under his ribs. I am the Warden of the Treasure of the King’s City!”
“But, thou white worm of the dark, I tell thee there is neither king nor city! The Jungle is all about us!” cried Kaa.
“There is still the Treasure. But this can be done. Wait awhile, Kaa of the Rocks, and see the boy run. There is room for
great sport here. Life is good. Run to and fro awhile, and make sport, boy!”
Mowgli put his hand on Kaa’s head quietly.
“The white thing has dealt with men of the Man-Pack until now. He does not know me,” he whispered. “He has asked
for this hunting. Let him have it.” Mowgli had been standing with the ankus held point down. He flung it from him quickly
and it dropped crossways just behind the great snake’s hood, pinning him to the floor. In a flash, Kaa’s weight was upon
the writhing body, paralysing it from hood to tail. The red eyes burned, and the six spare inches of the head struck
furiously right and left.
“Kill!” said Kaa, as Mowgli’s hand went to his knife.
“No,” he said, as he drew the blade; “I will never kill again save for food. But look you, Kaa!” He caught the snake
behind the hood, forced the mouth open with the blade of the knife, and showed the terrible poison-fangs of the upper jaw
lying black and withered in the gum. The White Cobra had outlived his poison, as a snake will.
“THUU” (“It is dried up”— Literally, a rotted out tree-stump), said Mowgli; and motioning Kaa away, he picked up the
ankus, setting the White Cobra free.
“The King’s Treasure needs a new Warden,” he said gravely. “Thuu, thou hast not done well. Run to and fro and make
sport, Thuu!”
“I am ashamed. Kill me!” hissed the White Cobra.
“There has been too much talk of killing. We will go now. I take the thorn-pointed thing, Thuu, because I have fought
and worsted thee.”
“See, then, that the thing does not kill thee at last. It is Death! Remember, it is Death! There is enough in that thing to
kill the men of all my city. Not long wilt thou hold it, Jungle Man, nor he who takes it from thee. They will kill, and kill, and
kill for its sake! My strength is dried up, but the ankus will do my work. It is Death! It is Death! It is Death!”
Mowgli crawled out through the hole into the passage again, and the last that he saw was the White Cobra striking
furiously with his harmless fangs at the stolid golden faces of the gods that lay on the floor, and hissing, “It is Death!”
They were glad to get to the light of day once more; and when they were back in their own Jungle and Mowgli made
the ankus glitter in the morning light, he was almost as pleased as though he had found a bunch of new flowers to stick in
his hair.
“This is brighter than Bagheera’s eyes,” he said delightedly, as he twirled the ruby. “I will show it to him; but what did
the Thuu mean when he talked of death?”
“I cannot say. I am sorrowful to my tail’s tail that he felt not thy knife. There is always evil at Cold Lairs — above
ground or below. But now I am hungry. Dost thou hunt with me this dawn?” said Kaa.
“No; Bagheera must see this thing. Good hunting!” Mowgli danced off, flourishing the great ankus, and stopping from
time to time to admire it, till he came to that part of the Jungle Bagheera chiefly used, and found him drinking after a
heavy kill. Mowgli told him all his adventures from beginning to end, and Bagheera sniffed at the ankus between whiles.
When Mowgli came to the White Cobra’s last words, the Panther purred approvingly.
“Then the White Hood spoke the thing which is?” Mowgli asked quickly.
“I was born in the King’s cages at Oodeypore, and it is in my stomach that I know some little of Man. Very many men
would kill thrice in a night for the sake of that one big red stone alone.”
“But the stone makes it heavy to the hand. My little bright knife is better; and — see! the red stone is not good to eat.
Then WHY would they kill?”
“Mowgli, go thou and sleep. Thou hast lived among men, and-”
“I remember. Men kill because they are not hunting; — for idleness and pleasure. Wake again, Bagheera. For what use
was this thorn-pointed thing made?”
Bagheera half opened his eyes — he was very sleepy — with a malicious twinkle.
“It was made by men to thrust into the head of the sons of Hathi, so that the blood should pour out. I have seen the
like in the street of Oodeypore, before our cages. That thing has tasted the blood of many such as Hathi.”
“But why do they thrust into the heads of elephants?”
“To teach them Man’s Law. Having neither claws nor teeth, men make these things — and worse.”
“Always more blood when I come near, even to the things the Man-Pack have made,” said Mowgli disgustedly. He was
getting a little tired of the weight of the ankus. “If I had known this, I would not have taken it. First it was Messua’s blood
on the thongs, and now it is Hathi’s. I will use it no more. Look!”
The ankus flew sparkling, and buried itself point down thirty yards away, between the trees. “So my hands are clean of
Death,” said Mowgli, rubbing his palms on the fresh, moist earth. “The Thuu said Death would follow me. He is old and
white and mad.”
“White or black, or death or life, I am going to sleep, Little Brother. I cannot hunt all night and howl all day, as do
some folk.”
Bagheera went off to a hunting-lair that he knew, about two miles off. Mowgli made an easy way for himself up a
convenient tree, knotted three or four creepers together, and in less time than it takes to tell was swinging in a hammock
fifty feet above ground. Though he had no positive objection to strong daylight, Mowgli followed the custom of his friends,
and used it as little as he could. When he waked among the very loud-voiced peoples that live in the trees, it was twilight
once more, and he had been dreaming of the beautiful pebbles he had thrown away.
“At least I will look at the thing again,” he said, and slid down a creeper to the earth; but Bagheera was before him.
Mowgli could hear him snuffing in the half light.
“Where is the thorn-pointed thing?” cried Mowgli.
“A man has taken it. Here is the trail.”
“Now we shall see whether the Thuu spoke truth. If the pointed thing is Death, that man will die. Let us follow.”
“Kill first,” said Bagheera. “An empty stomach makes a careless eye. Men go very slowly, and the Jungle is wet enough
to hold the lightest mark.”
They killed as soon as they could, but it was nearly three hours before they finished their meat and drink and buckled
down to the trail. The Jungle People know that nothing makes up for being hurried over your meals.
“Think you the pointed thing will turn in the man’s hand and kill him?” Mowgli asked. “The Thuu said it was Death.”
“We shall see when we find,” said Bagheera, trotting with his head low. “It is single-foot” (he meant that there was only
one man), “and the weight of the thing has pressed his heel far into the ground.”
pass the grey poupon
banana fiddelers
ripe joosy patch