hour, swinging on, delighted to find himself so fit after all
his cramped months among men. The one idea in his head was to
get Messua and her husband out of the trap, whatever it was;
for he had a natural mistrust of traps. Later on, he promised
himself, he would pay his debts to the village at large.

It was at twilight when he saw the well-remembered grazing-
grounds, and the dhak-tree where Gray Brother had waited for him
on the morning that he killed Shere Khan. Angry as he was at the
whole breed and community of Man, something jumped up in his
throat and made him catch his breath when he looked at the
village roofs. He noticed that every one had come in from the
fields unusually early, and that, instead of getting to their
evening cooking, they gathered in a crowd under the village
tree, and chattered, and shouted.

"Men must always he making traps for men, or they are not
content," said Mowgli. "Last night it was Mowgli--but that
night seems many Rains ago. To-night it is Messua and her man.
To-morrow, and for very many nights after, it will be Mowgli's
turn again."

He crept along outside the wall till he came to Messua's hut,
and looked through the window into the room. There lay Messua,
gagged, and bound hand and foot, breathing hard, and groaning:
her husband was tied to the gaily-painted bedstead. The door of
the hut that opened into the street was shut fast, and three or
four people were sitting with their backs to it.

Mowgli knew the manners and customs of the villagers very
fairly. He argued that so long as they could eat, and talk,
and smoke, they would not do anything else; but as soon as
they had fed they would begin to be dangerous. Buldeo would be
coming in before long, and if his escort had done its duty,
Buldeo would have a very interesting tale to tell. So he went
in through the window, and, stooping over the man and the woman,
cut their thongs, pulling out the gags, and looked round the hut
for some milk.

Messua was half wild with pain and fear (she had been beaten
and stoned all the morning), and Mowgli put his hand over
her mouth just in time to stop a scream. Her husband was only
bewildered and angry, and sat picking dust and things out of
his torn beard.

"I knew--I knew he would come," Messua sobbed at last. "Now do
I KNOW that he is my son!" and she hugged Mowgli to her heart.
Up to that time Mowgli had been perfectly steady, but now he
began to tremble all over, and that surprised him immensely.

"Why are these thongs? Why have they tied thee?" he asked,
after a pause.

"To be put to the death for making a son of thee--what else?"
said the man sullenly. "Look! I bleed."

Messua said nothing, but it was at her wounds that Mowgli
looked, and they heard him grit his teeth when he saw the blood.

"Whose work is this?" said he. "There is a price to pay."

"The work of all the village. I was too rich. I had too many
cattle. THEREFORE she and I are witches, because we gave
thee shelter."

"I do not understand. Let Messua tell the tale."

"I gave thee milk, Nathoo; dost thou remember?" Messua said
timidly. "Because thou wast my son, whom the tiger took, and
because I loved thee very dearly. They said that I was thy
mother, the mother of a devil, and therefore worthy of death."

"And what is a devil?" said Mowgli. "Death I have seen."

The man looked up gloomily, but Messua laughed. "See!" she said
to her husband, "I knew--I said that he was no sorcerer. He is
my son--my son!"

"Son or sorcerer, what good will that do us?" the man answered.
"We be as dead already."

"Yonder is the road to the Jungle"--Mowgli pointed through the
window. "Your hands and feet are free. Go now."

"We do not know the Jungle, my son, as--as thou knowest," Messua
began. "I do not think that I could walk far."

"And the men and women would he upon our backs and drag us here
again," said the husband.

"H'm!" said Mowgli, and he tickled the palm of his hand with the
tip of his skinning-knife; "I have no wish to do harm to any one
of this village--YET. But I do not think they will stay thee.
In a little while they will have much else to think upon. Ah!"
he lifted his head and listened to shouting and trampling
outside. "So they have let Buldeo come home at last?"

"He was sent out this morning to kill thee," Messua cried.
"Didst thou meet him?"



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