"He should not do that!" Father Wolf said angrily "By the Law of the Jungle he has no right to change where he hunts without warning others. He will frighten all the game for ten miles, and I - I have to kill for two, these days."

"His mother did not call him Lungri [the Lame One] for nothing," said Mother Wolf quietly. "He has been lame in one foot since he was born. That is why he has only killed cattle. Now the villagers of the Waingunga are angry with him, and he has come here to make our villagers angry. They will hunt all over the jungle for him when he is far away, and we and our children must run when the villagers set the grass alight to catch him. Oh yes, we are very grateful to Shere Khan!"

"Shall I tell him how happy you are?" said Tabaqui.

"Out!" snapped Father Wolf. "Out and hunt with your master. You have done enough harm for one night." "I go," said Tabaqui quietly. "You can hear Shere Khan below in the bushes. I might have saved myself the trouble of telling you he is here." Father Wolf listened, and below in the valley that went down to a little river he heard the dry, angry, snarling, singsong sound of a tiger who has caught nothing and does not care if all the jungle knows it.