"I have heard this happening, but it has never happened in our Pack or in my life," said Father Wolf. "He has no hair at all, and I could kill him with a touch of my foot. But see him! He looks up and is not afraid."

The moonlight was blocked out of the mouth of the cave, and Shere Khan's great square head and shoulders filled the entrance. Tabaqui, the jackal was behind him, squeaking: "My lord, my lord, it went in here!"

"It is a great honour to see you, Shere Khan," said Father Wolf. He was polite, but his eyes were very angry. "What do you want?"

"What I am hunting. The man's cub came here," said Shere Khan. "Its parents have run away. Give it to me." Father wolf was right - Shere Khan had jumped into a woodcutter's campfire. He had burned his feet and he was furious. But Father Wolf knew that the cave was too narrow for a tiger to come in. Even where he was, Shere Khan's shoulders and forepaws did not have enough room for him to fight properly.

"The Wolves are a free people," said Father Wolf. "They take orders from the Head of the Pack, and not from a cattle-killer with stripes. The man's cub is ours - we will kill him if we want to."

"You talk to me about choosing! What talk is this of choosing? Do you think that I, who killed a mighty bull, will stand outside a dog's home begging for what he should have? It is I, Shere Khan, who speaks!" The tiger's roar filled the cave like thunder.