frightened him, and the terrible check and jerk at the end of the swing over nothing but empty air brought his heart between his teeth.  His escort would rush him up a tree till he felt the thinnest topmost branches crackle and bend under them, and then with a cough and a whoop would fling themselves into the 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 Chil 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 tra-il!”

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 broke beneath his weight, and he slipped down, his claws full of bark.

“Why didst thou not warn the man-cub?” he roared to poor Baloo, who had set off at a clumsy trot in the hope of overtaking the monkeys.  “What was the use of half slaying him with blows if thou didst not warn him?”