“Now,” said Bagheera, “jump on my back, Little Brother, and we will go home.”

One of the beauties of Jungle Law is that punishment settles all scores.  There is no nagging afterward.

Mowgli laid his head down on Bagheera’s back and slept so deeply that he never waked when he was put down in the home-cave.

Road-Song of the Bandar-Log

     Here we go in a flung festoon,
     Half-way up to the jealous moon! 
     Don’t you envy our pranceful bands? 
     Don’t you wish you had extra hands? 
     Wouldn’t you like if your tails were—­so—­
     Curved in the shape of a Cupid’s bow? 
        Now you’re angry, but—­never mind,
        Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

     Here we sit in a branchy row,
     Thinking of beautiful things we know;
     Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do,
     All complete, in a minute or two—­
     Something noble and wise and good,
     Done by merely wishing we could. 
        We’ve forgotten, but—­never mind,
        Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!

     All the talk we ever have heard
     Uttered by bat or beast or bird—­
     Hide or fin or scale or feather—­
     Jabber it quickly and all together! 
     Excellent!  Wonderful!  Once again!

     Now we are talking just like men! 
        Let’s pretend we are ... never mind,
        Brother, thy tail hangs down behind! 
        This is the way of the Monkey-kind.

     Then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines,
     That rocket by where, light and high, the wild grape swings. 
     By the rubbish in our wake, and the noble noise we make,
     Be sure, be sure, we’re going to do some splendid things!

“Tiger!  Tiger!”

     What of the hunting, hunter bold? 
        Brother, the watch was long and cold. 
     What of the quarry ye went to kill? 
        Brother, he crops in the jungle still. 
     Where is the power that made your pride? 
        Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side. 
     Where is the haste that ye hurry by? 
        Brother, I go to my lair—­to die.

Now we must go back to the first tale.  When Mowgli left the wolf’s cave after the fight with the Pack at the Council Rock, he went down to the plowed lands where the villagers lived, but he would not stop there because it was too near to the jungle, and he knew that he had made at least one bad enemy at the Council.  So he hurried on, keeping to the rough road that ran down the valley, and followed it at a steady jog-trot for nearly twenty miles, till he came to a country that he did not know.  The valley opened out into a great plain dotted over with rocks and cut up by ravines.  At one end stood a little village, and at the other the thick jungle came down in a sweep to the grazing-grounds, and stopped there