‘It is no light hunting to work for a Man-cub. When shall I sleep?’ said Bagheera, yawning, though his eyes showed that he was delighted with the amusement. ‘Me to sing to naked men! But let us try.’
He lowered his head so that the sound would travel, and cried a long, long, ‘Good hunting’ – a midnight call in the afternoon, which was quite awful enough to begin with. Mowgli heard it rumble, and rise, and fall, and die off in a creepy sort of whine behind him, and laughed to himself as he ran through the Jungle. He could see the charcoal-burners huddled in a knot; old Buldeo’s gun-barrel waving, like a banana-leaf, to every point of the compass at once. Then Gray Brother gave the Ya-la-hi! Yalaha! call for the buck-driving, when the Pack drives the nilghai, the big blue cow, before them,
