‘It is a lost trail,’ said Mowgli, turning to Kaa. ‘I know not his talk.’
‘Nor I. He is very old. Father of Cobras, there is only the Jungle here, as it has been since the beginning.’
‘Then who is he,’ said the White Cobra, ‘sitting down before me, unafraid, knowing not the name of the King, talking our talk through a man’s lips? Who is he with the knife and the snake’s tongue?’
‘Mowgli they call me,’ was the answer. ‘I am of the Jungle. The Wolves are my people, and Kaa here is my brother. Father of Cobras, who art thou?’
‘I am the Warden of the King’s Treasure. Kurrun Raja builded the stone above me, in the days when my skin was dark, that I might teach death to those who came to steal. Then they let down the treasure through the stone, and I heard the song of the Brahmins my masters
