"The city--the great city of the forest whose gates are guarded by the
King's towers--can never pass. They builded it before my father's father
came from the egg, and it shall endure when my son's sons are as white
as I! Salomdhi, son of Chandrabija, son of Viyeja, son of Yegasuri, made
it in the days of Bappa Rawal. Whose cattle are YE?"

"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."

"Umm!" said Mowgli to himself. "I have dealt with one Brahmin already,
in the Man-Pack, and--I know what I know. Evil comes here in a little."

"Five times since I came here has the stone been lifted, but always to
let down more, and never to take away. There are no riches like these
riches--the treasures of a hundred kings. But it is long and long since
the stone was last moved, and I think that my city has forgotten."

"There is no city. Look up. Yonder are roots of the great trees tearing
the stones apart. Trees and men do not grow together," Kaa insisted.

"Twice and thrice have men found their way here," the White Cobra
answered savagely; "but they never spoke till I came upon them groping
in the dark, and then they cried only a little time. But ye come with
lies, Man and Snake both, and would have me believe the city is not, and
that my wardship ends. Little do men change in the years. But I change
never! Till the stone is lifted, and the Brahmins come down singing the
songs that I know, and feed me with warm milk, and take me to the light
again, I--I--_I_, and no other, am the Warden of the King's Treasure!
The city is dead, ye say, and here are the roots of the trees? Stoop
down, then, and take what ye will. Earth has no treasure like to these.
Man with the snake's tongue, if