der in mid-air, and dropped feet first to the
safety of the river, breathless and triumphant. There was not a sting
upon him, for the smell of the garlic had checked the Little People for
just the few seconds that he was among them. When he rose Kaa's coils
were steadying him and things were bounding over the edge of the
cliff--great lumps, it seemed, of clustered bees falling like plummets;
but before any lump touched water the bees flew upward and the body of a
dhole whirled down-stream. Overhead they could hear furious short yells
that were drowned in a roar like breakers--the roar of the wings of the
Little People of the Rocks. Some of the dholes, too, had fallen into the
gullies that communicated with the underground caves, and there choked
and fought and snapped among the tumbled honeycombs, and at last, borne
up, even when they were dead, on the heaving waves of bees beneath
them, shot out of some hole in the river-face, to roll over on the black
rubbish-heaps. There were dholes who had leaped short into the trees
on the cliffs, and the bees blotted out their shapes; but the greater
number of them, maddened by the stings, had flung themselves into the
river; and, as Kaa said, the Waingunga was hungry water.

Kaa held Mowgli fast till the boy had recovered his breath.

"We may not stay here," he said. "The Little People are roused indeed.
Come!"

Swimming low and diving as often as he could, Mowgli went down the
river, knife in hand.

"Slowly, slowly," said Kaa. "One tooth does not kill a hundred unless
it be a cobra's, and many of the dholes took water swiftly when they saw
the Little People rise."

"The more work for my knife, then. Phai! How the Little People follow!"
Mowgli sank again. The face of the water was blanketed with wild bees,
buzzing sullenly and stinging all they found.

"Nothing was ever yet lost by silence," said Kaa--no sting could
penetrate his scales--"and thou hast all the long night for the hunting.
Hear them howl!"

Nearly half the pack had seen the trap their fellows rushed into, and
turning sharp aside had flung themselves into the water where the gorge
broke down in steep banks. Their cries of rage and their threats against
the "tree-ape" who had brought them to their shame mixed with the yells
and growls of those who had been punished by the Little People. To
remain ashore was death, and every dhole knew it. Their pack was swept
along the current, down to the deep eddies of the