y Mowgli lifted the bodies aside, and raised
Akela to his feet, both arms round him, and the Lone Wolf drew a long
breath, and began the Death Song that a leader of the Pack should sing
when he dies. It gathered strength as he went on, lifting and lifting,
and ringing far across the river, till it came to the last "Good
hunting!" and Akela shook himself clear of Mowgli for an instant, and,
leaping into the air, fell backward dead upon his last and most terrible
kill.

Mowgli sat with his head on his knees, careless of anything else, while
the remnant of the flying dholes were being overtaken and run down by
the merciless lahinis. Little by little the cries died away, and the
wolves returned limping, as their wounds stiffened, to take stock of the
losses. Fifteen of the Pack, as well as half a dozen lahinis, lay dead
by the river, and of the others not one was unmarked. And Mowgli sat
through it all till the cold daybreak, when Phao's wet, red muzzle was
dropped in his hand, and Mowgli drew back to show the gaunt body of
Akela.

"Good hunting!" said Phao, as though Akela were still alive, and then
over his bitten shoulder to the others: "Howl, dogs! A Wolf has died
to-night!"

But of all the Pack of two hundred fighting dholes, whose boast was
that all jungles were their Jungle, and that no living thing could stand
before them, not one returned to the Dekkan to carry that word.

CHIL'S SONG

[This is the song that Chil sang as the kites dropped down one after
another to the river-bed, when the great fight was finished. Chil is
good friends with everybody, but he is a cold-blooded kind of creature
at heart, because he knows that almost everybody in the Jungle comes to
him in the long-run.]

These were my companions going forth by night--
(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)
Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight.
(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)
Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain,
Word I gave them underfoot of buck upon the plain.
Here's an end of every trail--they shall not speak again!

They that called the hunting-cry--they that followed fast--
(For Chil! Look you, for Chil!)
They that bade the sambhur wheel, or pinned him as he passed--
(Chil! Vanguards of Chil!)
They that lagged behind the scent--they that ran before,
They that shunned the level horn--they that overbore.
Here's an end of ever