light, and came hither. I did not know thou wast here."

"After we came to Khanhiwara," Messua said timidly, "the English
would have helped us against those villagers that sought to burn us.
Rememberest thou?"

"Indeed, I have not forgotten."

"But when the English Law was made ready, we went to the village of
those evil people, and it was no more to be found."

"That also I remember," said Mowgli, with a quiver of his nostril.

"My man, therefore, took service in the fields, and at last--for,
indeed, he was a strong man--we held a little land here. It is not so
rich as the old village, but we do not need much--we two."

"Where is he the man that dug in the dirt when he was afraid on that
night?"

"He is dead--a year."

"And he?" Mowgli pointed to the child.

"My son that was born two Rains ago. If thou art a Godling, give him the
Favour of the Jungle, that he may be safe among thy--thy people, as we
were safe on that night."

She lifted up the child, who, forgetting his fright, reached out to play
with the knife that hung on Mowgli's chest, and Mowgli put the little
fingers aside very carefully.

"And if thou art Nathoo whom the tiger carried away," Messua went on,
choking, "he is then thy younger brother. Give him an elder brother's
blessing."

"Hai-mai! What do I know of the thing called a blessing? I am neither
a Godling nor his brother, and--O mother, mother, my heart is heavy in
me." He shivered as he set down the child.

"Like enough," said Messua, bustling among the cooking-pots. "This comes
of running about the marshes by night. Beyond question, the fever
had soaked thee to the marrow." Mowgli smiled a little at the idea of
anything in the Jungle hurting him. "I will make a fire, and thou shalt
drink warm milk. Put away the jasmine wreath: the smell is heavy in so
small a place."

Mowgli sat down, muttering, with his face in his hands. All manner of
strange feelings that he had never felt before were running over him,
exactly as though he had been poisoned, and he felt dizzy and a little
sick. He drank the warm milk in long gulps, Messua patting him on the
shoulder from time to time, not quite sure whether he were her son
Nathoo of the long ago days, or some wonderful Jungle being, but glad to
feel that he was at least flesh and blood.

"Son," she said at last,--her eyes were full of pride,--"have any told
thee that thou art beautiful beyond all men?"

"Hah?" said Mowgli, for naturally he