"Stay there," shouted the monkeys, "till we have killed thy friends, and
later we will play with thee--if the Poison-People leave thee alive."

"We be of one blood, ye and I," said Mowgli, quickly giving the Snake's
Call. He could hear rustling and hissing in the rubbish all round him
and gave the Call a second time, to make sure.

"Even ssso! Down hoods all!" said half a dozen low voices (every ruin
in India becomes sooner or later a dwelling place of snakes, and the old
summerhouse was alive with cobras). "Stand still, Little Brother, for
thy feet may do us harm."

Mowgli stood as quietly as he could, peering through the open work and
listening to the furious din of the fight round the Black Panther--the
yells and chatterings and scufflings, and Bagheera's deep, hoarse cough
as he backed and bucked and twisted and plunged under the heaps of his
enemies. For the first time since he was born, Bagheera was fighting for
his life.

"Baloo must be at hand; Bagheera would not have come alone," Mowgli
thought. And then he called aloud: "To the tank, Bagheera. Roll to the
water tanks. Roll and plunge! Get to the water!"

Bagheera heard, and the cry that told him Mowgli was safe gave him new
courage. He worked his way desperately, inch by inch, straight for the
reservoirs, halting in silence. Then from the ruined wall nearest the
jungle rose up the rumbling war-shout of Baloo. The old Bear had done
his best, but he could not come before. "Bagheera," he shouted, "I am
here. I climb! I haste! Ahuwora! The stones slip under my feet! Wait my