Now Rann the Kite brings home the night
That Mang the Bat sets free—
The herds are shut in byre and hut
For loosed till dawn are we.
This is the hour of pride and power,
Talon and tush and claw.
Oh, hear the call!—Good hunting all
That keep the Jungle Law!
Night-Song in the Jungle
It was seven o’clock of a very warm evening in the
Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day’s
rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws
one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their
tips. Mother Wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped
across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon
shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived.
‘Augrh!’ said Father Wolf. ‘It is time to hunt again.’ He
was going to spring down hill when a little shadow with a
bushy tail crossed the threshold and whined: ‘Good luck
go with you, O Chief of the Wolves. And good luck and
strong white teeth go with noble children that they may
never forget the hungry in this world.
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