He ate and he drank. Drink deep, Shere Khan, for when wilt thou
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drink again? Sleep and dream of the kill.
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I am alone on the grazing-grounds. Gray Brother, come to me!
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Come to me, Lone Wolf, for there is big game afoot!
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Bring up the great bull buffaloes, the blue-skinned herd bulls
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with the angry eyes. Drive them to and fro as I order.
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Sleepest thou still, Shere Khan? Wake, oh, wake! Here come I,
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and the bulls are behind.
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Rama, the King of the Buffaloes, stamped with his foot. Waters of
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the Waingunga, whither went Shere Khan?
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He is not Ikki to dig holes, nor Mao, the Peacock, that he should fly. He is not Mang the Bat, to hang in the branches. Little bamboos that creak together, tell me where he ran?
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Ow! He is there. Ahoo! He is there. Under the feet of Rama
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lies the Lame One! Up, Shere Khan!
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Up and kill! Here is meat; break the necks of the bulls!
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Hsh! He is asleep. We will not wake him, for his strength is very great. The kites have come down to see it. The black ants have come up to know it. There is a great assembly in his honor.
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Alala! I have no cloth to wrap me. The kites will see that I am
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naked. I am ashamed to meet all these people.
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Lend me thy coat, Shere Khan. Lend me thy gay striped coat that I
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may go to the Council Rock.
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By the Bull that bought me I made a promise-a little promise.
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Only thy coat is lacking before I keep my word.
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With the knife, with the knife that men use, with the knife of the
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hunter, I will stoop down for my gift.
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Waters of the Waingunga, Shere Khan gives me his coat for the love that he bears me. Pull, Gray Brother! Pull, Akela! Heavy is the hide of Shere Khan.
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The Man Pack are angry. They throw stones and talk child's talk.
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