"I, Mowgli. Cattle thief, it is time to come to the Council Rock
Cheap Newport 100s! Down―hurry them down, Akela! Down, Rama, down!"
The herd paused for an instant at the edge of the slope, but Akela gave tongue in the full hunting-yell
Newports Cigarettes, and they pitched over one after the other, just as steamers shoot rapids, the sand and stones spurting up round them. Once started, there was no chance of stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed of the ravine Rama winded Shere Khan and bellowed.