`` Dig the hole deep . When we wake I will take him up and carry him back . '' ***** Two nights later , as the White Cobra sat mourning in the darkness of the vault , ashamed , and robbed , and alone , the turquoise ankus whirled through the hole in the wall , and clashed on the floor of golden coins . `` Father of Cobras , '' said Mowgli -LRB- he was careful to keep the other side of the wall -RRB- , `` get thee a young and ripe one of thine own people to help thee guard the King 's Treasure , so that no man may come away alive any more . '' `` Ah-ha ! It returns , then . I said the thing was Death . How comes it that thou art still alive ? '' the old Cobra mumbled , twining lovingly round the ankus-haft . `` By the Bull that bought me , I do not know ! That thing has killed six times in a night . Let him go out no more . '' THE SONG OF THE LITTLE HUNTER Ere Mor the Peacock flutters , ere the Monkey People cry , Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer , Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh -- He is Fear , O Little Hunter , he is Fear ! Very softly down the glade runs a waiting , watching shade , And the whisper spreads and widens far and near ; And the sweat is on thy brow , for he passes even now -- He is Fear , O Little Hunter , he is Fear ! Ere the moon has climbed the mountain , ere the rocks are ribbed with light , When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear , Comes a breathing hard behind thee -- snuffle-snuffle through the night -- It is Fear , O Little Hunter , it is Fear ! On thy knees and draw the bow ; bid the shrilling arrow go ; In the empty , mocking thicket plunge the spear ; But thy hands are loosed and weak , and the blood has left thy cheek -- It is Fear , O Little Hunter , it is Fear ! When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest , when the slivered pine-trees fall , When the blinding , blaring rain-squalls lash and veer ; Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all -- It is Fear , O Little Hunter , it is Fear ! Now the spates are banked and deep ; now the footless boulders leap -- Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear -- But thy throat is shut and dried , and thy heart against thy side Hammers : Fear , O Little Hunter -- this is Fear ! QUIQUERN The People of the Eastern Ice , they are melting like the snow -- They beg for coffee and sugar ; they go where the white men go . The People of the Western Ice , they learn to steal and fight ; `` They sell their furs to the trading-post : they sell their souls to the white .
The People of the Southern XXXXX , they trade with the whaler 's crew ; Their women have many ribbons , but their tents are torn and few .
Cobra Ice Mowgli heat-cloud later lightning snuffle-snuffle spates trading-post war-gongs