He is a dog -- and the pup of a dog -- red , yellow-bellied , lairless , and haired between every toe ! He counts his cubs six and eight at the litter , as though he were Chikai , the little leaping rat . Surely we must run away , Free People , and beg leave of the peoples of the north for the offal of dead cattle ! Ye know the saying : ` North are the vermin ; south are the lice . WE are the Jungle . ' Choose ye , O choose . It is good hunting ! For the Pack -- for the Full Pack -- for the lair and the litter ; for the in-kill and the out-kill ; for the mate that drives the doe and the little , little cub within the cave ; it is met ! -- it is met ! -- it is met ! '' The Pack answered with one deep , crashing bark that sounded in the night like a big tree falling . `` It is met ! '' they cried . `` Stay with these , '' said Mowgli to the Four . `` We shall need every tooth . Phao and Akela must make ready the battle . I go to count the dogs . '' `` It is death ! '' Won-tolla cried , half rising . `` What can such a hairless one do against the Red Dog ?
Even the Striped One , remember -- '' `` Thou art indeed an Outlier , '' XXXXX called back ; `` but we will speak when the dholes are dead .
Akela Mowgli Phao Red Ye cub lair night out-kill vermin