Mowgli continued growing and learning the law of the jungle.
One year a terrible drought arrived.
It began when the winter came, bringing little rain.
The yams dried up and few trees flowered.
Next a burning heat crept into the jungle, turning it yellow, brown, and then black.
Water holes turned to mud.
Bamboo stalks grew dry, clanking loudly in the hot wind.
It was the first time that Mowgli had felt deep hunger.
While this hunger was awful, his thirst was worse.
The heat went on and on, drying up all the moisture.
Soon only one river still had water.
Hathi, the wise old elephant, lifted his trunk.
"There is a water truce!" he declared.
Mowgli learned that this meant no one could hunt at the river.
Instead everyone could safely drink there.
The animals whistled and shrieked, spreading the news of the water truce.
"This is a terrible time," Bagheera said one evening at the river.
Mowgli nodded. The air still felt as hot as fire.
Baloo sighed. "The rains have forgotten us this year."
Upstream, Hathi stood with his sons in the moonlight.
Nearby some deer were drinking, along with pigs and wild buffalo.
"The humans are hungry too," a pig said.
"They're dying in their fields."
"Hathi, have you ever seen anything like this drought?" Baloo asked.
"No. But it will pass." Hathi squirted water along his back and sides.
Baloo looked at Mowgli.
"Well, we have someone here who cannot survive much longer without more food.
The boy is all skin and bones."
"Hey!" Mowgli sat up in the water, insulted.
"That's because I don't have any fur to cover my bones."
Everyone laughed, but Mowgli was scowling at Baloo.
"You wouldn't look good without fur either!"
Bagheera put out a paw and gently knocked Mowgli back into the water.
Mowgli rose, spluttering and laughing.
"It's rude to make fun of your teacher, Mowgli," Bagheera said.
Grinning, he dunked Mowgli again.
This time when Mowgli rose from the water, he saw that Bagheera's expression had changed.
"Uh-oh," he thought.
He saw the tiger slinking toward them.
"Why, look at this." Shere Khan's voice was a low rumble.
He bent to take a drink. "It's the man cub."
Mowgli slipped behind Bagheera as Shere Khan dipped his chin in the river.
Soon dark oily streaks were floating in the water.
Bagheera looked suspiciously at the oily streaks.
"What have you been up to, Shere Khan?"
Shere Khan smiled slyly. "I found a human," he said.
"So I came to the river for a drink—and to clean myself."
A few animals gasped.
"You killed a person during the drought?" Bagheera snapped.
"Couldn't you find something else to eat?"
The tiger just shrugged.
Hathi had been listening quietly.
Now he stepped closer to Shere Khan and swung his trunk.
"As you know, Shere Khan, there is a drought," the elephant said.
"The river is for drinking, not washing off blood.
Besides, we are all suffering—jungle animals and humans.
It is wrong to boast of killing right now."
Shere Khan looked down.
"Have you had enough to drink?" Hathi asked.
"Yes."
"Go then!" Hathi commanded.
His three sons moved to stand behind him.
Shere Khan slunk away, not even daring to growl.
For he knew what everyone knew—Hathi was the master of the jungle.
Bagheera sighed and turned back to Mowgli.
"Never forget this, Little Brother.
Shere Khan is your enemy."