A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera, the black panther. Everyone knew him, but nobody cared to cross his path. He was as sneaky as Tabaqui, as bold as a wild buffalo, and as reckless as a hurt elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dipping from atree, and skin softe tham the down of a baby bird.
“Baloo has spoken for him; now I will speak, too. Will you take a bull, fat and freshly killed, in exchange for accepting this man cub?” Bagheera asked.