“‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Soft Foot admiringly. ‘A mighty fine lad, sure enough.’
“‘Yes,’ agreed Vargu, With some pride in his tone, ‘and, even though I say it who shouldn’t, the very nimblest monkey in all Jungleland. Indeed, that is why I have made Too-Bo a part of the plan. So now, if you’ll both draw as close as ever you can, I’ll tell you what we’re to do.’
“Just what was said, I’m sure I don’t know. But there was no end of whispering, all of which argued that some deep dark plan was afoot that, doubtless, would be made known in good time.
“Now, on the following night,” the Pretty Lady continued, “a very odd thing came to pass. For, from the tops of the trees in many parts of Jungleland, sounded a weird, mournful voice crying these words:
“‘Great rock near the desert’s edge—great rock near the desert’s edge—rock—rock—rock!’
“All the animals heard the strange cry and some sprang into the trees to learn who had made it. But, by the time they had done so, the voice was far, far away, repeating the words like an echo.
“On the very next night, and at the very same hour, the cry came again. With the speed of the wind it passed through the trees, wailing:
“‘Great rock near the desert’s edge—watch the hole in its face—hole in its face—face—face—face!’
“Following this second message there was no other topic in all Jungleland. The different families discussed it for hours; but not even the wisdom of Black Mane, the mightiest of all the lions, could solve the riddle. Of course, all knew of the rock—a huge wall of stone with a face as smooth as our own Hippo’s back. Some sent scouts to examine it. All returned with the very same word—there was not a sign of a hole to be found.
“Now, on the third night, the mysterious voice came again. It was here, there—everywhere at once so it seemed. And, as it passed on its way, these words were framed by its cry: