"Of a snow storm, Sher Abi?" queried Mooswa, doubtingly.
"No, my solemn friend, I know nothing of snow; I speak of having a Man inside of one. As Sa'-zada has said, I think it's quite possible, and I'm sure they must rest nice and warm, too."
"Did a Man cut you open, Magar?" sneered Magh.
"No, little Old Woman, he did not; he was busy that day taking off your tail for stealing his plantains."
"Tell us about it, Magar," lisped Python. "Wolf's tale of his snow-land makes me shiver."
"There is not much to tell," murmured Sher Abi, regretfully. "It was all over in a few minutes, and all an accident, too; and, besides, it was only one Man. You see, I was sunning myself on a mud bank in Cherogeah Creek, when I heard 'thomp, thomp, thomp!' which was the sound of a Boatman's paddle against the side of his log dug-out. I slid backward into the water, keeping just one eye above it to see what manner of traveler it might be. It was old Lahbo, a villager who often went up and down that creek, so I started to swim across, meaning to come up alongside of his canoe and wish him the favor of Buddha. As you know, Comrades, all Animals love these Buddhists, for their Master has taught them not to take the life of any Jungle Dweller.
"As I have said, I was swimming across the creek, when Lahbo, who must have been asleep, suddenly ran his canoe up on my back. It was such a light little dug-out, too, quite narrow, and being suddenly startled, I jumped, and by some means Lahbo's canoe was upset. Poor old Lahbo! How my heart ached for him when I heard him scream in the water."
"Oh, the evil liar!" whispered Magh in Hathi's ear.
"Hush-h!" whistled Elephant, softly, through his trunk; "Sher Abi was ever like this; I know him well. It is just his way of boasting; he knows nobody believes it."