into the middle of the room. But he never gets there.
Don t kill me, said Chuchundra, almost weeping. Rikki-tikki, don t
kill me!
Do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats? said Rikki-tikki
scornfully.
Those who kill snakes get killed by snakes, said Chuchundra, more
sorrowfully than ever. And how am I to be sure that Nag won t mistake
me for you some dark night?
There s not the least danger, said Rikki-tikki. But Nag is in the
garden, and I know you don t go there.
My cousin Chua, the rat, told me-- said Chuchundra, and then he
stopped.
Told you what?
H sh! Nag is everywhere, Rikki-tikki. You should have talked to Chua in
the garden.
I didn t--so you must tell me. Quick, Chuchundra, or I ll bite you!
Chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers.
I am a very poor man, he sobbed. I never had spirit enough to run out
into the middle of the room. H sh! I mustn t tell you anything. Can t
you hear, Rikki-tikki?
Rikki-tikki listened. The house was as still as still, but he thought he
could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world--a noise as
faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane--the dry scratch of a
snake s scales on brick-work.
That s Nag or Nagaina, he said to himself, and he is crawling into
the bath-room sluice. You re right, Chuchundra; I should have talked to
Chua.
He stole off to Teddy s bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then
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