“Ah!” he said, stretching out a paw and grasping Washer. “Our Little Stranger is very fat. I think now I’ll kill him. Yes, he’s very fat,” he added, as he felt of Washer’s ribs.
Washer was so startled and frightened by this sudden attack that he began squealing and panting for breath. But the louder he cried the more it pleased Sneaky. The heavy paw pressing down upon his back threatened to break his spine.
Mother Wolf suddenly sprang to Washer’s rescue. Her own eyes showed baleful yellow, and her teeth, fully as white and long as Sneaky’s, were bared to the gums.
“Take your paw off!” she said sharply. “How dare you act like that? If you touch one of my children again you’ll go forth to hunt and never return.”
“One of your children!” exclaimed Sneaky. “You call this little brat one of your children!”
“Yes, I have adopted him, and I shall raise him to hunt with the pack. You cannot hurt him!”
Sneaky was too surprised at first to speak, but after a long pause he recovered and laid his head back on his shoulders while a most startling yowl escaped from his throat. It was such a blood-curdling yelp that Washer cringed and cowered in fear. But it was not a battle cry; it was simply Sneaky’s way of expressing his merriment. Mother Wolf watched him in silence until he stopped.
“I cannot hurt him!” Sneaky repeated. “My dear, you forget he belongs to me. I caught him, and to me he belongs. Isn’t that the law of the pack? Who shall deny me what belongs to me?”
“You forget another law of the pack,” snapped Mother Wolf. “Half of the hunt belongs to me and the children. Isn’t that the law?”
“Oh, yes, so it is,” smiled Sneaky. “Half belongs to my family, and I shall divide with them. Which half do you want, my dear?”