STORY FIVE
SNEAKY VISITS BLACK WOLF
Washer was perfectly safe in the den of wolves after that. Sneaky did not return for a long time, and when he did appear he was so meek and crestfallen that he hardly dared to say a word. Mother Wolf lorded it over him, and made him obey her every wish. She even made him take Washer and the cubs outside to watch them play in front of the cave while she took a rest.
Washer was a little alarmed at first, but Sneaky never so much as raised a paw to hurt him. He was in deadly fear of Mother Wolf.
After a while Washer lost all of his natural fear of being killed, and life became very different to him in the den. It was a pleasant enough home after all, and he was so grateful to Mother Wolf that he couldn’t do enough to please her. She smiled at him when he ran to do little errands for her, and patted him on his back. He grew more attentive to her than were her own children.
The cubs were growing rapidly, and Washer soon saw they would be much bigger and stronger than he in time; but they looked upon him as one of the family, and always treated him in a friendly way. They began calling him Little Brother, and Mother Wolf in time adopted this name. It was much better than Little Stranger, for Washer was no longer a stranger, and it seemed absurd to call him that.
Sneaky at first refused to use that name, and when alone with the raccoon he would often call him “Brat” or “Scamp.” Washer didn’t mind this, for he knew Sneaky didn’t dare abuse him.
In time the cubs grew so strong and active that they had to spend most of their time out of doors. They trotted around in the bushes, exploring the woods further and further away from home. Sneaky and Mother Wolf watched them with admiring eyes, and encouraged them in this.
“They will have to learn to hunt for themselves some day,” Mother Wolf said, “and I hope they’ll be good hunters.”
“If they take after their father they certainly will be,” replied Sneaky, licking his chops with satisfaction.
Mother Wolf did not notice this remark, for she was looking at Washer. “I wonder what kind of a hunter Little Brother will be,” she added. “Will he hunt like a Wolf or—or like a Raccoon?”