Whatever animal it was they scented, Mother Wolf would caution them to follow it carefully, sneaking through the bushes with padded feet so as not to break a twig. She herself would remain behind so that all the responsibility of the hunt would be on her children.
In the early days of these lessons, Washer was the quickest to learn, and the quickest to follow the scent. He was older than his Wolf Brothers, and this accounted for his quickness. He could run faster than any of them, although his legs were shorter, and could climb up embankments and rocks without losing his foothold.
“Well done, Little Brother,” Mother Wolf would say proudly when he had out-distanced all his brothers. “Some day you will be a mighty hunter. Who knows but you may be leader of the pack yet.”
Now Mother Wolf loved the stray little orphan so much that she was blind to many things that she should have thought of. For one thing no raccoon was ever as large as a wolf, as strong, nor as fleet of foot. It was because Washer had the start in life that he seemed bigger and quicker of mind than her own children.
As the days and weeks passed, the Wolf cubs grew amazingly. They caught up to Washer, and then surpassed him in size. Their legs grew long and slender, and one day in a race Washer was left behind in spite of all that he could do. It was the first race with the cubs he had ever lost.
“Hi! What’s the matter, Little Brother?” the cubs called to him. “You’re lazy today!”
“Yes, maybe I am,” replied Washer, but he had an uneasy feeling that it was something more than laziness. His shorter legs could go as fast as his brother’s, but they could not cover so much ground.
The next day it was the same. They had all started on a scamper for the brook, with Washer in the lead at the beginning, but long before they reached the water the raccoon was behind.
“Lazy again, Little Brother!” they laughed when he came up to them.