“No, I couldn’t run any faster,” Washer replied truthfully. “You’ve got longer legs than mine, and I can’t keep up with you.”
“So they are longer,” replied the cubs, looking at their own long legs.
“And you have stronger teeth and jaws than I have,” continued Washer. “You grow much faster. I don’t seem to grow at all any more.”
“Oh, your time will come,” they answered, not wishing to offend him.
They continued to play together as formerly, but Washer always had to be given a head start in a race. Then one day another thing surprised them. They were tearing at their food when Washer found that he could no longer hold his own in this battle. The cubs had more powerful jaws than he, and they jerked the food away from him and gobbled it up.
“I didn’t get half my share,” Washer grumbled.
“Why not? Can’t you help yourself?”
Washer was silent. The truth was beginning to dawn upon him that he was different from his brothers. They were fleeter of foot and stronger of jaws. They could also jump longer distances, taking gullies and ravines in leaps that carried them clear across. Washer had to run around or climb down and then up the ravines.
“Little Brother, you can’t keep up with us any more,” the cubs said one day more in sadness than in boastfulness. “How’ll you join the hunt with us when we become members of the pack?”