“It is not Puma’s offspring,” replied Mother Wolf, smiling. “I could never learn to love anything that came out of Puma’s den.”
“What animal is it then? Where is this foster child?” several cried.
“You hear them,” added Black Wolf. “What have you to say? Where is this one you plead for?”
“He is yonder in the shadow of the birches. I shall call him out if you’ll give him protection. If not—”
“He shall be protected,” interrupted the leader. “It is the law of the council.”
Mother Wolf turned her head ever so slightly, and called: “Little Brother, come here!”
Washer, with his heart beating fast, but confident that Mother Wolf would protect him, emerged slowly from the shadows and trotted toward her. At first the wolves could see nothing, so small was he, and then they could make out only a shadow that seemed to drift between them and the woods. But when Washer reached the foot of the council rock, the bright moonlight fell full upon him.
“Here is my foster child!” exclaimed Mother Wolf proudly. “And my love for him is as great as for my own cubs. He is as wise as they, as brave, and as quick-witted. Look at him, and accept him.”
Black Wolf rose to his feet and stared down at Washer. All the other wolves leaped to their feet and closed in to get a better view. Then suddenly, before their leader could speak, a howl of derision went up from a score of throats.