Then he turned slowly to Sneaky, and said: “Sneaky, do you bring this raccoon as your foster child?”
“No, O mighty leader, he is none of mine,” was the prompt reply. “I brought him to my den for food one day after I’d fished him out of the river. I wanted to kill him for the children, but Mother Wolf protested. I had nothing to do with his rearing. He would have died long ago if I’d had my way.”
The members of the pack nodded their heads, and Black Wolf turned to Mother Wolf. He looked at her in silence for some time. Then, in a low voice, he said: “No foster child can hunt with the pack unless he’s a wolf. It’s against the law of the woods. If we permitted it Puma the Mountain Lion would be filling our homes with his young so they might grow up with us and destroy us. And Loup the Lynx would do the same so that he could betray our hiding places. There would be no safety for us after that.”
“But Little Brother is a raccoon,” pleaded Mother Wolf. “Surely you’re not afraid of the raccoons. They could not hurt us nor betray us.”
The whole pack sniffed in disgust at the idea of the raccoon tribe hurting the wolves.
“That is true, O Mother Wolf,” replied Black Wolf, “but if we let you introduce a raccoon as a foster child, we could not prevent another bringing a young Puma or Lynx. We must obey the laws of our tribe, and keep from it all other animals.”
A great sadness settled on Mother Wolf’s face. She looked down at Washer and began licking his head. She knew that Black Wolf’s words were law, and she could not defy them.
“Then must I give up my foster child?” she asked.
“No,” replied the leader, “you can take him home and keep him, but he is not under the protection of the pack. If they hunt him down and kill him you can blame no one. I cannot interfere.”
There was a murmur of applause, and every wolf began licking his lips as if in anticipation of the feast ahead. The sight of their cruel greediness aroused Mother Wolf. She raised her head proudly, and said: