“Who is that?” he demanded between chattering teeth.
Then in a little panicky voice he added: “If you don’t get away I’ll call Mother Wolf, and she’ll eat you up.”
That threat had the effect of loosening the tongue of one of the animals, for a voice said in a low growl: “Hear him! Didn’t I tell you he was a friend of the wolves? Now he’s going to call them to kill us. But wolves can’t climb trees. Come on, we’ll catch him! He can’t get away!”
Now Washer recognized that voice at once. It was that of the raccoon he had saved from the cubs, and who in return for his kindness had bitten him. In some way he had discovered Washer’s presence in the tree, and had summoned his friends to kill him. For a moment Washer was more afraid of his own people than of the wolves. Then he decided he would make matters plain to them.
“Please don’t come any further,” he said in a shaking voice. “You just listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Listen to that!” sniffed the big raccoon. “He promises not to hurt us. Well, I don’t think we’ll give him a chance. But we’ll hurt you.”
“But why do you want to hurt me?” asked Washer.
“Because you’re a friend of the wolves, and you’re sent here to betray us to them. We saw you come in the grove of Silver Birches with a big wolf, and then say farewell to her. We knew it was all a trap. You nearly had me killed that day when—”
“No, no,” interrupted Washer, “I saved your life when the cubs had you treed. If it hadn’t been for me they’d caught you.”