The Whelps of the Wolf

by George Marsh

"What do you mean, my son? You would not make yourself an outlaw? It would be better to go."

"I shall not go, M'sieu." And Colin Gillies believed in his heart that Marcel spoke the truth.

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CHAPTER XXVI

THE WHELPS OF THE WOLF

The following morning Jean Marcel forgot the cloud hanging over him in his joy at the event which had taken place since dawn. Rousing Julie and her brother, he led them to the stockade. There in all the pride of motherhood lay the great Fleur with five blind, roly-poly puppies, whimpering at her side.

"Oh, the little dears!" cried Julie. "How pretty they are!"

First speaking to Fleur and patting her head, Jean picked up a squirming ball of fur and as the mother whined anxiously, put it in Julie's arms.

"Oh, mon cher!" cried the girl, nestling the warm little body to her cheek. "What a morsel of softness!" But when Père Breton reached to touch the puppy a rumble from Fleur's deep throat warned him that Julie alone was privileged to take such liberties with her offspring.