"But I am!" he said. "Nitka and Shoomoo and the brothers—we are all of the wolf blood. I have many brothers," he added, as if to make the matter clearer. "They are all out in the world."
"I am aware of that," Gomposh said; "but many brothers do not make you different from what you are."
Shasta could not think of an answer to that, so he was silent for a little time, while something which began to be a question grew big within his head.
"If I am not a wolf, what am I?" he asked at last.
"You will find that out later on," Gomposh said with aggravating calmness. "At present it is enough for you to know what you are not."
"But I don't know it," Shasta said bravely, because he was not going to give way weakly before a bear, if he were never so old, and never so wise. "How do you know that I am not a wolf?"
Gomposh blinked and did not answer for a moment or two. He was taken by surprise, and was just a little shocked. In all his long experience, reaching over many years, no one had ever questioned his wisdom before, nor asked him how he knew. The man-cub was very impudent. It would have been the easiest thing in the world, with one cuff of his big black paw, to teach the man-cub manners, and send him spinning from the rock. But although Gomposh had a great idea of his own importance, he had also a kind heart, and there was something in him which went out tenderly towards the little naked cub, impudent though he was. So he contented himself with being very stiff and stand-offish when he spoke again.
"I have eyes," he said. "I have also a nose. You are not wolf to my eyes, and you are only half wolf to my nose."
This was a knock-down blow to Shasta, and he didn't know what to say.
"I am sorry if I don't smell nice," he said lamely after a while.