Curiously enough, the cub throve under Ru's treatment. He grew at a prodigious rate; and, as the days and weeks went by, his legs became long and scrawny, his jaw lengthened and grew heavier, and his teeth waxed dangerously sharp; while the shining little eyes gleamed ever more alertly. "Ru's wolf will devour him yet," prophesied the people, as they saw the cub daily assuming more of the characteristics of his race. When he snapped his jaws and snarled in harmless play, they foretold how he would soon snap and snarl in earnest—with Ru as the victim; and when Wuff began to go dashing eagerly although unavailingly after every stray rabbit, squirrel, and butterfly, they predicted that not many months would pass before the wolf's assaults would be more successful—and would be turned against his protector.
Yet with Ru, Wuff showed a gentleness that seemed to belie his savage ancestry—and never once did Ru receive so much as a scratch from him even in play. Toward most of the other tribesfolk, however, the cub exhibited a growling hostility. Yonyo alone he would endure, for Ru made him vaguely understand that she was to be tolerated; but upon the approach of any of the other people he would show his teeth and snarl. And—by some strange chance that delighted Ru—Wuff seemed to take an especial dislike for one man in particular. Whenever the wolf's nostrils would catch the scent of Grumgra, he would seem to go mad; his jaws would snap, his eyes shine with a light that was truly wolfish, his black hair would bristle, and low mutterings would issue from his throat. And more than once, had not Ru interfered, Wuff might have leaped to his death in the effort to set teeth in Grumgra's throat.
Grumgra, meanwhile, took little notice of the hatred of the beast. Once or twice, in his contempt for the creature, he went so far as to kick the cub with his enormous unshod foot—and, on each such occasion, it was only Ru's prompt interference that saved Wuff from striking back and ending with his skull crushed.
But thanks to Ru's watchfulness, Wuff survived the peril from the archenemy. And before finally the animal showed how fierce was his hatred of Grumgra, many a week had gone by and Wuff was no longer a mere cub but had attained the imposing proportions of a half-grown wolf.
Then, with amazing suddenness, the suppressed fires burst forth. One evening the tribe had paused to make its encampment in the glade of a hillside forest, when Ru, strolling with Wuff near the verge of the woods, was startled by a sharp cry from the thickets. Alarmed, he paused to listen; the cry was repeated, a distressed feminine cry that he recognized. Then there came a half-human grunt, followed by a groan that he thought he also knew, and the noise of a scuffle in the underbrush.
Meanwhile Wuff was sniffing significantly at a new-made trail. A low growl issued from his throat; his eyes shone angrily, and the hair upon his back began to bristle.
"Come!" commanded Ru. And, followed by the willing beast, he glided into the woods.
Not many seconds later he paused—directly before him was that which he had anticipated.
Clasped in two enormous brawny arms, with head bent back helplessly and long hair streaming, a woman was feebly struggling; while Grumgra, chuckling in evil glee, drew her to him tightly, then bent down and pressed his thick ugly lips to her reluctant ones.
Not an instant did Ru waste. "Go!" he muttered to Wuff, and pointed an angry hand at Grumgra.