"There's The Boy!" whispered Jack, nudging Muskwa in the ribs with his wing.
They all peered eagerly at the door of the tent, for a white-skinned hand was unlacing it. Then a fair face, with rosy cheeks, topped by a mass of yellow hair, was thrust through the opening, and presently a lad of fourteen stepped out, stretched his arms upward, and commenced whistling like a bird.
"That's the Boy-call," said Black King, in a soft voice. "Listen, Comrades, so that we may know it. François gives voice to the Man-call: 'Hi, yi! hi, yi! E-e-e-g-o-o-o-!' which means, in their talk, 'Hear! hear! it is I--I--A Man!' That is because they claim to be Lords of all the Animal Kingdom, even as I am Ruler in our own Boundaries."
"What a lovely Pup!" cried the Red Widow, enthusiastically; "he's got yellow hair just like my Babe--look, Stripes! Plump Birds! but I wish I had him in my litter."
"'Pup,' indeed!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack, indignantly. "A Man-Boy called 'Pup,' by a frowsy old Fox Widow."
"Clerk!" interrupted Black King, angrily.
"François! François!" called The Boy, putting his face inside the tent; "the sun is up, the fog is gone, and I'm as hungry as a Wolf."
Rof started. "Gur-r-r-! how does the Cub know my stomach is lean because of the Seventh Year famine?"
A pair of sharp, black eyes gleamed from the tent flap. They belonged to the Half-breed Trapper, François.
"Move back, Brothers, a little into the Willows," whispered Black King; "he has Devil-eyes, like Wolverine."