STORY ELEVEN WASHER IS INTRODUCED TO THE WOLF PACK

Washer was taken with the cubs the following night to the wolf council where they were to be introduced to the pack and formally admitted as members. All young wolves when they reach the hunting age had to be introduced by their parents, and the leader of the pack then announced their acceptance and gave to each a name. Until that time they were simply cubs, unfit to hunt with the older wolves.

The council was held in the deepest, thickest part of the woods where no wild animal or hunter would be likely to disturb them. Once a month in the full of the moon the pack assembled around a big flat rock overlooking a pool of water. Here they waited until Black Wolf, their leader, came and called the council to order.

Mother Wolf was anxious to get to the council early, and she started her family off long before moon was up above the tops of the trees. Sneaky led the way, with the cubs filing behind him, and Mother Wolf bringing up the rear.

They were so early that they met none of the other wolves on the way, and Mother Wolf gave a sigh of relief when she found no one ahead of her. She drew up her little circle of young ones in the shadow of a clump of birches on the right of the council rock, and then dropped down to rest.

All was quiet in the woods. Not even Hoot the Owl or Whip-Poor-Will was abroad to disturb the silence of the great woods. Occasionally a shadow drifted across the flat rock, and a wolf would take his place in front or on one side of it. The moon rose slowly until it cast a flood of white light upon the top of the rock. Almost at the same moment there was a howl nearby, and out of the thickets sprang Black Wolf, the leader. He stood a moment looking at the crouching pack, and then he leaped to the top of the council rock. The whole pack rose as one and gave vent to their hunting cry.

This was their way of recognizing their leader. Black Wolf stood a moment, a tall, gaunt, powerful creature, in the white moonlight, as if challenging any opposition, and then he dropped down with his front paws curled under him.

“The council is open,” he announced. “Has any one a message for the pack? We’re all here.”

Sneaky rose from his position near Mother Wolf, and trotted in front of the rock. “O Black Wolf, noble leader of the pack,” he began, “I bring my cubs for your inspection. May they please you, and prove worthy of their sire.”

“Bring them forth!” replied Black Wolf. “They should be good cubs if they take after you, Sneaky.”

The different members of the pack craned their heads forward to see Sneaky’s cubs, which, at the bidding of their parent, filed out in a row and stood before the council rock. Black Wolf surveyed them in silence, inspecting them with his fierce dark eyes.

“You have done well by the pack, Sneaky,” he announced finally. “I name the first one Curly because his beautiful fur curls backward at the tips. The second one shall be known as Spotted Wolf, for I see gray spots under his neck. And the last one shall be known as Tiger Wolf because of the fierceness of his eyes. I have named them, and so shall they be known to the pack.”

He stopped and looked hard at Sneaky, as if expecting him to say more; but Sneaky was pleased with his presentation, and backed slowly away.

“Is there any more, Sneaky?” the leader asked.

Before Sneaky could reply, a tall, gaunt figure of a wolf rose from the shadows of the birch trees. It was Mother Wolf. She was going to speak for her foster child, and not let Sneaky introduce him. She trotted to the front, and swung around to face the pack an instant, and then turned to the council rock again.

“O Black Wolf, mighty leader of our pack,” she began, “I have another child, which I have nursed and brought up in my den, and I wish to admit him to the pack. A foster child brought to me one day by Sneaky. I have cared for him and loved him as my own. I have taught him the ways of our people, and with us he must hunt, for his own people have cast him out.”

All the wolves pricked up their ears at this strange announcement, and Black Wolf half rose from his sitting attitude; but his eyes had narrowed and darkened, for he knew from what Sneaky had told him that this thing might occur.

“O Mother Wolf, you have spoken well, but we must see this foster child of yours,” he said. “Is he a wolf cub from another pack?”

“What matters it if he’s from another pack or no pack at all?” replied Mother Wolf. “A mother’s love is great enough to take to herself any child that is homeless and friendless. Is it not on record that long ago a Mother Wolf nursed and brought up a man child, giving to him as much as she gave to her own offspring? Then, if she can adopt a man child, why can she not take the offspring of any other animal of the woods—of Puma the Mountain Lion, for instance, or—”

“Puma’s offspring would bring disaster to us if we adopted him,” replied Black Wolf hastily, and the others shuddered at the mere mention of Puma’s name. “No, we could never admit a Puma as a member of the hunting pack.”

“No! No!” cried many voices.

They jumped to their feet, ready to enforce their protest by actions. A young Puma would stand little chance in that company of angry wolves.

“It is not Puma’s offspring,” replied Mother Wolf, smiling. “I could never learn to love anything that came out of Puma’s den.”

“What animal is it then? Where is this foster child?” several cried.

“You hear them,” added Black Wolf. “What have you to say? Where is this one you plead for?”

“He is yonder in the shadow of the birches. I shall call him out if you’ll give him protection. If not—”

“He shall be protected,” interrupted the leader. “It is the law of the council.”

Mother Wolf turned her head ever so slightly, and called: “Little Brother, come here!”

Washer, with his heart beating fast, but confident that Mother Wolf would protect him, emerged slowly from the shadows and trotted toward her. At first the wolves could see nothing, so small was he, and then they could make out only a shadow that seemed to drift between them and the woods. But when Washer reached the foot of the council rock, the bright moonlight fell full upon him.

“Here is my foster child!” exclaimed Mother Wolf proudly. “And my love for him is as great as for my own cubs. He is as wise as they, as brave, and as quick-witted. Look at him, and accept him.”

Black Wolf rose to his feet and stared down at Washer. All the other wolves leaped to their feet and closed in to get a better view. Then suddenly, before their leader could speak, a howl of derision went up from a score of throats.

“A raccoon!” they shouted in merriment. “A raccoon! And he wishes to hunt with the pack!”

For a moment the gale of merriment was so great that no one could be heard. Black Wolf tried to preserve order and his own dignity. Washer felt suddenly abashed and frightened, and wished there was a tree near that he could climb. In the next story the wolf pack try to kill Washer, but Mother Wolf comes to the rescue.