an the other
six. Here were two distinct families with one mother, and as he added
their scalps to his string of trophies the truth dawned on the hunter.
One lot was surely the family of the She-wolf he had killed two weeks
before. The case was clear: the little ones awaiting the mother that
was never to come, had whined piteously and more loudly as their
hunger-pangs increased; the other mother passing had heard the Cubs;
her heart was tender now, her own little ones had so recently come, and
she cared for the orphans, carried them to her own den, and was
providing for the double family when the rifleman had cut the gentle
chapter short.

Many a wolver has dug into a wolf-den to find nothing. The old Wolves
or possibly the Cubs themselves often dig little side pockets and off
galleries, and when an enemy is breaking in they hide in these. The
loose earth conceals the small pocket and thus the Cubs escape. When
the wolver retired with his scalps he did not know that the biggest of
all the Cubs, was still in the den, and even had he waited about for
two hours, he might have been no wiser. Three hours later the sun went
down and there was a slight scratching afar in the hole; first two
little gray paws, then a small black nose appeared in a soft sand-pile
to one side of the den. At length the Cub came forth from his hiding.
He had been frightened by the attack on the den; now he was perplexed
by its condition.

It was thrice as large as it had been and open at the top now. Lying
near were things that smelled like his brothers and sisters, but they
were repellent to him. He was filled with fear as he sniffed at them,
and sneaked aside into a thicket of grass, as a Night-hawk boomed over
his head. He crouched all night in that thicket. He did not dare to go
near the den, and knew not where else he could go. The next morning
when two Vultures came swooping down on the bodies, the Wolf-cub ran
off in the thicket, and seeking its deepest cover, was led down a
ravine to a wide valley. Suddenly there arose from the grass a big
She-wolf, like his mother, yet different, a stranger, and instinctively
the stray Cub sank to the earth, as the old Wolf bounded on him. No
doubt the Cub had been taken for some lawful prey, but a whiff set that
right. She stood over him for an instant. He grovelled at her feet. The
impulse to kill him or at least give him a shake died away. He had the
smell of a young Cub. Her own were about his age, he