istance, over the den which he never saw. Sometimes the
mother wolf met him on her wanderings and they hunted together. Often he
brought the game he had caught, a fox or a young goose; and sometimes
when she had hunted in vain he met her, as if he had understood her need
from a distance, and led her to where he had buried two or three of the
rabbits that swarmed in the thickets. But spite of the attention and the
indifferent watch which he kept, he never ventured near the den, which
he could have found easily enough by following the mother's track. The
old she-wolf would have flown at his throat like a fury had he showed
his head over the top of the ridge.

The reason for this was simple enough to the savage old mother, though
there are some things about it that men do not yet understand. Wolves,
like cats and foxes, and indeed like most wild male animals, have an
atrocious way of killing their own young when they find them
unprotected; so the mother animal searches out a den by herself and
rarely allows the male to come near it. Spite of this beastly habit it
must be said honestly of the old he-wolf that he shows a marvelous
gentleness towards his mate. He runs at the slightest show of teeth from
a mother wolf half his size, and will stand meekly a snap of the jaws or
a cruel gash of the terrible fangs in his flank without defending
himself. Even our hounds seem to have inherited something of this
primitive wolf trait, for there are seasons when, unless urged on by
men, they will not trouble a mother wolf or fox. Many times, in the
early spring, when foxes are mating, and again later when they are heavy
with young and incapable of a hard run, I have caught my hounds trotting
meekly after a mother fox, sniffing her trail indifferently and sitting
down with heads turned aside when she stops for a moment to watch and
yap at them disdainfully. And when you call them they come shamefaced;
though in winter-time, when running the same fox to death, they pay no
more heed to your call than to the crows clamoring over them. But we
must return to Wayeeses, sitting over her den on a great gray rock,
trying every breeze, searching every movement, harking to every chirp
and rustle before bringing her cubs out into the world.

Satisfied at last with her silent investigation she turned her head
towards the den. There was no sound, only one of those silent, unknown
communications that pass between animals. Instantly there was a
scratc