...
The bushes rustled a little in the thicket, and Father Wolf dropped with his haunches under him, ready for his leap. Then, if you had been watching, you would have seen the most wonderful thing in the world -- the wolf checked in mid-spring. He made his bound before he saw what it was he was jumping at, and then he tried to stop himself. The result was that he shot up straight into the air for four or five feet, landing almost where he left ground.
``Man!'' he snapped. ``A man's cub. Look!''
Directly in front of him, holding on by a low branch, stood a naked brown baby who could just walk, as soft and as dimpled a little thing as ever came to a wolf's cave at night. He looked up into Father Wolf's face and laughed.
``Is that a man's cub?'' said Mother Wolf. ``I have never seen one. Bring it here.''
A wolf accustomed to moving his own cubs can, if necessary, mouth an egg without breaking it, and though Father Wolf's jaws closed right on the child's back not a tooth even scratched the skin, as he laid it down among the cubs.
``How little! How naked, and -- how bold!'' said Mother Wolf, softly. The baby was pushing his way between the cubs to get close to the warm hide. ``Ahai! He is taking his meal with the others. And so this is a man's cub. Now was there ever a wolf that could boast of a man's cub among her children?''
``I have heard now and again of such a thing, but never in our pack or in my time,'' said Father Wolf. ``He is altogether without hair, and I could kill him with a touch of my foot. But see, he looks up and is not afraid.''
