The wolves were stealing through the woods all together, one late summer
afternoon, having beaten a cover without taking anything, when the
puzzled cubs suddenly found themselves alone. A moment before they had
been trotting along with the old wolves, nosing every cranny and knot
hole for mice and grubs, and stopping often for a roll and frolic, as
young cubs do in the gladness of life; now they pressed close together,
looking, listening, while a subtle excitement filled all the woods. For
the old wolves had disappeared, shooting ahead in great, silent bounds,
while the cubs waited with ears cocked and noses quivering, as if a
silent command had been understood.
The silence was intense; not a sound, not a stir in the quiet woods,
which seemed to be listening with the cubs and to be filled with the
same thrilling expectation. Suddenly the silence was broken by heavy
plunges far ahead, _crash! bump! bump!_ and there broke forth such an
uproar of yaps and howls as the cubs had never heard before. Instantly
they broke away on the trail, joining their shrill yelpings to the
clamor, so different from the ordinary stealthy wolf hunt, and filled
with a nameless excitement which they did not at all understand till the
reek of caribou poured into their hungry nostrils; whereupon they yelped
louder than ever.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76