Washer the Raccoon

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.

STORY TWELVE

BLACK WOLF DEFIES THE PACK

Mother Wolf was even more annoyed and dismayed than Washer by the sudden outbreak of merriment when the pack caught sight of the raccoon standing before the council rock. Sneaky, from a position behind apparently enjoyed the embarrassment of his mate, for a broad grin spread over his face and he chuckled with the others. The young cubs stood by their father, but as the scene was a little puzzling to them they remained silent and motionless.

“Give me the raccoon for my hunting companion!” shouted a big gray wolf. “I won’t go far then for my dinner!”

The others began crowding around the council rock. “No! No! We want him!” they cried. “Turn him over to the pack!”

Mother Wolf swung around and faced the circle of wolves, displaying her teeth and growling angrily.

Black Wolf arose to his hind legs and let out a roar that brought the whole pack to its senses. The cries stopped, and every member slunk back to his position. The big leader glared hard at them and waited a full minute to see if any dared oppose his authority.

Then he turned slowly to Sneaky, and said: “Sneaky, do you bring this raccoon as your foster child?”

“No, O mighty leader, he is none of mine,” was the prompt reply. “I brought him to my den for food one day after I’d fished him out of the river. I wanted to kill him for the children, but Mother Wolf protested. I had nothing to do with his rearing. He would have died long ago if I’d had my way.”

The members of the pack nodded their heads, and Black Wolf turned to Mother Wolf. He looked at her in silence for some time. Then, in a low voice, he said: “No foster child can hunt with the pack unless he’s a wolf. It’s against the law of the woods. If we permitted it Puma the Mountain Lion would be filling our homes with his young so they might grow up with us and destroy us. And Loup the Lynx would do the same so that he could betray our hiding places. There would be no safety for us after that.”

“But Little Brother is a raccoon,” pleaded Mother Wolf. “Surely you’re not afraid of the raccoons. They could not hurt us nor betray us.”

The whole pack sniffed in disgust at the idea of the raccoon tribe hurting the wolves.

“That is true, O Mother Wolf,” replied Black Wolf, “but if we let you introduce a raccoon as a foster child, we could not prevent another bringing a young Puma or Lynx. We must obey the laws of our tribe, and keep from it all other animals.”

A great sadness settled on Mother Wolf’s face. She looked down at Washer and began licking his head. She knew that Black Wolf’s words were law, and she could not defy them.

“Then must I give up my foster child?” she asked.

“No,” replied the leader, “you can take him home and keep him, but he is not under the protection of the pack. If they hunt him down and kill him you can blame no one. I cannot interfere.”

There was a murmur of applause, and every wolf began licking his lips as if in anticipation of the feast ahead. The sight of their cruel greediness aroused Mother Wolf. She raised her head proudly, and said:

“They will not dare touch him in my cave—not one of them! I shall protect him!”

There was an ugly, defiant look in the eyes which made more than one wolf cower and slink back out of sight. Mother Wolf was a big, gaunt, powerful creature, and no one cared to measure his strength with her when she was defending her young.

“The council is ended then?” she added, turning to the leader. “You refuse to accept Little Brother in the pack?”

“It is so decided, Mother Wolf. And the law cannot be changed.”

“Then I shall go home. Come, Little Brother, we must start at once before the moon grows dark. It is a long way, but—”

“One moment!” cried a big gray wolf. “Does the law of the woods give us the right to hunt for our food now? We’re hungry, and if the council has ended we may begin the hunt at once. Is it not true, O Black Wolf?”

Now the leader and Mother Wolf both understood the meaning of this challenge. The pack wanted to pounce upon Washer at once and devour him before he could ever reach the cave. Even Washer knew what was coming, and a great trembling seized him. He looked around him, but there was no tree near the council rock, and the whole pack stood between him and the woods. He had no chance to escape them.

Black Wolf seemed troubled by the gray wolf’s questions, for he knew that he had no authority to change the law. Once his decision was given there was nothing more for him to do. The whole pack had a right to fall upon Washer and kill him in sight of Mother Wolf. It was a dangerous situation.

But Mother Wolf suddenly changed her attitude. She backed up against the council rock, with Washer behind her, and bared her white teeth to the pack. The hair stood up straight on her head, and the bushy tail began swishing slowly back and forth. The yellow eyes were so luminous in the moonlight that they seemed to shoot sparks of fire.

“If you’re hungry,” she growled, “and want to eat Little Brother, you must do so over my dead body. Not one of you shall touch him until you’ve felt the sting of my teeth. Come on now, Gray Wolf, and I’ll show you what mother love can do to save her young!”

Gray Wolf hesitated, backing off a little, for Mother Wolf was a powerful antagonist. Alone he could not overcome her. Indeed, in her present frame of mind, she could probably whip two or three ordinary wolves. She was crouching for the spring, with dripping jaws snapping defiantly.

“Why should we be defied by one wolf!” cried the big gray fellow. “We must have the raccoon. Close in on him on all sides. Sneaky, you lead on that side, and I’ll do the same here.”

Mother Wolf cast a look at Sneaky that made him hesitate, but at the same time the wolves on the outside of the circle began crowding in. They pushed and shoved until the circle was narrowed. Those in the front came within a few feet of Mother Wolf.

With a growl she snapped at the nearest and caught him by the front paw. With a howl of pain, the wolf leaped over the backs of the others and disappeared in the woods. Mother Wolf sprang at another and sunk her sharp teeth in his neck.

But in spite of all this the circle was growing smaller. The pack was clamoring for the blood of Washer, and it was only a question of time before they would overcome Mother Wolf. She could not hope to fight off the whole pack. She seemed to realize this, but she was determined to die in the defense of her foster child.

“Close in!” cried Gray Wolf. “Come on, Sneaky, do your part, or we’ll believe you love the raccoon too.”

Now the battle would have ended shortly if something hadn’t happened to surprise all. With a roar of rage and challenge, Black Wolf leaped from the top of the rock and landed by the side of Mother Wolf. Facing the pack, he cried:

“Not as your leader, but as one fighting for fair play, I shall defend Mother Wolf. The first one that touches her shall pay with his life. Back now, or fight me!”

There was a moment of silence; then a low murmur of voices as the circle broke and fell back, leaving only Gray Wolf and Sneaky in the front. Finding themselves deserted by the pack, they quickly ran, too, and disappeared in the woods. In the next story Mother Wolf takes Washer to the Silver Birch grove where his people live.

STORY THIRTEEN

WASHER GOES TO THE SILVER BIRCH GROVE

Black Wolf’s unexpected defense of Mother Wolf and Washer saved them from what might have been sure death to the latter and serious injury to the former. None of the pack dared to offer battle to their leader, and the moment he sided with Mother Wolf they broke ranks and ran off into the woods.

When they were gone, Mother Wolf turned gratefully to the big leader, and said: “You have saved my life, Black Wolf. What can I do to repay you?”

“Hurry home with your foster child, Mother Wolf, before the pack changes its mind and returns. I will accompany you.”

More than ever grateful now for seeing that she got back to her den in safety, Mother Wolf led the way through the woods, with Washer close behind her, and the leader of the pack bringing up the rear. Silently and noiselessly they stole single file through the woods, with eyes and ears alert to catch any unusual sound.

But nothing happened on the way. They reached the cave in safety, where Black Wolf stopped. “I’ll not go in,” he said. “Now you’re home you’ll know how to defend yourself.”

“Yes, I can defend my home,” she replied. “I’ll not need any help now. Thank you a thousand times for helping me.”

“I did it, Mother Wolf,” replied the leader, “because I remember how we used to play together when young, and because I wanted to see justice done. But now that you’ve got your foster child home, what are you going to do with him? He can’t hunt with the pack, and not being under their protection they will hunt him down and kill him. Wherever he goes they will follow. You can’t always stay in the den watching him. You must hunt with the pack at times to get your share of food. If you stay here alone you’ll starve.”

Mother Wolf looked troubled, and said nothing. She knew how true Black Wolf’s words were, and she had not taken them lightly. When he finally left her, she walked into the cave with Washer by her side. It was empty. Sneaky and the cubs had not yet returned.

“They’re out hunting, and won’t return until morning,” she said. “Now, Little Brother, we can find some rest.”

But Washer was not anxious for rest—not in the Wolf’s den. He felt that the nights adventure had broken up his old home. There could no longer be any ties to hold him to it. In time the cubs would side with pack and turn upon him.

“I can never stay here,” he said suddenly. “If I do I’m in constant danger, and you, too, will be in trouble. The whole pack will turn against you. I must leave.”

“But where can you go, Little Brother?” asked Mother Wolf anxiously.

“I must return to my own people.”

“But they won’t have you. Didn’t you say one of them bit you and threatened your life?”

“Yes, but he didn’t know me. I must find one of my real brothers, and he will understand.”

Mother Wolf sat down and considered. After a while she got up and paced back and forth in the den. “Maybe you’re right,” she said finally, stopping before him. “There would be nothing but danger here for you, and in time my own children would drive you out and perhaps kill you. Yes, it’s better that you should return to your own people. But if they won’t have you, I’ll still protect you.”

Washer rose excitedly to his feet. “Then I must go at once—before the cubs and Sneaky return. They must find me gone, and if you don’t tell them where I am they’ll never know.”

“That’s true, Little Brother. But where shall we go tonight?”

“To the Silver Birch grove where my people live. It’s above the falls where I fell in the water. Take me there, and I’ll watch and wait for them.”

“But suppose some of the wolves found you in the Silver Birch Grove?”

“What matter’s that?” laughed Washer. “I can climb a tree which is more than any of the wolves can do. I’ll go up the biggest tree, and laugh at them.”

“Yes, Little Brother, you can do that. I’d forgotten that your people are tree climbers. Well,” sighing heavily, “it’s the only thing to do, but it makes me sad to lose you. I shall mourn you every day you’re away.”

“Not more than if you saw me killed by your own people,” added Washer, smiling up into her face.

She nodded her head and began licking his fur. In a short time she was ready to accompany him to the grove of Silver Birches. This was some distance from the cave, and they had to be wary in their movements, for the whole wolf pack was abroad on the hunt. They heard their distant howls on the clear night air, but by keeping away from them they soon got beyond their echo.

They trotted along through the moonlight, following the river toward the falls. Just below them they stopped, while Washer pointed out where Sneaky had found him when he jumped ashore from his raft.

“That must have been a terrible adventure, Little Brother,” Mother Wolf said. “I never heard of any animal coming over the falls and living. It must be you have a charmed life.”

“If so it’s because I’ve had such a good foster mother,” replied Washer. “You saved me from Sneaky, and tonight you saved me from the pack. You’re as brave as you are kind and loving. I shall never forget you.”

Mother Wolf was greatly affected by these words, and she showed her gratitude in her eyes. Once more she slicked down the soft fur of her foster child and murmured gentle words of love. Then they started off once more on their journey.

They climbed the steep rocks that led to the upper part of the falls, and once on their summit they headed directly for the grove of Silver Birches. In the soft moonlight the birches glistened and shone like twinkling stars, the leaves showing white and silvery. It was almost like a fairy scene, and Washer raised his head in delight. He was near his original home, in the land of his own people, and his little heart beat with excitement.

What would his own people do? Would they receive him or drive him away? The very thought of this made him shiver. He would then be without a home or country of his own. He would be an outcast, which is the worst thing that can be said of man or animal.

“I shall wait here in this big birch until some of my people appear,” Washer said when they stole silently under the shadow of the grove. “I am safe here. I shall climb up in that crotch and sleep until morning. No wolf can get me.”

“No, not even Black Wolf could reach you up there. None of my people could jump that high. Are you quite sure you can climb that high?”

“I’ll show you,” laughed Washer. “You never saw me climb a tree before.”

He wanted to show her how well he could run up the tree, and he was proud of his accomplishment when she watched him in silence, and then said: “Wonderful, Little Brother! I wish my cubs could do as well. Now, if you’re safe I’ll go. Good-bye!”

Washer waved a paw to her until she had disappeared from sight, and then with a sigh of contentment he curled up in a round ball and went to sleep. He was very tired after the night’s adventure, and was glad to get a few hours of sleep before morning dawned. He was safe from the wolves. In the morning he would see if he was safe among his own people. In the next story Washer meets an enemy that can climb trees.

STORY FOURTEEN

WASHER IS TREED BY STRANGERS

Now Washer had not been sleeping long, although it seemed a great while to him, when a peculiar rustling noise below awakened him. With one eye still closed, and the other only half opened, he called sleepily:

“Is that you, Mother Wolf?”

There was no answer, and Washer opened both eyes. If it was Mother Wolf who had made the rustling sound, she would have answered his question immediately. Washer concluded that it was somebody else. Then he thought of the cubs. It would be like them not to answer, but try to steal upon him to give him a fright.

“I know you’re down there, Brothers,” he added. “You can’t frighten me. I’m up the tree, and no wolf can climb up here.”

There was still no response, and the silence of the woods suddenly made Washer a little afraid. He became wide awake. He remembered now what had happened to him; how he had been rejected by the wolves, and how Mother Wolf had brought him to the grove of Silver Birches to find his own people.

He also remembered that the wolf pack had declared they would hunt him down and kill him. They were thirsting for his blood, and now that Mother Wolf had left him they had followed his tracks and treed him.

Yes, down below there were undoubtedly many of the wolves—the whole pack for all he knew—and the moment he came down they would pounce upon him. Washer shivered, and crawled to a higher crotch. The moon had gone down, and the woods were wrapped in darkness. It was impossible for him to see anything below; but the thought that wolves could not climb trees brought a sense of security. He was safe there from Sneaky, Gray Wolf and the whole pack.

He waited a long time for a repetition of the noise, and then decided that he would resume his sleep. If the wolves couldn’t climb the tree what was the use of worrying about them? He closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.

Then came the rustling noise again—this time much nearer the trunk of the tree. It came nearer, and finally reached the tree itself. There was a slight jar that made the leaves tremble. Washer thought it was a wolf leaping up, trying to reach the lower branches; but it was followed by a steady rustling, scraping noise that puzzled him.

For a long time he was uncertain what to make of it, but when it came nearer and nearer, and finally seemed to be in the tree itself, he grew terribly frightened. Somebody or something was climbing the tree!

When Washer made this discovery his alarm was genuine. With a little squeak of fear he ran to the top branch of the tree. But the scraping, rustling noise followed him. It first came from the lower branches; then from the middle ones, and now it was approaching the top.

Washer strained his eyes in the darkness to see this unknown creature that was slowly crawling toward him. In time he could make out a dark form; then another and another. There were three creatures climbing the tree!

Washer’s terror reached a climax. He ran so far out on a branch that it threatened to break with him. He was panic-stricken! It would not have been at all surprising if he had lost his hold and fallen to the ground below. There was no other tree near enough for him to reach, and it was either a matter of holding on and fighting his enemies up there among the top-most branches or dropping to the ground thirty feet below.

“Who is that?” he demanded between chattering teeth.

Then in a little panicky voice he added: “If you don’t get away I’ll call Mother Wolf, and she’ll eat you up.”

That threat had the effect of loosening the tongue of one of the animals, for a voice said in a low growl: “Hear him! Didn’t I tell you he was a friend of the wolves? Now he’s going to call them to kill us. But wolves can’t climb trees. Come on, we’ll catch him! He can’t get away!”

Now Washer recognized that voice at once. It was that of the raccoon he had saved from the cubs, and who in return for his kindness had bitten him. In some way he had discovered Washer’s presence in the tree, and had summoned his friends to kill him. For a moment Washer was more afraid of his own people than of the wolves. Then he decided he would make matters plain to them.

“Please don’t come any further,” he said in a shaking voice. “You just listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Listen to that!” sniffed the big raccoon. “He promises not to hurt us. Well, I don’t think we’ll give him a chance. But we’ll hurt you.”

“But why do you want to hurt me?” asked Washer.

“Because you’re a friend of the wolves, and you’re sent here to betray us to them. We saw you come in the grove of Silver Birches with a big wolf, and then say farewell to her. We knew it was all a trap. You nearly had me killed that day when—”

“No, no,” interrupted Washer, “I saved your life when the cubs had you treed. If it hadn’t been for me they’d caught you.”

“No wolf can catch me when I’m up a tree,” growled the raccoon.

“No, but they would have watched and waited at the foot of the tree until you were starved out,” replied Washer. “You don’t know how patient a wolf can be.”