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 atom
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.'