Shasta Of The Wolves — Chapters 1 & 2

THE WOLF-CHILD

It was the old she-wolf Nitka that came running lightly along the dusk.

Though she had a great and powerful body, with a weight heavy enough to bear down a grown man, her feet made no sound as they came padding through the trees.

She had been a long way, travelling for a kill, because at home the wolf-babies were very hungry and gave her no peace.

They were not well-behaved babies at all.

Whatever mischief there was in the world seemed to be packed tight into their little furry bodies.

They played and fought and worried each other till they grew hungry again, and then they fell upon their mother like the little ravening monsters that they were.

But Nitka bore it all patiently, as a kind old mother should, and only gave them a smack occasionally, when their behaviour was beyond everything for naughtiness.

Now, as she came running through the trees she drank in the air thirstily through her long nose.

For it was her nose that brought her news of the forest, telling her what creatures were abroad, and whether there was a chance of a kill.

This evening the air was full of smells, and heavy with the heat of the long summer day; but many of them were wood smells, tree smells, green smells; not the scent of the warm fur and the warm flesh and the good blood that ran in the warm bodies and made them spill the secret of themselves along the air.

And it was this warm, red, running smell for which Nitka was so thirsty, and of which there was so little spilt upon the creeping dusk.

Yet now and then a delicate whiff of it would come, and Nitka would sniff harder, swinging her head into the wind.

And sometimes it grew stronger and sometimes weaker, and sometimes would cease altogether, swallowed up in the scent of the things that were green.

And then, all of a sudden, the smell came thick and strong, flowing like a stream along the drift of the air.

In the wild, your scent is yourself.

What you smell like, that you are.

And so, accordingly as the wind blows, you spill yourself, even against your will, either backwards or forwards, on the currents of the air.

Nitka increased her pace, and as she ran the smell grew sweeter and stronger, and made her mad for the kill.

It was not long before her sharp eyes gave her sight of a deer feeding in an open glade.

Nitka stooped her long body to the earth, and began to stalk her prey.

All about her the forest seemed to hold back its breath.

It was no noise which Nitka made which betrayed her presence.

She herself came stooping nearer like a shadow on four feet.

And as it was up-wind that she came, she spilt herself upon the air backwards, not forwards, to the deer.

Yet something there was which seemed to give it warning beyond sound, or sight, or smell.

It stopped feeding, and lifted its head.

For a moment or two it stood as still as an image carved in stone; yet, as Nitka knew well, it was the stillness of warm flesh that paused before it fled.

She gathered her legs under her for the deadly spring.

The deer turned its head quickly, and saw a long grey shadow launch itself through the dusk.

It was the last leaping shadow the deer would ever see.

For the law of the forest is a stern and unpitying one--the law of Hunger, and the law of Desire.

When Nitka had finished her kill, and satisfied her hunger, she thought of the babies at home.

They were too small yet for flesh food, so it was no use carrying any back to them.

Nevertheless they would be wanting their supper badly, and she must go and give it to them if she would have any quiet in her mind.

So she trotted through the forest, having first buried some pieces of the deer where she would know where to find them.

The cave in which her cubs were waiting was far away, for she had travelled many miles, but her instinct told her how to find it easily again, and she made a straight line for it, loping along towards the hills.

She was going down-wind now, and did not catch a scent of the things in front.

But as she had had her kill, that did not matter.

There was one thought in her old wise head, and that thought was home.

But before she reached it, she lit upon a strange thing.

It lay right in her path--a small brown bundle that now and then set up a thin wail.

Nitka observed it carefully, then ran round to the leeward of it to pick up its scent the better.

With strange things she always did this.

You never knew what a strange thing might do before your nose could give you warning.

As she circled, she came upon another smell which she had smelled before--the scent of man, of which she was afraid.

But it was a trail several hours old, and was growing a little stale.

Nitka crept up to the peculiar bundle.

She sniffed at it hard, then turned it over gently with her paw.

As she did so, it stirred a little and whimpered.

The smell was the smell of man, but the whimper was that of a cub.

Nitka distrusted the smell, but the whimper was good.

She was not hungry now, but there were the hungry babies at home.

She must not delay any longer.

She caught up the bundle by the loose skin that covered it, and started off again.

She had to go more slowly now, because of the bundle, and when at last she reached the cave upon the mountain-side, the night had fallen.

Dark though it was, the baby wolves were awake, and ready for a famous meal; but in the odd bundle which their mother dropped inside the mouth of the den they were not interested enough to find out what it was.

When they had had their supper they fell fast asleep, and when the rising moon cast a glimmer into the cave, you might have seen an old mother wolf and a family of cubs all snuggled up together and very fast asleep.

But in the morning, when they woke up, there was another cub, a cub whose clothes were not of fur, but of a strange covering which they would have called Indian blanket if they had had any word for such a thing in their furry language.

However, they speedily took to worrying this odd blanket; and presently off it came and was found to be no skin at all, but only a loose cover that tore to pieces beautifully, and made you cough when you tried to swallow it.

Inside, the baby had another skin that was of a reddish brown and very soft.

They began to worry that also, hoping it might come off too, but it stuck fast to what was underneath, as is the way with such skins, being specially prepared to stick, and the baby inside it began to squeal like mad.

For some reason or other, the baby did not bite back again.

It just lay on its back, and waved fat arms and legs in the air.

That hurt nobody, so the little wolves rolled it over and over, and tried to take pieces out of its arms and legs, and thought it was quite the biggest joke they had had in all their lives.

Only the new baby did not have a sense of humour, and refused to enter into the fun.

It only squealed louder and louder, and actually squeezed water out of its little eyes!

Then, all at once, without any warning whatever, Nitka put a stop to the fun by cuffing her babies right and left; and so the new baby did not have to cry alone, but was joined by all the little wolves, yelping with fear and pain.

So from that time onward they learned slowly that the new baby was not to be bitten just for fun, but was somehow or other a little naked brother who had left his coat behind him in the outside world.

If you had asked Nitka why she had taken the baby's part, I don't believe she could have told you.

All she knew was that there was a feeling inside her that this odd thing she had found in the forest was to be protected from harm.

That was in the early days of little Shasta's life.

He was so tiny that he soon grew used to the difference between living among the wolves and living among his own kind.

And soon he forgot even the dim thing he once remembered, and thought there was no life but the life of the cave where always it was shadowy and cool even in the hottest summer day.

And he learned to play with the little wolves, his brothers, and wrestle and box with them, and go tumbling all over the cave floor with never a squeal.

Only sometimes when the play seemed to grow too rough, and old Nitka thought he was having a bad time of it, she would rescue him from his playmates, and give everybody a general smacking all round: and then there would be peace for a little time.

So that is how it came to pass that Shasta learnt the language of the wolves, and of the other animals--and indeed for a time knew no other--and understood what they said and thought, and even felt, when there was no need of any words.

And all this knowledge was of great use afterwards, and was the saving of his life, as you shall presently be told.

CHAPTER II THE COMING OF SHOOMOO

Now the first great day in little Shasta's wolf life was the day when he left the cave for the first time and came out into the open world.

He didn't know why he was to go out, nor what going out really meant.

All he knew was that, suddenly, there was a movement of all the cubs towards the place where the light came from, and that it seemed natural for him to follow the movement.

When he crawled outside, the sunlight hit him smack in the face like a hot white hand, and then, when he got over that, the world swam in upon his little brain in the way of a coloured dream.

It was a very splendid dream, in which everything was new and strange and beautiful beyond all words to describe.

The baby wolf-brothers sat in a row and blinked out at the dream, sniffing at it with their puppy noses because of the instinct within them that even dreams must be smelt if you would find out what they are.

And it seemed to them to be a very good dream, smelling of grass and flowers, and of hot rocks, and of the sharp scent which the pine trees loose on the summer air.

And there, on a rising piece of ground, sat the old wolf-mother, also smelling the good world, only that, besides the smell of the trees and rocks, she could distinguish those other odours of living creatures which drift idly down the wind.

[Illustration: THE BABY WOLF-BROTHERS SAT IN A ROW ...

SNIFFING WITH

THEIR PUPPY NOSES]

Shasta, a little way behind his wolf-brothers, sat down too.

When a large curious dream comes it is better to sit and watch what it will do; otherwise, if you begin to walk about in it, you may fall over something, and come to a bad end!

So Shasta sat and blinked at the thing, and waggled his fingers and his toes.

He smelt at the thing also, and to him, as to the others, it seemed a good and pleasant smell, and he gurgled with delight.

The sound he made was so funny that the cubs turned round to see what was happening.

But when they saw that it was only the foster-brother being odd as usual, they turned away again and went on smelling at the world.

High up above his head, Shasta saw something very white and hot.

It was so dazzling that he couldn't look up at it for more than a moment at a time, and because the thing hurt his eyes, and set queer round plates dancing in front of them when he looked away, he gave up looking at it.

Yet always he was conscious that it was there--the hot white centre to this curious dream.

And once he lifted a little hairy hand to give it a cuff for being so hot and silly; only, somehow, the hand didn't quite reach, and when he tried a little higher, he overbalanced and fell over on his back.

This was a signal for the cubs to rush at him and have a game.

So for a long time, Shasta cuffed at them and wrestled with them, and sometimes got the better of them, and sometimes was badly beaten and worried like a rat.

Of course neither he nor they had any idea that this delightful scuffling and cuffing was really the beginning of their education, and that their muscles were being trained and their limbs strengthened for their battle with the world when they should be grown up, and babies no longer.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the play stopped dead, with Shasta and the cubs locked in a fierce embrace.

Old Nitka never made a sound, nor any outward sign, which ordered the play to cease.

Yet in a twinkling the cubs were back into the den, while Nitka had risen from her point of observation, with her eyes set hard to the north.

Shasta sat up and stared.

The last wolf-brother was wobbling his fat body into the cave's mouth.

Shasta felt, in some odd unexplained way, that he ought to follow, and that it was because Nitka had willed it, that the cubs had gone in.

Yet because he was a man-baby, and not a wolf-cub, he stayed where he was and stared at his foster-mother with large and wondering eyes.

But Nitka did not look at him.

Her eyes were far away over the tops of the spruces and pines--far away to a certain spot where a level rock jutted out from the great "barren" that stretched like a roof along the windy top of the world.

If Shasta had followed the direction of Nitka's eyes, he would have seen what looked like the form of a large timber-wolf lying crouched upon the rock, with his nose well into the wind.

Only Shasta had no eyes for anything but Nitka.

He had never seen her look so fierce before.

All her great body was stiffened as if with steel springs.

Just above her tail her hair was raised, as is the way when a wolf or dog is roused for fight; and in her gleaming eyes, burning like dull coals, there was a green, unpleasant light.

Shasta could not tell what ailed his foster-mother.

Only, in a dim way, he felt that something was amiss.

And the feeling made him uncomfortable, as when a grown-up person says nothing to you, but has a slap ready in the hands.

Presently Nitka saw the other wolf slip off the rock and disappear in the spruce scrub at its base.

And then, as before, she let herself down, and the bristles flattened above her tail.

She seemed to rest in her body, and to give up all her bones to the warmth of the summer afternoon.

Near by, the stream fell down the hill-side with a sleepy murmur, and the grasshoppers chirruped in the grass.

There was nothing to be seen except, high up in the air, a sweep of slow wings that bore Kennebec, the great eagle, in his solemn circles above the canyon at the foot of the mountain.

Kennebec was a mighty person in his own world, as many a wolf and mountain sheep knew to their cost.

Many and many a lamb and wolf-cub had gone to the feeding of Kennebec's children in their dizzy eyrie built among the steeples of the rocks.

But as long as Kennebec kept to his own canyon, and did not cast a wicked eye upon her babies, Nitka did not worry about him, and had all her senses on the watch for danger nearer at hand.

For in spite of all her look of outward laziness, every nerve that she had, every muscle of her strong body, was ready at a moment's notice to send her flying at any creature which dared to venture within striking distance of the den.

For a long time nothing happened.

Then Nitka growled softly, looking at Shasta as she did so.

Now Shasta knew perfectly well that the growl was meant for him.

Up to the present he had been disobedient, though he didn't quite know how.

Nitka wished him to return to the cave with the cubs, and Shasta, though he felt some instinct telling him to go, could not understand what it meant, and so remained exactly where he was.

And so far Nitka had been very patient.

She had simply gone on wanting him to get back into safety, but she had not looked or spoken.

The soft growl, rumbling down there in her deep throat, was not a pleasant thing to hear.

It sent a thrill down Shasta's little spine.

He began to feel dreadfully uncomfortable, and to wish that he was safe inside the cave.

Yet still he did not move, because the man-cub inside his heart was not inclined to bow down before the wolves.

Again Nitka growled, this time louder than before.

And to make it more pointed, she looked at Shasta as she growled.

He had never seen her look at him like that before.

The light in her eyes was not at all agreeable.

There was a threat in it, as to what she might do if Shasta did not obey.

He began to edge away towards the cave.

After he had gone two or three yards he stopped.

This behaviour of Nitka was so curious that he wanted to find out what it meant.

Something was going to happen.

Without in the least knowing what it might be, Shasta felt that something was in the air.

But there was no resisting that look in Nitka's eyes.

With a whimpering cry, Shasta scrambled to the entrance of the cave.

Once inside the den's mouth, however, his courage came to him again, and he turned to look back.

As he peeped, he saw the form of a huge grey wolf glide into the open space.

Nitka herself was large, but this other wolf was nearly half as big again and much more formidable.

His great limbs and deep chest were wonderful to see.

Between his shoulders was a dark patch of hair which was thicker than the rest of his coat, and, when the winter came, would become a sort of mane.

He stood nearly three feet high at the shoulders--a giant of his breed.

As to Nitka herself, she was plainly in a rage.

The hackles on her back were raised; her body was crouched low as if to leap, her limbs were bent under her like powerful springs to send the whole weight of her great body hurling through the air; while, if her eyes had shone threateningly before when she looked at the disobedient Shasta, now they gleamed with a green light that seemed like living flame.

So the two wolves stood facing each other, the huge stranger not seeming to like the look of things, with Nitka snarling defiance at him, and prepared to give her very life in the defence of her cubs.

Shasta, peeping timidly out from the mouth of the cave, felt certain that some terrible thing was about to happen.

He was terrified by two things: first, by the mysterious coming of the stranger wolf, then by the awful anger of Nitka, which, if once let loose, must surely tear the new world to pieces, hot white centre and all!

Behind him, in the cave, the cubs were motionless and made no sound.

They huddled closely together as if they knew, though they could not see it, that, out there in the sunlight, a strange thing was happening with which it would be fatal to interfere.

So there they huddled, and pressed their fat furry bodies against each other, and tried to be comforted by each other's fat and fur.

Then Shasta, looking out boldly, saw a very odd thing.

He saw the he-wolf make a step towards Nitka with a sort of friendly whine in his throat, and Nitka, instead of springing at him, remained crouched where she was.

And although she kept on growling, and saying the most dreadful things as before, somehow or other she seemed less vicious, and the green glare was softening in her eyes.

Seeing this, the other wolf grew bolder, and drew closer step by step.

It was a very slow approach, as if the giant he-wolf was fully aware that any sudden action of his would bring Nitka on him like a fury, with those long fangs of hers bared to strike.

And then at last the two wolves were so close together that their noses touched.

And in this touch of their noses, and the silent conversation which followed, everything was explained and understood, and made clear for the future.

So that was how Shasta saw the return of Shoomoo, the father of his foster-brothers, and Nitka's lawful mate.

After that Shoomoo became a recognized person in the world who came and went mysteriously, never saying when he was going, nor telling you where when he had come back.

Only that did not matter in the least.

The really big thing was that when father Shoomoo did come back, he seldom returned empty-handed, or I should say empty-mouthed, since a wolf uses his mouth as a carry-all, instead of his paws.

CHAPTER III