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John of the Woods, a fiction by Abbie Farwell Brown |
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Chapter 14. The Wolf-Brother |
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_ CHAPTER XIV. THE WOLF-BROTHER John whistled to Brutus, to call him for the home-going. But just then he spied a new plant whose name he did not know. He was stooping over to examine the lovely pink blossoms, when Brutus came bounding up to him, behaving strangely. He whined and looked distressed; he started away into the bushes, begging John to follow. Evidently he had found something which he wished John to see. The boy laid down his armful of flowers and ran after the dog, as swiftly and softly as he could; for he did not know what forest secret he might be about to discover. Brutus led him straight to a hollow under a great rock. And there John soon saw the cause of the dog's excitement. Stretched out on a bed of leaves were four little gray bodies. John ran up to them with a cry. "Why, they are puppies!" he said. "Brutus, you have found some little brothers of your own!" Brutus whined and sniffed about the rock strangely. John bent over the little bodies, which lay quite still and seemed to be asleep. He touched one softly. It was stiff and cold. "Oh, they are dead, poor little things!" said John. "I am so sorry. I hoped to take them home to my father. How came they here, I wonder? They must have starved to death!" Just then John saw one of the puppies give a tiny shiver. Its legs moved feebly and its eyes opened. "Ah! One of them still lives!" he cried eagerly. "Perhaps I can save its life, the dear little thing!" He took the gray body up in his arms and hugged it tenderly, but it made no response. Then, laying it down again on the leaves, he drew from his basket a crust of bread which he had brought to nibble while he walked. (It is such fun to have something to nibble when one goes for a ramble in the woods!) John ran to the brook which babbled close by, and, dipping the bread in the water until it was soft, returned to put some in the mouth of the little gray thing that lay so pitifully on the leaves. "Eat, little brother!" said John. Brutus looked on gravely. The puppy opened its mouth feebly and swallowed a bit of bread. After the first taste it grew eager, and began to nibble hungrily. John gave it all he had, and was overjoyed to see it gradually gain strength. But still it could not stand on its weak little legs. "We must take him home, Brutus," said John. "We will make him well and strong, then we shall have another little dog to be your baby brother." Brutus said nothing, though perhaps he knew better. Presently he was trotting homeward; tracing backward, as no human being could have done, the winding way by which they had come through the dense forest. Behind him came John, carrying the little gray creature tenderly in his arms, and with the basket full of flowers on his back. And so at last they reached the hut, in the door of which stood the Hermit, shading his eyes and looking anxiously for them. "My son!" he cried gladly when they appeared. "You were gone so long that I feared you were lost, even with Brutus to guide you. It is after sundown. Where have you been, and what do you bring there?" "We have been--I know not where," said John; "farther than I have gone since I came to the forest. It must be near the homes of men. For see! We have found a little dog! His brothers were lying dead beside him; I think they were starved to death. But this one lives, and some day I hope he will grow into a big dog like Brutus,--though indeed he does not look much like him now!" So John prattled eagerly, laying the little creature in the old man's arms. But the Hermit looked at it and looked again. Then he smiled at John. "Ah, Son!" he said. "This will never be a dog like Brutus. You have brought home a baby wolf!" "A wolf!" cried John. "He looks quite like a puppy, and he is gentle, too!" "They are much alike," said the Hermit. "You saved this poor little cub in good time, John. He is very weak. Probably his mother was killed by some hunters, who left her little ones there to starve. That is what they do, John, never stopping to think what suffering they cause. But let us now feed this little fellow with warm milk, and we shall soon have him as gay as ever. I am glad that you brought him, John. We needed a wolf-brother in our kingdom." "But, Father! a wolf!" cried John, with a shudder. He had not forgotten the horror of his first night alone in the forest, and the long howl which had made him lose his senses. "Oh, will he not grow big and eat us up, my father? Yes; that was why Brutus acted so strangely. He knew it was no puppy, although I told him so." "It is quite safe to keep him, John," said the Hermit. "We cannot turn him out to starve, for he is too young to care for himself. You will see to-morrow that he will play like any puppy. Brutus and he will be great friends,--they are relatives already. Once upon a time Brutus had a wolf for his ancestor. And as we ourselves know not from whom we may be descended, so must we treat all creatures as our brothers. Yes, this wolfkin will grow up lean and ugly-looking, like any wolf. But we will teach him to be kind and gentle, John, even as Brutus is." And the Hermit was right. The wolf-cub soon became the pet and plaything of the animal kingdom. With food and care he grew into a round, roly-poly ball of fur. He played merrily with Brutus and the kittens. And though at first he was a bit rough, they and John taught him better ways, so that he kicked and bit his friends no longer. As the months went by, they watched him change gradually from cub to wolf. They were sorry to see him lose his puppy looks and frisky manners. But what could they do? It is a great pity, but no one has yet discovered how to make babies of any sort remain babies. Gradually he lost his roundness. He grew longer and longer, until he was stretched out into four feet of gaunt yellowish-gray wolf. But still he remained quiet and gentle with his friends, quick to learn and ready to obey. He was a perfectly good wolf, and he loved John so dearly that he could scarcely be separated from him. He followed the boy wherever he went, and lay down beside him when he slept, like any watch-dog. And though he was so gentle in the animal kingdom, the Hermit knew that it would go hard with any one who should try to hurt Wolf's little master. Yet he and Brutus were the best of friends. The good dog was too noble to be jealous. _ |
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