Meanwhile, Mother Bruin stood bewildered at the sudden and complete disappearance of the enemy. Her rage evaporated before the mystery and she stood for several moments, staring at the spot where the man had vanished. The Hermit, however, was well hidden and would have escaped observation from keener eyes than those of a bear.
She soon turned to the cub which was whimpering miserably, and in drying his wet fur she forgot the man. They were joined by the other cub just as the Hermit peered out of his watery hiding-place. Finding them still in evidence he shook his fist belligerently at the old bear. He was careful to keep out of sight, however, and a short time later had the satisfaction of seeing them disappear in the woods, Mother Bruin in the lead and the cubs as usual trotting dutifully behind.
The male cub's thrilling ride and battle with the current had for the time being subdued his adventurous spirit. He was content to stand meekly by while his mother tore to pieces a rotting log, disclosing for them all a meal of ants and fat white grubs.
The Little Vermilion, placid river of the plains, has its source in an ice-cold spring high up among the ledges of old Scarface where, after a sheer drop of fifty feet, the young river goes on its way a brawling, turbulent mountain stream. In a cave so close to the cataract that the entrance was often screened by a curtain of mist, a pair of wolf cubs first saw the light of day. It was a wild and savage spot for a home, one that befitted the mate of Gray Wolf, leader of the pack.
In their early infancy the cubs were appealing balls of gray down, rolling and tumbling about on the rocky floor of their cave much in the manner of young animals the world over. And, like other young animals, when they first essayed to walk, their legs had a treacherous way of doubling up beneath them and, without warning, letting them down on the hard floor of the cave. In a remarkably short time, however, they gained control over these unruly members and were ready to begin the training which would qualify them for membership in the pack.
From the first, one of the cubs gave promise of being no ordinary wolf. Long white hairs appeared among the down upon his back and sides, growing more and more numerous until, when the cub was half grown, they made a coat of pure white. The first time his mother returned from her hunting to see him standing in the sunlight at the mouth of the den, she stopped several yards away, looking at him keenly and half suspiciously. The moment he discovered her presence the cub ran to meet her with a glad whine of recognition and her look changed. From that time on, she accepted him without question.