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compelled to crouch； then the walls widened and rose higher in a little
round chamber nearly six feet in diameter。 The roof barely cleared her
head。 It was dry and cosey。 She inspected it with painstaking care； while
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One Eye； who had returned； stood in the entrance and patiently watched
her。 She dropped her head； with her nose to the ground and directed
toward a point near to her closely bunched feet； and around this point she
circled several times； then； with a tired sigh that was almost a grunt； she
curled her body in； relaxed her legs； and dropped down； her head toward
the entrance。 One Eye； with pointed； interested ears； laughed at her； and
beyond； outlined against the white light； she could see the brush of his tail
waving good…naturedly。 Her own ears； with a snuggling movement； laid
their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment；
while her mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out； and in this
way she expressed that she was pleased and satisfied。
One Eye was hungry。 Though he lay down in the entrance and slept；
his sleep was fitful。 He kept awaking and cocking his ears at the bright
world without； where the April sun was blazing across the snow。 When he
dozed； upon his ears would steal the faint whispers of hidden trickles of
running water； and he would rouse and listen intently。 The sun had come
back； and all the awakening Northland world was calling to him。 Life was
stirring。 The feel of spring was in the air； the feel of growing life under the
snow； of sap ascending in the trees； of buds bursting the shackles of the
frost。
He cast anxious glances at his mate； but she showed no desire to get up。
He looked outside； and half a dozen snow…birds fluttered across his field
of vision。 He started to get up； then looked back to his mate again； and
settled down and dozed。 A shrill and minute singing stole upon his heating。
Once； and twice； he sleepily brushed his nose with his paw。 Then he woke
up。 There； buzzing in the air at the tip of his nose； was a lone mosquito。 It
was a full…grown mosquito； one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter
and that had now been thawed out by the sun。 He could resist the call of
the world no longer。 Besides； he was hungry。
He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up。 But
she only snarled at him； and he walked out alone into the bright sunshine
to find the snow…surface soft under foot and the travelling difficult。 He
went up the frozen bed of the stream； where the snow； shaded by the trees；
was yet hard and crystalline。 He was gone eight hours； and he came back
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through the darkness hungrier than when he had started。 He had found
game； but he had not caught it。 He had broken through the melting snow
crust； and wallowed； while the snowshoe rabbits had skimmed along on
top lightly as ever。
He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion。
Faint； strange sounds came from within。 They were sounds not made by
his mate； and yet they were remotely familiar。 He bellied cautiously inside
and was met by a warning snarl from the she…wolf。 This he received
without perturbation； though he obeyed it by keeping his distance； but he
remained interested in the other sounds … faint； muffled sobbings and
slubberings。
His mate warned him irritably away； and he curled up and slept in the
entrance。 When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair； he again
sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds。 There was a new
note in his mate's warning snarl。 It was a jealous note； and he was very
careful in keeping a respectful distance。 Nevertheless； he made out；
sheltering between her legs against the length of her body； five strange
little bundles of life； very feeble； very helpless； making tiny whimpering
noises； with eyes that did not open to the light。 He was surprised。 It was
not the first time in his long and successful life that this thing had
happened。 It had happened many times； yet each time it was as fresh a
surprise as ever to him。
His mate looked at him anxiously。 Every little while she emitted a low
growl； and at times； when it seemed to her he approached too near； the
growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl。 Of her own experience she had
no memory of the thing happening； but in her instinct； which was the
experience of all the mothers of wolves； there lurked a memory of fathers
that had eaten their new…born and helpless progeny。 It manifested itself as
a fear strong within her； that made her prevent One Eye from more closely
inspecting the cubs he had fathered。
But there was no danger。 Old One Eye was feeling the urge of an
impulse； that was； in turn； an instinct that had come down to him from all
the fathers of wolves。 He did not question it； nor puzzle over it。 It was
there； in the fibre of his being； and it was the most natural thing in the
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world that he should obey it by turning his back on his new…born family
and by trotting out and away on the meat…trail whereby he lived。
Five or six miles from the lair； the stream divided； its forks going off
among the mountains at a right angle。 Here； leading up the left fork； he
came upon a fresh track。 He smelled it and found it so recent that he
crouched swiftly； and looked in the direction in which it disappeared。 Then
he turned deliberately and took the right fork。 The footprint was much
larger than the one his own feet made； and he knew that in the wake of
such a trail there was little meat for him。
Half a mile up the right fork； his quick ears caught the sound of
gnawing teeth。 He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine；
standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark。 One Eye
approached carefully but hopelessly。 He knew the breed； though he had
never met it so far north before； and never in his long life had porcupine
served him for a meal。 But he had long since learned that there was such a
thing as Chance； or Opportunity； and he continued to draw near。 There was
never any telling what might happen； for with live things events were
somehow always happening differently。
The porcupine rolled itself into a ball； radiating long； sharp needles in
all directions that defied attack。 In his youth One Eye had once sniffed too
near a similar； apparently inert ball of quills； and had the tail flick out
suddenly in his face。 One quill he had carried away in his muzzle； where it
had remained for weeks； a rankling flame； until it finally worked out。 So
he lay down； in a comfortable crouching position； his nose fully a foot
away； and out of the line of the tail。 Thus he waited； keeping perfectly
quiet。 There was no telling。 Something might happen。 The porcupine
might unroll。 There might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust of
paw into the tender； unguarded belly。
But at the end of half an hour he arose； growled wrathfully at the
motionless ball； and trotted on。 He had waited too often and futilely in the
past for porcupines to unroll； to waste any more time。 He continued up the
right fork。 The day wore along； and nothing rewarded his hunt。
The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him。
He must find meat。 In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan。 He
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came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the slow…witted
bird。 It was sitting on a log； not a foot beyond the end of his nose。 Each
saw the other。 The bird made a startled rise； but he struck it with his paw；
and smashed it down to earth； then pounced upon it； and caught it in his
teeth as it scuttle