Now Washer had not been sleeping long, although it seemed a great while to him, when a peculiar rustling noise below awakened him. With one eye still closed, and the other only half opened, he called sleepily:

“Is that you, Mother Wolf?”

There was no answer, and Washer opened both eyes. If it was Mother Wolf who had made the rustling sound, she would have answered his question immediately. Washer concluded that it was somebody else. Then he thought of the cubs. It would be like them not to answer, but try to steal upon him to give him a fright.

“I know you’re down there, Brothers,” he added. “You can’t frighten me. I’m up the tree, and no wolf can climb up here.”

There was still no response, and the silence of the woods suddenly made Washer a little afraid. He became wide awake. He remembered now what had happened to him; how he had been rejected by the wolves, and how Mother Wolf had brought him to the grove of Silver Birches to find his own people.

He also remembered that the wolf pack had declared they would hunt him down and kill him. They were thirsting for his blood, and now that Mother Wolf had left him they had followed his tracks and treed him.

Yes, down below there were undoubtedly many of the wolves—the whole pack for all he knew—and the moment he came down they would pounce upon him. Washer shivered, and crawled to a higher crotch. The moon had gone down, and the woods were wrapped in darkness. It was impossible for him to see anything below; but the thought that wolves could not climb trees brought a sense of security. He was safe there from Sneaky, Gray Wolf and the whole pack.

He waited a long time for a repetition of the noise, and then decided that he would resume his sleep. If the wolves couldn’t climb the tree what was the use of worrying about them? He closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.

Then came the rustling noise again—this time much nearer the trunk of the tree. It came nearer, and finally reached the tree itself. There was a slight jar that made the leaves tremble. Washer thought it was a wolf leaping up, trying to reach the lower branches; but it was followed by a steady rustling, scraping noise that puzzled him.

For a long time he was uncertain what to make of it, but when it came nearer and nearer, and finally seemed to be in the tree itself, he grew terribly frightened. Somebody or something was climbing the tree!

When Washer made this discovery his alarm was genuine. With a little squeak of fear he ran to the top branch of the tree. But the scraping, rustling noise followed him. It first came from the lower branches; then from the middle ones, and now it was approaching the top.

Washer strained his eyes in the darkness to see this unknown creature that was slowly crawling toward him. In time he could make out a dark form; then another and another. There were three creatures climbing the tree!

Washer’s terror reached a climax. He ran so far out on a branch that it threatened to break with him. He was panic-stricken! It would not have been at all surprising if he had lost his hold and fallen to the ground below. There was no other tree near enough for him to reach, and it was either a matter of holding on and fighting his enemies up there among the top-most branches or dropping to the ground thirty feet below.

“Who is that?” he demanded between chattering teeth.

Then in a little panicky voice he added: “If you don’t get away I’ll call Mother Wolf, and she’ll eat you up.”

That threat had the effect of loosening the tongue of one of the animals, for a voice said in a low growl: “Hear him! Didn’t I tell you he was a friend of the wolves? Now he’s going to call them to kill us. But wolves can’t climb trees. Come on, we’ll catch him! He can’t get away!”

Now Washer recognized that voice at once. It was that of the raccoon he had saved from the cubs, and who in return for his kindness had bitten him. In some way he had discovered Washer’s presence in the tree, and had summoned his friends to kill him. For a moment Washer was more afraid of his own people than of the wolves. Then he decided he would make matters plain to them.

“Please don’t come any further,” he said in a shaking voice. “You just listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Listen to that!” sniffed the big raccoon. “He promises not to hurt us. Well, I don’t think we’ll give him a chance. But we’ll hurt you.”

“But why do you want to hurt me?” asked Washer.

“Because you’re a friend of the wolves, and you’re sent here to betray us to them. We saw you come in the grove of Silver Birches with a big wolf, and then say farewell to her. We knew it was all a trap. You nearly had me killed that day when—”

“No, no,” interrupted Washer, “I saved your life when the cubs had you treed. If it hadn’t been for me they’d caught you.”

“No wolf can catch me when I’m up a tree,” growled the raccoon.

“No, but they would have watched and waited at the foot of the tree until you were starved out,” replied Washer. “You don’t know how patient a wolf can be.”

“I don’t, eh?” snapped the raccoon. “I was treed by one once, and he kept me there for nearly a week, but he got hungry before I did and went away.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Washer asked more interested in this question than what happened to the big raccoon one day.

“We’re going to punish you, and then drive you back to your friends—the wolves.”

“The wolves are not my friends any more,” pleaded Washer.

“Wasn’t that wolf who came here with you a friend?”

“Why, yes, that was Mother Wolf,” stammered Washer.

“What did I tell you?” cried the big raccoon. “He admits it. If you’re a friend of a wolf you’re the enemy to all raccoons.”

“No!” interrupted Washer. “Let me explain!”

“Now we’ve got him!” interrupted the raccoon, who had been creeping nearer. “Shake him off the branch! If the fall doesn’t kill him our people will catch him. He can’t escape.”

The three raccoons sprang toward the swaying branch and began shaking it. Washer clung to it desperately, and it was impossible to dislodge him.

“Bite it! Gnaw it off!” cried the leader of the raccoons.

To Washer’s horror, they began biting and gnawing at the branch, which soon sagged lower and lower. It snapped under his weight and the next moment broke off close to the trunk. Washer felt himself going down, down, down!

He let out a little squeak of fear as he felt himself falling through space. His head struck a lower branch, and his feet got entangled in a few small twigs, but they could not check his fall. He went down, down, down until he landed with a loud plump on the soft earth. When he got up to run he found himself surrounded by a circle of raccoons, each one swishing his tail and gnashing his teeth. In the next story Washer saves his people from a terrible death.

[Pg 114]
[Pg 115]