Badlands Billy 
and again was restrained by something that 
rose in her responsive to the smell. The Cub 
had thrown himself on his back in utter sub- 
mission, but that did not prevent his nose re- 
porting to him the good thing almost within 
reach. The She-wolf went into the den and 
curled herself about her brood; the Cub per- 
sisted in following. She snarled as he ap- 
proached her own little ones, but disarming 
wrath each time by submission and his very 
cubhood, he was presently among her brood, 
helping himself to what he wanted so greatly, 
and thus he adopted himself into her family. 
In a few days he was so much one of them 
that the mother forgot about his being a stran- 
ger. Yet he was different from them in several 
ways—older by two weeks, stronger, and 
marked on the neck and shoulders with what 
afterward grew to be a dark mane. 
Little Duskymane could not have been hap- 
pier in his choice of a foster-mother, for the 
Yellow Wolf was not only a good hunter with 
a fund of cunning, but she was a Wolf of mod- 
ern ideas as well. The old tricks of tolling a 
Prairie Dog, relaying for Antelope, houghing a 
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