57 
The Way of the Wolf 
vague, vanishing glimpses the old he-wolf appeared, 
quartering swiftly, silently, back and forth through the 
thicket, driving every living thing down-wind to where 
the cubs and the mother were waiting to receive it. 
That one lesson was enough for the cubs, though 
years would pass before they could learn all the fine 
points of this beating the bush: to know almost at a 
glance where the game, whether grouse or hare or fox 
or lucivee, was hiding in the cover, and then for one 
wolf to drive it, slowly or swiftly as the case might 
require, while the other hid beside the most likely path 
of escape. A family of grouse must be coaxed along 
and never see what is driving them, else they will flit 
into a tree and be lost; while a cat must be startled out 
of her wits by a swift rush, and sent flying away before 
she can make up her stupid mind what the row is all 
about. A fox, almost as cunning as Wayeeses himself, 
must be made to think that some dog enemy is slowly 
puzzling out his cold trail; while a musquash searching 
for bake-apples, or a beaver going inland to cut wood 
for his winter supplies of bark, must not be driven, but 
be followed up swiftly by the path or canal by which he 
has ventured away from the friendly water. 
All these and many more things must be learned 
slowly at the expense of many failures, especially when 
the cubs took to hunting alone and the old wolves were 
not there to show them how; but they never forgot the 
