to baree, for many days after he was born, the world was a vast gloomy cavern.
during these first days of his life his home was in the heart of a great windfall where gray wolf, his blind mother, had found a safe nest for his babyhood, and to which kazan, her mate, came only now and then, his eyes gleaming like strange balls of greenish fire in the darkness. it was kazan’s eyes that gave to baree his first impression of something existing away from his mother’s side, and they brought to him also his discovery of vision. he could feel, he could smell, he could hear—but in that black pit under the fallen timber he had never seen until the eyes came. at first they frightened him; then they puzzled him, and his fear changed to an immense curiosity. he would be looking straight at them, when all at once they would disappear. this was when kazan turned his head. and then they would flash back at him again out of the darkness with such startling suddenness that baree would involuntarily shrink closer to his mother, who always trembled and shivered in a strange sort of way when kazan came in.
baree, of course, would never know their story. he would never know that gray wolf, his mother, was a full-blooded wolf, and that kazan, his father, was a dog. in him nature was already beginning its wonderful work, but it would never go beyond certain limitations. it would tell him, in time, that his beautiful wolf-mother was blind, but he would never know of that terrible battle between gray wolf and the lynx in which his mother’s sight had been destroyed. nature could tell him nothing of kazan’s merciless vengeance, of the wonderful years of their matehood, of their loyalty, their strange adventures in the great canadian wilderness—it could make him only a son of kazan.
but at first, and for many days, it was all mother. even after his eyes had opened wide and he had found his legs so that he could stumble about a little in the darkness, nothing existed for baree but his mother. when he was old enough to be playing with sticks and moss out in the sunlight, he still did not know what she looked like. but to him she was big and soft and warm, and she licked his face with her tongue, and talked to him in a gentle, whimpering way that at last made him find his own voice in a faint, squeaky yap.
and then came that wonderful day when the greenish balls of fire that were kazan’s eyes came nearer and nearer, a little at a time, and very cautiously. heretofore gray wolf had warned him back. to be alone was the first law of her wild breed during mothering-time. a low snarl from her throat, and kazan had always stopped. but on this day the snarl did not come. in gray wolf’s throat it died away in a low, whimpering sound. a note of loneliness, of gladness, of a great yearning. “it is all right now,” she was saying to kazan; and kazan—pausing for a moment to make sure—replied with an answering note deep in his throat.
still slowly, as if not quite sure of what he would find, kazan came to them, and baree snuggled closer to his mother. he heard kazan as he dropped down heavily on his belly close to gray wolf. he was unafraid—and mightily curious. and kazan, too, was curious. he sniffed. in the gloom his ears were alert. after a little baree began to move. an inch at a time he dragged himself away from gray wolf’s side. every muscle in her lithe body tensed. again her wolf blood was warning her. there was danger for baree. her lips drew back, baring her fangs. her throat trembled, but the note in it never came. out of the darkness two yards away came a soft, puppyish whine, and the caressing sound of kazan’s tongue.
baree had felt the thrill of his first great adventure. he had discovered his father.
this all happened in the third week of baree’s life. he was just eighteen days old when gray wolf allowed kazan to make the acquaintance of his son. if it had not been for gray wolf’s blindness and the memory of that day on the sun rock when the lynx had destroyed her eyes, she would have given birth to baree in the open, and his legs would have been quite strong. he would have known the sun and the moon and the stars; he would have realized what the thunder meant, and would have seen the lightning flashing in the sky. but as it was, there had been nothing for him to do in that black cavern under the windfall but stumble about a little in the darkness, and lick with his tiny red tongue the raw bones that were strewn about them. many times he had been left alone. he had heard his mother come and go, and nearly always it had been in response to a yelp from kazan that came to them like a distant echo. he had never felt a very strong desire to follow until this day when kazan’s big, cool tongue caressed his face. in those wonderful seconds nature was at work. his instinct was not quite born until then. and when kazan went away, leaving them alone in darkness, baree whimpered for him to come back, just as he had cried for his mother when now and then she had left him in response to her mate’s call.
the sun was straight above the forest when, an hour or two after kazan’s visit, gray wolf slipped away. between baree’s nest and the top of the windfall were forty feet of jammed and broken timber through which not a ray of light could break. this blackness did not frighten him, for he had yet to learn the meaning of light. day, and not night, was to fill him with his first great terror. so quite fearlessly, with a yelp for his mother to wait for him, he began to follow. if gray wolf heard him, she paid no attention to his call, and the scrape of her claws on the dead timber died swiftly away.
this time baree did not stop at the eight-inch log which had always shut in his world in that particular direction. he clambered to the top of it and rolled over on the other side. beyond this was vast adventure, and he plunged into it courageously.
it took him a long time to make the first twenty yards. then he came to a log worn smooth by the feet of gray wolf and kazan, and stopping every few feet to send out a whimpering call for his mother, he made his way farther and farther along it. as he went, there grew slowly a curious change in this world of his. he had known nothing but blackness. and now this blackness seemed breaking itself up into strange shapes and shadows. once he caught the flash of a fiery streak above him—a gleam of sunshine—and it startled him so that he flattened himself down upon the log and did not move for half a minute. then he went on. an ermine squeaked under him. he heard the swift rustling of a squirrel’s feet, and a curious whut-whut-whut that was not at all like any sound his mother had ever made. he was off the trail.
the log was no longer smooth, and it was leading him upward higher and higher into the tangle of the windfall, and was growing narrower every foot he progressed. he whined. his soft little nose sought vainly for the warm scent of his mother. the end came suddenly when he lost his balance and fell. he let out a piercing cry of terror as he felt himself slipping, and then plunged downward. he must have been high up in the windfall, for to baree it was a tremendous fall. his soft little body thumped from log to log as he shot this way and that, and when at last he stopped, there was scarcely a breath left in him. but he stood up quickly on his four trembling legs—and blinked.
a new terror held baree rooted there. in an instant the whole world had changed. it was a flood of sunlight. everywhere he looked he could see strange things. but it was the sun that frightened him most. it was his first impression of fire, and it made his eyes smart. he would have slunk back into the friendly gloom of the windfall, but at this moment gray wolf came around the end of a great log, followed by kazan. she muzzled baree joyously, and kazan in a most doglike fashion wagged his tail. this mark of the dog was to be a part of baree. half wolf, he would always wag his tail. he tried to wag it now. perhaps kazan saw the effort, for he emitted a muffled yelp of approbation as he sat back on his haunches.
or he might have been saying to gray wolf:
“well, we’ve got the little rascal out of that windfall at last, haven’t we?”
for baree it had been a great day. he had discovered his father—and the world.
