From the first, one of the cubs gave promise of being no ordinary wolf. Long white hairs appeared among the down upon his back and sides, growing more and more numerous until, when the cub was half grown, they made a coat of pure white. The first time his mother returned from her hunting to see him standing in the sunlight at the mouth of the den, she stopped several yards away, looking at him keenly and half suspiciously. The moment he discovered her presence the cub ran to meet her with a glad whine of recognition and her look changed. From that time on, she accepted him without question. The white cub grew fast, and as he grew, the wild and savage nature of his surroundings seemed to creep into his blood and become a part of him. His baby growl was drowned by the ceaseless roar of the falls, but as his voice grew stronger and fuller it took on the deep note of the cataract. Long before his brother, he learned to pounce upon the luckless grasshopper or cricket which appeared near the cave and to hold it down with his fore-paws while he crunched it with relish. From grasshoppers he progressed to mice, and from mice to rabbits, until he came to depend but little upon the spoils of the mother wolf's hunting. One night, when he was little more than half grown, the cub awakened to find his mother absent at her hunting. The moonlight at the entrance to the cave called him and he trotted out. Save for the thunder of the falls, the night was very still. He stood upon the ledge before the cave, looking down upon the wilderness, mysterious and alluring in the moonlight, and the sight affected him strangely. Suddenly there came to his ears a long-drawn howl. At the sound, indescribably lonely and wild, the hair rose upon the back of the young wolf and his eyes gleamed. It was the summons of the leader to the pack and, though the cub knew nothing of its meaning, his heart instinctively thrilled to it. There was a moment of silence. Then, from far diverging points, the cry was taken up as the various members of the pack rallied to the call of their leader. The cub's heart swelled with a new and strange emotion. The next moment, high on his rocky ledge, he lifted his muzzle to the moon and sent out his own answer. The call was lost in the roar of the cataract, but from that night the white cub felt his kinship with the pack of which he was one day to become the leader. [Illustration: High on his rocky ledge he lifted his muzzle to the moon.]