"Good Year to you, Subjects, and much eating, each unto his own way of
life!"
Whisky-Jack preened his mischievous head, ruffled his blue-gray
feathers, broke into the harsh, cackling laugh of the Jay, and sneered,
"Eating! always of eating; and never a more beautiful song to you, or--"
"Less thieving to you, eh, Mister Jay," growled Muskwa. "You who come
by your eating easily have it not so heavily on your mind as we
Toilers."
"Well, let me see," continued Black Fox, with reflective dignity, "here
Ye have all assembled; for form's sake I will call your names."
From Mooswa to Wapoos each one of the Dwellers as his name was spoken
stepped forward in the circle and saluted the King.
"Jack has been a faithful messenger," said Black King; "but where are
Cougar, and Buffalo, and Eagle?"
"They had notice, thank you, Majesty, for your praise. Cougar says the
mountain is his King, and that he wouldn't trust himself among a lot of
Plain Dwellers."
"He's a Highway Robber and an Outlaw, anyway, so it doesn't matter,"
asserted Carcajou.
"You wouldn't talk that way if he were at your throat, my fat little
Friend," lisped Whisky-Jack. "Buffalo is afraid of Man, and won't come;
nearly all his brothers have been killed off, and he is hiding in the
Spruce woods near Athabasca Lake."
"I saw a herd of them last Summer," declared Mooswa; "fine big fellows
they have grown to be, too. Their hair is longer, and blacker, and
curlier than it was when they were on the Plains. There's no more than
fifty of them left alive in all the North woods; it's awful to think of
how they were slaughtered. That's why I stick to the Timber
Boundaries."
"Eagle won't come, Your Majesty, because Jay's chatter makes his head
ache," declared Carcajou.
"Blame me," cried Whisky-Jack, "if anybody doesn't turn up at the
meeting--say it's my fault; I don't mind."
"You know why we meet as usual?" queried Black Fox, placing his big
white-tipped brush affectedly about his feet.
"That they do," piped Whisky-Jack; "it's because they're afraid of
losing their hides. I'm not--nobody tries to rob me."
"Worthless Gabbler!" growled Muskwa.
"Jack is right," declared Black Fox; "if we do not help each other with
the things we have learned, our warm coats will soon be on the shoulders
of the White Men's Wives."
"Is that why the Men are always chasing us?" asked Beaver, turning his
sharp-pointed head with the little bead eyes toward the King.
"Not in your case," snapped Whisky-Jack, "for they eat you, old Fat
Tail. I heard the two White Men who camped on our river last Winter say
that your Brother, whom they caught when they raided your little round
lodge, tasted like beefsteak, whatever that is.--He, he! And Francois
the Guide ate his tail and said it was equal to fat bacon."
"Unthinking Wretch!" cried Umisk angrily, bringing his broad tail down
on a stone like the crack of a pistol.
"I picked his bones," taunted the Jay; "he was dead, and cooked too, so
it didn't matter."
"Cannibal!" grunted Bear.
"They eat you also, Muskwa; only when they're very hungry though,--they
say your flesh is like bad pork, strong and tough."
Black Fox interrupted the discord. "Comrades," he pleaded, "don't mind
Jack; he's only a Jay, and you know what chatterers they are. He means
well--does he not tell us when the Trappers are coming, and where the
Traps are?"
"Yes, and steal the Bait so you won't get caught," added Jay. "Oh, I am
good--I help you. You're a lot of crawling fools--all but the King.
You can run, and fight, but you don't know things. That's because you
don't associate with Man, and sit in his camp as I do."
"I've been in his camp," asserted Carcajou, picking up a small stone
slyly to shy at Jack.
"Not when he was home," retorted the Jay; "you sneaked in to steal when
he was away."
"Stop!" commanded the King, angrily. "Your chatter spoils everything,
do stop!"
Whisky-Jack spread his feathers till he looked like a woollen ball, and
subsided.
"This is the end of the year," continued Black Fox, "and the great
question is, are you satisfied with the rule--is it good?"
Wolverine spoke: "I have been Lieutenant to the Black King for four
years--I am satisfied. When our enemies, the Trappers, have tried to
catch us by new wiles His Majesty has told us how to escape."
"Did he, always?" demanded the Bird. "Who knew of the little White
Powder that Francois put in the Meat--the White Medicine Powder he had
in a bottle? Neither you, Carcajou, nor Black King, nor any one tasted
that--did you? Even now you do not know the name of it; but I can tell
you--it's strychnine. Ha, ha! but that was funny. They put it out, and
I, Whisky-Jack, whom you call a Tramp, told you. I, Jack the Gabbler,
flew till my wings were tired warning you to beware."
"You might have saved yourself the trouble," retorted Wolverine; "Black
King would have found it with his nose. Can he not tell even if any Man
has touched the Meat that is always a Bait?"
"Stupid!" exclaimed Jack; "do you think the Men are such fools? They
handle not the Bait which is put in the Traps--they know that all the
brains you chaps have are in your noses. Catch Francois, the Half-breed,
doing that; he's too clever. He cuts it with a long knife, and handles
it with a stick. The little White Powder that is the essence of death
is put in a hole in the Meat. I know; I've seen them at it. Haven't
their Train-Dogs noses also--and didn't two of them that time eat the
Bait, and die before they had travelled the length of a Rabbit-run. I
saw them--they grew stiff and quiet, like the White Man who fell in the
snow last Winter when he was lost. But I'm satisfied with Black Fox;
and you can be his Lieutenant--I don't care."
"Yes," continued Carcajou, "who among us is more fitted to be King?
Muskwa is strong, and big, and brave; but soon he will go into his
house, and sleep until Spring. What would become of us with no King for
months?"
"Yes, I'm sleepy," answered Bear--"and tired. I've tramped up and down
the banks of the river eating white Buffalo-berries and red Cranberries
until I'm weary. They are so small, and I am so big; it keeps me busy
all day."
"You've got stout on it," chuckled Jack. "I wish I could get fat."
"You talk too much, and fret yourself to death over other people's
business," growled Bear. "You're a meddling Tramp."
"Muskwa," said Mink, "there are bushels and bushels of big, juicy, Black
Currants up in the Muskeg, near the creek I fish in--I wish I could eat
them. Swimming, swimming all day after little frightened Fish, that are
getting so cunning. Why, they hide under sticks, and get up in shallow
water among the stones, so that I can hardly see them. It must be
pleasant to sit up on your quarters, nice and dry, pull down the bushes
and eat great, juicy Berries. I wish I lived on fruit."
"No you don't," snarled Jay; "you'd sell your Mother for a fish."
"If you're quite through wrangling," interrupted Wolverine, "I'll go on
talking about the King. Who is better suited than Black Fox? Is it
Mooswa? He would make a very magnificent-looking King. See his great
horns. He would protect us--just now; but do you not know that in the
Spring they will drop off, and our Comrade will be like a Man without
hands all Summer. Why, even his own Wife won't look at him while he is
in that condition. Then the young horns come out soft and pulpy, all
covered with velvet, and until they get hard again are tender, and he's
afraid to strike anything with them. You see, we must have somebody
that is King all the year round. Why, Mooswa couldn't tell us about the
Bait; he can't put his nose to the ground; he can't even eat grass,
because of his short neck."
"I wish I could," sighed the Moose. "I get tired of the purple-headed
Moose-weed, and the leaves and twigs. The young grass looks so sweet
and fresh. But Carcajou is right; I was made this way--I don't know
why, though."
"No, you weren't!" objected Whisky-Jack; "you're such a lordly chap when
you get your horns in good order, and have gone around so much with that
big nose stuck up in the air, that you've just got into that shape--He,
he! I've seen Men like you. The Hudson's Bay Factor, at Slave Lake, is
just your sort. Bah! I don't want you for a King."
The Bull Moose waved his tasselled beard back and forth angrily, and
stamped a sharp, powerful fore-foot on the ground like a trip-hammer.
Black Fox interfered again. "Why do you make everybody angry, you silly
Bird?" he said to the Jay. "Do you learn this bitter talk from
listening to your Men friends while you are waiting for their scraps?"
"Perhaps so; I learn many things from them, and you learn from me. But
go on, Bully Carcajou. Tell us all why we're not fit to be Kings.
Perhaps Rof, there, would like to hear of his failings."
"I don't want to be King," growled Rof, the big Blue Wolf, surlily.
"No, your manners are against you," sneered Jack; "you'd do better as
executioner."
"Well," commenced Carcajou, taking up the challenge, "to tell you the
truth, we're all just a little afraid of Rof. We don't want a despotic
Ruler if we can help it. I don't wish to hurt his feelings, but when
Blue Wolf got hungry his subjects might suffer."
"I don't want him for King," piped Mink; "his jaws are too strong and
his legs too long."
"Oh, I couldn't stay here," declared Blue Wolf, "and manage things for
you fellows. Next month I'm going away down below Grand Rapids. My
Brother has been hunting there with a Pack of twenty good fellows, and
says the Rabbits are so thick that he's actually getting fat;" and Wolf
licked his steel jaws with a hungry movement that made them all shudder.
His big lolling tongue looked like a firebrand.
"You needn't fret," squeaked Jay; "we don't want you. We don't want a
rowdy Ruler. I saw you fighting with the Train Dogs over at Wapiscaw
last Winter. You're as disgraceful as any domestic cur."
"Now, Pisew--" began Carcajou.
As he mentioned the Lynx's name, a smile went round the meeting.
Whisky-Jack took a fit of chuckling laughter, until he fell off his
perch. This made him cranky in an instant. "Of all the silly Sneaks!"
he exclaimed scornfully, as he fluttered up on a small Jack-pine, and
stuck out his ruffled breast. "That Spear-eared Creature for King! Oh,
my! Oh, my! that's too rich! He'd have you all catching Rabbits for
him to eat. Kings are great gourmands, I know, but they don't eat Field
Mice, and Frogs, and Snails, and trash of that sort--not raw, anyway."
Carcajou proceeded more gravely with his objection. "As I said before,
this is purely a matter of business with us; and anything I say must not
be taken as a personal affront."
"Of course not, of course not," interrupted Jack. "Go on with your
candid observations, Hump-back."
"We all know our Friend's weakness for perfume," continued Wolverine.
"Do you call Castoreum a perfume?" questioned Whisky-Jack. "It's a
vile, diabolical stink--that's what it is. Why, the Trappers won't keep
it in their Shacks--it smells so bad; they bury it outside. Nobody but
a gaunt, brainless creature, like the Cat there, would risk his neck for
a whiff of that horrible-smelling stuff."
"Order!" commanded Black King; "you get so personal, Jack. You know
that our Comrade, Beaver, furnishes the Castoreum, don't you?"
"Yes, I know; and he ought to be ashamed of it."
"It's not my fault," declared Umisk; "your friends, the cruel Trappers,
don't get it from us till we're dead."
"Well, never mind about that," objected Carcajou. "We know, and the
Trappers know, that Lynx is the easiest caught of all our fellows; if he
were our King they'd snare him in a week--then we'd be without a Ruler.
We must have some one that not only can take care of us, but of himself
too."
"Pisew can't do that--he can't take care of his own family," twittered
Jay. "His big furry feet make a trail in the snow like Panther's, and
then when you come up to him, he's just a great starved Cat, with less
brains than a Tadpole."
Carcajou suddenly reared on his hind quarters and let fly the stone with
his short, strong, right arm at the Bird. "Evil Chatterer!" he
exclaimed angrily, "you are always making mischief."
Jack hopped nimbly to one side, cocked his saucy silvered head downward,
and piped: "Proceed with the meeting; the Prince of all Mischief-makers,
Carcajou, the Devil of the Woods, lectures us on morality."
"Yes, let us proceed with the discussion," commanded Black Fox.
"Brothers," said the Moose, in a voice that was strangely plaintive,
coming from such a big, deep throat, "I am satisfied with Black Fox for
King; but if anything were to happen requiring us to choose another, one
of almost equal wisdom, I should like to nominate Beaver. We know that
when the world was destroyed by the great flood, and there was nothing
but water, that Umisk took a little mud, made it into a ball with his
handy tail, and the ball grew, and they built it up until it became dry
land again. Wiesahkechack has told us all about that. I have travelled
from the Athabasca across Peace River, and up to the foothills of the
big mountains, to the head-waters of the Smoky, and have seen much of
Brother Umisk's clever work, and careful, cautious way of life. I never
heard any one say a word against his honesty."
"That's something," interrupted Jay; "that's more than can be said for
many of us."
The big melancholy eyes of the Moose simply blinked solemnly, and he
proceeded: "Brother Umisk has constructed dams across streams, and
turned miles of forest into rich, moist Muskeg, where the loveliest long
grasses grow--most delicious eating. These dams are like the great hard
roads you have seen the White Men cut through our country to pull their
stupid carts over; I can cross the softest Muskeg on one and my sharp
hoofs hardly bury to the fetlock. Is that not work worthy of an Animal
King? And he has more forethought, more care for the Winter, than any
of us. Some of you have seen his stock of food."
"I have," eagerly interrupted Nekik, the Otter.
"And I," said Fisher.
"I too, Mooswa," cried Mink.
"I have seen it," quoth Muskrat; "it's just beautiful!"
"You tell them about Umisk's food supply, Brother Muskrat," commanded
the Moose. "I can't dive under the water like you and see it ready
stored, but I have observed the trees cut down by his chisel-teeth."
"You make me blush," remonstrated Beaver, modestly.
"Beautiful White Poplar trees," went on Mooswa; "and always cut so they
fall just on the edge of the stream. Is that not clever for one of us?
Man can't do it every time."
"Trowel Tail only cuts the leaning trees--that's why!" explained
Whisky-Jack.
Mooswa was too haughty to notice the interruption, but continued his
laudation of Beaver's cunning work.
"Then our Brother Umisk cuts the Poplar into pieces the length of my
leg; and, while I think of it, I'd like to ask him why he leaves on the
end of each stick a piece like the handle of a rolling-pin."
"What's a rolling-pin?" gasped Jay.
"Something the Cook throws at your head when you're trying to steal his
dinner," interjected Carcajou.
Lynx laughed maliciously at this thrust. "Isn't Wolverine a witty
chap?" he said, fawningly, to Blue Wolf.
"I know what that cunning little end is for," declared Muskrat; "I'll
tell you what Beaver does with the sticks under water, and then you'll
understand."
Black King yawned as though all this bored him. "He doesn't like to
hear his rival praised," sneered Whisky-Jack; "it makes him sleepy."
"Well," continued Wuchusk, "Beaver floats the Poplar down to his pond,
to a little place just up stream from his lodge, with a nice, soft
bottom. There he dives swiftly with each piece, and the small round end
you speak of, Mooswa, sticks in the mud, see? Oh, it is clever; I wish
I could do it,--but I can't. I have to rummage around all Winter for my
dinner. All the sticks stand there close together on end; the ice forms
on top of the water, and nobody can see them. When Umisk wants his
dinner, he swims up the pond, selects a nice, fat, juicy Poplar, pulls
it out of the mud, floats it in the front door of his pretty,
round-roofed lodge, strips off the rough covering, and eats the white,
mealy inner-bark. It's delicious! No wonder Beaver is fat."
"I should think it would be indigestible," said Lynx. "But isn't Umisk
kind to his family--dear little Chap!"
"Must be hard on the teeth," remarked Mink. "I find fishbones tough
enough."
"Oh, it's just lovely!" sighed Beaver. "I like it."
"What do you do with the logs after you've eaten the crust?" asked Black
King, pretending to be interested.
"Float them down against the dam," answered Beaver. "They come in handy
for repairing breaks."
"What breaks the dam?" mumbled Blue Wolf, gruffly.
"I know," screamed Jay; "the Trappers. I saw Francois knock a hole in
one last Winter. That's how he caught your cousins, Umisk, when they
rushed to fix the break."
"How do you know when it's damaged, Beaver?" queried Mooswa. "Supposing
it was done when you were asleep--you don't make your bed in the water,
I suppose."
"No, we have a nice, dry shelf all around on the inside of the lodge,
just above--we call it the second-story; but we keep our tails in the
water always, so as soon as it commences to lower we feel it, you know."
"That is wise," gravely assented Mooswa. "Have I not said that Umisk is
almost as clever as our King?"
"He may be," chirruped Jay; "but Francois never caught the Black King,
and he catches many Beaver. Last winter he took out a Pack of their
thick, brown coats, and I heard him say there were fifty pelts in it."
"That's just it," concurred Carcajou. "I admire Umisk as much as
anybody. He's an honest, hard-working little chap, and looks after his
family and relations better than any of us; but if there was any trouble
on we couldn't consult him, for at the first crack of a Firestick, or
bark of a Train Dog, he's down under the water, and either hidden away
in his lodge, or in one of the many hiding-holes he has dug in the banks
for just such emergencies. We must have some one who can get about and
warn us all."
"I object to him because he's got Fleas," declared Jay, solemnly.
"Fleas!" a chorus of voices exclaimed in indignant protest.
The Coyote, who had been digging viciously at the back of his ear with a
sharp-clawed foot, dropped his leg, got up, and stretched himself, with
a yawn, hoping that nobody had observed his petulant scratching.
"That's silly!" declared Mooswa. "A chap that lives under the water
have Fleas?"
"Is it?" piped Whisky-Jack. "What's his thick fur coat, with the
strong, black guard-hairs for? Do you suppose that doesn't keep his
hide dry? If one of you land-dwellers were out in a stiff shower you'd
be wet to the skin; but he won't, though he stay under water a month.
If he hasn't got Fleas, what is that double nail on his left hind-foot
for?"
"Perhaps he hasn't got a split-nail," ventured Fisher--"I haven't."
"Nor I!" declared Mink.
"My nails are all single!" asserted Muskrat.
"Look for yourselves if you don't believe me," commanded Jack. "If he
hasn't got it, I'll take back what I said, and you can make him King if
you wish."
This made Black Fox nervous. "Will you show our Comrades your toes,
please?" he commanded Beaver, with great politeness.
Umisk held up his foot deprecatingly. There sure enough, on the second
toe, was a long, black, double claw, like a tiny pincers. "What did I
tell you?" shrieked Jack. "He can pin a Flea with that as easily as
Mink seizes a wriggling Trout. He's got half-a-dozen different kinds of
Fleas, has Umisk. I won't have a King who is little better than a
bug-nursery. A King must be above that sort of thing."
"This is all nonsense," exclaimed Carcajou angrily, for he had fleas
himself; "it's got nothing to do with the matter. Umisk has to live
under the ice nearly all Winter, and would be of no more service to us
than Muskwa--that's the real objection."
"My!" cried Beaver, patting the ground irritably with his trowel-tail,
"one really never knows just how vile he is till he gets running for
office. Besides, I don't want to be King--I'm too busy. Perhaps
sometime when I was here governing the Council, Francois, or another
enemy, would break my dam and murder the whole family; besides, it's too
dusty out here--I like the nice, clean water. My feet get sore walking
on the land."
"Oh, he doesn't want to be King!" declared Jay, ironically. "Next!
next! Who else is there, Frog-legged Carcajou?"
"Well, there's Muskrat," suggested Lynx; "I like him."
"Yes, to eat!" interrupted Whisky-Jack. "If Wuchusk were King, we'd come
home some day and find that he'd been eaten by one of his own
subjects--by the sneaking Lynx--'Slink' it should be."
"You shouldn't say that," declared Black Fox; "because you're our Mail
Carrier you shouldn't take so many liberties."
"I'm only telling the truth. It has always been the custom at these
meetings for each one to speak just what he thought, and no hard
feelings afterward."
Carcajou pulled his long, curved claws through his whiskers
reflectively. "What's the use of wrangling like this--we're as silly as
a lot of Men. Last Winter when I was down at Grand Rapids I sat up on
the roof of a Shack listening to those two-legged creatures squabbling.
They were all arguing fiercely about the different ways of getting to
Heaven. According to each one he was on the right road, and the rest
were all wrong. Fresh Meat! but it was stupid; for I gathered from what
they said that the one way to get there was to be good; only each had a
different way."
"What place did you say?" queried the Jay.
"Grand Rapids."
"No, no! the place they all wanted to go to."
"Heaven."
"Where's that?"
"I don't know, and you needn't bother; for the Men said it was a place
for the good, only."
Beaver's fat sides fairly shook as he chuckled delightedly over the snub
Carcajou had given Jack.
"Ha, ha!" roared Bear; "Sweet Berries! but Humpback is too many for you,
Birdie," and the woods echoed with his laughter.
"Rats!" screamed the Jay; "that's the subject under discussion. Our
friend wanders from his theme trying to be personal."
"Oh, nobody's personal here," sighed Lynx. "I'm a 'Slink,' but that
doesn't count."
"Yes, talking of Rats," recommenced Carcajou, "like Lynx, I admire our
busy little Brother, Beaver, though I never ate one in my life--"
"Pisew did!" chirruped the bird-voice from over their heads.
"Though I never ate one," solemnly repeated Wolverine; "but if Umisk
won't do for King, there is no use discussing Wuchusk's chances. He has
all Trowel Tail's failings, without his great wisdom, and even can't
build a decent house, though he lives in one. Half the time he hasn't
anything to eat for his family; you'll see him skirmishing about Winter
or Summer, eating Roots, or, like our friends Mink and Otter, chasing
Fish. Anyway, I get tired of that horrible odour of musk always. His
house smells as bad as a Trapper's Shack with piles of fur in it--I hate
people who use musk, it shows bad taste; and to carry a little bag of it
around with one all the time--it's detestable!"
"You should take a trip to the Barren Lands, my fastidious friend, as I
did once," interposed Mooswa, "and get a whiff of the Musk Ox. Much
Fodder! it turned my stomach."
"You took too much of it, old Blubbernose," yelled Jay, fiendishly;
"Wolverine hasn't got a nose like the head of a Sturgeon Fish. Anyway,
you're out of it, Mister Rat; if the Lieutenant says you're not fit for
King, why you're not--I must say I'm glad of it."
"There are still the two cousins, Otter, and Mink," said Carcajou.
"Fish Thieves--both of them," declared Whisky-Jack. "So is Fisher, only
he hasn't nerve to go in the water after Fish; he waits till Man catches
and dries them, then robs the cache. That's why they call him
Fisher--they should name him Fish-stealer."
"Look here, Jack," retorted Wolverine, "last Winter I heard Francois say
that you stole even his soap."
"I thought it was butter," chuckled Jay--"it made me horribly sick. But
their butter was so bad, I thought the soap was an extra good pat of
it."
"I may say," continued Carcajou, "that these two cousins, Otter and
Mink, like Muskrat, have too limited a knowledge for either to be Chief
of the Boundaries. While they know all about streams and water powers,
they'd be lost on land. Why, in deep snow, Nekik with his short, little
legs makes a track as though somebody had pulled a log along--that
wouldn't do."
"I don't want to be King!" declared Otter.
"Nor I!" added Mink.
"And we don't want you--so that settles it; all agreed!" cried
Whisky-Jack, gleefully. "Nothing like having peace and harmony in the
meeting. It always comes to the same thing: people's names are put up,
they're blackguarded and abused, and in the end nobody's fit for the
billet but Black Fox; and Carcajou, of course, is his Lieutenant."
"We have now considered everybody's claims," began Carcajou--
"You've modestly forgotten yourself," interrupted Whisky-Jack. "You'd
make a fine, fat, portly Ruler."
"No, I withdraw in favour of Black Fox, and we won't even mention your
name. Black Fox has been a good King; he has saved many of us from a
Trap; besides, he wears the Royal Robe. Look at him! his Mother and all
his Brothers and Sisters are red, except Stripes, the Baby, who is a
Cross; does that not show that he has been selected for royal honours?
Among ourselves each one is like his Brother--there is little
difference. The Minks are alike, the Otter are alike, the Wolves are
alike--all are alike; except, of course, that one may be a little larger
or a little darker than the other. Look at the King's magnificent
Robe--blacker than Fisher's coat; and the silver tip of the white
guard-hairs make it more beautiful than any of our jackets."
"It's just lovely!" purred Pisew, with a fine sycophantic touch.
"I'm glad I haven't a coat like that," sang out Jay; "His Majesty will
be assassinated some day for it. Do you fellows know what he's worth to
the Trappers--do any of you know your market value? I thought not--let
me tell you."
"For the sake of a mild Winter, don't--not just now," pleaded Carcajou.
"Let us settle this business of the King first, then you can all spin
yarns."
"Yes, we're wasting time," declared Umisk. "I've got work to do on my
house, so let us select a Chief, by all means. There's Coyote, and
Wapoos, and Sikak the Skunk, who have not yet been mentioned." But each
of these, dreading Jack's sharp tongue, hastily asserted they were not
in the campaign as candidates.
"Well, then," asked Carcajou, "are you all agreed to have Black Fox as
Leader until the fulness of another year?"
"I'm satisfied!" said Bear, gruffly.
"It's an honour to have him," ventured Pisew the Lynx.
"He's a good enough King," declared Nekik the Otter.
"I'm agreed!" exclaimed Beaver; "I want to get home to my work."
"Long live the King!" barked Blue Wolf.
"Long live the King!" repeated Mink, and Fisher, and the rest of them in
chorus.
"Now that's settled," announced Wolverine.
"Thank you, Comrades," said Black Fox; "you honour me. I will try to be
just, and look after you carefully. May I have Wolverine as Lieutenant
again?"
They all agreed to this.