The Mink and the Wolf

The Mink and the Wolf

In a big forest in the north of America lived a quantity of wild

animals of all sorts. They were always very polite when they met; but,

in spite of that, they kept a close watch one upon the other, as each

was afraid of being killed and eaten by somebody else. But their

manners were so good that no one would ever had guessed that.

One day a smart young wolf went out to hunt, promising his grandfather

and grandmother that he would be sure to be back before bedtime. He

trotted along quite happily through the forest till he came to a

favourite place of his, just where the river runs into the sea. There,

just as he had hoped, he saw the chief mink fishing in a canoe.

‘I want to fish too,’ cried the wolf. But the mink said nothing and

pretended not to hear.

‘I wish you would take me into your boat!’ shouted the wolf, louder

than before, and he continued to beseech the mink so long that at last

he grew tired of it, and paddled to the shore close enough for the wolf

to jump in.

‘Sit down quietly at that end or we shall be upset,’ said the mink;

‘and if you care about sea-urchins’ eggs, you will find plenty in that

basket. But be sure you eat only the white ones, for the red ones

would kill you.’

So the wolf, who was always hungry, began to eat the eggs greedily; and

when he had finished he told the mink he thought he would have a nap.

‘Well, then, stretch yourself out, and rest your head on that piece of

wood,’ said the mink. And the wolf did as he was bid, and was soon

fast asleep. Then the mink crept up to him and stabbed him to the

heart with his knife, and he died without moving. After that he landed

on the beach, skinned the wolf, and taking the skin to his cottage, he

hung it up before the fire to dry.

Not many days later the wolf’s grandmother, who, with the help of her

relations, had been searching for him everywhere, entered the cottage

to buy some sea-urchins’ eggs, and saw the skin, which she at once

guessed to be that of her grandson.

‘I knew he was dead--I knew it! I knew it!’ she cried, weeping

bitterly, till the mink told her rudely that if she wanted to make so

much noise she had better do it outside as he liked to be quiet. So,

half-blinded by her tears, the old woman went home the way she had

come, and running in at the door, she flung herself down in front of

the fire.

‘What are you crying for?’ asked the old wolf and some friends who had

been spending the afternoon with him.

‘I shall never see my grandson any more!’ answered she. ‘Mink has

killed him, oh! oh!’ And putting her head down, she began to weep as

loudly as ever.

‘There! there!’ said her husband, laying his paw on her shoulder. ‘Be

comforted; if he IS dead, we will avenge him.’ And calling to the

others they proceeded to talk over the best plan. It took them a long

time to make up their minds, as one wolf proposed one thing and one

another; but at last it was agreed that the old wolf should give a

great feast in his house, and that the mink should be invited to the

party. And in order that no time should be lost it was further agreed

that each wolf should bear the invitations to the guests that lived

nearest to him.

Now the wolves thought they were very cunning, but the mink was more

cunning still; and though he sent a message by a white hare, that was

going that way, saying he should be delighted to be present, he

determined that he would take his precautions. So he went to a mouse

who had often done him a good turn, and greeted her with his best bow.

‘I have a favour to ask of you, friend mouse,’ said he, ‘and if you

will grant it I will carry you on my back every night for a week to the

patch of maize right up the hill.’

‘The favour is mine,’ answered the mouse. ‘Tell me what it is that I

can have the honour of doing for you.’

‘Oh, something quite easy,’ replied the mink. ‘I only want

you--between to-day and the next full moon--to gnaw through the bows

and paddles of the wolf people, so that directly they use them they

will break. But of course you must manage it so that they notice

nothing.’

‘Of course,’ answered the mouse, ‘nothing is easier; but as the full

moon is to-morrow night, and there is not much time, I had better begin

at once.’ Then the mink thanked her, and went his way; but before he

had gone far he came back again.

‘Perhaps, while you are about the wolf’s house seeing after the bows,

it would do no harm if you were to make that knot-hole in the wall a

little bigger,’ said he. ‘Not large enough to draw attention, of

course; but it might come in handy.’ And with another nod he left her.

The next evening the mink washed and brushed himself carefully and set

out for the feast. He smiled to himself as he looked at the dusty

track, and perceived that though the marks of wolves’ feet were many,

not a single guest was to be seen anywhere. He knew very well what

that meant; but he had taken his precautions and was not afraid.

The house door stood open, but through a crack the mink could see the

wolves crowding in the corner behind it. However, he entered boldly,

and as soon as he was fairly inside the door was shut with a bang, and

the whole herd sprang at him, with their red tongues hanging out of

their mouths. Quick as they were they were too late, for the mink was

already through the knot-hole and racing for his canoe.

The knot-hole was too small for the wolves, and there were so many of

them in the hut that it was some time before they could get the door

open. Then they seized the bows and arrows which were hanging on the

walls and, once outside, aimed at the flying mink; but as they pulled

the bows broke in their paws, so they threw them away, and bounded to

the shore, with all their speed, to the place where their canoes were

drawn up on the beach.

Now, although the mink could not run as fast as the wolves, he had a

good start, and was already afloat when the swiftest among them threw

themselves into the nearest canoe. They pushed off, but as they dipped

the paddles into the water, they snapped as the bows had done, and were

quite useless.

‘I know where there are some new ones,’ cried a young fellow, leaping

on shore and rushing to a little cave at the back of the beach. And

the mink’s heart smote him when he heard, for he had not known of this

secret store.

After a long chase the wolves managed to surround their prey, and the

mink, seeing it was no good resisting any more, gave himself up. Some

of the elder wolves brought out some cedar bands, which they always

carried wound round their bodies, but the mink laughed scornfully at

the sight of them.

‘Why I could snap those in a moment,’ said he; ‘if you want to make

sure that I cannot escape, better take a line of kelp and bind me with

that.’

‘You are right,’ answered the grandfather; ‘your wisdom is greater than

ours.’ And he bade his servants gather enough kelp from the rocks to

make a line, as they had brought none with them.

‘While the line is being made you might as well let me have one last

dance,’ remarked the mink. And the wolves replied: ‘Very good, you may

have your dance; perhaps it may amuse us as well as you.’ So they

brought two canoes and placed them one beside the other. The mink

stood up on his hind legs and began to dance, first in one canoe and

then in the other; and so graceful was he, that the wolves forgot they

were going to put him to death, and howled with pleasure.

‘Pull the canoes a little apart; they are too close for this new

dance,’ he said, pausing for a moment. And the wolves separated them

while he gave a series of little springs, sometime pirouetting while he

stood with one foot on the prow of both. ‘Now nearer, now further

apart,’ he would cry as the dance went on. ‘No! further still.’ And

springing into the air, amidst howls of applause, he came down

head-foremost, and dived to the bottom. And through the wolves, whose

howls had now changed into those of rage, sought him everywhere, they

never found him, for he hid behind a rock till they were out of sight,

and then made his home in another forest.

[From the Journal of the Anthropological Institute.]