wolves and are always quarreling and fighting among themselves.
The first time they attacked Whitie, it might have gone hard with him had not his young master happened along at just the right time.
Whitie was then only four or five months old and not large enough to defend himself. When Oumauk found him, he was backed up against a komatik, and several dogs were snapping at him. He was striking out with his cub paws and defending himself the best that he could but one of the dogs had already gashed his face and the red blood was streaming down his white cheek.
Little Oumauk was fairly wild with rage and, although he was but a small boy himself, yet he went at the dogs like a whirlwind. He snatched up a club and rushed into the fight with such ferocity that he sent the pack of mongrels yelping in every direction. After that, he always kept a sharp watch on Whitie when he was outside. But as time passed and the cub grew, this danger lessened.
Late in the summer, however, Oumauk
