All day long, and in the evening, the wolf-mother was thinking how the lamb had bleated in the cattle-shed the night before, and how it had smelt of sheep’s milk, and she kept snapping her teeth from hunger, and never left off greedily gnawing the old bone, pretending to herself that it was the lamb.  The cubs sucked their mother, and the puppy, who was hungry, ran round them and sniffed at the snow.

“I’ll eat him . . .” the mother-wolf decided.

She went up to him, and he licked her nose and yapped at her, thinking that she wanted to play with him.  In the past she had eaten dogs, but the dog smelt very doggy, and in the delicate state of her health she could not endure the smell; she felt disgusted and walked away. . . .

Towards night it grew cold.  The puppy felt depressed and went home.

When the wolf-cubs were fast asleep, their mother went out hunting again.  As on the previous night she was alarmed at every sound, and she was frightened by the stumps, the logs, the dark juniper bushes, which stood out singly, and in the distance were like human beings.  She ran on the ice-covered snow, keeping away from the road. . . .  All at once she caught a glimpse of something dark, far away on the road.  She strained her eyes and ears:  yes, something really was walking on in front, she could even hear the regular thud of footsteps.  Surely not a badger?  Cautiously holding her breath, and keeping always to one side, she overtook the dark patch, looked round, and recognised it.  It was the puppy with the white brow, going with a slow, lingering step homewards.

“If only he doesn’t hinder me again,” thought the wolf, and ran quickly on ahead.

But the homestead was by now near.  Again she clambered on to the cattle-shed by the snowdrift.  The gap she had made yesterday had been already mended with straw, and two new rafters stretched across the roof.  The wolf began rapidly working with her legs and nose, looking round to see whether the puppy were coming, but the smell of the warm steam and manure had hardly reached her nose before she heard a gleeful burst of barking behind her.  It was the puppy.  He leapt up to the wolf on the roof, then into the hole, and, feeling himself at home in the warmth, recognising his sheep, he barked louder than ever. . . .  Arapka woke up in the barn, and, scenting a wolf, howled, the hens began cackling, and by the time Ignat appeared in the porch with his single-barrelled gun the frightened wolf was already far away.

“Fuite!” whistled Ignat.  “Fuite!  Full steam ahead!”

He pulled the trigger—­the gun missed fire; he pulled the trigger again—­again it missed fire; he tried a third time—­and a great blaze of flame flew out of the barrel and there was a deafening boom, boom.  It kicked him violently on the shoulder, and, taking his gun in one hand and his axe in the other, he went to see what the noise was about.

A little later he went back to the hut.