“Who’s a glutton?” he demanded.

“I didn’t say any one was a glutton,” replied Honker.  “I was speaking of Glutton the Wolverine who lives in the Great Forests of the Far North, and whom everybody hates.”

“Is Glutton his name?” asked Peter, wrinkling his brows in perplexity, for it seemed a very queer name for any one.

“Certainly,” replied Honker.  “Certainly that is his name, and a very good name for him it is.  But then of course it is because he is a glutton that he is named Glutton.  Rather I should say that is the reason the first Wolverine was named Glutton.  The name has been handed down ever since, and it fits Mr. Wolverine of today quite as well as ever it did his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather.”

“Tell me about it,” Peter begged.  “Please tell me about it.”

“Tell you about what?” asked Honker, pretending not to understand.

“About how the first Wolverine got the name of Glutton,” replied Peter promptly.  “There must have been a very good reason, and if there was a very good reason, there must be a story.  Please, Honker, tell me all about it.”

Honker swam a little way out from shore, and with head held high and very still, he looked and listened and listened and looked until he was quite certain that no danger lurked near.  Then he swam back to where Peter was sitting on the bank.

“Peter,” said he, “I never in all my born days have seen such a fellow for questions as you are.  If I lived about here, I think I should swim away every time I saw you coming.  But as I only stop here for a day or two twice a year, I guess I can stand it.  Besides, you really ought to know something about some of the people who live in the Great Forest.  It is shameful, Peter, that you should be so ignorant.  And so if you will promise not to ask for another story while I am here, I will tell you about Glutton the Wolverine.”

Of course Peter promised.  He wanted that story so much that he would have promised anything.  So Honker told the story, and here it is just as Peter heard it.

“Once upon a time long, long, long ago, the first Wolverine was sent out to find a place for himself in the Great World just as every one else had been sent out.  Old Mother Nature had told him that he was related to Mr. Weasel and Mr. Mink and Mr. Fisher and Mr. Skunk, but no one would have guessed it just to look at him.  In fact, some of his new neighbors were inclined to think that he was related to Old King Bear.  Certainly he looked more like King Bear than he did like little Mr. Weasel.  But for his bushy tail he would have looked still more like a member of the Bear family.  He was clumsy-looking.  He was rather slow moving, but he was strong, very strong for his size.  And he had a mean disposition.  Yes, Sir, Mr. Wolverine had a mean disposition.  He had such a mean disposition that he would snarl at his own reflection in a pool of water.