Page 108 - Viva Real English 4 : Ebook

15 A Man’s Cub

It was seven o’clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father
Wolf woke up from his day’s rest. He scratched himself, yawned, and spread out
his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips. Mother
Wolf lay with her big grey nose dropped across her four squealing cubs. The moon
shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived.

‘Augrh!’ said Father Wolf. ‘It is time to hunt again.’ He was going to spring downhill
when a little shadow with a bushy tail crossed the threshold and whined: ‘Good
luck to you, O Chief of the Wolves. And good luck to your noble children. Do not
forget hungry ones like me.’

It was the jackal Tabaqui. The wolves hate Tabaqui because he runs about making

mischief, and telling tales, and eating rags and pieces of leather from the village

squealing : making a long high sound whined : made a long high
spring : leap unpleasant sound

threshold : the floor at the entrance telling tales: spreading gossip and
rumour
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