William Washington Wolf lopes to vulpine developmental values on heavy paws. He stayed on with his parents through their next set of cubs, playing the day away and expecting to get fed. Father Wolf forced the issue and told him to start hunting and earn his living. Announcing, ""I'm a big--bad-- wolf!"" William advanced on mice, squirrels and rabbits, told them he had nothing against them, hit them on the head and ate them up leaving one bite for his friend Raven. His final exam was a caribou. He flunked, but Father Wolf was satisfied to the point of leaving William in the cave to guard the cubs while he and the wife went hunting. William, the ne'er do well, did well. He withstood, with fang and fur, the grizzly who came after the store of winter meat. ""It gave him a grown-up feeling he had never had before."" So he left home. Somewhere south of the right degree of silly, both text and illustrations are Saturday-afternoon-at-the-movies cartoonish.