Jack London
White Fang
Part One The Wild
I The Trail of the Meat
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway The trees had
been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost and they seemed
to lean toward each other black and ominous in the fading light A vast
silence reigned over the land The land itself was a desolation lifeless
without movement so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of
sadness There was a hint in it of laughter but of a laughter more terrible
than any sadness a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx a
laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility It
was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility
of life and the effort of life It was the Wild the savage frozenhearted
Northland Wild
But there was life abroad in the land and defiant Down the frozen waterway
toiled a string of wolfish dogs Their bristly fur was rimed with frost Their
breath froze in the air as it left their mouths spouting forth in spumes of
vapor that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of
frost Leather harness was on the dogs and leather traces attached them to a
sled which dragged along behind The sled was without runners It was made of
stout birchbark and its full surface rested on the snow The front end of the
sled was turned up like a scroll in order to force down and under the bore of
soft snow that surged like a wave before it On the sled securely lashed was a
long and narrow oblong box There were other things on the sled blankets an
axe and a coffeepot and fryingpan but prominent occupying most of the
space was the long and narrow oblong box
In advance of the dogs on wide snowshoes toiled a man At the rear of the
sled toiled a second man On the sled in the box lay a third man whose toil
was over a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would
never move nor struggle again It is not the way of the Wild to like movement
Life is an offence to it for life is movement and the Wild aims always to
destroy movement It freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea it
drives the sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts and
most ferociously and terribly of all does the Wild harry and crush into
submission man man who is the most restless of life ever in revolt against
the dictum that all movement must in the end come to the cessation of movement
But at front and rear unawed and indomitable toiled the two men who were
not yet dead Their bodies were covered with fur and softtanned leather
Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen
breath that their faces were not discernible This gave them the seeming of
ghostly masques undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost
But under it all they were men penetrating the land of desolation and mockery
and silence puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure pitting themselves
against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of
space
They travelled on without speech saving their breath for the work of their
bodies On every side was the silence pressing upon them with a tangible
presence It affected their minds as the many atmospheres of deep water affect
the body of the diver It crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and
unalterable decree It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own
minds pressing out of them like juices from the grape all the false ardors
and exaltations and undue selfvalues of the human soul until they perceived
themselves finite and small specks and motes moving with weak cunning and
little wisdom amidst the play and interplay of the great blind elements and
forces
An hour went by and a second hour The pale light of the short sunless day
was beginning to fade when a faint far cry arose on the still air It soared
upward with a swift rush till it reached its topmost note where it persisted
palpitant and tense and then slowly died away It might have been a lost soul
wailing had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry
eagerness The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man
behind And then across the narrow oblong box each nodded to the other
A second cry arose piercing the silence with needlelike shrillness Both
men located the sound It was to the rear somewhere in the snow expanse they
had just traversed A third and answering cry arose also to the rear and to the
left of the second cry
»Theyre after us Bill« said the man at the front
His voice sounded hoarse and unreal and he had spoken with apparent effort
»Meat is scarce« answered his comrade »I aint seen a rabbit sign for
days«
Thereafter they spoke no more though their ears were keen for the
huntingcries that continued to rise behind them
At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees
on the edge of the waterway and made a camp The coffin at the side of the
fire served for seat and table The wolfdogs clustered on the far side of the
fire snarled and bickered among themselves but evinced no inclination to stray
off into the darkness
»Seems to me Henry theyre stayin remarkable close to camp« Bill
commented
Henry squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with a piece
of ice nodded Nor did he speak till he had taken his seat on the coffin and
begun to eat
»They know where their hides is safe« he said »Theyd sooner eat grub than
be grub Theyre pretty wise them dogs«
Bill shook his head »Oh I dont know«
His comrade looked at him curiously »First time I ever heard you say
anythin about their not bein wise«
»Henry« said the other munching with deliberation the beans he was eating
»did you happen to notice the way them dogs kicked up when I was afeedin em«
»They did cut up moren usual« Henry acknowledged
»How many dogs ve we got Henry«
»Six«
»Well Henry « Bill stopped for a moment in order that his words might
gain greater significance »As I was sayin Henry weve got six dogs I took
six fish out of the bag I gave one fish to each dog an Henry I was one fish
short«
»You counted wrong«
»Weve got six dogs« the other reiterated dispassionately »I took out six
fish One Ear didnt get no fish I come back to the bag afterward an got m
his fish«
»Weve only got six dogs« Henry said
»Henry« Bill went on »I wont say they was all dogs but there was seven
of m that got fish«
Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs
»Theres only six now« he said
»I saw the other one run off across the snow« Bill announced with cool
positiveness »I saw seven«
His comrade looked at him commiseratingly and said »Ill be almighty glad
when this trips over«
»What dye mean by that« Bill demanded
»I mean that this load of ourn is gettin on your nerves an that youre
beginnin to see things«
»I thought of that« Bill answered gravely »An so when I saw it run off
across the snow I looked in the snow an saw its tracks Then I counted the
dogs an there was still six of em The tracks is there in the snow now Dye
want to look at em Ill show m to you«
Henry did not reply but munched on in silence until the meal finished he
topped it with a final cup of coffee He wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand and said
»Then youre thinkin as it was «
A long wailing cry fiercely sad from somewhere in the darkness had
interrupted him He stopped to listen to it then he finished his sentence with
a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry » one of them«
Bill nodded »Id a blame sight sooner think that than anything else You
noticed yourself the row the dogs made«
Cry after cry and answering cries were turning the silence into a bedlam
From every side the cries arose and the dogs betrayed their fear by huddling
together and so close to the fire that their hair was scorched by the heat Bill
threw on more wood before lighting his pipe
»Im thinkin youre down in the mouth some« Henry said
»Henry « He sucked meditatively at his pipe for some time before he went
on »Henry I was athinkin what a blame sight luckier he is than you an mell
ever be«
He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to the box
on which they sat
»You an me Henry when we die well be lucky if we get enough stones over
our carcases to keep the dogs off of us«
»But we aint got people an money an all the rest like him« Henry
rejoined »Longdistance funerals is somethin you an me cant exactly afford«
»What gets me Henry is what a chap like this thats a lord or something
in his own country and thats never had to bother about grub nor blankets why
he comes abuttin round the Godforsaken ends of the earth thats what I
cant exactly see«
»He might have lived to a ripe old age if hed stayed to home« Henry
agreed
Bill opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind Instead he pointed
toward the wall of darkness that pressed about them from every side There was
no suggestion of form in the utter blackness only could be seen a pair of eyes
gleaming like live coals Henry indicated with his head a second pair and a
third A circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp Now and again a
pair of eyes moved or disappeared to appear again a moment later
The unrest of the dogs had been increasing and they stampeded in a surge
of sudden fear to the near side of the fire cringing and crawling about the
legs of the men In the scramble one of the dogs had been overturned on the edge
of the fire and it had yelped with pain and fright as the smell of its singed
coat possessed the air The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift
restlessly for a moment and even to withdraw a bit but it settled down again as
the dogs became quiet
»Henry its a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition«
Bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion spread the bed of
fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid over the snow before
supper Henry grunted and began unlacing his moccasins
»How many cartridges did you say you had left« he asked
»Three« came the answer »An I wisht twas three hundred Then Id show
em what for damn em«
He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes and began securely to prop
his moccasins before the fire
»An I wisht this cold snapd break« he went on »Its ben fifty below for
two weeks now An I wisht Id never started on this trip Henry I dont like
the looks of it It dont feel right somehow An while Im wishin I wisht
the trip was over an done with an you an me asittin by the fire in Fort
McGurry just about now an playin cribbage thats what I wisht«
Henry grunted and crawled into bed As he dozed off he was aroused by his
comrades voice
»Say Henry that other one that come in an got a fish why didnt the
dogs pitch into it Thats whats botherin me«
»Youre botherin too much Bill« came the sleepy response »You was never
like this before You jes shut up now an go to sleep an youll be all
hunkydory in the mornin Your stomachs sour thats whats botherin you«
The men slept breathing heavily side by side under the one covering The
fire died down and the gleaming eyes drew closer the circle they had flung
about the camp The dogs clustered together in fear now and again snarling
menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close Once their uproar became so loud that
Bill woke up He got out of bed carefully so as not to disturb the sleep of his
comrade and threw more wood on the fire As it began to flame up the circle of
eyes drew farther back He glanced casually at the huddling dogs He rubbed his
eyes and looked at them more sharply Then he crawled back into the blankets
»Henry« he said »Oh Henry«
Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking and demanded »Whats wrong
now«
»Nothin« came the answer »only theres seven of em again I just
counted«
Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid into a
snore as he drifted back into sleep
In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion out of
bed Daylight was yet three hours away though it was already six oclock and
in the darkness Henry went about preparing breakfast while Bill rolled the
blankets and made the sled ready for lashing
»Say Henry« he asked suddenly »how many dogs did you say we had«
»Six«
»Wrong« Bill proclaimed triumphantly
»Seven again« Henry queried
»No five ones gone«
»The hell« Henry cried in wrath leaving the cooking to come and count the
dogs
»Youre right Bill« he concluded »Fattys gone«
»An he went like greased lightnin once he got started Couldnt ve seen
m for smoke«
»No chance at all« Henry concluded »They jes swallowed m alive I bet he
was yelpin as he went down their throats damn em«
»He always was a fool dog« said Bill
»But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an commit suicide that
way« He looked over the remainder of the team with a speculative eye that
summed up instantly the salient traits of each animal »I bet none of the others
would do it«
»Couldnt drive em away from the fire with a club« Bill agreed »I always
did think there was somethin wrong with Fatty anyway«
And this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the Northland trail less scant
than the epitaph of many another dog of many a man
II The SheWolf
Breakfast eaten and the slim campoutfit lashed to the sled the men turned
their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the darkness At once began
to rise the cries that were fiercely sad cries that called through the
darkness and cold to one another and answered back Conversation ceased
Daylight came at nine oclock At midday the sky to the south warmed to
rosecolor and marked where the bulge of the earth intervened between the
meridian sun and the northern world But the rosecolor swiftly faded The gray
light of day that remained lasted until three oclock when it too faded and
the pall of the Arctic night descended upon the lone and silent land
As darkness came on the huntingcries to right and left and rear drew
closer so close that more than once they sent surges of fear through the
toiling dogs throwing them into shortlived panics
At the conclusion of one such panic when he and Henry had got the dogs back
in the traces Bill said
»I wisht theyd strike game somewheres an go away an leave us alone«
»They do get on the nerves horrible« Henry sympathized
They spoke no more until camp was made
Henry was bending over and adding ice to the bubbling pot of beans when he
was startled by the sound of a blow an exclamation from Bill and a sharp
snarling cry of pain from among the dogs He straightened up in time to see a
dim form disappearing across the snow into the shelter of the dark Then he saw
Bill standing amid the dogs half triumphant half crestfallen in one hand a
stout club in the other the tail and part of the body of a suncured salmon
»It got half of it« he announced »but I got a whack at it jes the same
Dye hear it squeal«
»Whatd it look like« Henry asked
»Couldnt see But it had four legs an a mouth an hair an looked like any
dog«
»Must be a tame wolf I reckon«
»Its damned tame whatever it is comin in here at feedin time an
gettin its whack of fish«
That night when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box and
pulled at their pipes the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even closer than
before
»I wisht theyd spring up a bunch of moose or somethin an go away an
leave us alone« Bill said
Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy and for a
quarter of an hour they sat on in silence Henry staring at the fire and Bill
at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond the firelight
»I wisht we was pullin into McGurry right now« he began again
»Shut up your wishin an your croakin« Henry burst out angrily »Your
stomachs sour Thats whats ailin you Swallow a spoonful of sody an youll
sweeten up wonderful an be more pleasant company«
In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded from
the mouth of Bill Henry propped himself up on an elbow and looked to see his
comrade standing among the dogs beside the replenished fire his arms raised in
objurgation his face distorted with passion
»Hello« Henry called »Whats up now«
»Frogs gone« came the answer
»No«
»I tell you yes«
Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs He counted them with care
and then joined his partner in cursing the powers of the Wild that had robbed
them of another dog
»Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch« Bill pronounced finally
»An he was no fool dog neither« Henry added
And so was recorded the second epitaph in two days
A gloomy breakfast was eaten and the four remaining dogs were harnessed to
the sled The day was a repetition of the days that had gone before The men
toiled without speech across the face of the frozen world The silence was
unbroken save by the cries of their pursuers that unseen hung upon their
rear With the coming of night in the midafternoon the cries sounded closer as
the pursuers drew in according to their custom and the dogs grew excited and
frightened and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and further
depressed the two men
»There thatll fix you fool critters« Bill said with satisfaction that
night standing erect at completion of his task
Henry left his cooking to come and see Not only had his partner tied the
dogs up but he had tied them after the Indian fashion with sticks About the
neck of each dog he had fastened a leather thong To this and so close to the
neck that the dog could not get his teeth to it he had tied a stout stick four
or five feet in length The other end of the stick in turn was made fast to a
stake in the ground by means of a leather thong The dog was unable to gnaw
through the leather at his own end of the stick The stick prevented him from
getting at the leather that fastened the other end
Henry nodded his head approvingly
»Its the only contraption thatll ever hold One Ear« he said »He can gnaw
through leather as clean as a knife an jes about half as quick They all ll
be here in the mornin hunkydory«
»You jes bet they will« Bill affirmed »If one of em turns up missin
Ill go without my coffee«
»They jes know we aint loaded to kill« Henry remarked at bedtime
indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed them in »If we could put a couple of
shots into em theyd be more respectful They come closer every night Get the
firelight out of your eyes an look hard there Did you see that one«
For some time the two men amused themselves with watching the movement of
vague forms on the edge of the firelight By looking closely and steadily at
where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness the form of the animal would slowly
take shape They could even see these forms move at times
A sound among the dogs attracted the mens attention One Ear was uttering
quick eager whines lunging at the length of his stick toward the darkness and
desisting now and again in order to make frantic attacks on the stick with his
teeth
»Look at that Bill« Henry whispered
Full into the firelight with a stealthy sidelong movement glided a
doglike animal It moved with commingled mistrust and daring cautiously
observing the men its attention fixed on the dogs One Ear strained the full
length of the stick toward the intruder and whined with eagerness
»That fool One Ear dont seem scairt much« Bill said in a low tone
»Its a shewolf« Henry whispered back »an that accounts for Fatty an
Frog Shes the decoy for the pack She draws out the dog an then all the rest
pitches in an eats m up«
The fire crackled A log fell apart with a loud spluttering noise At the
sound of it the strange animal leaped back into the darkness
»Henry Im athinkin« Bill announced
»Thinkin what«
»Im athinkin that was the one I lambasted with the club«
»Aint the slightest doubt in the world« was Henrys response
»An right here I want to remark« Bill went on »that that animals
familyarity with campfires is suspicious an immoral«
»It knows for certain moren a selfrespectin wolf ought to know« Henry
agreed »A wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at feedin time has
had experiences«
»Ol Villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves« Bill cogitated
aloud »I ought to know I shot it out of the pack in a moose pasture over on
Little Stick An Ol Villan cried like a baby Hadnt seen it for three years
he said Ben with the wolves all that time«
»I reckon youve called the turn Bill That wolfs a dog an its eaten
fish manys the time from the hand of man«
»An if I get a chance at it that wolf thats a dogll be jes meat« Bill
declared »We cant afford to lose no more animals«
»But youve only got three cartridges« Henry objected
»Ill wait for a dead sure shot« was the reply
In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the
accompaniment of his partners snoring
»You was sleepin jes too comfortable for anythin« Henry told him as he
routed him out for breakfast »I hadnt the heart to rouse you«
Bill began to eat sleepily He noticed that his cup was empty and started to
reach for the pot But the pot was beyond arms length and beside Henry
»Say Henry« he chided gently »aint you forgot somethin«
Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head Bill held up
the empty cup
»You dont get no coffee« Henry announced
»Aint run out« Bill asked anxiously
»Nope«
»Aint thinkin itll hurt my digestion«
»Nope«
A flush of angry blood pervaded Bills face
»Then its jes warm an anxious I am to be hearin you explain yourself«
he said
»Spankers gone« Henry answered
Without haste with the air of one resigned to misfortune Bill turned his
head and from where he sat counted the dogs
»Howd it happen« he asked apathetically
Henry shrugged his shoulders »Dont know Unless One Ear gnawed m loose
He couldnt adone it himself thats sure«
»The darned cuss« Bill spoke gravely and slowly with no hint of the anger
that was raging within »Jes because he couldnt chew himself loose he chews
Spanker loose«
»Well Spankers troubles is over anyway I guess hes digested by this
time an cavortin over the landscape in the bellies of twenty different
wolves« was Henrys epitaph on this the latest lost dog »Have some coffee
Bill«
But Bill shook his head
»Go on« Henry pleaded elevating the pot
Bill shoved his cup aside »Ill be dingdongdanged if I do I said I
wouldnt if ary dog turned up missin an I wont«
»Its darn good coffee« Henry said enticingly
But Bill was stubborn and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with mumbled
curses at One Ear for the trick he had played
»Ill tie em up out of reach of each other tonight« Bill said as they
took the trail
They had travelled little more than a hundred yards when Henry who was in
front bent down and picked up something with which his snowshoe had collided
It was dark and he could not see it but he recognized it by the touch He
flung it back so that it struck the sled and bounced along until it fetched up
on Bills snowshoes
»Mebbe youll need that in your business« Henry said
Bill uttered an exclamation It was all that was left of Spanker the stick
with which he had been tied
»They ate m hide an all« Bill announced »The sticks as clean as a
whistle Theyve ate the leather offen both ends Theyre damn hungry Henry
an theyll have you an me guessin before this trips over«
Henry laughed defiantly »I aint been trailed this way by wolves before
but Ive gone through a whole lot worse an kept my health Takes moren a
handful of them pesky critters to do for yours truly Bill my son«
»I dont know I dont know« Bill muttered ominously
»Well youll know all right when we pull into McGurry«
»I aint feelin special enthusiastic« Bill persisted
»Youre off color thats whats the matter with you« Henry dogmatized
»What you need is quinine an Im goin to dose you up stiff as soon as we make
McGurry«
Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis and lapsed into silence
The day was like all the days Light came at nine oclock At twelve oclock the
southern horizon was warmed by the unseen sun and then began the cold gray of
afternoon that would merge three hours later into night
It was just after the suns futile effort to appear that Bill slipped the
rifle from under the sledlashings and said
»You keep right on Henry Im goin to see what I can see«
»Youd better stick by the sled« his partner protested »Youve only got
three cartridges an theres no tellin what might happen«
»Whos croakin now« Bill demanded triumphantly
Henry made no reply and plodded on alone though often he cast anxious
glances back into the gray solitude where his partner had disappeared An hour
later taking advantage of the cutoffs around which the sled had to go Bill
arrived
»Theyre scattered an rangin along wide« he said »keepin up with us an
lookin for game at the same time You see theyre sure of us only they know
theyve got to wait to get us In the meantime theyre willin to pick up
anythin eatable that comes handy«
»You mean they think theyre sure of us« Henry objected pointedly
But Bill ignored him »I seen some of them Theyre pretty thin They aint
had a bite in weeks I reckon outside of Fatty an Frog an Spanker an
theres so many of em that that didnt go far Theyre remarkable thin Their
ribs is like washboards an their stomachs is right up against their
backbones Theyre pretty desperate I can tell you Theyll be goin mad yet
an then watch out«
A few minutes later Henry who was now travelling behind the sled emitted
a low warning whistle Bill turned and looked then quietly stopped the dogs
To the rear from around the last bend and plainly into view on the very trail
they had just covered trotted a furry slinking form Its nose was to the
trail and it trotted with a peculiar sliding effortless gait When they
halted it halted throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with
nostrils that twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them
»Its the shewolf« Bill whispered
The dogs had lain down in the snow and he walked past them to join his
partner at the sled Together they watched the strange animal that had pursued
them for days and that had already accomplished the destruction of half their
dogteam
After a searching scrutiny the animal trotted forward a few steps This it
repeated several times till it was a short hundred yards away It paused head
up close by a clump of spruce trees and with sight and scent studied the
outfit of the watching men It looked at them in a strangely wistful way after
the manner of a dog but in its wistfulness there was none of the dog affection
It was a wistfulness bred of hunger as cruel as its own fangs as merciless as
the frost itself
It was large for a wolf its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an animal
that was among the largest of its kind
»Stands pretty close to two feet an a half at the shoulders« Henry
commented »An Ill bet it aint far from five feet long«
»Kind of strange color for a wolf« was Bills criticism »I never seen a
red wolf before Looks almost cinnamon to me«
The animal was certainly not cinnamoncolored Its coat was the true
wolfcoat The dominant color was gray and yet there was to it a faint reddish
hue a hue that was baffling that appeared and disappeared that was more like
an illusion of the vision now gray distinctly gray and again giving hints and
glints of a vague redness of color not classifiable in terms of ordinary
experience
»Looks for all the world like a big husky sleddog« Bill said »I wouldnt
be sprised to see it wag its tail
Hello you husky« he called »Come here you whateveryournameis«
»Aint a bit scairt of you« Henry laughed
Bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly but the animal
betrayed no fear The only change in it that they could notice was an accession
of alertness It still regarded them with the merciless wistfulness of hunger
They were meat and it was hungry and it would like to go in and eat them if it
dared
»Look here Henry« Bill said unconsciously lowering his voice to a whisper
because of what he meditated »Weve got three cartridges But its a dead shot
Couldnt miss it Its got away with three of our dogs an we oughter put a
stop to it What dye say«
Henry nodded his consent Bill cautiously slipped the gun from under the
sledlashing The gun was on the way to his shoulder but it never got there
For in that instant the shewolf leaped sidewise from the trail into the clump
of spruce trees and disappeared
The two men looked at each other Henry whistled long and comprehendingly
»I might have knowed it« Bill chided himself aloud as he replaced the gun
»Of course a wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at feedin time d
know all about shootingirons I tell you right now Henry that critters the
cause of all our trouble Wed have six dogs at the present time stead of
three if it wasnt for her An I tell you right now Henry Im goin to get
her Shes too smart to be shot in the open But Im goin to lay for her Ill
bushwhack her as sure as my name is Bill«
»You neednt stray off too far in doin it« his partner admonished »If
that pack ever starts to jump you them three cartridges d be wuth no moren
three whoops in hell Them animals is damn hungry an once they start in
theyll sure get you Bill«
They camped early that night Three dogs could not drag the sled so fast nor
for so long hours as could six and they were showing unmistakable signs of
playing out And the men went early to bed Bill first seeing to it that the
dogs were tied out of gnawingreach of one another
But the wolves were growing bolder and the men were aroused more than once
from their sleep So near did the wolves approach that the dogs became frantic
with terror and it was necessary to replenish the fire from time to time in
order to keep the adventurous marauders at safer distance
»Ive hearn sailors talk of sharks followin a ship« Bill remarked as he
crawled back into the blankets after one such replenishing of the fire »Well
them wolves is land sharks They know their business bettern we do an they
aint aholdin our trail this way for their health Theyre goin to get us
Theyre sure goin to get us Henry«
»Theyve half got you aready atalkin like that« Henry retorted sharply
»A mans half licked when he says he is An youre half eaten from the way
youre goin on about it«
»Theyve got away with better men than you an me« Bill answered
»Oh shet up your croakin You make me allfired tired«
Henry rolled over angrily on his side but was surprised that Bill made no
similar display of temper This was not Bills way for he was easily angered by
sharp words Henry thought long over it before he went to sleep and as his
eyelids fluttered down and he dozed off the thought in his mind was »Theres
no mistakin it Bills almighty blue Ill have to cheer him up tomorrow«
III The Hunger Cry
The day began auspiciously They had lost no dogs during the night and they
swung out upon the trail and into the silence the darkness and the cold with
spirits that were fairly light Bill seemed to have forgotten his forebodings of
the previous night and even waxed facetious with the dogs when at midday they
overturned the sled on a bad piece of trail
It was an awkward mixup The sled was upside down and jammed between a
treetrunk and a huge rock and they were forced to unharness the dogs in order
to straighten out the tangle The two men were bent over the sled and trying to
right it when Henry observed One Ear sidling away
»Here you One Ear« he cried straightening up and turning around on the
dog
But One Ear broke into a run across the snow his traces trailing behind
him And there out in the snow of their backtrack was the shewolf waiting
for him As he neared her he became suddenly cautious He slowed down to an
alert and mincing walk and then stopped He regarded her carefully and
dubiously yet desirefully She seemed to smile at him showing her teeth in an
ingratiating rather than a menacing way She moved toward him a few steps
playfully and then halted One Ear drew near to her still alert and cautious
his tail and ears in the air his head held high
He tried to sniff noses with her but she retreated playfully and coyly
Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding retreat on her
part Step by step she was luring him away from the security of his human
companionship Once as though a warning had in vague ways flitted through his
intelligence he turned his head and looked back at the overturned sled at his
teammates and at the two men who were calling to him
But whatever idea was forming in his mind was dissipated by the shewolf
who advanced upon him sniffed noses with him for a fleeting instant and then
resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances
In the meantime Bill had bethought himself of the rifle But it was jammed
beneath the overturned sled and by the time Henry had helped him to right the
load One Ear and the shewolf were too close together and the distance too
great to risk a shot
Too late One Ear learned his mistake Before they saw the cause the two
men saw him turn and start to run back toward them Then approaching at right
angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat they saw a dozen wolves lean
and gray bounding across the snow On the instant the shewolfs coyness and
playfulness disappeared With a snarl she sprang upon One Ear He thrust her off
with his shoulder and his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the
sled he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it More wolves
were appearing every moment and joining in the chase The shewolf was one leap
behind One Ear and holding her own
»Where are you goin« Henry suddenly demanded laying his hand on his
partners arm
Bill shook it off »I wont stand it« he said »They aint agoin to get
any more of our dogs if I can help it«
Gun in hand he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of the
trail His intention was apparent enough Taking the sled as the centre of the
circle that One Ear was making Bill planned to tap that circle at a point in
advance of the pursuit With his rifle in the broad daylight it might be
possible for him to awe the wolves and save the dog
»Say Bill« Henry called after him »Be careful Dont take no chances«
Henry sat down on the sled and watched There was nothing else for him to
do Bill had already gone from sight but now and again appearing and
disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered clumps of spruce could be
seen One Ear Henry judged his case to be hopeless The dog was thoroughly alive
to its danger but it was running on the outer circle while the wolfpack was
running on the inner and shorter circle It was vain to think of One Ear so
outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle in advance
of them and to regain the sled
The different lines were rapidly approaching a point Somewhere out there in
the snow screened from his sight by trees and thickets Henry knew that the
wolfpack One Ear and Bill were coming together All too quickly far more
quickly than he had expected it happened He heard a shot then two shots in
rapid succession and he knew that Bills ammunition was gone Then he heard a
great outcry of snarls and yelps He recognized One Ears yell of pain and
terror and he heard a wolfcry that bespoke a stricken animal And that was
all The snarls ceased The yelping died away Silence settled down again over
the lonely land
He sat for a long while upon the sled There was no need for him to go and
see what had happened He knew it as though it had taken place before his eyes
Once he roused with a start and hastily got the axe out from underneath the
lashings But for some time longer he sat and brooded the two remaining dogs
crouching and trembling at his feet
At last he arose in a weary manner as though all the resilience had gone
out of his body and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled He passed a rope
over his shoulder a mantrace and pulled with the dogs He did not go far At
the first hint of darkness he hastened to make a camp and he saw to it that he
had a generous supply of firewood He fed the dogs cooked and ate his supper
and made his bed close to the fire
But he was not destined to enjoy that bed Before his eyes closed the wolves
had drawn too near for safety It no longer required an effort of the vision to
see them They were all about him and the fire in a narrow circle and he could
see them plainly in the firelight lying down sitting up crawling forward on
their bellies or slinking back and forth They even slept Here and there he
could see one curled up in the snow like a dog taking the sleep that was now
denied himself
He kept the fire brightly blazing for he knew that it alone intervened
between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs His two dogs stayed close
by him one on either side leaning against him for protection crying and
whimpering and at times snarling desperately when a wolf approached a little
closer than usual At such moments when his dogs snarled the whole circle
would be agitated the wolves coming to their feet and pressing tentatively
forward a chorus of snarls and eager yelps rising about him Then the circle
would lie down again and here and there a wolf would resume its broken nap
But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him Bit by bit
an inch at a time with here a wolf bellying forward and there a wolf bellying
forward the circle would narrow until the brutes were almost within springing
distance Then he would seize brands from the fire and hurl them into the pack
A hasty drawing back always resulted accompanied by angry yelps and frightened
snarls when a wellaimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal
Morning found the man haggard and worn wideeyed from want of sleep He
cooked breakfast in the darkness and at nine oclock when with the coming of
daylight the wolfpack drew back he set about the task he had planned through
the long hours of the night Chopping down young saplings he made them
crossbars of a scaffold by lashing them high up to the trunks of standing
trees Using the sledlashing for a heaving rope and with the aid of the dogs
he hoisted the coffin to the top of the scaffold
»They got Bill an they may get me but theyll sure never get you young
man« he said addressing the dead body in its treesepulchre
Then he took the trail the lightened sled bounding along behind the willing
dogs for they too knew that safety lay only in the gaining of Fort McGurry
The wolves were now more open in their pursuit trotting sedately behind and
ranging along on either side their red tongues lolling out their lean sides
showing the undulating ribs with every movement They were very lean mere
skinbags stretched over bony frames with strings for muscles so lean that
Henry found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did not
collapse forthright in the snow
He did not dare travel until dark At midday not only did the sun warm the
southern horizon but it even thrust its upper rim pale and golden above the
skyline He received it as a sign The days were growing longer The sun was
returning But scarcely had the cheer of its light departed than he went into
camp There were still several hours of gray daylight and sombre twilight and
he utilized them in chopping an enormous supply of firewood
With night came horror Not only were the starving wolves growing bolder
but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry He dozed despite himself crouching by
the fire the blankets about his shoulders the axe between his knees and on
either side a dog pressing close against him He awoke once and saw in front of
him not a dozen feet away a big gray wolf one of the largest of the pack And
even as he looked the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of
a lazy dog yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive eye
as if in truth he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to be eaten
This certitude was shown by the whole pack Fully a score he could count
staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow They reminded him of
children gathered about a spread table and awaiting permission to begin to eat
And he was the food they were to eat He wondered how and when the meal would
begin
As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his own body
which he had never felt before He watched his moving muscles and was interested
in the cunning mechanism of his fingers By the light of the fire he crooked his
fingers slowly and repeatedly now one at a time now all together spreading
them wide or making quick gripping movements He studied the nailformation and
prodded the fingertips now sharply and again softly gauging the while the
nervesensations produced It fascinated him and he grew suddenly fond of this
subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately Then
he would cast a glance of fear at the wolfcircle drawn expectantly about him
and like a blow the realization would strike him that this wonderful body of
his this living flesh was no more than so much meat a quest of ravenous
animals to be torn and slashed by their hungry fangs to be sustenance to them
as the moose and the rabbit had often been sustenance to him
He came out of a doze that was half nightmare to see the redhued shewolf
before him She was not more than half a dozen feet away sitting in the snow
and wistfully regarding him The two dogs were whimpering and snarling at his
feet but she took no notice of them She was looking at the man and for some
time he returned her look There was nothing threatening about her She looked
at him merely with a great wistfulness but he knew it to be the wistfulness of
an equally great hunger He was the food and the sight of him excited in her
the gustatory sensations Her mouth opened the saliva drooled forth and she
licked her chops with the pleasure of anticipation
A spasm of fear went through him He reached hastily for a brand to throw at
her But even as he reached and before his fingers had closed on the missile
she sprang back into safety and he knew that she was used to having things
thrown at her She had snarled as she sprang away baring her white fangs to
their roots all her wistfulness vanishing being replaced by a carnivorous
malignity that made him shudder He glanced at the hand that held the brand
noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it how they adjusted
themselves to all the inequalities of the surface curling over and under and
about the rough wood and one little finger too close to the burning portion of
the brand sensitively and automatically writhing back from the hurtful heat to
a cooler grippingplace and in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of
those same sensitive and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white
teeth of the shewolf Never had he been so fond of this body of his as now when
his tenure of it was so precarious
All night with burning brands he fought off the hungry pack When he dozed
despite himself the whimpering and snarling of the dogs aroused him Morning
came but for the first time the light of day failed to scatter the wolves The
man waited in vain for them to go They remained in a circle about him and his
fire displaying an arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the
morning light
He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail But the moment he
left the protection of the fire the boldest wolf leaped for him but leaped
short He saved himself by springing back the jaws snapping together a scant
six inches from his thigh The rest of the pack was now up and surging upon him
and a throwing of firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to
a respectful distance
Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh wood
Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce He spent half the day extending his
campfire to the tree at any moment a half dozen burning fagots ready at hand to
fling at his enemies Once at the tree he studied the surrounding forest in
order to fell the tree in the direction of the most firewood
The night was a repetition of the night before save that the need for sleep
was becoming overpowering The snarling of his dogs was losing its efficacy
Besides they were snarling all the time and his benumbed and drowsy senses no
longer took note of changing pitch and intensity He awoke with a start The
shewolf was less than a yard from him Mechanically at short range without
letting go of it he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth She
sprang away yelling with pain and while he took delight in the smell of
burning flesh and hair he watched her shaking her head and growling wrathfully
a score of feet away
But this time before he dozed again he tied a burning pineknot to his
right hand His eyes were closed but a few minutes when the burn of the flame on
his flesh awakened him For several hours he adhered to this programme Every
time he was thus awakened he drove back the wolves with flying brands
replenished the fire and rearranged the pineknot on his hand All worked well
but there came a time when he fastened the pine knot insecurely As his eyes
closed it fell away from his hand
He dreamed It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry It was warm and
comfortable and he was playing cribbage with the Factor Also it seemed to him
that the fort was besieged by wolves They were howling at the very gates and
sometimes he and the Factor paused from the game to listen and laugh at the
futile efforts of the wolves to get in And then so strange was the dream
there was a crash The door was burst open He could see the wolves flooding
into the big livingroom of the fort They were leaping straight for him and the
Factor With the bursting open of the door the noise of their howling had
increased tremendously This howling now bothered him His dream was merging
into something else he knew not what but through it all following him
persisted the howling
And then he awoke to find the howling real There was a great snarling and
yelping The wolves were rushing him They were all about him and upon him The
teeth of one had closed upon his arm Instinctively he leaped into the fire and
as he leaped he felt the sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of
his leg Then began a fire fight His stout mittens temporarily protected his
hands and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions until the
campfire took on the semblance of a volcano
But it could not last long His face was blistering in the heat his
eyebrows and lashes were singed off and the heat was becoming unbearable to his
feet With a flaming brand in each hand he sprang to the edge of the fire The
wolves had been driven back On every side wherever the live coals had fallen
the snow was sizzling and every little while a retiring wolf with wild leap
and snort and snarl announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon
Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies the man thrust his
smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his feet His two
dogs were missing and he well knew that they had served as a course in the
protracted meal which had begun days before with Fatty the last course of which
would likely be himself in the days to follow
»You aint got me yet« he cried savagely shaking his fist at the hungry
beasts and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was agitated there was a
general snarl and the shewolf slid up close to him across the snow and watched
him with hungry wistfulness
He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him He extended the
fire into a large circle Inside this circle he crouched his sleeping outfit
under him as a protection against the melting snow When he had thus disappeared
within his shelter of flame the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the
fire to see what had become of him Hitherto they had been denied access to the
fire and they now settled down in a closedrawn circle like so many dogs
blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in the unaccustomed
warmth Then the shewolf sat down pointed her nose at a star and began to
howl One by one the wolves joined her till the whole pack on haunches with
noses pointed skyward was howling its hunger cry
Dawn came and daylight The fire was burning low The fuel had run out and
there was need to get more The man attempted to step out of his circle of
flame but the wolves surged to meet him Burning brands made them spring aside
but they no longer sprang back In vain he strove to drive them back As he gave
up and stumbled inside his circle a wolf leaped for him missed and landed
with all four feet in the coals It cried out with terror at the same time
snarling and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow
The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position His body leaned
forward from the hips His shoulders relaxed and drooping and his head on his
knees advertised that he had given up the struggle Now and again he raised his
head to note the dying down of the fire The circle of flame and coals was
breaking into segments with openings in between These openings grew in size
the segments diminished
»I guess you can come an get me any time« he mumbled »Anyway Im goin
to sleep«
Once he wakened and in an opening in the circle directly in front of him
he saw the shewolf gazing at him
Again he awakened a little later though it seemed hours to him A
mysterious change had taken place so mysterious a change that he was shocked
wider awake Something had happened He could not understand at first Then he
discovered it The wolves were gone Remained only the trampled snow to show how
closely they had pressed him Sleep was welling up and gripping him again his
head was sinking down upon his knees when he roused with a sudden start
There were cries of men the churn of sleds the creaking of harnesses and
the eager whimpering of straining dogs Four sleds pulled in from the river bed
to the camp among the trees Half a dozen men were about the man who crouched in
the centre of the dying fire They were shaking and prodding him into
consciousness He looked at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange
sleepy speech
»Red shewolf Come in with the dogs at feedin time First she ate
the dogfood Then she ate the dogs An after that she ate Bill «
»Wheres Lord Alfred« one of the men bellowed in his ear shaking him
roughly
He shook his head slowly »No she didnt eat him Hes roostin in a
tree at the last camp«
»Dead« the man shouted
»An in a box« Henry answered He jerked his shoulder petulantly away from
the grip of his questioner »Say you lemme alone Im jes plumb tuckered
out Goo night everybody«
His eyes fluttered and went shut His chin fell forward on his chest And
even as they eased him down upon the blankets his snores were rising on the
frosty air
But there was another sound Far and faint it was in the remote distance
the cry of the hungry wolfpack as it took the trail of other meat than the man
it had just missed
Part Two Born of the Wild
I The Battle of the Fangs
It was the shewolf who had first caught the sound of mens voices and the
whining of the sleddogs and it was the shewolf who was first to spring away
from the cornered man in his circle of dying flame The pack had been loath to
forego the kill it had hunted down and it lingered for several minutes making
sure of the sounds and then it too sprang away on the trail made by the
shewolf
Running at the forefront of the pack was a large gray wolf one of its
several leaders It was he who directed the packs course on the heels of the
shewolf It was he who snarled warningly at the younger members of the pack or
slashed at them with his fangs when they ambitiously tried to pass him And it
was he who increased the pace when he sighted the shewolf now trotting slowly
across the snow
She dropped in alongside by him as though it were her appointed position
and took the pace of the pack He did not snarl at her nor show his teeth when
any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance of him On the contrary he
seemed kindly disposed toward her too kindly to suit her for he was prone to
run near to her and when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her
teeth Nor was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion At such
times he betrayed no anger He merely sprang to the side and ran stiffly ahead
for several awkward leaps in carriage and conduct resembling an abashed country
swain
This was his one trouble in the running of the pack but she had other
troubles On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf grizzled and marked with the
scars of many battles He ran always on her right side The fact that he had but
one eye and that the left eye might account for this He also was addicted
to crowding her to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body
or shoulder or neck As with the running mate on the left she repelled these
attentions with her teeth but when both bestowed their attentions at the same
time she was roughly jostled being compelled with quick snaps to either side
to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her forward leap with
the pack and see the way of her feet before her At such times her running mates
flashed their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other They might
have fought but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing
hungerneed of the pack
After each repulse when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the
sharptoothed object of his desire he shouldered against a young threeyearold
that ran on his blind right side This young wolf had attained his full size
and considering the weak and famished condition of the pack he possessed more
than the average vigor and spirit Nevertheless he ran with his head even with
the shoulder of his oneeyed elder When he ventured to run abreast of the older
wolf which was seldom a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the
shoulder again Sometimes however he dropped cautiously and slowly behind and
edged in between the old leader and the shewolf This was doubly resented even
triply resented When she snarled her displeasure the old leader would whirl on
the threeyearold Sometimes she whirled with him And sometimes the young
leader on the left whirled too
At such times confronted by three sets of savage teeth the young wolf
stopped precipitately throwing himself back on his haunches with forelegs
stiff mouth menacing and mane bristling This confusion in the front of the
moving pack always caused confusion in the rear The wolves behind collided with
the young wolf and expressed their displeasure by administering sharp nips on
his hindlegs and flanks He was laying up trouble for himself for lack of food
and short tempers went together but with the boundless faith of youth he
persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little while though it never
succeeded in gaining anything for him but discomfiture
Had there been food lovemaking and fighting would have gone on apace and
the packformation would have been broken up But the situation of the pack was
desperate It was lean with longstanding hunger It ran below its ordinary
speed At the rear limped the weak members the very young and the very old At
the front were the strongest Yet all were more like skeletons than fullbodied
wolves Nevertheless with the exception of the ones that limped the movements
of the animals were effortless and tireless Their stringy muscles seemed founts
of inexhaustible energy Behind every steellike contraction of a muscle lay
another steellike contraction and another and another apparently without
end
They ran many miles that day They ran through the night And the next day
found them still running They were running over the surface of a world frozen
and dead No life stirred They alone moved through the vast inertness They
alone were alive and they sought for other things that were alive in order that
they might devour them and continue to live
They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a lowerlying
country before their quest was rewarded Then they came upon moose It was a big
bull they first found Here was meat and life and it was guarded by no
mysterious fires nor flying missiles of flame Splay hoofs and palmated antlers
they knew and they flung their customary patience and caution to the wind It
was a brief fight and fierce The big bull was beset on every side He ripped
them open or split their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs
He crushed them and broke them on his large horns He stamped them into the snow
under him in the wallowing struggle But he was foredoomed and he went down
with the shewolf tearing savagely at his throat and with other teeth fixed
everywhere upon him devouring him alive before ever his last struggles ceased
or his last damage had been wrought
There was food in plenty The bull weighed over eight hundred pounds fully
twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the fortyodd wolves of the pack But if
they could fast prodigiously they could feed prodigiously and soon a few
scattered bones were all that remained of the splendid live brute that had faced
the pack a few hours before
There was now much resting and sleeping With full stomachs bickering and
quarrelling began among the younger males and this continued through the few
days that followed before the breakingup of the pack The famine was over The
wolves were now in the country of game and though they still hunted in pack
they hunted more cautiously cutting out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from
the small mooseherds they ran across
There came a day in this land of plenty when the wolfpack split in half
and went in different directions The shewolf the young leader on her left
and the oneeyed elder on her right led their half of the pack down to the
Mackenzie River and across into the lake country to the east Each day this
remnant of the pack dwindled Two by two male and female the wolves were
deserting Occasionally a solitary male was driven out by the sharp teeth of his
rivals In the end there remained only four the shewolf the young leader the
oneeyed one and the ambitious threeyearold
The shewolf had by now developed a ferocious temper Her three suitors all
bore the marks of her teeth Yet they never replied in kind never defended
themselves against her They turned their shoulders to her most savage slashes
and with wagging tails and mincing steps strove to placate her wrath But if
they were all mildness toward her they were all fierceness toward one another
The threeyearold grew too ambitious in his fierceness He caught the oneeyed
elder on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons Though the grizzled old
fellow could see only on one side against the youth and vigor of the other he
brought into play the wisdom of long years of experience His lost eye and his
scarred muzzle bore evidence to the nature of his experience He had survived
too many battles to be in doubt for a moment about what to do
The battle began fairly but it did not end fairly There was no telling
what the outcome would have been for the third wolf joined the elder and
together old leader and young leader they attacked the ambitious
threeyearold and proceeded to destroy him He was beset on either side by the
merciless fangs of his erstwhile comrades Forgotten were the days they had
hunted together the game they had pulled down the famine they had suffered
That business was a thing of the past The business of love was at hand ever a
sterner and crueler business than that of foodgetting
And in the meanwhile the shewolf the cause of it all sat down
contentedly on her haunches and watched She was even pleased This was her day
and it came not often when manes bristled and fang smote fang or ripped
and tore the yielding flesh all for the possession of her
And in the business of love the threeyearold who had made this his first
adventure upon it yielded up his life On either side of his body stood his two
rivals They were gazing at the shewolf who sat smiling in the snow But the
elder leader was wise very wise in love even as in battle The younger leader
turned his head to lick a wound on his shoulder The curve of his neck was
turned toward his rival With his one eye the elder saw the opportunity He
darted in low and closed with his fangs It was a long ripping slash and deep
as well His teeth in passing burst the wall of the great vein of the throat
Then he leaped clear
The young leader snarled terribly but his snarl broke midmost into a
tickling cough Bleeding and coughing already stricken he sprang at the elder
and fought while life faded from him his legs going weak beneath him the light
of day dulling on his eyes his blows and springs falling shorter and shorter
And all the while the shewolf sat on her haunches and smiled She was made
glad in vague ways by the battle for this was the lovemaking of the Wild the
sextragedy of the natural world that was tragedy only to those that died To
those that survived it was not tragedy but realization and achievement
When the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more One Eye stalked
over to the shewolf His carriage was one of mingled triumph and caution He
was plainly expectant of a rebuff and he was just as plainly surprised when her
teeth did not flash out at him in anger For the first time she met him with a
kindly manner She sniffed noses with him and even condescended to leap about
and frisk and play with him in quite puppyish fashion And he for all his gray
years and sage experience behaved quite as puppyishly and even a little more
foolishly
Forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the lovetale redwritten
on the snow Forgotten save once when old One Eye stopped for a moment to lick
his stiffening wounds Then it was that his lips half writhed into a snarl and
the hair of his neck and shoulders involuntarily bristled while he half
crouched for a spring his claws spasmodically clutching into the snowsurface
for firmer footing But it was all forgotten the next moment as he sprang after
the shewolf who was coyly leading him a chase through the woods
After that they ran side by side like good friends who have come to an
understanding The days passed by and they kept together hunting their meat
and killing and eating it in common After a time the shewolf began to grow
restless She seemed to be searching for something that she could not find The
hollows under fallen trees seemed to attract her and she spent much time nosing
about among the larger snowpiled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of
overhanging banks Old One Eye was not interested at all but he followed her
goodnaturedly in her quest and when her investigations in particular places
were unusually protracted he would lie down and wait until she was ready to go
on
They did not remain in one place but travelled across country until they
regained the Mackenzie River down which they slowly went leaving it often to
hunt game along the small streams that entered it but always returning to it
again Sometimes they chanced upon other wolves usually in pairs but there was
no friendliness of intercourse displayed on either side no gladness at meeting
no desire to return to the packformation Several times they encountered
solitary wolves These were always males and they were pressingly insistent on
joining with One Eye and his mate This he resented and when she stood shoulder
to shoulder with him bristling and showing her teeth the aspiring solitary
ones would back off turn tail and continue on their lonely way
One moonlight night running through the quiet forest One Eye suddenly
halted His muzzle went up his tail stiffened and his nostrils dilated as he
scented the air One foot also he held up after the manner of a dog He was not
satisfied and he continued to smell the air striving to understand the message
borne upon it to him One careless sniff had satisfied his mate and she trotted
on to reassure him Though he followed her he was still dubious and he could
not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to study the warning
She crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the midst of
the trees For some time she stood alone Then One Eye creeping and crawling
every sense on the alert every hair radiating infinite suspicion joined her
They stood side by side watching and listening and smelling
To their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling the guttural
cries of men the sharper voices of scolding women and once the shrill and
plaintive cry of a child With the exception of the huge bulks of the skin
lodges little could be seen save the flames of the fire broken by the
movements of intervening bodies and the smoke rising slowly on the quiet air
But to their nostrils came the myriad smells of an Indian camp carrying a story
that was largely incomprehensible to One Eye but every detail of which the
shewolf knew
She was strangely stirred and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing
delight But old One Eye was doubtful He betrayed his apprehension and started
tentatively to go She turned and touched his neck with her muzzle in a
reassuring way then regarded the camp again A new wistfulness was in her face
but it was not the wistfulness of hunger She was thrilling to a desire that
urged her to go forward to be in closer to that fire to be squabbling with the
dogs and to be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men
One Eye moved impatiently beside her her unrest came back upon her and she
knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she searched She
turned and trotted back into the forest to the great relief of One Eye who
trotted a little to the fore until they were well within the shelter of the
trees
As they slid along noiseless as shadows in the moonlight they came upon a
runway Both noses went down to the footprints in the snow These footprints
were very fresh One Eye ran ahead cautiously his mate at his heels The broad
pads of their feet were spread wide and in contact with the snow were like
velvet One Eye caught sight of a dim movement of white in the midst of the
white His sliding gait had been deceptively swift but it was as nothing to the
speed at which he now ran Before him was bounding the faint patch of white he
had discovered
They were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by a growth of
young spruce Through the trees the mouth of the alley could be seen opening
out on a moonlit glade Old One Eye was rapidly overhauling the fleeing shape of
white Bound by bound he gained Now he was upon it One leap more and his teeth
would be sinking into it But that leap was never made High in the air and
straight up soared the shape of white now a struggling snowshoe rabbit that
leaped and bounded executing a fantastic dance there above him in the air and
never once returning to earth
One Eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright then shrank down to the
snow and crouched snarling threats at this thing of fear he did not understand
But the shewolf coolly thrust past him She poised for a moment then sprang
for the dancing rabbit She too soared high but not so high as the quarry
and her teeth clipped emptily together with a metallic snap She made another
leap and another
Her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her He now
evinced displeasure at her repeated failures and himself made a mighty spring
upward His teeth closed upon the rabbit and he bore it back to earth with him
But at the same time there was a suspicious crackling movement beside him and
his astonished eye saw a young spruce sapling bending down above him to strike
him His jaws let go their grip and he leaped backward to escape this strange
danger his lips drawn back from his fangs his throat snarling every hair
bristling with rage and fright And in that moment the sapling reared its
slender length upright and the rabbit soared dancing in the air again
The shewolf was angry She sank her fangs into her mates shoulder in
reproof and he frightened unaware of what constituted this new onslaught
struck back ferociously and in still greater fright ripping down the side of
the shewolfs muzzle For him to resent such reproof was equally unexpected to
her and she sprang upon him in snarling indignation Then he discovered his
mistake and tried to placate her But she proceeded to punish him roundly until
he gave over all attempts at placation and whirled in a circle his head away
from her his shoulders receiving the punishment of her teeth
In the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air The shewolf sat
down in the snow and old One Eye now more in fear of his mate than of the
mysterious sapling again sprang for the rabbit As he sank back with it between
his teeth he kept his eye on the sapling As before it followed him back to
earth He crouched down under the impending blow his hair bristling but his
teeth still keeping tight hold of the rabbit But the blow did not fall The
sapling remained bent above him When he moved it moved and he growled at it
through his clenched jaws when he remained still it remained still and he
concluded it was safer to continue remaining still Yet the warm blood of the
rabbit tasted good in his mouth
It was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found
himself She took the rabbit from him and while the sapling swayed and teetered
threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the rabbits head At once the
sapling shot up and after that gave no more trouble remaining in the decorous
and perpendicular position in which nature had intended it to grow Then
between them the shewolf and One Eye devoured the game which the mysterious
sapling had caught for them
There were other runways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in the air
and the wolfpair prospected them all the shewolf leading the way old One Eye
following and observant learning the method of robbing snares a knowledge
destined to stand him in good stead in the days to come
II The Lair
For two days the shewolf and One Eye hung about the Indian camp He was worried
and apprehensive yet the camp lured his mate and she was loath to depart But
when one morning the air was rent with the report of a rifle close at hand
and a bullet smashed against a tree trunk several inches from One Eyes head
they hesitated no more but went off on a long swinging lope that put quick
miles between them and the danger
They did not go far a couple of days journey The shewolfs need to find
the thing for which she searched had now become imperative She was getting very
heavy and could run but slowly Once in the pursuit of a rabbit which she
ordinarily would have caught with ease she gave over and lay down and rested
One Eye came to her but when he touched her neck gently with his muzzle she
snapped at him with such quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward and cut
a ridiculous figure in his effort to escape her teeth Her temper was now
shorter than ever but he had become more patient than ever and more solicitous
And then she found the thing for which she sought It was a few miles up a
small stream that in the summer time flowed into the Mackenzie but that then
was frozen over and frozen down to its rocky bottom a dead stream of solid
white from source to mouth The shewolf was trotting wearily along her mate
well in advance when she came upon the overhanging high claybank She turned
aside and trotted over to it The wear and tear of spring storms and melting
snows had underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small cave out of a
narrow fissure
She paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over carefully
Then on one side and the other she ran along the base of the wall to where its
abrupt bulk merged from the softerlined landscape Returning to the cave she
entered its narrow mouth For a short three feet she was compelled to crouch
then the walls widened and rose higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet
in diameter The roof barely cleared her head It was dry and cosey She
inspected it with painstaking care while One Eye who had returned stood in
the entrance and patiently watched her She dropped her head with her nose to
the ground and directed toward a point near to her closely bunched feet and
around this point she circled several times then with a tired sigh that was
almost a grunt she curled her body in relaxed her legs and dropped down her
head toward the entrance One Eye with pointed interested ears laughed at
her and beyond outlined against the white light she could see the brush of
his tail waving goodnaturedly Her own ears with a snuggling movement laid
their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment while her
mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out and in this way she expressed
that she was pleased and satisfied
One Eye was hungry Though he lay down in the entrance and slept his sleep
was fitful He kept awaking and cocking his ears at the bright world without
where the April sun was blazing across the snow When he dozed upon his ears
would steal the faint whispers of hidden trickles of running water and he would
rouse and listen intently The sun had come back and all the awakening
Northland world was calling to him Life was stirring The feel of spring was in
the air the feel of growing life under the snow of sap ascending in the trees
of buds bursting the shackles of the frost
He cast anxious glances at his mate but she showed no desire to get up He
looked outside and half a dozen snowbirds fluttered across his field of
vision He started to get up then looked back to his mate again and settled
down and dozed A shrill and minute singing stole upon his hearing Once and
twice he sleepily brushed his nose with his paw Then he woke up There
buzzing in the air at the tip of his nose was a lone mosquito It was a
fullgrown mosquito one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter and that
had now been thawed out by the sun He could resist the call of the world no
longer Besides he was hungry
He crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up But she
only snarled at him and he walked out alone into the bright sunshine to find
the snowsurface soft underfoot and the travelling difficult He went up the
frozen bed of the stream where the snow shaded by the trees was yet hard and
crystalline He was gone eight hours and he came back through the darkness
hungrier than when he had started He had found game but he had not caught it
He had broken through the melting snowcrust and wallowed while the snowshoe
rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever
He paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion Faint
strange sounds came from within They were sounds not made by his mate and yet
they were remotely familiar He bellied cautiously inside and was met by a
warning snarl from the shewolf This he received without perturbation though
he obeyed it by keeping his distance bur he remained interested in the other
sounds faint muffled sobbings and slubberings
His mate warned him irritably away and he curled up and slept in the
entrance When morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair he again sought
after the source of the remotely familiar sounds There was a new note in his
mates warning snarl It was a jealous note and he was very careful in keeping
a respectful distance Nevertheless he made out sheltering between her legs
against the length of her body five strange little bundles of life very
feeble very helpless making tiny whimpering noises with eyes that did not
open to the light He was surprised It was not the first time in his long and
successful life that this thing had happened It had happened many times yet
each time it was as fresh a surprise as ever to him
His mate looked at him anxiously Every little while she emitted a low
growl and at times when it seemed to her he approached too near the growl
shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl Of her own experience she had no memory
of the thing happening but in her instinct which was the experience of all the
mothers of wolves there lurked a memory of fathers that had eaten their
newborn and helpless progeny It manifested itself as a fear strong within her
that made her prevent One Eye from more closely inspecting the cubs he had
fathered
But there was no danger Old One Eye was feeling the urge of an impulse
that was in turn an instinct that had come down to him from all the fathers of
wolves He did not question it nor puzzle over it It was there in the fibre
of his being and it was the most natural thing in the world that he should obey
it by turning his back on his newborn family and by trotting out and away on
the meattrail whereby he lived
Five or six miles from the lair the stream divided its forks going off
among the mountains at a right angle Here leading up the left fork he came
upon a fresh track He smelled it and found it so recent that he crouched
swiftly and looked in the direction in which it disappeared Then he turned
deliberately and took the right fork The footprint was much larger than the one
his own feet made and he knew that in the wake of such a trail there was little
meat for him
Half a mile up the right fork his quick ears caught the sound of gnawing
teeth He stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine standing upright
against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark One Eye approached carefully
but hopelessly He knew the breed though he had never met it so far north
before and never in his long life had porcupine served him for a meal But he
had long since learned that there was such a thing as Chance or Opportunity
and he continued to draw near There was never any telling what might happen
for with live things events were somehow always happening differently
The porcupine rolled itself into a ball radiating long sharp needles in
all directions that defied attack In his youth One Eye had once sniffed too
near a similar apparently inert ball of quills and had the tail flick out
suddenly in his face One quill he had carried away in his muzzle where it had
remained for weeks a rankling flame until it finally worked out So he lay
down in a comfortable crouching position his nose fully a foot away and out
of the line of the tail Thus he waited keeping perfectly quiet There was no
telling Something might happen The porcupine might unroll There might be
opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust of paw into the tender unguarded
belly
But at the end of half an hour he arose growled wrathfully at the
motionless ball and trotted on He had waited too often and futilely in the
past for porcupines to unroll to waste any more time He continued up the right
fork The day wore along and nothing rewarded his hunt
The urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him He must
find meat In the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan He came out of a
thicket and found himself face to face with the slowwitted bird It was sitting
on a log not a foot beyond the end of his nose Each saw the other The bird
made a startled rise but he struck it with his paw and smashed it down to
earth then pounced upon it and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across
the snow trying to rise in the air again As his teeth crunched through the
tender flesh and fragile bones he began naturally to eat Then he remembered
and turning on the backtrack started for home carrying the ptarmigan in his
mouth
A mile above the forks running velvetfooted as was his custom a gliding
shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the trail he came upon
later imprints of the large tracks he had discovered in the early morning As
the track led his way he followed prepared to meet the maker of it at every
turn of the stream
He slid his head around a corner of rock where began an unusually large
bend in the stream and his quick eyes made out something that sent him
crouching swiftly down It was the maker of the track a large female lynx She
was crouching as he had crouched once that day in front of her the tightrolled
ball of quills If he had been a gliding shadow before he now became the ghost
of such a shadow as he crept and circled around and came up well to leeward of
the silent motionless pair
He lay down in the snow depositing the ptarmigan beside him and with eyes
peering through the needles of a lowgrowing spruce he watched the play of life
before him the waiting lynx and the waiting porcupine each intent on life
and such was the curiousness of the game the way of life for one lay in the
eating of the other and the way of life for the other lay in being not eaten
While old One Eye the wolf crouching in the covert played his part too in
the game waiting for some strange freak of Chance that might help him on the
meattrail which was his way of life
Half an hour passed an hour and nothing happened The ball of quills might
have been a stone for all it moved the lynx might have been frozen to marble
and old One Eye might have been dead Yet all three animals were keyed to a
tenseness of living that was almost painful and scarcely ever would it come to
them to be more alive than they were then in their seeming petrifaction
One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness Something
was happening The porcupine had at last decided that its enemy had gone away
Slowly cautiously it was unrolling its ball of impregnable armor It was
agitated by no tremor of anticipation Slowly slowly the bristling ball
straightened out and lengthened One Eye watching felt a sudden moistness in
his mouth and a drooling of saliva involuntarily excited by the living meat
that was spreading itself like a repast before him
Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered its enemy
In that instant the lynx struck The blow was like a flash of light The paw
with rigid claws curving like talons shot under the tender belly and came back
with a swift ripping movement Had the porcupine been entirely unrolled or had
it not discovered its enemy a fraction of a second before the blow was struck
the paw would have escaped unscathed but a sideflick of the tail sank sharp
quills into it as it was withdrawn
Everything had happened at once the blow the counterblow the squeal of
agony from the porcupine the big cats squall of sudden hurt and astonishment
One Eye half arose in his excitement his ears up his tail straight out and
quivering behind him The lynxs bad temper got the best of her She sprang
savagely at the thing that had hurt her But the porcupine squealing and
grunting with disrupted anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its
ballprotection flicked out its tail again and again the big cat squalled with
hurt and astonishment Then she fell to backing away and sneezing her nose
bristling with quills like a monstrous pincushion She brushed her nose with
her paws trying to dislodge the fiery darts thrust it into the snow and
rubbed it against twigs and branches all the time leaping about ahead
sidewise up and down in a frenzy of pain and fright
She sneezed continually and her stub of a tail was doing its best toward
lashing about by giving quick violent jerks She quit her antics and quieted
down for a long minute One Eye watched And even he could not repress a start
and an involuntary bristling of hair along his back when she suddenly leaped
without warning straight up in the air at the same time emitting a long and
most terrible squall Then she sprang away up the trail squalling with every
leap she made
It was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died out that
One Eye ventured forth He walked as delicately as though all the snow were
carpeted with porcupine quills erect and ready to pierce the soft pads of his
feet The porcupine met his approach with a furious squealing and a clashing of
its long teeth It had managed to roll up in a ball again but it was not quite
the old compact ball its muscles were too much torn for that It had been
ripped almost in half and was still bleeding profusely
One Eye scooped out mouthfuls of the bloodsoaked snow and chewed and
tasted and swallowed This served as a relish and his hunger increased
mightily but he was too old in the world to forget his caution He waited He
lay down and waited while the porcupine grated its teeth and uttered grunts and
sobs and occasional sharp little squeals In a little while One Eye noticed
that the quills were drooping and that a great quivering had set up The
quivering came to an end suddenly There was a final defiant clash of the long
teeth Then all the quills drooped quite down and the body relaxed and moved no
more
With a nervous shrinking paw One Eye stretched out the porcupine to its
full length and turned it over on its back Nothing had happened It was surely
dead He studied it intently for a moment then took a careful grip with his
teeth and started off down the stream partly carrying partly dragging the
porcupine with head turned to the side so as to avoid stepping on the prickly
mass He recollected something dropped the burden and trotted back to where he
had left the ptarmigan He did not hesitate a moment He knew clearly what was
to be done and this he did by promptly eating the ptarmigan Then he returned
and took up his burden
When he dragged the result of his days hunt into the cave the shewolf
inspected it turned her muzzle to him and lightly licked him on the neck But
the next instant she was warning him away from the cubs with a snarl that was
less harsh than usual and that was more apologetic than menacing Her
instinctive fear of the father of her progeny was toning down He was behaving
as a wolf father should and manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young
lives she had brought into the world
III The Gray Cub
He was different from his brothers and sisters Their hair already betrayed the
reddish hue inherited from their mother the shewolf while he alone in this
particular took after his father He was the one little gray cub of the litter
He had bred true to the straight wolfstock in fact he had bred true
physically to old One Eye himself with but a single exception and that was
that he had two eyes to his fathers one
The gray cubs eyes had not been open long yet already he could see with
steady clearness And while his eyes were still closed he had felt tasted and
smelled He knew his two brothers and his two sisters very well He had begun to
romp with them in a feeble awkward way and even to squabble his little throat
vibrating with a queer rasping noise the forerunner of the growl as he
worked himself into a passion And long before his eyes had opened he had
learned by touch taste and smell to know his mother a fount of warmth and
liquid food and tenderness She possessed a gentle caressing tongue that
soothed him when it passed over his soft little body and that impelled him to
snuggle close against her and to doze off to sleep
Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping but
now he could see quite well and he stayed awake for longer periods of time and
he was coming to learn his world quite well His world was gloomy but he did
not know that for he knew no other world It was dimlighted but his eyes had
never had to adjust themselves to any other light His world was very small Its
limits were the walls of the lair but as he had no knowledge of the wide world
outside he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of his existence
But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different from
the rest This was the mouth of the cave and the source of light He had
discovered that it was different from the other walls long before he had any
thoughts of his own any conscious volitions It had been an irresistible
attraction before ever his eyes opened and looked upon it The light from it had
beat upon his sealed lids and the eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to
little sparklike flashes warmcolored and strangely pleasing The life of his
body and of every fibre of his body the life that was the very substance of
his body and that was apart from his own personal life had yearned toward this
light and urged his body toward it in the same way that the cunning chemistry of
a plant urges it toward the sun
Always in the beginning before his conscious life dawned he had crawled
toward the mouth of the cave And in this his brothers and sisters were one with
him Never in that period did any of them crawl toward the dark corners of the
backwall The light drew them as if they were plants the chemistry of the life
that composed them demanded the light as a necessity of being and their little
puppetbodies crawled blindly and chemically like the tendrils of a vine Later
on when each developed individuality and became personally conscious of
impulsions and desires the attraction of the light increased They were always
crawling and sprawling toward it and being driven back from it by their mother
It was in this way that the gray cub learned other attributes of his mother
than the soft soothing tongue In his insistent crawling toward the light he
discovered in her a nose that with a sharp nudge administered rebuke and later
a paw that crushed him down or rolled him over and over with swift calculating
stroke Thus he learned hurt and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt first
by not incurring the risk of it and second when he had incurred the risk by
dodging and by retreating These were conscious actions and were the results of
his first generalizations upon the world Before that he had recoiled
automatically from hurt as he had crawled automatically toward the light After
that he recoiled from hurt because he knew that it was hurt
He was a fierce little cub So were his brothers and sisters It was to be
expected He was a carnivorous animal He came of a breed of meatkillers and
meateaters His father and mother lived wholly upon meat The milk he had
sucked with his first flickering life was milk transformed directly from meat
and now at a month old when his eyes had been open for but a week he was
beginning himself to eat meat meat half digested by the shewolf and
disgorged for the five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her
breast
But he was further the fiercest of the litter He could make a louder
rasping growl than any of them His tiny rages were much more terrible than
theirs It was he that first learned the trick of rolling a fellowcub over with
a cunning pawstroke And it was he that first gripped another cub by the ear
and pulled and tugged and growled through jaws tightclenched And certainly it
was he that caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from the
mouth of the cave
The fascination of the light for the gray cub increased from day to day He
was perpetually departing on yardlong adventures toward the caves entrance
and as perpetually being driven back Only he did not know it for an entrance
He did not know anything about entrances passages whereby one goes from one
place to another place He did not know any other place much less of a way to
get there So to him the entrance of the cave was a wall a wall of light As
the sun was to the outside dweller this wall was to him the sun of his world
It attracted him as a candle attracts a moth He was always striving to attain
it The life that was so swiftly expanding within him urged him continually
toward the wall of light The life that was within him knew that it was the one
way out the way he was predestined to tread But he himself did not know
anything about it He did not know there was any outside at all
There was one strange thing about this wall of light His father he had
already come to recognize his father as the one other dweller in the world a
creature like his mother who slept near the light and was a bringer of meat
his father had a way of walking right into the white far wall and disappearing
The gray cub could not understand this Though never permitted by his mother to
approach that wall he had approached the other walls and encountered hard
obstruction on the end of his tender nose This hurt And after several such
adventures he left the walls alone Without thinking about it he accepted this
disappearing into the wall as a peculiarity of his father as milk and
halfdigested meat were peculiarities of his mother
In fact the gray cub was not given to thinking at least to the kind of
thinking customary of men His brain worked in dim ways Yet his conclusions
were as sharp and distinct as those achieved by men He had a method of
accepting things without questioning the why and wherefore In reality this
was the act of classification He was never disturbed over why a thing happened
How it happened was sufficient for him Thus when he had bumped his nose on the
backwall a few times he accepted that he would not disappear into walls In
the same way he accepted that his father could disappear into walls But he was
not in the least disturbed by desire to find out the reason for the difference
between his father and himself Logic and physics were no part of his mental
makeup
Like most creatures of the Wild he early experienced famine There came a
time when not only did the meatsupply cease but the milk no longer came from
his mothers breast At first the cubs whimpered and cried but for the most
part they slept It was not long before they were reduced to a coma of hunger
There were no more spats and squabbles no more tiny rages nor attempts at
growling while the adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether The
cubs slept while the life that was in them flickered and died down
One Eye was desperate He ranged far and wide and slept but little in the
lair that had now become cheerless and miserable The shewolf too left her
litter and went out in search of meat In the first days after the birth of the
cubs One Eye had journeyed several times back to the Indian camp and robbed the
rabbit snares but with the melting of the snow and the opening of the streams
the Indian camp had moved away and that source of supply was closed to him
When the gray cub came back to life and again took interest in the far white
wall he found that the population of his world had been reduced Only one
sister remained to him The rest were gone As he grew stronger he found
himself compelled to play alone for the sister no longer lifted her head nor
moved about His little body rounded out with the meat he now ate but the food
had come too late for her She slept continuously a tiny skeleton flung round
with skin in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went out
Then there came a time when the gray cub no longer saw his father appearing
and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the entrance This had
happened at the end of a second and less severe famine The shewolf knew why
One Eye never came back but there was no way by which she could tell what she
had seen to the gray cub Hunting herself for meat up the left fork of the
stream where lived the lynx she had followed a dayold trail of One Eye And
she had found him or what remained of him at the end of the trail There were
many signs of the battle that had been fought and of the lynxs withdrawal to
her lair after having won the victory Before she went away the shewolf had
found this lair but the signs told her that the lynx was inside and she had
not dared to venture in
After that the shewolf in her hunting avoided the left fork For she knew
that in the lynxs lair was a litter of kittens and she knew the lynx for a
fierce badtempered creature and a terrible fighter It was all very well for
half a dozen wolves to drive a lynx spitting and bristling up a tree but it
was quite a different matter for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx especially
when the lynx was known to have a litter of hungry kittens at her back
But the Wild is the Wild and motherhood is motherhood at all times
fiercely protective whether in the Wild or out of it and the time was to come
when the shewolf for her gray cubs sake would venture the left fork and the
lair in the rocks and the lynxs wrath
IV The Wall of the World
By the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting expeditions the cub
had learned well the law that forbade his approaching the entrance Not only had
this law been forcibly and many times impressed on him by his mothers nose and
paw but in him the instinct of fear was developing Never in his brief
cavelife had he encountered anything of which to be afraid Yet fear was in
him It had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand
lives It was a heritage he had received directly from One Eye and the shewolf
but to them in turn it had been passed down through all the generations of
wolves that had gone before Fear that legacy of the Wild which no animal may
escape nor exchange for pottage
So the gray cub knew fear though he knew not the stuff of which fear was
made Possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions of life For he had
already learned that there were such restrictions Hunger he had known and when
he could not appease his hunger he had felt restriction The hard obstruction of
the cavewall the sharp nudge of his mothers nose the smashing stroke of her
paw the hunger unappeased of several famines had borne in upon him that all
was not freedom in the world that to life there were limitations and
restraints These limitations and restraints were laws To be obedient to them
was to escape hurt and make for happiness
He did not reason the question out in this manfashion He merely classified
the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt And after such
classification he avoided the things that hurt the restrictions and restraints
in order to enjoy the satisfactions and the remunerations of life
Thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother and in
obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing fear he kept away from
the mouth of the cave It remained to him a white wall of light When his mother
was absent he slept most of the time while during the intervals that he was
awake he kept very quiet suppressing the whimpering cries that tickled in his
throat and strove for noise
Once lying awake he heard a strange sound in the white wall He did not
know that it was a wolverine standing outside all atremble with its own
daring and cautiously scenting out the contents of the cave The cub knew only
that the sniff was strange a something unclassified therefore unknown and
terrible for the unknown was one of the chief elements that went into the
making of fear
The hair bristled up on the gray cubs back but it bristled silently How
was he to know that this thing that sniffed was a thing at which to bristle It
was not born of any knowledge of his yet it was the visible expression of the
fear that was in him and for which in his own life there was no accounting
But fear was accompanied by another instinct that of concealment The cub was
in a frenzy of terror yet he lay without movement or sound frozen petrified
into immobility to all appearances dead His mother coming home growled as
she smelt the wolverines track and bounded into the cave and licked and
nozzled him with undue vehemence of affection And the cub felt that somehow he
had escaped a great hurt
But there were other forces at work in the cub the greatest of which was
growth Instinct and law demanded of him obedience But growth demanded
disobedience His mother and fear impelled him to keep away from the white wall
Growth is life and life is forever destined to make for light So there was no
damming up the tide of life that was rising within him rising with every
mouthful of meat he swallowed with every breath he drew In the end one day
fear and obedience were swept away by the rush of life and the cub straddled
and sprawled toward the entrance
Unlike any other wall with which he had had experience this wall seemed to
recede from him as he approached No hard surface collided with the tender
little nose he thrust out tentatively before him The substance of the wall
seemed as permeable and yielding as light And as condition in his eyes had
the seeming of form so he entered into what had been wall to him and bathed in
the substance that composed it
It was bewildering He was sprawling through solidity And ever the light
grew brighter Fear urged him to go back but growth drove him on Suddenly he
found himself at the mouth of the cave The wall inside which he had thought
himself as suddenly leaped back before him to an immeasurable distance The
light had become painfully bright He was dazzled by it Likewise he was made
dizzy by this abrupt and tremendous extension of space Automatically his eyes
were adjusting themselves to the brightness focussing themselves to meet the
increased distance of objects At first the wall had leaped beyond his vision
He now saw it again but it had taken upon itself a remarkable remoteness Also
its appearance had changed It was now a variegated wall composed of the trees
that fringed the stream the opposing mountain that towered above the trees and
the sky that outtowered the mountain
A great fear came upon him This was more of the terrible unknown He
crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world He was very
much afraid Because it was unknown it was hostile to him Therefore the hair
stood up on end along his back and his lips wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a
ferocious and intimidating snarl Out of his puniness and fright he challenged
and menaced the whole wide world
Nothing happened He continued to gaze and in his interest he forgot to
snarl Also he forgot to be afraid For the time fear had been routed by
growth while growth had assumed the guise of curiosity He began to notice near
objects an open portion of the stream that flashed in the sun the blasted
pine tree that stood at the base of the slope and the slope itself that ran
right up to him and ceased two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he
crouched
Now the gray cub had lived all his days on a level floor He had never
experienced the hurt of a fall He did not know what a fall was So he stepped
boldly out upon the air His hindlegs still rested on the cavelip so he fell
forward head downward The earth struck him a harsh blow on the nose that made
him yelp Then he began rolling down the slope over and over He was in a panic
of terror The unknown had caught him at last It had gripped savagely hold of
him and was about to wreak upon him some terrific hurt Growth was now routed by
fear and he kiyid like any frightened puppy
The unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt and he yelped
and kiyid unceasingly This was a different proposition from crouching in
frozen fear while the unknown lurked just alongside Now the unknown had caught
tight hold of him Silence would do no good Besides it was not fear but
terror that convulsed him
But the slope grew more gradual and its base was grasscovered Here the
cub lost momentum When at last he came to a stop he gave one last agonized
yelp and then a long whimpering wail Also and quite as a matter of course as
though in his life he had already made a thousand toilets he proceeded to lick
away the dry clay that soiled him
After that he sat up and gazed about him as might the first man of the
earth who landed upon Mars The cub had broken through the wall of the world
the unknown had let go its hold of him and here he was without hurt But the
first man on Mars would have experienced less unfamiliarity than did he Without
any antecedent knowledge without any warning whatever that such existed he
found himself an explorer in a totally new world
Now that the terrible unknown had let go of him he forgot that the unknown
had any terrors He was aware only of curiosity in all the things about him He
inspected the grass beneath him the mossberry plant just beyond and the dead
trunk of the blasted pine that stood on the edge of an open space among the
trees A squirrel running around the base of the trunk came full upon him and
gave him a great fright He cowered down and snarled But the squirrel was as
badly scared It ran up the tree and from a point of safety chattered back
savagely
This helped the cubs courage and though the woodpecker he next encountered
gave him a start he proceeded confidently on his way Such was his confidence
that when a moosebird impudently hopped up to him he reached out at it with a
playful paw The result was a sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him
cower down and kiyi The noise he made was too much for the moosebird who
sought safety in flight
But the cub was learning His misty little mind had already made an
unconscious classification There were live things and things not alive Also
he must watch out for the live things The things not alive remained always in
one place but the live things moved about and there was no telling what they
might do The thing to expect of them was the unexpected and for this he must
be prepared
He travelled very clumsily He ran into sticks and things A twig that he
thought a long way off would the next instant hit him on the nose or rake along
his ribs There were inequalities of surface Sometimes he overstepped and
stubbed his nose Quite as often he understepped and stubbed his feet Then
there were the pebbles and stones that turned under him when he trod upon them
and from them he came to know that the things not alive were not all in the same
state of stable equilibrium as was his cave also that small things not alive
were more liable than large things to fall down or turn over But with every
mishap he was learning The longer he walked the better he walked He was
adjusting himself He was learning to calculate his own muscular movements to
know his physical limitations to measure distances between objects and between
objects and himself
His was the luck of the beginner Born to be a hunter of meat though he
did not know it he blundered upon meat just outside his own cavedoor on his
first foray into the world It was by sheer blundering that he chanced upon the
shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest He fell into it He had essayed to walk along
the trunk of a fallen pine The rotten bark gave way under his feet and with a
despairing yelp he pitched down the rounded descent smashed through the leafage
and stalks of a small bush and in the heart of the bush on the ground fetched
up amongst seven ptarmigan chicks
They made noises and at first he was frightened at them Then he perceived
that they were very little and he became bolder They moved He placed his paw
on one and its movements were accelerated This was a source of enjoyment to
him He smelled it He picked it up in his mouth It struggled and tickled his
tongue At the same time he was made aware of a sensation of hunger His jaws
closed together There was a crunching of fragile bones and warm blood ran in
his mouth The taste of it was good This was meat the same as his mother gave
him only it was alive between his teeth and therefore better So he ate the
ptarmigan Nor did he stop till he had devoured the whole brood Then he licked
his chops in quite the same way his mother did and began to crawl out of the
bush
He encountered a feathered whirlwind He was confused and blinded by the
rush of it and the beat of angry wings He hid his head between his paws and
yelped The blows increased The motherptarmigan was in a fury Then he became
angry He rose up snarling striking out with his paws He sank his tiny teeth
into one of the wings and pulled and tugged sturdily The ptarmigan struggled
against him showering blows upon him with her free wing It was his first
battle He was elated He forgot all about the unknown He no longer was afraid
of anything He was fighting tearing at a live thing that was striking at him
Also this live thing was meat The lust to kill was on him He had just
destroyed little live things He would now destroy a big live thing He was too
busy and happy to know that he was happy He was thrilling and exulting in ways
new to him and greater to him than any he had known before
He held on to the wing and growled between his tightclenched teeth The
ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush When she turned and tried to drag him
back into the bushs shelter he pulled her away from it and on into the open
And all the time she was making outcry and striking with her wing while
feathers were flying like a snowfall The pitch to which he was aroused was
tremendous All the fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging
through him This was living though he did not know it He was realizing his
own meaning in the world he was doing that for which he was made killing meat
and battling to kill it He was justifying his existence than which life can do
no greater for life achieves its summit when it does to the uttermost that
which it was equipped to do
After a time the ptarmigan ceased her struggling He still held her by the
wing and they lay on the ground and looked at each other He tried to growl
threateningly ferociously She pecked on his nose which by now what of
previous adventures was sore He winced but held on She pecked him again and
again From wincing he went to whimpering He tried to back away from her
oblivious of the fact that by his hold on her he dragged her after him A rain
of pecks fell on his illused nose The flood of fight ebbed down in him and
releasing his prey he turned tail and scampered off across the open in
inglorious retreat
He lay down to rest on the other side of the open near the edge of the
bushes his tongue lolling out his chest heaving and panting his nose still
hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper But as he lay there
suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something terrible impending The
unknown with all its terrors rushed upon him and he shrank back instinctively
into the shelter of the bush As he did so a draught of air fanned him and a
large winged body swept ominously and silently past A hawk driving down out
of the blue had barely missed him
While he lay in the bush recovering from this fright and peering fearfully
out the motherptarmigan on the other side of the open space fluttered out of
the ravaged nest It was because of her loss that she paid no attention to the
winged bolt of the sky But the cub saw and it was a warning and a lesson to
him the swift downward swoop of the hawk the short skim of its body just
above the ground the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan the
ptarmigans squawk of agony and fright and the hawks rush upward into the
blue carrying the ptarmigan away with it
It was a long time before the cub left his shelter He had learned much
Live things were meat They were good to eat Also live things when they were
large enough could give hurt It was better to eat small live things like
ptarmigan chicks and to let alone large live things like ptarmigan hens
Nevertheless he felt a little prick of ambition a sneaking desire to have
another battle with that ptarmigan hen only the hawk had carried her away
Maybe there were other ptarmigan hens He would go and see
He came down a shelving bank to the stream He had never seen water before
The footing looked good There were no inequalities of surface He stepped
boldly out on it and went down crying with fear into the embrace of the
unknown It was cold and he gasped breathing quickly The water rushed into
his lungs instead of the air that had always accompanied his act of breathing
The suffocation he experienced was like the pang of death To him it signified
death He had no conscious knowledge of death but like every animal of the
Wild he possessed the instinct of death To him it stood as the greatest of
hurts It was the very essence of the unknown it was the sum of the terrors of
the unknown the one culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen
to him about which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything
He came to the surface and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth He did
not go down again Quite as though it had been a longestablished custom of his
he struck out with all his legs and began to swim The near bank was a yard
away but he had come up with his back to it and the first thing his eyes
rested upon was the opposite bank toward which he immediately began to swim
The stream was a small one but in the pool it widened out to a score of feet
Midway in the passage the current picked up the cub and swept him
downstream He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom of the pool
Here was little chance for swimming The quiet water had become suddenly angry
Sometimes he was under sometimes on top At all times he was in violent motion
now being turned over or around and again being smashed against a rock And
with every rock he struck he yelped His progress was a series of yelps from
which might have been adduced the number of rocks he encountered
Below the rapid was a second pool and here captured by the eddy he was
gently borne to the bank and as gently deposited on a bed of gravel He crawled
frantically clear of the water and lay down He had learned some more about the
world Water was not alive Yet it moved Also it looked as solid as the earth
but was without any solidity at all His conclusion was that things were not
always what they appeared to be The cubs fear of the unknown was an inherited
distrust and it had now been strengthened by experience Thenceforth in the
nature of things he would possess an abiding distrust of appearances He would
have to learn the reality of a thing before he could put his faith into it
One other adventure was destined for him that day He had recollected that
there was such a thing in the world as his mother And then there came to him a
feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest of the things in the world
Not only was his body tired with the adventures it had undergone but his little
brain was equally tired In all the days he had lived it had not worked so hard
as on this one day Furthermore he was sleepy So he started out to look for
the cave and his mother feeling at the same time an overwhelming rush of
loneliness and helplessness
He was sprawling along between some bushes when he heard a sharp
intimidating cry There was a flash of yellow before his eyes He saw a weasel
leaping swiftly away from him It was a small live thing and he had no fear
Then before him at his feet he saw an extremely small live thing only
several inches long a young weasel that like himself had disobediently gone
out adventuring It tried to retreat before him He turned it over with his paw
It made a queer grating noise The next moment the flash of yellow reappeared
before his eyes He heard again the intimidating cry and at the same instant
received a severe blow on the side of the neck and felt the sharp teeth of the
motherweasel cut into his flesh
While he yelped and kiyid and scrambled backward he saw the motherweasel
leap upon her young one and disappear with it into the neighboring thicket The
cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt but his feelings were hurt more
grievously and he sat down and weakly whimpered This motherweasel was so
small and so savage He was yet to learn that for size and weight the weasel was
the most ferocious vindictive and terrible of all the killers of the Wild But
a portion of this knowledge was quickly to be his
He was still whimpering when the motherweasel reappeared She did not rush
him now that her young one was safe She approached more cautiously and the
cub had full opportunity to observe her lean snakelike body and her head
erect eager and snakelike itself Her sharp menacing cry sent the hair
bristling along his back and he snarled warningly at her She came closer and
closer There was a leap swifter than his unpractised sight and the lean
yellow body disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision The next
moment she was at his throat her teeth buried in his hair and flesh
At first he snarled and tried to fight but he was very young and this was
only his first day in the world and his snarl became a whimper his fight a
struggle to escape The weasel never relaxed her hold She hung on striving to
press down with her teeth to the great vein where his lifeblood bubbled The
weasel was a drinker of blood and it was ever her preference to drink from the
throat of life itself
The gray cub would have died and there would have been no story to write
about him had not the shewolf come bounding through the bushes The weasel let
go the cub and flashed at the shewolfs throat missing but getting a hold on
the jaw instead The shewolf flirted her head like the snap of a whip breaking
the weasels hold and flinging it high in the air And still in the air the
shewolfs jaws closed on the lean yellow body and the weasel knew death
between the crunching teeth
The cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his mother
Her joy at finding him seemed greater even than his joy at being found She
nozzled him and caressed him and licked the cuts made in him by the weasels
teeth Then between them mother and cub they ate the blooddrinker and after
that went back to the cave and slept
V The Law of Meat
The cubs development was rapid He rested for two days and then ventured forth
from the cave again It was on this adventure that he found the young weasel
whose mother he had helped eat and he saw to it that the young weasel went the
way of its mother But on this trip he did not get lost When he grew tired he
found his way back to the cave and slept And every day thereafter found him out
and ranging a wider area
He began to get an accurate measurement of his strength and his weakness
and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious He found it expedient to be
cautious all the time except for the rare moments when assured of his own
intrepidity he abandoned himself to petty rages and lusts
He was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray ptarmigan
Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter of the squirrel he had
first met on the blasted pine While the sight of a moosebird almost invariably
put him into the wildest of rages for he never forgot the peck on the nose he
had received from the first of that ilk he encountered
But there were times when even a moosebird failed to affect him and those
were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some other prowling
meathunter He never forgot the hawk and its moving shadow always sent him
crouching into the nearest thicket He no longer sprawled and straddled and
already he was developing the gait of his mother slinking and furtive
apparently without exertion yet sliding along with a swiftness that was as
deceptive as it was imperceptible
In the matter of meat his luck had been all in the beginning The seven
ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of his killings His
desire to kill strengthened with the days and he cherished hungry ambitions for
the squirrel that chattered so volubly and always informed all wild creatures
that the wolfcub was approaching But as birds flew in the air squirrels could
climb trees and the cub could only try to crawl unobserved upon the squirrel
when it was on the ground
The cub entertained a great respect for his mother She could get meat and
she never failed to bring him his share Further she was unafraid of things It
did not occur to him that this fearlessness was founded upon experience and
knowledge Its effect on him was that of an impression of power His mother
represented power and as he grew older he felt this power in the sharper
admonition of her paw while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the
slash of her fangs For this likewise he respected his mother She compelled
obedience from him and the older he grew the shorter grew her temper
Famine came again and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once more the
bite of hunger The shewolf ran herself thin in the quest for meat She rarely
slept any more in the cave spending most of her time on the meattrail and
spending it vainly This famine was not a long one but it was severe while it
lasted The cub found no more milk in his mothers breast nor did he get one
mouthful of meat for himself
Before he had hunted in play for the sheer joyousness of it now he hunted
in deadly earnestness and found nothing Yet the failure of it accelerated his
development He studied the habits of the squirrel with greater carefulness and
strove with greater craft to steal upon it and surprise it He studied the
woodmice and tried to dig them out of their burrows and he learned much about
the ways of moosebirds and woodpeckers And there came a day when the hawks
shadow did not drive him crouching into the bushes He had grown stronger and
wiser and more confident Also he was desperate So he sat on his haunches
conspicuously in an open space and challenged the hawk down out of the sky
For he knew that there floating in the blue above him was meat the meat his
stomach yearned after so insistently But the hawk refused to come down and give
battle and the cub crawled away into a thicket and whimpered his disappointment
and hunger
The famine broke The shewolf brought home meat It was strange meat
different from any she had ever brought before It was a lynx kitten partly
grown like the cub but no so large And it was all for him His mother had
satisfied her hunger elsewhere though he did not know that it was the rest of
the lynx litter that had gone to satisfy her Nor did he know the desperateness
of her deed He knew only that the velvetfurred kitten was meat and he ate and
waxed happier with every mouthful
A full stomach conduces to inaction and the cub lay in the cave sleeping
against his mothers side He was roused by her snarling Never had he heard her
snarl so terribly Possibly in her whole life it was the most terrible snarl she
ever gave There was reason for it and none knew it better than she A lynxs
lair is not despoiled with impunity In the full glare of the afternoon light
crouching in the entrance of the cave the cub saw the lynxmother The hair
rippled up all along his back at the sight Here was fear and it did not
require his instinct to tell him of it And if sight alone were not sufficient
the cry of rage the intruder gave beginning with a snarl and rushing abruptly
upward into a hoarse screech was convincing enough in itself
The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him and stood up and snarled
valiantly by his mothers side But she thrust him ignominiously away and behind
her Because of the lowroofed entrance the lynx could not leap in and when she
made a crawling rush of it the shewolf sprang upon her and pinned her down The
cub saw little of the battle There was a tremendous snarling and spitting and
screeching The two animals threshed about the lynx ripping and tearing with
her claws and using her teeth as well while the shewolf used her teeth alone
Once the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the lynx He
clung on growling savagely Though he did not know it by the weight of his
body he clogged the action of the leg and thereby saved his mother much damage
A change in the battle crushed him under both their bodies and wrenched loose
his hold The next moment the two mothers separated and before they rushed
together again the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge forepaw that ripped
his shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against the wall
Then was added to the uproar the cubs shrill yelp of pain and fright But the
fight lasted so long that he had time to cry himself out and to experience a
second burst of courage and the end of the battle found him again clinging to a
hind and furiously growling between his teeth
The lynx was dead But the shewolf was very weak and sick At first she
caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder but the blood she had lost had
taken with it her strength and for all of a day and a night she lay by her dead
foes side without movement scarcely breathing For a week she never left the
cave except for water and then her movements were slow and painful At the end
of that time the lynx was devoured while the shewolfs wounds had healed
sufficiently to permit her to take the meattrail again
The cubs shoulder was stiff and sore and for some time he limped from the
terrible slash he had received But the world now seemed changed He went about
in it with greater confidence with a feeling of prowess that had not been his
in the days before the battle with the lynx He had looked upon life in a more
ferocious aspect he had fought he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe
and he had survived And because of all this he carried himself more boldly
with a touch of defiance that was new in him He was no longer afraid of minor
things and much of his timidity had vanished though the unknown never ceased
to press upon him with its mysteries and terrors intangible and evermenacing
He began to accompany his mother on the meat and he saw much of the killing
of meat and began to play his part in it And in his own dim way he learned the
law of meat There were two kinds of life his own kind and the other kind
His own kind included his mother and himself The other kind included all live
things that moved But the other kind was divided One portion was what his own
kind killed and ate This portion was composed of the nonkillers and the small
killers The other portion killed and ate his own kind or was killed and eaten
by his own kind And out of this classification arose the law The aim of life
was meat Life itself was meat Life lived on life There were the eaters and
the eaten The law was EAT OR BE EATEN He did not formulate the law in clear
set terms and moralize about it He did not even think the law he merely lived
the law without thinking about it at all
He saw the law operating around him on every side He had eaten the
ptarmigan chicks The hawk had eaten the ptarmiganmother The hawk would also
have eaten him Later when he had grown more formidable he wanted to eat the
hawk He had eaten the lynx kitten The lynxmother would have eaten him had she
not herself been killed and eaten And so it went The law was being lived about
him by all live things and he himself was part and parcel of the law He was a
killer His only food was meat live meat that ran away swiftly before him or
flew into the air or climbed trees or hid in the ground or faced him and
fought with him or turned the tables and ran after him
Had the cub thought in manfashion he might have epitomized life as a
voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude of
appetites pursuing and being pursued hunting and being hunted eating and
being eaten all in blindness and confusion with violence and disorder a chaos
of gluttony and slaughter ruled over by chance merciless planless endless
But the cub did not think in manfashion He did not look at things with
wide vision He was singlepurposed and entertained but one thought or desire
at a time Besides the law of meat there was a myriad other and lesser laws for
him to learn and obey The world was filled with surprise The stir of the life
that was in him the play of his muscles was an unending happiness To run down
meat was to experience thrills and elations His rages and battles were
pleasures Terror itself and the mystery of the unknown lent to his living
And there were easements and satisfactions To have a full stomach to doze
lazily in the sunshine such things were remuneration in full for his ardors
and toils while his ardors and toils were in themselves selfremunerative They
were expressions of life and life is always happy when it is expressing itself
So the cub had no quarrel with his hostile environment He was very much alive
very happy and very proud of himself
Part Three The Gods of the Wild
I The Makers of Fire
The cub came upon it suddenly It was his own fault He had been careless He
had left the cave and run down to the stream to drink It might have been that
he took no notice because he was heavy with sleep He had been out all night on
the meattrail and had but just then awakened And his carelessness might have
been due to the familiarity of the trail to the pool He had travelled it often
and nothing had ever happened on it
He went down past the blasted pine crossed the open space and trotted in
amongst the trees Then at the same instant he saw and smelt Before him
sitting silently on their haunches were five live things the like of which he
had never seen before It was his first glimpse of mankind But at the sight of
him the five men did not spring to their feet nor show their teeth nor snarl
They did not move but sat there silent and ominous
Nor did the cub move Every instinct of his nature would have impelled him
to dash wildly away had there not suddenly and for the first time arisen in him
another and counter instinct A great awe descended upon him He was beaten down
to movelessness by an overwhelming sense of his own weakness and littleness
Here was mastery and power something far and away beyond him
The cub had never seen man yet the instinct concerning man was his In dim
ways he recognized in man the animal that had fought itself to primacy over the
other animals of the Wild Not alone out of his own eyes but out of the eyes of
all his ancestors was the cub now looking upon man out of eyes that had
circled in the darkness around countless winter campfires that had peered from
safe distances and from the hearts of thickets at the strange twolegged animal
that was lord over living things The spell of the cubs heritage was upon him
the fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle and the accumulated
experience of the generations The heritage was too compelling for a wolf that
was only a cub Had he been fullgrown he would have run away As it was he
cowered down in a paralysis of fear already half proffering the submission that
his kind had proffered from the first time a wolf came in to sit by mans fire
and be made warm
One of the Indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above him The
cub cowered closer to the ground It was the unknown objectified at last in
concrete flesh and blood bending over him and reaching down to seize hold of
him His hair bristled involuntarily his lips writhed back and his little fangs
were bared The hand poised like doom above him hesitated and the man spoke
laughing »Wabam wabisca ip pit tah« »Look The white fangs«
The other Indians laughed loudly and urged the man on to pick up the cub
As the hand descended closer and closer there raged within the cub a battle of
the instincts He experienced two great impulsions to yield and to fight The
resulting action was a compromise He did both He yielded till the hand almost
touched him Then he fought his teeth flashing in a snap that sank them into
the hand The next moment he received a clout alongside the head that knocked
him over on his side Then all fight fled out of him His puppyhood and the
instinct of submission took charge of him He sat up on his haunches and
kiyid But the man whose hand he had bitten was angry The cub received a
clout on the other side of his head Whereupon he sat up and kiyid louder than
ever
The four Indians laughed more loudly while even the man who had been bitten
began to laugh They surrounded the cub and laughed at him while he wailed out
his terror and his hurt In the midst of it he heard something The Indians
heard it too But the cub knew what it was and with a last long wail that had
in it more of triumph than grief he ceased his noise and waited for the coming
of his mother of his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and killed all
things and was never afraid She was snarling as she ran She had heard the cry
of her cub and was dashing to save him
She bounded in amongst them her anxious and militant motherhood making her
anything but a pretty sight But to the cub the spectacle of her protective rage
was pleasing He uttered a glad little cry and bounded to meet her while the
mananimals went back hastily several steps The shewolf stood over against her
cub facing the men with bristling hair a snarl rumbling deep in her throat
Her face was distorted and malignant with menace even the bridge of the nose
wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl
Then it was that a cry went up from one of the men »Kiche« was what he
uttered It was an exclamation of surprise The cub felt his mother wilting at
the sound
»Kiche« the man cried again this time with sharpness and authority
And then the cub saw his mother the shewolf the fearless one crouching
down till her belly touched the ground whimpering wagging her tail making
peace signs The cub could not understand He was appalled The awe of man
rushed over him again His instinct had been true His mother verified it She
too rendered submission to the mananimals
The man who had spoken came over to her He put his hand upon her head and
she only crouched closer She did not snap nor threaten to snap The other men
came up and surrounded her and felt her and pawed her which actions she made
no attempt to resent They were greatly excited and made many noises with their
mouths These noises were not indications of danger the cub decided as he
crouched near his mother still bristling from time to time but doing his best
to submit
»It is not strange« an Indian was saying »Her father was a wolf It is
true her mother was a dog but did not my brother tie her out in the woods all
of three nights in the mating season Therefore was the father of Kiche a wolf«
»It is a year Gray Beaver since she ran away« spoke a second Indian
»It is not strange Salmon Tongue« Gray Beaver answered »It was the time
of the famine and there was no meat for the dogs«
»She has lived with the wolves« said a third Indian
»So it would seem Three Eagles« Gray Beaver answered laying his hand on
the cub »and this be the sign of it«
The cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand and the hand flew back to
administer a clout Whereupon the cub covered its fangs and sank down
submissively while the hand returning rubbed behind his ears and up and down
his back
»This be the sign of it« Gray Beaver went on »It is plain that his mother
is Kiche But his father was a wolf Wherefore is there in him little dog and
much wolf His fangs be white and White Fang shall be his name I have spoken
He is my dog For was not Kiche my brothers dog And is not my brother dead«
The cub who had thus received a name in the world lay and watched For a
time the mananimals continued to make their mouthnoises Then Gray Beaver took
a knife from a sheath that hung around his neck and went into the thicket and
cut a stick White Fang watched him He notched the stick at each end and in the
notches fastened strings of rawhide One string he tied around the throat of
Kiche Then he led her to a small pine around which he tied the other string
White Fang followed and lay down beside her Salmon Tongues hand reached
out to him and rolled him over on his back Kiche looked on anxiously White
Fang felt fear mounting in him again He could not quite suppress a snarl but
he made no offer to snap The hand with fingers crooked and spread apart
rubbed his stomach in a playful way and rolled him from side to side It was
ridiculous and ungainly lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air
Besides it was a position of such utter helplessness that White Fangs whole
nature revolted against it He could do nothing to defend himself If this
mananimal intended harm White Fang knew that he could not escape it How could
he spring away with his four legs in the air above him Yet submission made him
master his fear and he only growled softly This growl he could not suppress
nor did the mananimal resent it by giving him a blow on the head And
furthermore such was the strangeness of it White Fang experienced an
unacountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and forth When he
was rolled on his side he ceased the growl when the fingers pressed and prodded
at the base of his ears the pleasurable sensation increased and when with a
final rub and scratch the man left him alone and went away all fear had died
out of White Fang He was to know fear many times in his dealings with man yet
it was a token of the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to be
his
After a time White Fang heard strange noises approaching He was quick in
his classification for he knew them at once for mananimal noises A few
minutes later the remainder of the tribe strung out as it was on the march
trailed in There were more men and many women and children forty souls of
them and all heavily burdened with camp equipage and outfit Also there were
many dogs and these with the exception of the partgrown puppies were
likewise burdened with camp outfit On their backs in bags that fastened
tightly around underneath the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of
weight
White Fang had never seen dogs before but at sight of them he felt that
they were his own kind only somehow different But they displayed little
difference from the wolf when they discovered the cub and his mother There was
a rush White Fang bristled and snarled and snapped in the face of the
openmouthed oncoming wave of dogs and went down and under them feeling the
sharp slash of teeth in his body himself biting and tearing at the legs and
bellies above him There was a great uproar He could hear the snarl of Kiche as
she fought for him and he could hear the cries of the mananimals the sound of
clubs striking upon bodies and the yelps of pain from the dogs so struck
Only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again He could now see
the mananimals driving back the dogs with clubs and stones defending him
saving him from the savage teeth of his kind that somehow was not his kind And
though there was no reason in his brain for a clear conception of so abstract a
thing as justice nevertheless in his own way he felt the justice of the
mananimals and he knew them for what they were makers of law and executors
of law Also he appreciated the power with which they administered the law
Unlike any animals he had ever encountered they did not bite nor claw They
enforced their live strength with the power of dead things Dead things did
their bidding Thus sticks and stones directed by these strange creatures
leaped through the air like living things inflicting grievous hurts upon the
dogs
To his mind this was power unusual power inconceivable and beyond the
natural power that was godlike White Fang in the very nature of him could
never know anything about gods at the best he could know only things that were
beyond knowing but the wonder and awe that he had of these mananimals in ways
resembled what would be the wonder and awe of man at sight of some celestial
creature on a mountain top hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an
astonished world
The last dog had been driven back The hubbub died down And White Fang
licked his hurts and meditated upon this his first taste of packcruelty and
his introduction to the pack He had never dreamed that his own kind consisted
of more than One Eye his mother and himself They had constituted a kind
apart and here abruptly he had discovered many more creatures apparently of
his own kind And there was a subconscious resentment that these his kind at
first sight had pitched upon him and tried to destroy him In the same way he
resented his mother being tied with a stick even though it was done by the
superior mananimals It savored of the trap of bondage Yet of the trap and of
bondage he knew nothing Freedom to roam and run and lie down at will had been
his heritage and here it was being infringed upon His mothers movements were
restricted to the length of a stick and by the length of that same stick was he
restricted for he had not yet got beyond the need of his mothers side
He did not like it Nor did he like it when the mananimals arose and went
on with their march for a tiny mananimal took the other end of the stick and
led Kiche captive behind him and behind Kiche followed White Fang greatly
perturbed and worried by this new adventure he had entered upon
They went down the valley of the stream far beyond White Fangs widest
ranging until they came to the end of the valley where the stream ran into the
Mackenzie River Here where canoes were cached on poles high in the air and
where stood fishracks for the drying of fish camp was made and White Fang
looked on with wondering eyes The superiority of these mananimals increased
with every moment There was their mastery over all these sharpfanged dogs It
breathed of power But greater than that to the wolfcub was their mastery
over things not alive their capacity to communicate motion to unmoving things
their capacity to change the very face of the world
It was this last that especially affected him The elevation of frames of
poles caught his eye yet this in itself was not so remarkable being done by
the same creatures that flung sticks and stones to great distances But when the
frames of poles were made into tepees by being covered with cloth and skins
White Fang was astounded It was the colossal bulk of them that impressed him
They arose around him on every side like some monstrous quickgrowing form of
life They occupied nearly the whole circumference of his field of vision He
was afraid of them They loomed ominously above him and when the breeze stirred
them into huge movements he cowered down in fear keeping his eyes warily upon
them and prepared to spring away if they attempted to precipitate themselves
upon him
But in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away He saw the women
and children passing in and out of them without harm and he saw the dogs trying
often to get into them and being driven away with sharp words and flying
stones After a time he left Kiches side and crawled cautiously toward the
wall of the nearest tepee It was the curiosity of growth that urged him on
the necessity of learning and living and doing that brings experience The last
few inches to the wall of the tepee were crawled with painful slowness and
precaution The days events had prepared him for the unknown to manifest itself
in most stupendous and unthinkable ways At last his nose touched the canvas He
waited Nothing happened Then he smelled the strange fabric saturated with the
mansmell He closed on the canvas with his teeth and gave a gentle tug Nothing
happened though the adjacent portions of the tepee moved He tugged harder
There was a greater movement It was delightful He tugged still harder and
repeatedly until the whole tepee was in motion Then the sharp cry of a squaw
inside sent him scampering back to Kiche But after that he was afraid no more
of the looming bulks of the tepees
A moment later he was straying away again from his mother Her stick was
tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him A partgrown puppy
somewhat larger and older than he came toward him slowly with ostentatious and
belligerent importance The puppys name as White Fang was afterward to hear
him called was Liplip He had had experience in puppy fights and was already
something of a bully
Liplip was White Fangs own kind and being only a puppy did not seem
dangerous so White Fang prepared to meet him in friendly spirit But when the
strangers walk became stifflegged and his lips lifted clear of his teeth
White Fang stiffened too and answered with lifted lips They half circled
about each other tentatively snarling and bristling This lasted several
minutes and White Fang was beginning to enjoy it as a sort of game But
suddenly with remarkable swiftness Liplip leaped in delivered a slashing
snap and leaped away again The snap had taken effect on the shoulder that had
been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep down near the bone The
surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp out of White Fang but the next moment
in a rush of anger he was upon Liplip and snapping viciously
But Liplip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy fights
Three times four times and half a dozen times his sharp little teeth scored
on the newcomer until White Fang yelping shamelessly fled to the protection
of his mother It was the first of the many fights he was to have with Liplip
for they were enemies from the start born so with natures destined perpetually
to clash
Kiche licked White Fang soothingly with her tongue and tried to prevail
upon him to remain with her But his curiosity was rampant and several minutes
later he was venturing forth on a new quest He came upon one of the
mananimals Gray Beaver who was squatting on his hams and doing something with
sticks and dry moss spread before him on the ground White Fang came near to him
and watched Gray Beaver made mouthnoises which White Fang interpreted as not
hostile so he came still nearer
Women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to Gray Beaver It
was evidently an affair of moment White Fang came in until he touched Gray
Beavers knee so curious was he and already forgetful that this was a terrible
mananimal Suddenly he saw a strange thing like mist beginning to arise from
the sticks and moss beneath Gray Beavers hands Then amongst the sticks
themselves appeared a live thing twisting and turning of a color like the
color of the sun in the sky White Fang knew nothing about fire It drew him as
the light in the mouth of the cave had drawn him in his early puppyhood He
crawled the several steps toward the flame He heard Gray Beaver chuckle above
him and he knew the sound was not hostile Then his nose touched the flame and
at the same instant his little tongue went out to it
For a moment he was paralyzed The unknown lurking in the midst of the
sticks and moss was savagely clutching him by the nose He scrambled backward
bursting out in an astonished explosion of kiyis At the sound Kiche leaped
snarling to the end of her stick and there raged terribly because she could not
come to his aid But Gray Beaver laughed loudly and slapped his thighs and
told the happening to all the rest of the camp till everybody was laughing
uproariously But White Fang sat on his haunches and kiyid and kiyid a
forlorn and pitiable little figure in the midst of the mananimals
It was the worst hurt he had ever known Both nose and tongue had been
scorched by the live thing suncolored that had grown up under Gray Beavers
hands He cried and cried interminably and every fresh wail was greeted by
bursts of laughter on the part of the mananimals He tried to soothe his nose
with his tongue but the tongue was burnt too and the two hurts coming together
produced greater hurt whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than
ever
And then shame came to him He knew laughter and the meaning of it It is
not given us to know how some animals know laughter and know when they are
being laughed at but it was this same way that White Fang knew it And he felt
shame that the mananimals should be laughing at him He turned and fled away
not from the hurt of the fire but from the laughter that sank even deeper and
hurt in the spirit of him And he fled to Kiche raging at the end of her stick
like an animal gone mad to Kiche the one creature in the world who was not
laughing at him
Twilight drew down and night came on and White Fang lay by his mothers
side His nose and tongue still hurt but he was perplexed by a greater trouble
He was homesick He felt a vacancy in him a need for the hush and quietude of
the stream and the cave in the cliff Life had become too populous There were
so many of the mananimals men women and children all making noises and
irritations And there were the dogs ever squabbling and bickering bursting
into uproars and creating confusions The restful loneliness of the only life he
had known was gone Here the very air was palpitant with life It hummed and
buzzed unceasingly Continually changing its intensity and abruptly variant in
pitch it impinged on his nerves and senses made him nervous and restless and
worried him with a perpetual imminence of happening
He watched the mananimals coming and going and moving about the camp In
fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the gods they create so
looked White Fang upon the mananimals before him They were superior creatures
of a verity gods To his dim comprehension they were as much wonderworkers as
gods are to men They were creatures of mastery possessing all manner of
unknown and impossible potencies overlords of the alive and the not alive
making obey that which moved imparting movement to that which did not move and
making life suncolored and biting life to grow out of dead moss and wood
They were firemakers They were gods
II The Bondage
The days were thronged with experience for White Fang During the time that
Kiche was tied by the stick he ran about over all the camp inquiring
investigating learning He quickly came to know much of the ways of the
mananimals but familiarity did not breed contempt The more he came to know
them the more they vindicated their superiority the more they displayed their
mysterious powers the greater loomed their godlikeness
To man has been given the grief often of seeing his gods overthrown and
his altars crumbling but to the wolf and the wild dog that have come in to
crouch at mans feet this grief has never come Unlike man whose gods are of
the unseen and the overguessed vapors and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture
of reality wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power intangible
outcroppings of self into the realm of spirit unlike man the wolf and the
wild dog that have come in to the fire find their gods in the living flesh
solid to the touch occupying earthspace and requiring time for the
accomplishment of their ends and their existence No effort of faith is
necessary to believe in such a god no effort of will can possibly induce
disbelief in such a god There is no getting away from it There it stands on
its two hindlegs club in hand immensely potential passionate and wrathful
and loving god and mystery and power all wrapped up and around by flesh that
bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat like any flesh
And so it was with White Fang The mananimals were gods unmistakable and
unescapable As his mother Kiche had rendered her allegiance to them at the
first cry of her name so he was beginning to render his allegiance He gave
them the trail as a privilege indubitably theirs When they walked he got out
of their way When they called he came When they threatened he cowered down
When they commanded him to go he went away hurriedly For behind any wish of
theirs was power to enforce that wish power that hurt power that expressed
itself in clouts and clubs in flying stones and stinging lashes of whips
He belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them His actions were theirs to
command His body was theirs to maul to stamp upon to tolerate Such was the
lesson that was quickly borne in upon him It came hard going as it did
counter to much that was strong and dominant in his own nature and while he
disliked it in the learning of it unknown to himself he was learning to like
it It was a placing of his destiny in anothers hands a shifting of the
responsibilities of existence This in itself was compensation for it is always
easier to lean upon another than to stand alone
But it did not all happen in a day this giving over of himself body and
soul to the mananimals He could not immediately forego his wild heritage and
his memories of the Wild There were days when he crept to the edge of the
forest and stood and listened to something calling him far and away And always
he returned restless and uncomfortable to whimper softly and wistfully at
Kiches side and to lick her face with eager questioning tongue
White Fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp He knew the injustice and
greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was thrown out to be eaten He
came to know that men were more just children more cruel and women more kindly
and more likely to toss him a bit of meat or bone And after two or three
painful adventures with the mothers of partgrown puppies he came into the
knowledge that it was always good policy to let such mothers alone to keep away
from them as far as possible and to avoid them when he saw them coming
But the bane of his life was Liplip Larger older and stronger Liplip
had selected White Fang for his special object of persecution White Fang fought
willingly enough but he was outclassed His enemy was too big Liplip became a
nightmare to him Whenever he ventured away from his mother the bully was sure
to appear trailing at his heels snarling at him picking upon him and
watchful of an opportunity when no mananimal was near to spring upon him and
force a fight As Liplip invariably won he enjoyed it hugely It became his
chief delight in life as it became White Fangs chief torment
But the effect upon White Fang was not to cow him Though he suffered most
of the damage and was always defeated his spirit remained unsubdued Yet a bad
effect was produced He became malignant and morose His temper had been savage
by birth but it became more savage under this unending persecution The genial
playful puppyish side of him found little expression He never played and
gambolled about with the other puppies of the camp Liplip would not permit it
The moment White Fang appeared near them Liplip was upon him bullying and
hectoring him or fighting with him until he had driven him away
The effect of all this was to rob White Fang of much of his puppyhood and to
make him in his comportment older than his age Denied the outlet through play
of his energies he recoiled upon himself and developed his mental processes He
became cunning he had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of
trickery Prevented from obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general
feed was given to the campdogs he became a clever thief He had to forage for
himself and he foraged well though he was ofttimes a plague to the squaws in
consequence He learned to sneak about camp to be crafty to know what was
going on everywhere to see and to hear everything and to reason accordingly
and successfully to devise ways and means of avoiding his implacable persecutor
It was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first really
big crafty game and got therefrom his first taste of revenge As Kiche when
with the wolves had lured out to destruction dogs from the camps of men so
White Fang in manner somewhat similar lured Liplip into Kiches avenging
jaws Retreating before Liplip White Fang made an indirect flight that led in
and out and around the various tepees of the camp He was a good runner swifter
than any other puppy of his size and swifter than Liplip But he did not run
his best in this chase He barely held his own one leap ahead of his pursuer
Liplip excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his victim
forgot caution and locality When he remembered locality it was too late
Dashing at top speed around a tepee he ran full tilt into Kiche lying at the
end of her stick He gave one yelp of consternation and then her punishing jaws
closed upon him She was tied but he could not get away from her easily She
rolled him off his legs so that he could not run while she repeatedly ripped
and slashed him with her fangs
When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her he crawled to his feet
badly dishevelled hurt both in body and in spirit His hair was standing out
all over him in tufts where her teeth had mauled He stood where he had arisen
opened his mouth and broke out the long heartbroken puppy wail But even this
he was not allowed to complete In the middle of it White Fang rushing in
sank his teeth into Liplips hind leg There was no fight left in Liplip and
he ran away shamelessly his victim hot on his heels and worrying him all the
way back to his own tepee Here the squaws came to his aid and White Fang
transformed into a raging demon was finally driven off only by a fusillade of
stones
Came the day when Gray Beaver deciding that the liability of her running
away was past released Kiche White Fang was delighted with his mothers
freedom He accompanied her joyfully about the camp and so long as he remained
close by her side Liplip kept a respectful distance White Fang even bristled
up to him and walked stifflegged but Liplip ignored the challenge He was no
fool himself and whatever vengeance he desired to wreak he could wait until he
caught White Fang alone
Later on that day Kiche and White Fang strayed into the edge of the woods
next to the camp He had led his mother there step by step and now when she
stopped he tried to inveigle her farther The stream the lair and the quiet
woods were calling to him and he wanted her to come He ran on a few steps
stopped and looked back She had not moved He whined pleadingly and scurried
playfully in and out of the underbrush He ran back to her licked her face and
ran on again And still she did not move He stopped and regarded her all of an
intentness and eagerness physically expressed that slowly faded out of him as
she turned her head and gazed back at the camp
There was something calling to him out there in the open His mother heard
it too But she heard also that other and louder call the call of the fire and
of man the call which it has been given alone of all animals to the wolf to
answer to the wolf and the wilddog who are brothers
Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp Stronger than the physical
restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp upon her Unseen and occultly
the gods still gripped with their power and would not let her go White Fang sat
down in the shadow of a birch and whimpered softly There was a strong smell of
pine and subtle woods fragrances filled the air reminding him of his old life
of freedom before the days of his bondage But he was still only a partgrown
puppy and stronger than the call either of man or of the Wild was the call of
his mother All the hours of his short life he had depended upon her The time
was yet to come for independence So he arose and trotted forlornly back to
camp pausing once and twice to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call
that still sounded in the depths of the forest
In the Wild the time of a mother with her young is short but under the
dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter Thus it was with White Fang Gray
Beaver was in the debt of Three Eagles Three Eagles was going away on a trip up
the Mackenzie to the Great Slave Lake A strip of scarlet cloth a bearskin
twenty cartridges and Kiche went to pay the debt White Fang saw his mother
taken aboard Three Eagles canoe and tried to follow her A blow from Three
Eagles knocked him backward to the land The canoe shoved off He sprang into
the water and swam after it deaf to the sharp cries of Gray Beaver to return
Even a mananimal a god White Fang ignored such was the terror he was in of
losing his mother
But gods are accustomed to being obeyed and Gray Beaver wrathfully launched
a canoe in pursuit When he overtook White Fang he reached down and by the nape
of the neck lifted him clear of the water He did not deposit him at once in the
bottom of the canoe Holding him suspended with one hand with the other hand he
proceeded to give him a beating And it was a beating His hand was heavy Every
blow was shrewd to hurt and he delivered a multitude of blows
Impelled by the blows that rained upon him now from this side now from
that White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky pendulum
Varying were the emotions that surged through him At first he had known
surprise Then came a momentary fear when he yelped several times to the impact
of the hand But this was quickly followed by anger His free nature asserted
itself and he showed his teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of the
wrathful god This but served to make the god more wrathful The blows came
faster heavier more shrewd to hurt
Gray Beaver continued to beat White Fang continued to snarl But this could
not last forever One or the other must give over and that one was White Fang
Fear surged through him again For the first time he was being really
manhandled The occasional blows of sticks and stones he had previously
experienced were as caresses compared with this He broke down and began to cry
and yelp For a time each blow brought a yelp from him but fear passed into
terror until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession unconnected
with the rhythm of the punishment
At last Gray Beaver withheld his hand White Fang hanging limply continued
to cry This seemed to satisfy his master who flung him down roughly in the
bottom of the canoe In the meantime the canoe had drifted down the stream Gray
Beaver picked up the paddle White Fang was in his way He spurned him savagely
with his foot In that moment White Fangs free nature flashed forth again and
he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot
The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the beating he
now received Gray Beavers wrath was terrible likewise was White Fangs
fright Not only the hand but the hard wooden paddle was used upon him and he
was bruised and sore in all his small body when he was again flung down in the
canoe Again and this time with purpose did Gray Beaver kick him White Fang
did not repeat his attack on the foot He had learned another lesson of his
bondage Never no matter what the circumstance must he dare to bite the god
who was lord and master over him the body of the lord and master was sacred
not to be defiled by the teeth of such as he That was evidently the crime of
crimes the one offence there was no condoning nor overlooking
When the canoe touched the shore White Fang lay whimpering and motionless
waiting the will of Gray Beaver It was Gray Beavers will that he should go
ashore for ashore he was flung striking heavily on his side and hurting his
bruises afresh He crawled tremblingly to his feet and stood whimpering
Liplip who had watched the whole proceeding from the bank now rushed upon
him knocking him over and sinking his teeth into him White Fang was too
helpless to defend himself and it would have gone hard with him had not Gray
Beavers foot shot out lifting Liplip into the air with its violence so that
he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away This was the mananimals justice
and even then in his own pitiable plight White Fang experienced a little
grateful thrill At Gray Beavers heels he limped obediently through the village
to the tepee And so it came that White Fang learned that the right to punish
was something the gods reserved for themselves and denied to the lesser
creatures under them
That night when all was still White Fang remembered his mother and
sorrowed for her He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Gray Beaver who beat him
After that he mourned gently when the gods were around But sometimes straying
off to the edge of the woods by himself he gave vent to his grief and cried it
out with loud whimperings and wailings
It was during this period that he might have hearkened to the memories of
the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild But the memory of his mother
held him As the hunting mananimals went out and came back so she would come
back to the village sometime So he remained in his bondage waiting for her
But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage There was much to interest
him Something was always happening There was no end to the strange things
these gods did and he was always curious to see Besides he was learning how
to get along with Gray Beaver Obedience rigid undeviating obedience was what
was exacted of him and in return he escaped beatings and his existence was
tolerated
Nay Gray Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat and defended
him against the other dogs in the eating of it And such a piece of meat was of
value It was worth more in some strange way than a dozen pieces of meat from
the hand of a squaw Gray Beaver never petted nor caressed Perhaps it was the
weight of his hand perhaps his justice perhaps the sheer power of him and
perhaps it was all these things that influenced White Fang for a certain tie of
attachment was forming between him and his surly lord
Insidiously and by remote ways as well as by the power of stick and stone
and clout of hand were the shackles of White Fangs bondage being riveted upon
him The qualities in his kind that in the beginning made it possible for them
to come in to the fires of men were qualities capable of development They were
developing in him and the camplife replete with misery as it was was
secretly endearing itself to him all the time But White Fang was unaware of it
He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche hope for her return and a hungry
yearning for the free life that had been his
III The Outcast
LipLip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became wickeder and more
ferocious than it was his natural right to be Savageness was a part of his
makeup but the savageness thus developed exceeded his makeup He acquired a
reputation for wickedness amongst the mananimals themselves Wherever there was
trouble and uproar in camp fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw
over a bit of stolen meat they were sure to find White Fang mixed up in it and
usually at the bottom of it They did not bother to look after the causes of his
conduct They saw only the effects and the effects were bad He was a sneak and
a thief a mischiefmaker a fomenter of trouble and irate squaws told him to
his face the while he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quickflung
missile that he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end
He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp All the young
dogs followed Liplips lead There was a difference between White Fang and
them Perhaps they sensed his wildwood breed and instinctively felt for him
the enmity that the domestic dog feels for the wolf But be that as it may they
joined with Liplip in the persecution And once declared against him they
found good reason to continue declared against him One and all from time to
time they felt his teeth and to his credit he gave more than he received
Many of them he could whip in single fight but single fight was denied him The
beginning of such a fight was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come
running and pitch upon him
Out of this packpersecution he learned two important things how to take
care of himself in a massfight against him and how on a single dog to
inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest space of time To keep
ones feet in the midst of the hostile mass meant life and this he learned
well He became catlike in his ability to stay on his feet Even grown dogs
might hurtle him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies and
backward or sideways he would go in the air or sliding on the ground but
always with his legs under him and his feet downward to the mother earth
When dogs fight there are usually preliminaries to the actual combat
snarlings and bristlings and stifflegged struttings But White Fang learned to
omit these preliminaries Delay meant the coming against him of all the young
dogs He must do his work quickly and get away So he learned to give no warning
of his intention He rushed in and snapped and slashed on the instant without
notice before his foe could prepare to meet him Thus he learned how to inflict
quick and severe damage Also he learned the value of surprise A dog taken off
its guard its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped in ribbons before it knew
what was happening was a dog half whipped
Furthermore it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by surprise
while a dog thus overthrown invariably exposed for a moment the soft underside
of its neck the vulnerable point at which to strike for its life White Fang
knew this point It was a knowledge bequeathed to him directly from the hunting
generations of wolves So it was that White Fangs method when he took the
offensive was first to find a young dog alone second to surprise it and
knock it off its feet and third to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat
Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor strong
enough to make his throatattack deadly but many a young dog went around camp
with a lacerated throat in token of White Fangs intention And one day catching
one of his enemies alone on the edge of the woods he managed by repeatedly
overthrowing him and attacking the throat to cut the great vein and let out the
life There was a great row that night He had been observed the news had been
carried to the dead dogs master the squaws remembered all the instances of
stolen meat and Gray Beaver was beset by many angry voices But he resolutely
held the door of his tepee inside which he had placed the culprit and refused
to permit the vengeance for which his tribespeople clamored
White Fang became hated by man and dog During this period of his
development he never knew a moments security The tooth of every dog was
against him the hand of every man He was greeted with snarls by his kind with
curses and stones by his gods He lived tensely He was always keyed up alert
for attack wary of being attacked with an eye for sudden and unexpected
missiles prepared to act precipitately and coolly to leap in with a flash of
teeth or to leap away with a menacing snarl
As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog young or old in
camp The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten and judgment is required
to know when it should be used White Fang knew how to make it and when to make
it Into his snarl he incorporated all that was vicious malignant and
horrible With nose serrulated by continuous spasms hair bristling in recurrent
waves tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again ears
flattened down eyes gleaming hatred lips wrinkled back and fangs exposed and
dripping he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant A
temporary pause when taken off his guard gave him the vital moment in which to
think and determine his action But often a pause so gained lengthened out until
it evolved into a complete cessation from the attack And before more than one
of the grown dogs White Fangs snarl enabled him to beat an honorable retreat
An outcast himself from the pack of the partgrown dogs his sanguinary
methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its persecution of him
Not permitted himself to run with the pack the curious state of affairs
obtained that no member of the pack could run outside the pack White Fang would
not permit it What of his bushwhacking and waylaying tactics the young dogs
were afraid to run by themselves With the exception of Liplip they were
compelled to bunch together for mutual protection against the terrible enemy
they had made A puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a puppy
that aroused the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back from the
wolfcub that had waylaid it
But White Fangs reprisals did not cease even when the young dogs had
learned thoroughly that they must stay together He attacked them when he caught
them alone and they attacked him when they were bunched The sight of him was
sufficient to start them rushing after him at which times his swiftness usually
carried him into safety But woe to the dog that outran his fellows in such
pursuit White Fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead
of the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive This
occurred with great frequency for once in full cry the dogs were prone to
forget themselves in the excitement of the chase while White Fang never forgot
himself Stealing backward glances as he ran he was always ready to whirl
around and down the overzealous pursuer that outran his fellows
Young dogs are bound to play and out of the exigencies of the situation
they realized their play in this mimic warfare Thus it was that the hunt of
White Fang became their chief game a deadly game withal and at all times a
serious game He on the other hand being the fastestfooted was unafraid to
venture anywhere During the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come
back he led the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods But the pack
invariably lost him Its noise and outcry warned him of its presence while he
ran alone velvetfooted silently a moving shadow among the trees after the
manner of his father and mother before him Further he was more directly
connected with the Wild than they and he knew more of its secrets and
stratagems A favorite trick of his was to lose his trail in running water and
then lie quietly in a nearby thicket while their baffled cries arose around
him
Hated by his kind and by mankind indomitable perpetually warred upon and
himself waging perpetual war his development was rapid and onesided This was
no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom in Of such things he had not
the faintest glimmering The code he learned was to obey the strong and to
oppress the weak Gray Beaver was a god and strong Therefore White Fang obeyed
him But the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak a thing to be
destroyed His development was in the direction of power In order to face the
constant danger of hurt and even of destruction his predatory and protective
faculties were unduly developed He became quicker of movement than the other
dogs swifter of foot craftier deadlier more lithe more lean with ironlike
muscle and sinew more enduring more cruel more ferocious and more
intelligent He had to become all these things else he would not have held his
own nor survived the hostile environment in which he found himself
IV The Trail of the Gods
In the fall of the year when the days were shortening and the bite of the frost
was coming into the air White Fang got his chance for liberty For several days
there had been a great hubbub in the village The summer camp was being
dismantled and the tribe bag and baggage was preparing to go off to the fall
hunting White Fang watched it all with eager eyes and when the tepees began to
come down and the canoes were loading at the bank he understood Already the
canoes were departing and some had disappeared down the river
Quite deliberately he determined to stay behind He waited his opportunity
to slink out of camp to the woods Here in the running stream where ice was
beginning to form he hid his trail Then he crawled into the heart of a dense
thicket and waited The time passed by and he slept intermittently for hours
Then he was aroused by Gray Beavers voice calling him by name There were other
voices White Fang could hear Gray Beavers squaw taking part in the search and
Mitsah who was Gray Beavers son
White Fang trembled with fear and though the impulse came to crawl out of
his hidingplace he resisted it After a time the voices died away and some
time after that he crept out to enjoy the success of his undertaking Darkness
was coming on and for a while he played about among the trees pleasuring in
his freedom Then and quite suddenly he became aware of loneliness He sat
down to consider listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by it
That nothing moved nor sounded seemed ominous He felt the lurking of danger
unseen and unguessed He was suspicious of the looming bulks of the trees and of
the dark shadows that might conceal all manner of perilous things
Then it was cold Here was no warm side of a tepee against which to snuggle
The frost was in his feet and he kept lifting first one forefoot and then the
other He curved his bushy tail around to cover them and at the same time he
saw a vision There was nothing strange about it Upon his inward sight was
impressed a succession of memorypictures He saw the camp again the tepees
and the blaze of the fires He heard the shrill voices of the women the gruff
basses of the men and the snarling of the dogs He was hungry and he
remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been thrown him Here was no meat
nothing but a threatening and inedible silence
His bondage had softened him Irresponsibility had weakened him He had
forgotten how to shift for himself The night yawned about him His senses
accustomed to the hum and bustle of the camp used to the continuous impact of
sights and sounds were now left idle There was nothing to do nothing to see
nor hear They strained to catch some interruption of the silence and immobility
of nature They were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something terrible
impending
He gave a great start of fright A colossal and formless something was
rushing across the field of his vision It was a treeshadow flung by the moon
from whose face the clouds had been brushed away Reassured he whimpered
softly then he suppressed the whimper for fear that it might attract the
attention of the lurking dangers
A tree contracting in the cool of the night made a loud noise It was
directly above him He yelped in his fright A panic seized him and he ran
madly toward the village He knew an overpowering desire for the protection and
companionship of man In his nostrils was the smell of the campsmoke In his
ears the camp sounds and cries were ringing loud He passed out of the forest
and into the moonlit open where were no shadows nor darknesses But no village
greeted his eyes He had forgotten The village had gone away
His wild flight ceased abruptly There was no place to which to flee He
slunk forlornly through the deserted camp smelling the rubbishheaps and the
discarded rags and tags of the gods He would have been glad for the rattle of
stones about him flung by an angry squaw glad for the hand of Gray Beaver
descending upon him in wrath while he would have welcomed with delight Liplip
and the whole snarling cowardly pack
He came to where Gray Beavers tepee had stood In the centre of the space
it had occupied he sat down He pointed his nose at the moon His throat was
afflicted by rigid spasms his mouth opened and in a heartbroken cry bubbled
up his loneliness and fear his grief for Kiche all his past sorrows and
miseries as well as his apprehension of sufferings and dangers to come It was
the long wolfhowl fullthroated and mournful the first howl he had ever
uttered
The coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his loneliness
The naked earth which so shortly before had been so populous thrust his
loneliness more forcibly upon him It did not take him long to make up his mind
He plunged into the forest and followed the river bank down the stream All day
he ran He did not rest He seemed made to run on forever His ironlike body
ignored fatigue And even after fatigue came his heritage of endurance braced
him to endless endeavor and enabled him to drive his complaining body onward
Where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs he climbed the high
mountains behind Rivers and streams that entered the main river he forded or
swam Often he took to the rimice that was beginning to form and more than
once he crashed through and struggled for life in the icy current Always he was
on the lookout for the trail of the gods where it might leave the river and
proceed inland
White Fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind yet his mental
vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the Mackenzie What if
the trail of the gods led out on that side It never entered his head Later on
when he had travelled more and grown older and wiser and come to know more of
trails and rivers it might be that he could grasp and apprehend such a
possibility But that mental power was yet in the future Just now he ran
blindly his own bank of the Mackenzie alone entering into his calculations
All night he ran blundering in the darkness into mishaps and obstacles that
delayed but did not daunt By the middle of the second day he had been running
continuously for thirty hours and the iron of his flesh was giving out It was
the endurance of his mind that kept him going He had not eaten in forty hours
and he was weak with hunger The repeated drenchings in the icy water had
likewise had their effect on him His handsome coat was draggled The broad pads
of his feet were bruised and bleeding He had begun to limp and this limp
increased with the hours To make it worse the light of the sky was obscured
and snow began to fall a raw moist melting clinging snow slippery under
foot that hid from him the landscape he traversed and that covered over the
inequalities of the ground so that the way of his feet was more difficult and
painful
Gray Beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the
Mackenzie for it was in that direction that the hunting lay But on the near
bank shortly before dark a moose coming down to drink had been espied by
Klookooch who was Gray Beavers squaw Now had not the moose come down to
drink had not Mitsah been steering out of the course because of the snow had
not Klookooch sighted the moose and had not Gray Beaver killed it with a lucky
shot from his rifle all subsequent things would have happened differently Gray
Beaver would not have camped on the near side of the Mackenzie and White Fang
would have passed by and gone on either to die or to find his way to his wild
brothers and become one of them a wolf to the end of his days
Night had fallen The snow was flying more thickly and White Fang
whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along came upon a fresh
trail in the snow So fresh was it that he knew it immediately for what it was
Whining with eagerness he followed back from the river bank and in among the
trees The campsounds came to his ears He saw the blaze of the fire
Klookooch cooking and Gray Beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk
of raw tallow There was fresh meat in camp
White Fang expected a beating He crouched and bristled a little at the
thought of it Then he went forward again He feared and disliked the beating he
knew to be waiting for him But he knew further that the comfort of the fire
would be his the protection of the gods the companionship of the dogs the
last a companionship of enmity but none the less a companionship and
satisfying to his gregarious needs
He came cringing and crawling into the firelight Gray Beaver saw him and
stopped munching the tallow White Fang crawled slowly cringing and grovelling
in the abjectness of his abasement and submission He crawled straight toward
Gray Beaver every inch of his progress becoming slower and more painful At
last he lay at the masters feet into whose possession he now surrendered
himself voluntarily body and soul Of his own choice he came in to sit by
mans fire and to be ruled by him White Fang trembled waiting for the
punishment to fall upon him There was a movement of the hand above him He
cringed involuntarily under the expected blow It did not fall He stole a
glance upward Gray Beaver was breaking the lump of tallow in half Gray Beaver
was offering him one piece of the tallow Very gently and somewhat suspiciously
he first smelled the tallow and then proceeded to eat it Gray Beaver ordered
meat to be brought to him and guarded him from the other dogs while he ate
After that grateful and content White Fang lay at Gray Beavers feet gazing
at the fire that warmed him blinking and dozing secure in the knowledge that
the morrow would find him not wandering forlorn through bleak foreststretches
but in the camp of the mananimals with the gods to whom he had given himself
and upon whom he was now dependent
V The Covenant
When December was well along Gray Beaver went on a journey up the Mackenzie
Mitsah and Klookooch went with him One sled he drove himself drawn by dogs
he had traded for or borrowed A second and smaller sled was driven by Mitsah
and to this was harnessed a team of puppies It was more of a toy affair than
anything else yet it was the delight of Mitsah who felt that he was beginning
to do a mans work in the world Also he was learning to drive dogs and to
train dogs while the puppies themselves were being broken in to the harness
Furthermore the sled was of some service for it carried nearly two hundred
pounds of outfit and food
White Fang had seen the campdogs toiling in the harness so that he did not
resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon himself About his neck
was put a mossstuffed collar which was connected by two pullingtraces to a
strap that passed around his chest and over his back It was to this that was
fastened the long rope by which he pulled at the sled
There were seven puppies in the team The others had been born earlier in
the year and were nine and ten months old while White Fang was only eight
months old Each dog was fastened to the sled by a single rope No two ropes
were of the same length while the difference in length between any two ropes
was at least that of a dogs body Every rope was brought to a ring at the front
end of the sled The sled itself was without runners being a birchbark
toboggan with upturned forward end to keep it from ploughing under the snow
This construction enabled the weight of the sled and load to be distributed over
the largest snowsurface for the snow was crystalpowder and very soft
Observing the same principle of widest distribution of weight the dogs at the
ends of their ropes radiated fanfashion from the nose of the sled so that no
dog trod in anothers footsteps
There was furthermore another virtue in the fanformation The ropes of
varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear those that ran in
front of them For a dog to attack another it would have to turn upon one at a
shorter rope In which case it would find itself face to face with the dog
attacked and also it would find itself facing the whip of the driver But the
most peculiar virtue of all lay in the fact that the dog that strove to attack
one in front of him must pull the sled faster and that the faster the sled
travelled the faster could the dog attacked run away Thus the dog behind
could never catch up with the one in front The faster he ran the faster ran
the one he was after and the faster ran all the dogs Incidentally the sled
went faster and thus by cunning indirection did man increase his mastery over
the beasts
Mitsah resembled his father much of whose gray wisdom he possessed In the
past he had observed Liplips persecution of White Fang but at that time
Liplip was another mans dog and Mitsah had never dared more than to shy an
occasional stone at him But now Liplip was his dog and he proceeded to wreak
his vengeance on him by putting him at the end of the longest rope This made
Liplip the leader and was apparently an honor but in reality it took away
from him all honor and instead of being bully and master of the pack he now
found himself hated and persecuted by the pack
Because he ran at the end of the longest rope the dogs had always the view
of him running away before them All that they saw of him was his bushy tail and
fleeing hind legs a view far less ferocious and intimidating than his
bristling mane and gleaming fangs Also dogs being so constituted in their
mental ways the sight of him running away gave desire to run after him and a
feeling that he ran away from them
The moment the sled started the team took after Liplip in a chase that
extended throughout the day At first he had been prone to turn upon his
pursuers jealous of his dignity and wrathful but at such times Mitsah would
throw the stinging lash of the thirtyfoot cariboogut whip into his face and
compel him to turn tail and run on Liplip might face the pack but he could
not face that whip and all that was left him to do was to keep his long rope
taut and his flanks ahead of the teeth of his mates
But a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the Indian mind To
give point to unending pursuit of the leader Mitsah favored him over the other
dogs These favors aroused in them jealousy and hatred In their presence
Mitsah would give him meat and would give it to him only This was maddening to
them They would rage around just outside the throwingdistance of the whip
while Liplip devoured the meat and Mitsah protected him And when there was no
meat to give Mitsah would keep the team at a distance and make believe to give
meat to Liplip
White Fang took kindly to the work He had travelled a greater distance than
the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule of the gods and he had
learned more thoroughly the futility of opposing their will In addition the
persecution he had suffered from the pack had made the pack less to him in the
scheme of things and man more He had not learned to be dependent on his kind
for companionship Besides Kiche was wellnigh forgotten and the chief outlet
of expression that remained to him was in the allegiance he tendered the gods he
had accepted as masters So he worked hard learned discipline and was
obedient Faithfulness and willingness characterized his toil These are
essential traits of the wolf and the wilddog when they have become
domesticated and these traits White Fang possessed in unusual measure
A companionship did exist between White Fang and the other dogs but it was
one of warfare and enmity He had never learned to play with them He knew only
how to fight and fight with them he did returning to them a hundredfold the
snaps and slashes they had given him in the days when Liplip was leader of the
pack But Liplip was no longer leader except when he fled away before his
mates at the end of his rope the sled bounding along behind In camp he kept
close to Mitsah or Gray Beaver or Klookooch He did not dare venture away from
the gods for now the fangs of all dogs were against him and he tasted to the
dregs the persecution that had been White Fangs
With the overthrow of Liplip White Fang could have become leader of the
pack But he was too morose and solitary for that He merely thrashed his
teammates Otherwise he ignored them They got out of his way when he came
along nor did the boldest of them ever dare to rob him of his meat On the
contrary they devoured their own meat hurriedly for fear that he would take it
away from them White Fang knew the law well to oppress the weak and obey the
strong He ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could And then woe the dog
that had not yet finished A snarl and a flash of fangs and that dog would wail
his indignation to the uncomforting stars while White Fang finished his portion
for him
Every little while however one dog or another would flame up in revolt and
be promptly subdued Thus White Fang was kept in training He was jealous of the
isolation in which he kept himself in the midst of the pack and he fought often
to maintain it But such fights were of brief duration He was too quick for the
others They were slashed open and bleeding before they knew what had happened
were whipped almost before they had begun to fight
As rigid as the sleddiscipline of the gods was the discipline maintained
by White Fang amongst his fellows He never allowed them any latitude He
compelled them to an unremitting respect for him They might do as they pleased
amongst themselves That was no concern of his But it was his concern that they
leave him alone in his isolation get out of his way when he elected to walk
among them and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them A hint of
stiffleggedness on their part a lifted lip or a bristle of hair and he would
be upon them merciless and cruel swiftly convincing them of the error of their
way
He was a monstrous tyrant His mastery was rigid as steel He oppressed the
weak with a vengeance Not for nothing had he been exposed to the pitiless
struggle for life in the days of his cubhood when his mother and he alone and
unaided held their own and survived in the ferocious environment of the Wild
And not for nothing had he learned to walk softly when superior strength went
by He oppressed the weak but he respected the strong And in the course of the
long journey with Gray Beaver he walked softly indeed amongst the fullgrown
dogs in the camps of the strange mananimals they encountered
The months passed by Still continued the journey of Gray Beaver White
Fangs strength was developed by the long hours on trail and the steady toil at
the sled and it would have seemed that his mental development was wellnigh
complete He had come to know quite thoroughly the world in which he lived His
outlook was bleak and materialistic The world as he saw it was a fierce and
brutal world a world without warmth a world in which caresses and affection
and the bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist
He had no affection for Gray Beaver True he was a god but a most savage
god White Fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship but it was a lordship
based upon superior intelligence and brute strength There was something in the
fibre of White Fangs being that made this lordship a thing to be desired else
he would not have come back from the Wild when he did to tender his allegiance
There were deeps in his nature which had never been sounded A kind word a
caressing touch of the hand on the part of Gray Beaver might have sounded
these deeps but Gray Beaver did not caress nor speak kind words It was not his
way His primacy was savage and savagely he ruled administering justice with a
club punishing transgression with the pain of a blow and rewarding merit not
by kindness but by withholding a blow
So White Fang knew nothing of the heaven a mans hand might contain for him
Besides he did not like the hands of the mananimals He was suspicious of
them It was true that they sometimes gave meat but more often they gave hurt
Hands were things to keep away from They hurled stones wielded sticks and
clubs and whips administered slaps and clouts and when they touched him were
cunning to hurt with pinch and twist and wrench In strange villages he had
encountered the hands of the children and learned that they were cruel to hurt
Also he had once nearly had an eye poked out by a toddling papoose From these
experiences he became suspicious of all children He could not tolerate them
When they came near with their ominous hands he got up
It was in a village at the Great Slave Lake that in the course of
resenting the evil of the hands of the mananimals he came to modify the law
that he had learned from Gray Beaver namely that the unpardonable crime was to
bite one of the gods In this village after the custom of all dogs in all
villages White Fang went foraging for food A boy was chopping frozen
moosemeat with an axe and the chips were flying in the snow White Fang
sliding by in quest of meat stopped and began to eat the chips He observed the
boy lay down the axe and take up a stout club White Fang sprang clear just in
time to escape the descending blow The boy pursued him and he a stranger in
the village fled between two tepees to find himself cornered against a high
earth bank
There was no escape for White Fang The only way out was between the two
tepees and this the boy guarded Holding his club prepared to strike he drew
in on his cornered quarry White Fang was furious He faced the boy bristling
and snarling his sense of justice outraged He knew the law of forage All the
wastage of meat such as the frozen chips belonged to the dog that found it He
had done no wrong broken no law yet here was this boy preparing to give him a
beating White Fang scarcely knew what happened He did it in a surge of rage
And he did it so quickly that the boy did not know either All the boy knew was
that he had in some unaccountable way been overturned into the snow and that
his clubhand had been ripped wide open by White Fangs teeth
But White Fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods He had driven
his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them and could expect nothing but a
most terrible punishment He fled away to Gray Beaver behind whose protecting
legs he crouched when the bitten boy and the boys family came demanding
vengeance But they went away with vengeance unsatisfied Gray Beaver defended
White Fang So did Mitsah and Klookooch White Fang listening to the wordy
war and watching the angry gestures knew that his act was justified And so it
came that he learned there were gods and gods There were his gods and there
were other gods and between them there was a difference Justice or injustice
it was all the same he must take all things from the hands of his own gods But
he was not compelled to take injustice from the other gods It was his privilege
to resent it with his teeth And this also was a law of the gods
Before the day was out White Fang was to learn more about this law
Mitsah alone gathering firewood in the forest encountered the boy that had
been bitten With him were other boys Hot words passed Then all the boys
attacked Mitsah It was going hard with him Blows were raining upon him from
all sides White Fang looked on at first This was an affair of the gods and no
concern of his Then he realized that this was Mitsah one of his own
particular gods who was being maltreated It was no reasoned impulse that made
White Fang do what he then did A mad rush of anger sent him leaping in amongst
the combatants Five minutes later the landscape was covered with fleeing boys
many of whom dripped blood upon the snow in token that White Fangs teeth had
not been idle When Mitsah told his story in camp Gray Beaver ordered meat to
be given to White Fang He ordered much meat to be given and White Fang gorged
and sleepy by the fire knew that the law had received its verification
It was in line with these experiences that White Fang came to learn the law
of property and the duty of the defence of property From the protection of his
gods body to the protection of his gods possessions was a step and this step
he made What was his gods was to be defended against all the world even to
the extent of biting other gods Not only was such an act sacrilegious in its
nature but it was fraught with peril The gods were allpowerful and a dog was
no match against them yet White Fang learned to face them fiercely belligerent
and unafraid Duty rose above fear and thieving gods learned to leave Gray
Beavers property alone
One thing in this connection White Fang quickly learned and that was that
a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run away at the sounding
of the alarm Also he learned that but brief time elapsed between his sounding
of the alarm and Gray Beavers coming to his aid He came to know that it was
not fear of him that drove the thief away but fear of Gray Beaver White Fang
did not give the alarm by barking He never barked His method was to drive
straight at the intruder and to sink his teeth in if he could Because he was
morose and solitary having nothing to do with the other dogs he was unusually
fitted to guard his masters property and in this he was encouraged and trained
by Gray Beaver One result of this was to make White Fang more ferocious and
indomitable and more solitary
The months went by binding stronger and stronger the covenant between dog
and man This was the ancient covenant that the first wolf that came in from the
Wild entered into with man And like all succeeding wolves and wild dogs that
had done likewise White Fang worked the covenant out for himself The terms
were simple For the possession of a fleshandblood god he exchanged his own
liberty Food and fire protection and companionship were some of the things he
received from the god In return he guarded the gods property defended his
body worked for him and obeyed him
The possession of a god implies service White Fangs was a service of duty
and awe but not of love He did not know what love was He had no experience of
love Kiche was a remote memory Besides not only had he abandoned the Wild and
his kind when he gave himself up to man but the terms of the covenant were such
that if he ever met Kiche again he would not desert his god to go with her His
allegiance to man seemed somehow a law of his being greater than the love of
liberty of kind and kin
VI The Famine
The spring of the year was at hand when Gray Beaver finished his long journey
It was April and White Fang was a year old when he pulled into the home village
and was loosed from the harness by Mitsah Though a long way from his full
growth White Fang next to Liplip was the largest yearling in the village
Both from his father the wolf and from Kiche he had inherited stature and
strength and already he was measuring up alongside the fullgrown dogs But he
had not yet grown compact His body was slender and rangy and his strength more
stringy than massive His coat was the true wolfgray and to all appearances he
was true wolf himself The quarterstrain of dog he had inherited from Kiche had
left no mark on him physically though it played its part in his mental makeup
He wandered through the village recognizing with staid satisfaction the
various gods he had known before the long journey Then there were the dogs
puppies growing up like himself and grown dogs that did not look so large and
formidable as the memorypictures he retained of them Also he stood less in
fear of them than formerly stalking among them with a certain careless ease
that was as new to him as it was enjoyable
There was Baseek a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days had but to
uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching to the rightabout
From him White Fang had learned much of his own insignificance and from him he
was now to learn much of the change and development that had taken place in
himself While Baseek had been growing weaker with age White Fang had been
growing stronger with youth
It was at the cuttingup of a moose freshkilled that White Fang learned
of the changed relations in which he stood to the dogworld He had got for
himself a hoof and part of the shinbone to which quite a bit of meat was
attached Withdrawn from the immediate scramble of the other dogs in fact
out of sight behind a thicket he was devouring his prize when Baseek rushed
in upon him Before he knew what he was doing he had slashed the intruder twice
and sprung clear Baseek was surprised by the others temerity and swiftness of
attack He stood gazing stupidly across at White Fang the raw red shinbone
between them
Baseek was old and already he had come to know the increasing valor of the
dogs it had been his wont to bully Bitter experiences these which perforce
he swallowed calling upon all his wisdom to cope with them In the old days he
would have sprung upon White Fang in a fury of righteous wrath But now his
waning powers would not permit such a course He bristled fiercely and looked
ominously across the shinbone at White Fang And White Fang resurrecting quite
a deal of the old awe seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself and grow
small as he cast about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat not too
inglorious
And right here Baseek erred Had he contented himself with looking fierce
and ominous all would have been well White Fang on the verge of retreat
would have retreated leaving the meat to him But Baseek did not wait He
considered the victory already his and stepped forward to the meat As he bent
his head carelessly to smell it White Fang bristled slightly Even then it was
not too late for Baseek to retrieve the situation Had he merely stood over the
meat head up and glowering White Fang would ultimately have slunk away But
the fresh meat was strong in Baseeks nostrils and greed urged him to take a
bite of it
This was too much for White Fang Fresh upon his months of mastery over his
own teammates it was beyond his selfcontrol to stand idly by while another
devoured the meat that belonged to him He struck after his custom without
warning With the first slash Baseeks right ear was ripped into ribbons He
was astounded at the suddenness of it But more things and most grievous ones
were happening with equal suddenness He was knocked off his feet His throat
was bitten While he was struggling to his feet the young dog sank teeth twice
into his shoulder The swiftness of it was bewildering He made a futile rush at
White Fang clipping the empty air with an outraged snap The next moment his
nose was laid open and he was staggering backward away from the meat
The situation was now reversed White Fang stood over the shinbone
bristling and menacing while Baseek stood a little way off preparing to
retreat He dared not risk a fight with this young lightningflash and again he
knew and more bitterly the enfeeblement of oncoming age His attempt to
maintain his dignity was heroic Calmly turning his back upon young dog and
shinbone as though both were beneath his notice and unworthy of consideration
he stalked grandly away Nor until well out of sight did he stop to lick his
bleeding wounds
The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself and a
greater pride He walked less softly among the grown dogs his attitude toward
them was less compromising Not that he went out of his way looking for trouble
Far from it But upon his way he demanded consideration He stood upon his right
to go his way unmolested and to give trail to no dog He had to be taken into
account that was all He was no longer to be disregarded and ignored as was
the lot of puppies and as continued to be the lot of the puppies that were his
teammates They got out of the way gave trail to the grown dogs and gave up
meat to them under compulsion But White Fang uncompanionable solitary
morose scarcely looking to right or left redoubtable forbidding of aspect
remote and alien was accepted as an equal by his puzzled elders They quickly
learned to leave him alone neither venturing hostile acts nor making overtures
of friendliness If they left him alone he left them alone a state of affairs
that they found after a few encounters to be preëminently desirable
In midsummer White Fang had an experience Trotting along in his silent way
to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on the edge of the village
while he was away with the hunters after moose he came full upon Kiche He
paused and looked at her He remembered her vaguely but he remembered her and
that was more than could be said for her She lifted her lip at him in the old
snarl of menace and his memory became clear His forgotten cubhood all that
was associated with that familiar snarl rushed back to him Before he had known
the gods she had been to him the centrepin of the universe The old familiar
feelings of that time came back upon him surged up within him He bounded
toward her joyously and she met him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open
to the bone He did not understand He backed away bewildered and puzzled
But it was not Kiches fault A wolfmother was not made to remember her
cubs of a year or so before So she did not remember White Fang He was a
strange animal an intruder and her present litter of puppies gave her the
right to resent such intrusion
One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang They were halfbrothers only
they did not know it White Fang sniffed the puppy curiously whereupon Kiche
rushed upon him gashing his face a second time He backed farther away All the
old memories and associations died down again and passed into the grave from
which they had been resurrected He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and
stopping now and then to snarl at him She was without value to him He had
learned to get along without her Her meaning was forgotten There was no place
for her in his scheme of things as there was no place for him in hers
He was still standing stupid and bewildered the memories forgotten
wondering what it was all about when Kiche attacked him a third time intent on
driving him away altogether from the vicinity And White Fang allowed himself to
be driven away This was a female of his kind and it was a law of his kind that
the males must not fight the females He did not know anything about this law
for it was no generalization of the mind not a something acquired by experience
in the world He knew it as a secret prompting as an urge of instinct of the
same instinct that made him howl at the moon and stars of nights and that made
him fear death and the unknown
The months went by White Fang grew stronger heavier and more compact
while his character was developing along the lines laid down by his heredity and
his environment His heredity was a lifestuff that may be likened to clay It
possessed many possibilities was capable of being moulded into many different
forms Environment served to model the clay to give it a particular form Thus
had White Fang never come in to the fires of man the Wild would have moulded
him into a true wolf But the gods had given him a different environment and he
was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish but that was a dog and not a
wolf
And so according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his
surroundings his character was being moulded into a certain particular shape
There was no escaping it He was becoming more morose more uncompanionable
more solitary more ferocious while the dogs were learning more and more that
it was better to be at peace with him than at war and Gray Beaver was coming to
prize him more greatly with the passage of each day
White Fang seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities nevertheless
suffered from one besetting weakness He could not stand being laughed at The
laughter of men was a hateful thing They might laugh among themselves about
anything they pleased except himself and he did not mind But the moment
laughter was turned upon him he would fly into a most terrible rage Grave
dignified sombre a laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness It so outraged
him and upset him that for hours he would behave like a demon And woe to the
dog that at such times ran foul of him He knew the law too well to take it out
on Gray Beaver behind Gray Beaver were a club and godhead But behind the dogs
there was nothing but space and into this space they fled when White Fang came
on the scene made mad by laughter
In the third year of his life there came a great famine to the Mackenzie
Indians In the summer the fish failed In the winter the cariboo forsook their
accustomed track Moose were scarce the rabbits almost disappeared hunting and
preying animals perished Denied their usual foodsupply weakened by hunger
they fell upon and devoured one another Only the strong survived White Fangs
gods were also hunting animals The old and the weak of them died of hunger
There was wailing in the village where the women and children went without in
order that what little they had might go into the bellies of the lean and
holloweyed hunters who trod the forest in the vain pursuit of meat
To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the softtanned leather
of their moccasins and mittens while the dogs ate the harnesses off their backs
and the very whiplashes Also the dogs ate one another and also the gods ate
the dogs The weakest and the more worthless were eaten first The dogs that
still lived looked on and understood A few of the boldest and wisest forsook
the fires of the gods which had now become a shambles and fled into the
forest where in the end they starved to death or were eaten by wolves
In this time of misery White Fang too stole away into the woods He was
better fitted for the life than the other dogs for he had the training of his
cubhood to guide him Especially adept did he become in stalking small living
things He would lie concealed for hours following every movement of a cautious
treesquirrel waiting with a patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from
until the squirrel ventured out upon the ground Even then White Fang was not
premature He waited until he was sure of striking before the squirrel could
gain a treerefuge Then and not until then would he flash from his
hidingplace a gray projectile incredibly swift never failing its mark the
fleeing squirrel that fled not fast enough
Successful as he was with squirrels there was one difficulty that prevented
him from living and growing fat on them There were not enough squirrels So he
was driven to hunt still smaller things So acute did his hunger become at times
that he was not above rooting out woodmice from their burrows in the ground
Nor did he scorn to do battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times
more ferocious
In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of the gods
But he did not go in to the fires He lurked in the forest avoiding discovery
and robbing the snares at the rare intervals when game was caught He even
robbed Gray Beavers snare of a rabbit at a time when Gray Beaver staggered and
tottered through the forest sitting down often to rest what of weakness and of
shortness of breath
One day White Fang encountered a young wolf gaunt and scrawny
loosejointed with famine Had he not been hungry himself White Fang might have
gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack amongst his wild
brethren As it was he ran the young wolf down and killed and ate him
Fortune seemed to favor him Always when hardest pressed for food he found
something to kill Again when he was weak it was his luck that none of the
larger preying animals chanced upon him Thus he was strong from the two days
eating a lynx had afforded him when the hungry wolfpack ran full tilt upon
him It was a long cruel chase but he was better nourished than they and in
the end outran them And not only did he outrun them but circling widely back
on his track he gathered in one of his exhausted pursuers
After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to the valley
wherein he had been born Here in the old lair he encountered Kiche Up to her
old tricks she too had fled the inhospitable fires of the gods and gone back
to her old refuge to give birth to her young Of this litter but one remained
alive when White Fang came upon the scene and this one was not destined to live
long Young life had little chance in such a famine
Kiches greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate But White
Fang did not mind He had outgrown his mother So he turned tail philosophically
and trotted on up the stream At the forks he took the turning to the left
where he found the lair of the lynx with whom his mother and he had fought long
before Here in the abandoned lair he settled down and rested for a day
During the early summer in the last days of the famine he met Liplip who
had likewise taken to the woods where he had eked out a miserable existence
White Fang came upon him unexpectedly Trotting in opposite directions along the
base of a high bluff they rounded a corner of rock and found themselves face to
face They paused with instant alarm and looked at each other suspiciously
White Fang was in splendid condition His hunting had been good and for a
week he had eaten his fill He was even gorged from his latest kill But in the
moment he looked at Liplip his hair rose on end all along his back It was an
involuntary bristling on his part the physical state that in the past had
always accompanied the mental state produced in him by Liplips bullying and
persecution As in the past he had bristled and snarled at sight of Liplip so
now and automatically he bristled and snarled He did not waste any time The
thing was done thoroughly and with despatch Liplip essayed to back away but
White Fang struck him hard shoulder to shoulder Liplip was overthrown and
rolled upon his back White Fangs teeth drove into the scrawny throat There
was a deathstruggle during which White Fang walked around stifflegged and
observant Then he resumed his course and trotted on along the base of the
bluff
One day not long after he came to the edge of the forest where a narrow
stretch of open land sloped down to the Mackenzie He had been over this ground
before when it was bare but now a village occupied it Still hidden amongst
the trees he paused to study the situation Sights and sounds and scents were
familiar to him It was the old village changed to a new place But sights and
sounds and smells were different from those he had last had when he fled away
from it There was no whimpering nor wailing Contented sounds saluted his ear
and when he heard the angry voice of a woman he knew it to be the anger that
proceeds from a full stomach And there was a smell in the air of fish There
was food The famine was gone He came out boldly from the forest and trotted
into camp straight to Gray Beavers tepee Gray Beaver was not there but
Klookooch welcomed him with glad cries and the whole of a freshcaught fish
and he lay down to wait Gray Beavers coming
Part Four The Superior Gods
I The Enemy of His Kind
Had there been in White Fangs nature any possibility no matter how remote of
his ever coming to fraternize with his kind such possibility was irretrievably
destroyed when he was made leader of the sledteam For now the dogs hated him
hated him for the extra meat bestowed upon him by Mitsah hated him for all the
real and fancied favors he received hated him for that he fled always at the
head of the team his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually retreating
hindquarters forever maddening their eyes
And White Fang just as bitterly hated them back Being sledleader was
anything but gratifying to him To be compelled to run away before the yelling
pack every dog of which for three years he had thrashed and mastered was
almost more than he could endure But endure it he must or perish and the life
that was in him had no desire to perish The moment Mitsah gave his order for
the start that moment the whole team with eager savage cries sprang forward
at White Fang
There was no defence for him If he turned upon them Mitsah would throw
the stinging lash of the whip into his face Only remained to him to run away
He could not encounter that howling horde with his tail and hindquarters These
were scarcely fit weapons with which to meet the many merciless fangs So run
away he did violating his own nature and pride with every leap he made and
leaping all day long
One cannot violate the promptings of ones nature without having that nature
recoil upon itself Such a recoil is like that of a hair made to grow out from
the body turning unnaturally upon the direction of its growth and growing into
the body a rankling festering thing of hurt And so with White Fang Every
urge of his being impelled him to spring upon the pack that cried at his heels
but it was the will of the gods that this should not be and behind the will to
enforce it was the whip of cariboogut with its biting thirtyfoot lash So
White Fang could only eat his heart in bitterness and develop a hatred and
malice commensurate with the ferocity and indomitability of his nature
If ever a creature was the enemy of its kind White Fang was that creature
He asked no quarter gave none He was continually marred and scarred by the
teeth of the pack and as continually he left his own marks upon the pack
Unlike most leaders who when camp was made and the dogs were unhitched
huddled near to the gods for protection White Fang disdained such protection
He walked boldly about the camp inflicting punishment in the night for what he
had suffered in the day In the time before he was made leader of the team the
pack had learned to get out of his way But now it was different Excited by the
daylong pursuit of him swayed subconsciously by the insistent iteration on
their brains of the sight of him fleeing away mastered by the feeling of
mastery enjoyed all day the dogs could not bring themselves to give way to him
When he appeared amongst them there was always a squabble His progress was
marked by snarl and snap and growl The very atmosphere he breathed was
surcharged with hatred and malice and this but served to increase the hatred
and malice within him
When Mitsah cried out his command for the team to stop White Fang obeyed
At first this caused trouble for the other dogs All of them would spring upon
the hated leader only to find the tables turned Behind him would be Mitsah
the great whip singing in his hand So the dogs came to understand that when the
team stopped by order White Fang was to be let alone But when White Fang
stopped without orders then it was allowed them to spring upon him and destroy
him if they could After several experiences White Fang never stopped without
orders He learned quickly It was in the nature of things that he must learn
quickly if he were to survive the unusually severe conditions under which life
was vouchsafed him
But the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in camp Each
day pursuing him and crying defiance at him the lesson of the previous night
was erased and that night would have to be learned over again to be as
immediately forgotten Besides there was a greater consistence in their dislike
of him They sensed between themselves and him a difference of kind cause
sufficient in itself for hostility Like him they were domesticated wolves But
they had been domesticated for generations Much of the Wild had been lost so
that to them the Wild was the unknown the terrible the ever menacing and ever
warring But to him in appearance and action and impulse still clung the Wild
He symbolized it was its personification so that when they showed their teeth
to him they were defending themselves against the powers of destruction that
lurked in the shadows of the forest and in the dark beyond the campfire
But there was one lesson the dogs did learn and that was to keep together
White Fang was too terrible for any of them to face singlehanded They met him
with the massformation otherwise he would have killed them one by one in a
night As it was he never had a chance to kill them He might roll a dog off
its feet but the pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver
the deadly throatstroke At the first hint of conflict the whole team drew
together and faced him The dogs had quarrels among themselves but these were
forgotten when trouble was brewing with White Fang
On the other hand try as they would they could not kill White Fang He was
too quick for them too formidable too wise He avoided tight places and always
backed out of it when they bade fair to surround him While as for getting him
off his feet there was no dog among them capable of doing the trick His feet
clung to the earth with the same tenacity that he clung to life For that
matter life and footing were synonymous in this unending warfare with the pack
and none knew it better than White Fang
So he became the enemy of his kind domesticated wolves that they were
softened by the fires of man weakened in the sheltering shadow of mans
strength White Fang was bitter and implacable The clay of him was so moulded
He declared a vendetta against all dogs And so terribly did he live this
vendetta that Gray Beaver fierce savage himself could not but marvel at White
Fangs ferocity Never he swore had there been the like of this animal and
the Indians in strange villages swore likewise when they considered the tale of
his killings amongst their dogs
When White Fang was nearly five years old Gray Beaver took him on another
great journey and long remembered was the havoc he worked amongst the dogs of
the many villages along the Mackenzie across the Rockies and down the
Porcupine to the Yukon He revelled in the vengeance he wreaked upon his kind
They were ordinary unsuspecting dogs They were not prepared for his swiftness
and directness for his attack without warning They did not know him for what
he was a lightningflash of slaughter They bristled up to him stifflegged
and challenging while he wasting no time on elaborate preliminaries snapping
into action like a steel spring was at their throats and destroying them before
they knew what was happening and while they were yet in the throes of surprise
He became an adept at fighting He economized He never wasted his strength
never tussled He was in too quickly for that and if he missed was out again
too quickly The dislike of the wolf for close quarters was his to an unusual
degree He could not endure a prolonged contact with another body It smacked of
danger It made him frantic He must be away free on his own legs touching no
living thing It was the Wild still clinging to him asserting itself through
him This feeling had been accentuated by the Ishmaelite life he had led from
his puppyhood Danger lurked in contacts It was the trap ever the trap the
fear of it lurking deep in the life of him woven into the fibre of him
In consequence the strange dogs he encountered had no chance against him
He eluded their fangs He got them or got away himself untouched in either
event In the natural course of things there were exceptions to this There were
times when several dogs pitching on to him punished him before he could get
away and there were times when a single dog scored deeply on him But these
were accidents In the main so efficient a fighter had he become he went his
way unscathed
Another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time and
distance Not that he did this consciously however He did not calculate such
things It was all automatic His eyes saw correctly and the nerves carried the
vision correctly to his brain The parts of him were better adjusted than those
of the average dog They worked together more smoothly and steadily His was a
better far better nervous mental and muscular coördination When his eyes
conveyed to his brain the moving image of an action his brain without
conscious effort knew the space that limited that action and the time required
for its completion Thus he could avoid the leap of another dog or the drive
of its fangs and at the same moment could seize the infinitesimal fraction of
time in which to deliver his own attack Body and brain his was a more
perfected mechanism Not that he was to be praised for it Nature had been more
generous to him than to the average animal that was all
It was in the summer that White Fang arrived at Fort Yukon Gray Beaver had
crossed the great watershed between the Mackenzie and the Yukon in the late
winter and spent the spring in hunting among the western outlying spurs of the
Rockies Then after the breakup of the ice on the Porcupine he had built a
canoe and paddled down that stream to where it effected its junction with the
Yukon just under the Arctic Circle Here stood the old Hudsons Bay Company
fort and here were many Indians much food and unprecedented excitement It
was the summer of 1898 and thousands of goldhunters were going up the Yukon to
Dawson and the Klondike Still hundreds of miles from their goal nevertheless
many of them had been on the way for a year and the least any of them had
travelled to get that far was five thousand miles while some had come from the
other side of the world
Here Gray Beaver stopped A whisper of the gold had reached his ears and
he had come with several bales of furs and another of gutsewn mittens and
moccasins He would not have ventured so long a trip had he not expected
generous profits But what he had expected was nothing to what he realized His
wildest dream had not exceeded a hundred per cent profit he made a thousand
per cent And like a true Indian he settled down to trade carefully and slowly
even if it took all summer and the rest of the winter to dispose of his goods
It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw his first white men As compared
with the Indians he had known they were to him another race of beings a race
of superior gods They impressed him as possessing superior power and it is on
power that godhead rests White Fang did not reason it out did not in his mind
make the sharp generalization that the white gods were more powerful It was a
feeling nothing more and yet none the less potent As in his puppyhood the
looming bulks of the tepees manreared had affected him as manifestations of
power so was he affected now by the houses and the huge fort all of massive
logs Here was power Those white gods were strong They possessed greater
mastery over matter than the gods he had known most powerful among which was
Gray Beaver And yet Gray Beaver was as a childgod among these white ones
To be sure White Fang only felt these things He was not conscious of them
Yet it is upon feeling more often than thinking that animals act and every
act White Fang now performed was based upon the feeling that the white men were
the superior gods In the first place he was very suspicious of them There was
no telling what unknown terrors were theirs what unknown hurts they could
administer He was curious to observe them fearful of being noticed by them
For the first few hours he was content with slinking around and watching them
from a safe distance Then he saw that no harm befell the dogs that were near to
them and he came in closer
In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them His wolfish appearance
caught their eyes at once and they pointed him out to one another This act of
pointing put White Fang on his guard and when they tried to approach him he
showed his teeth and backed away Not one succeeded in laying a hand on him and
it was well that they did not
White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods not more than a dozen
lived at this place Every two or three days a steamer another and colossal
manifestation of power came in to the bank and stopped for several hours The
white men came from off these steamers and went away on them again There seemed
untold numbers of these white men In the first day or so he saw more of them
than he had seen Indians in all his life and as the days went by they continued
to come up the river stop and then go on up the river and out of sight
But if the white gods were allpowerful their dogs did not amount to much
This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those that came ashore with
their masters They were of irregular shapes and sizes Some were shortlegged
too short others were longlegged too long They had hair instead of fur and
a few had very little hair at that And none of them knew how to fight
As an enemy of his kind it was in White Fangs province to fight with them
This he did and he quickly achieved for them a mighty contempt They were soft
and helpless made much noise and floundered around clumsily trying to
accomplish by main strength what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning They
rushed bellowing at him He sprang to the side They did not know what had
become of him and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder rolling them
off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat
Sometimes this stroke was successful and a stricken dog rolled in the dirt
to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of Indian dogs that waited
White Fang was wise He had long since learned that the gods were made angry
when their dogs were killed The white men were no exception to this So he was
content when he had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their
dogs to drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work It
was then that the white men rushed in visiting their wrath heavily on the pack
while White Fang went free He would stand off at a little distance and look on
while stones clubs axes and all sorts of weapons fell upon his fellows White
Fang was very wise
But his fellows grew wise in their own way and in this White Fang grew
wise with them They learned that it was when a steamer first tied to the bank
that they had their fun After the first two or three strange dogs had been
downed and destroyed the white men hustled their own animals back on board and
wreaked savage vengeance on the offenders One white man having seen his dog a
setter torn to pieces before his eyes drew a revolver He fired rapidly six
times and six of the pack lay dead or dying another manifestation of power
that sank deep into White Fangs consciousness
White Fang enjoyed it all He did not love his kind and he was shrewd
enough to escape hurt himself At first the killing of the white mens dogs had
been a diversion After a time it became his occupation There was no work for
him to do Gray Beaver was busy trading and getting wealthy So White Fang hung
around the landing with the disreputable gang of Indian dogs waiting for
steamers With the arrival of a steamer the fun began After a few minutes by
the time the white men had got over their surprise the gang scattered The fun
was over until the next steamer should arrive
But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the gang He did
not mingle with it but remained aloof always himself and was even feared by
it It is true he worked with it He picked the quarrel with the strange dog
while the gang waited And when he had overthrown the strange dog the gang went
in to finish it But it is equally true that he then withdrew leaving the gang
to receive the punishment of the outraged gods
It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels All he had to do
when the strange dogs came ashore was to show himself When they saw him they
rushed for him It was their instinct He was the Wild the unknown the
terrible the ever menacing the thing that prowled in the darkness around the
fires of the primeval world when they cowering close to the fires were
reshaping their instincts learning to fear the Wild out of which they had come
and which they had deserted and betrayed Generation by generation down all the
generations had this fear of the Wild been stamped into their natures For
centuries the Wild had stood for terror and destruction And during all this
time free license had been theirs from their masters to kill the things of the
Wild In doing this they had protected both themselves and the gods whose
companionship they shared
And so fresh from the soft southern world these dogs trotting down the
gangplank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see White Fang to experience
the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy him They might be
townreared dogs but the instinctive fear of the Wild was theirs just the same
Not alone with their own eyes did they see the wolfish creature in the clear
light of day standing before them They saw him with the eyes of their
ancestors and by their inherited memory they knew White Fang for the wolf and
they remembered the ancient feud
All of which served to make White Fangs days enjoyable If the sight of him
drove these strange dogs upon him so much the better for him so much the worse
for them They looked upon him as legitimate prey and as legitimate prey he
looked upon them
Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair and
fought his first fights with the ptarmigan the weasel and the lynx And not
for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by the persecution of Liplip and
the whole puppypack It might have been otherwise and he would then have been
otherwise Had Liplip not existed he would have passed his puppyhood with the
other puppies and grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs Had Gray
Beaver possessed the plummet of affection and love he might have sounded the
deeps of White Fangs nature and brought up to the surface all manner of kindly
qualities But these things had not been so The clay of White Fang had been
moulded until he became what he was morose and lonely unloving and ferocious
the enemy of all his kind
II The Mad God
A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon These men had been long in the
country They called themselves Sourdoughs and took great pride in so
classifying themselves For other men new in the land they felt nothing but
disdain The men who came ashore from the steamers were newcomers They were
known as chechaquos and they always wilted at the application of the name They
made their bread with bakingpowder This was the invidious distinction between
them and the Sourdoughs who forsooth made their bread from sourdough
because they had no bakingpowder
All of which is neither here nor there The men in the fort disdained the
newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief Especially did they enjoy the
havoc worked amongst the newcomers dogs by White Fang and his disreputable
gang When a steamer arrived the men of the fort made it a point always to come
down to the bank and see the fun They looked forward to it with as much
anticipation as did the Indian dogs while they were not slow to appreciate the
savage and crafty part played by White Fang
But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the sport He
would come running at the first sound of a steamboats whistle and when the
last fight was over and White Fang and the pack had scattered he would return
slowly to the fort his face heavy with regret Sometimes when a soft Southland
dog went down shrieking its deathcry under the fangs of the pack this man
would be unable to contain himself and would leap into the air and cry out with
delight And always he had a sharp and covetous eye for White Fang
This man was called Beauty by the other men of the fort No one knew his
first name and in general he was known in the country as Beauty Smith But he
was anything save a beauty To antithesis was due his naming He was
preëminently unbeautiful Nature had been niggardly with him He was a small man
to begin with and upon his meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly
meagre head Its apex might be likened to a point In fact in his boyhood
before he had been named Beauty by his fellows he had been called Pinhead
Backward from the apex his head slanted down to his neck and forward it
slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide forehead Beginning
here as though regretting her parsimony Nature had spread his features with a
lavish hand His eyes were large and between them was the distance of two eyes
His face in relation to the rest of him was prodigious In order to discover
the necessary area Nature had given him an enormous prognathous jaw It was
wide and heavy and protruded outward and down until it seemed to rest on his
chest Possibly this appearance was due to the weariness of the slender neck
unable properly to support so great a burden
This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination But something
lacked Perhaps it was from excess Perhaps the jaw was too large At any rate
it was a lie Beauty Smith was known far and wide as the weakest of weakkneed
and snivelling cowards To complete his description his teeth were large and
yellow while the two eyeteeth larger than their fellows showed under his
lean lips like fangs His eyes were yellow and muddy as though Nature had run
short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes It was the
same with his hair sparse and irregular of growth muddyyellow and
dirtyyellow rising on his head and sprouting out of his face in unexpected
tufts and bunches in appearance like clumped and windblown grain
In short Beauty Smith was a monstrosity and the blame of it lay elsewhere
He was not responsible The clay of him had been so moulded in the making He
did the cooking for the other men in the fort the dishwashing and the
drudgery They did not despise him Rather did they tolerate him in a broad
human way as one tolerates any creature evilly treated in the making Also
they feared him His cowardly rages made them dread a shot in the back or poison
in their coffee But somebody had to do the cooking and whatever else his
shortcomings Beauty Smith could cook
This was the man that looked at White Fang delighted in his ferocious
prowess and desired to possess him He made overtures to White Fang from the
first White Fang began by ignoring him Later on when the overtures became
more insistent White Fang bristled and bared his teeth and backed away He did
not like the man The feel of him was bad He sensed the evil in him and feared
the extended hand and the attempts at softspoken speech Because of all this
he hated the man
With the simpler creatures good and bad are things simply understood The
good stands for all things that bring easement and satisfaction and surcease
from pain Therefore the good is liked The bad stands for all things that are
fraught with discomfort menace and hurt and is hated accordingly White
Fangs feel of Beauty Smith was bad From the mans distorted body and twisted
mind in occult ways like mists rising from malarial marshes came emanations
of the unhealth within Not by reasoning not by the five senses alone but by
other and remoter and uncharted senses came the feeling to White Fang that the
man was ominous with evil pregnant with hurtfulness and therefore a thing bad
and wisely to be hated
White Fang was in Gray Beavers camp when Beauty Smith first visited it At
the faint sound of his distant feet before he came in sight White Fang knew
who was coming and began to bristle He had been lying down in an abandon of
comfort but he arose quickly and as the man arrived slid away in true
wolffashion to the edge of the camp He did not know what they said but he
could see the man and Gray Beaver talking together Once the man pointed at
him and White Fang snarled back as though the hand were just descending upon
him instead of being as it was fifty feet away The man laughed at this and
White Fang slunk away to the sheltering woods his head turned to observe as he
glided softly over the ground
Gray Beaver refused to sell the dog He had grown rich with his trading and
stood in need of nothing Besides White Fang was a valuable animal the
strongest sleddog he had ever owned and the best leader Furthermore there
was no dog like him on the Mackenzie nor the Yukon He could fight He killed
other dogs as easily as men killed mosquitoes Beauty Smiths eyes lighted up
at this and he licked his thin lips with an eager tongue No White Fang was
not for sale at any price
But Beauty Smith knew the ways of Indians He visited Gray Beavers camp
often and hidden under his coat was always a black bottle or so One of the
potencies of whiskey is the breeding of thirst Gray Beaver got the thirst His
fevered membranes and burnt stomach began to clamor for more and more of the
scorching fluid while his brain thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant
permitted him to go any length to obtain it The money he had received for his
furs and mittens and moccasins began to go It went faster and faster and the
shorter his moneysack grew the shorter grew his temper
In the end his money and goods and temper were all gone Nothing remained to
him but his thirst a prodigious possession in itself that grew more prodigious
with every sober breath he drew Then it was that Beauty Smith had talk with him
again about the sale of White Fang but this time the price offered was in
bottles not dollars and Gray Beavers ears were more eager to hear
»You ketch um dog you take um all right« was his last word
The bottles were delivered but after two days »You ketch um dog« were
Beauty Smiths words to Gray Beaver
White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh of
content The dreaded white god was not there For days his manifestations of
desire to lay hands on him had been growing more insistent and during that time
White Fang had been compelled to avoid the camp He did not know what evil was
threatened by those insistent hands He knew only that they did threaten evil of
some sort and that it was best for him to keep out of their reach
But scarcely had he lain down when Gray Beaver staggered over to him and
tied a leather thong around his neck He sat down beside White Fang holding the
end of the thong in his hand In the other hand he held a bottle which from
time to time was inverted above his head to the accompaniment of gurgling
noises
An hour of this passed when the vibrations of feet in contact with the
ground foreran the one who approached White Fang heard it first and he was
bristling with recognition while Gray Beaver still nodded stupidly White Fang
tried to draw the thong softly out of his masters hand but the relaxed fingers
closed tightly and Gray Beaver roused himself
Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang He snarled softly
up at the thing of fear watching keenly the deportment of the hands One hand
extended outward and began to descend upon his head His soft snarl grew tense
and harsh The hand continued slowly to descend while he crouched beneath it
eying it malignantly his snarl growing shorter and shorter as with quickening
breath it approached its culmination Suddenly he snapped striking with his
fangs like a snake The hand was jerked back and the teeth came together
emptily with a sharp click Beauty Smith was frightened and angry Gray Beaver
clouted White Fang alongside the head so that he cowered down close to the
earth in respectful obedience
White Fangs suspicious eyes followed every movement He saw Beauty Smith go
away and return with a stout club Then the end of the thong was given over to
him by Gray Beaver Beauty Smith started to walk away The thong grew taut
White Fang resisted it Gray Beaver clouted him right and left to make him get
up and follow He obeyed but with a rush hurling himself upon the stranger who
was dragging him away Beauty Smith did not jump away He had been waiting for
this He swung the club smartly stopping the rush midway and smashing White
Fang down upon the ground Gray Beaver laughed and nodded approval Beauty Smith
tightened the thong again and White Fang crawled limply and dizzily to his
feet
He did not rush a second time One smash from the club was sufficient to
convince him that the white god knew how to handle it and he was too wise to
fight the inevitable So he followed morosely at Beauty Smiths heels his tail
between his legs yet snarling softly under his breath But Beauty Smith kept a
wary eye on him and the club was held always ready to strike
At the fort Beauty Smith left him securely tied and went in to bed White
Fang waited an hour Then he applied his teeth to the thong and in the space of
ten seconds was free He had wasted no time with his teeth There had been no
useless gnawing The thong was cut across diagonally almost as clean as though
done by a knife White Fang looked up at the fort at the same time bristling
and growling Then he turned and trotted back to Gray Beavers camp He owed no
allegiance to this strange and terrible god He had given himself to Gray
Beaver and to Gray Beaver he considered he still belonged
But what had occurred before was repeated with a difference Gray Beaver
again made him fast with a thong and in the morning turned him over to Beauty
Smith And here was where the difference came in Beauty Smith gave him a
beating Tied securely White Fang could only rage futilely and endure the
punishment Club and whip were both used upon him and he experienced the worst
beating he had ever received in his life Even the big beating given him in his
puppyhood by Gray Beaver was mild compared with this
Beauty Smith enjoyed the task He delighted in it He gloated over his
victim and his eyes flamed dully as he swung the whip or club and listened to
White Fangs cries of pain and to his helpless bellows and snarls For Beauty
Smith was cruel in the way that cowards are cruel Cringing and snivelling
himself before the blows or angry speech of a man he revenged himself in turn
upon creatures weaker than he All life likes power and Beauty Smith was no
exception Denied the expression of power amongst his own kind he fell back
upon the lesser creatures and there vindicated the life that was in him But
Beauty Smith had not created himself and no blame was to be attached to him He
had come into the world with a twisted body and a brute intelligence This had
constituted the clay of him and it had not been kindly moulded by the world
White Fang knew why he was being beaten When Gray Beaver tied the thong
around his neck and passed the end of the thong into Beauty Smiths keeping
White Fang knew that it was his gods will for him to go with Beauty Smith And
when Beauty Smith left him tied outside the fort he knew that it was Beauty
Smiths will that he should remain there Therefore he had disobeyed the will
of both the gods and earned the consequent punishment He had seen dogs change
owners in the past and he had seen the runaways beaten as he was being beaten
He was wise and yet in the nature of him there were forces greater than wisdom
One of these was fidelity He did not love Gray Beaver yet even in the face of
his will and his anger he was faithful to him He could not help it This
faithfulness was a quality of the clay that composed him It was the quality
that was peculiarly the possession of his kind the quality that set apart his
species from all other species the quality that had enabled the wolf and the
wild dog to come in from the open and be the companions of man
After the beating White Fang was dragged back to the fort But this time
Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick One does not give up a god easily and
so with White Fang Gray Beaver was his own particular god and in spite of
Gray Beavers will White Fang still clung to him and would not give him up
Gray Beaver had betrayed and forsaken him but that had no effect upon him Not
for nothing had he surrendered himself body and soul to Gray Beaver There had
been no reservation on White Fangs part and the bond was not to be broken
easily
So in the night when the men in the fort were asleep White Fang applied
his teeth to the stick that held him The wood was seasoned and dry and it was
tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely get his teeth to it It was
only by the severest muscular exertion and neckarching that he succeeded in
getting the wood between his teeth and barely between his teeth at that and it
was only by the exercise of an immense patience extending through many hours
that he succeeded in gnawing through the stick This was something that dogs
were not supposed to do It was unprecedented But White Fang did it trotting
away from the fort in the early morning with the end of the stick hanging to
his neck
He was wise But had he been merely wise he would not have gone back to Gray
Beaver who had already twice betrayed him But there was his faithfulness and
he went back to be betrayed yet a third time Again he yielded to the tying of a
thong around his neck by Gray Beaver and again Beauty Smith came to claim him
And this time he was beaten even more severely than before
Gray Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip He gave
no protection It was no longer his dog When the beating was over White Fang
was sick A soft Southland dog would have died under it but not he His school
of life had been sterner and he was himself of sterner stuff He had too great
vitality His clutch on life was too strong But he was very sick At first he
was unable to drag himself along and Beauty Smith had to wait half an hour on
him And then blind and reeling he followed at Beauty Smiths heels back to
the fort
But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth and he strove in
vain by lunging to draw the staple from the timber into which it was driven
After a few days sober and bankrupt Gray Beaver departed up the Porcupine on
his long journey to the Mackenzie White Fang remained on the Yukon the
property of a man more than half mad and all brute But what is a dog to know in
its consciousness of madness To White Fang Beauty Smith was a veritable if
terrible god He was a mad god at best but White Fang knew nothing of madness
he knew only that he must submit to the will of this new master obey his every
whim and fancy
III The Reign of Hate
Under the tutelage of the mad god White Fang became a fiend He was kept
chained in a pen at the rear of the fort and here Beauty Smith teased and
irritated and drove him wild with petty torments The man early discovered White
Fangs susceptibility to laughter and made it a point after painfully tricking
him to laugh at him This laughter was uproarious and scornful and at the same
time the god pointed his finger derisively at White Fang At such times reason
fled from White Fang and in his transports of rage he was even more mad than
Beauty Smith
Formerly White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind withal a
ferocious enemy He now became the enemy of all things and more ferocious than
ever To such an extent was he tormented that he hated blindly and without the
faintest spark of reason He hated the chain that bound him the men who peered
in at him through the slats of the pen the dogs that accompanied the men and
that snarled malignantly at him in his helplessness He hated the very wood of
the pen that confined him And first last and most of all he hated Beauty
Smith
But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang One day a
number of men gathered about the pen Beauty Smith entered club in hand and
took the chain from off White Fangs neck When his master had gone out White
Fang turned loose and tore around the pen trying to get at the men outside He
was magnificently terrible Fully five feet in length and standing two and
onehalf feet at the shoulder he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding size
From his mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of the dog so that he
weighed without any fat and without an ounce of superfluous flesh over ninety
pounds It was all muscle bone and sinew fighting flesh in the finest
condition
The door of the pen was being opened again White Fang paused Something
unusual was happening He waited The door was opened wider Then a huge dog was
thrust inside and the door was slammed shut behind him White Fang had never
seen such a dog it was a mastiff but the size and fierce aspect of the
intruder did not deter him Here was something not wood nor iron upon which to
wreak his hate He leaped in with a flash of fangs that ripped down the side of
the mastiffs neck The mastiff shook his head growled hoarsely and plunged at
White Fang But White Fang was here there and everywhere always evading and
eluding and always leaping in and slashing with his fangs and leaping out again
in time to escape punishment
The men outside shouted and applauded while Beauty Smith in an ecstasy of
delight gloated over the ripping and mangling performed by White Fang There
was no hope for the mastiff from the first He was too ponderous and slow In
the end while Beauty Smith beat White Fang back with a club the mastiff was
dragged out by its owner Then there was a payment of bets and money clinked in
Beauty Smiths hand
White Fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men around
his pen It meant a fight and this was the only way that was now vouchsafed him
of expressing the life that was in him Tormented incited to hate he was kept
a prisoner so that there was no way of satisfying that hate except at the times
his master saw fit to put another dog against him Beauty Smith had estimated
his powers well for he was invariably the victor One day three dogs were
turned in upon him in succession Another day a fullgrown wolf freshcaught
from the Wild was shoved in through the door of the pen And on still another
day two dogs were set against him at the same time This was his severest fight
and although in the end he killed them both he was himself half killed in doing
it
In the fall of the year when the first snows were falling and mushice was
running in the river Beauty Smith took passage for himself and White Fang on a
steamboat bound up the Yukon to Dawson White Fang had now achieved a reputation
in the land As The Fighting Wolf he was known far and wide and the cage in
which he was kept on the steamboats deck was usually surrounded by curious men
He raged and snarled at them or lay quietly and studied them with cold hatred
Why should he not hate them He never asked himself the question He knew only
hate and lost himself in the passion of it Life had become a hell to him He
had not been made for the close confinement wild beasts endure at the hands of
men And yet it was in precisely this way that he was treated Men stared at
him poked sticks between the bars to make him snarl and then laughed at him
They were his environment these men and they were moulding the clay of him
into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by Nature Nevertheless
Nature had given him plasticity Where many another animal would have died or
had its spirit broken he adjusted himself and lived and at no expense of the
spirit Possibly Beauty Smith archfiend and tormentor was capable of breaking
White Fangs spirit but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding
If Beauty Smith had in him a devil White Fang had another and the two of
them raged against each other unceasingly In the days before White Fang had
had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a man with a club in his hand but
this wisdom now left him The mere sight of Beauty Smith was sufficient to send
him into transports of fury And when they came to close quarters and he had
been beaten back by the club he went on growling and snarling and showing his
fangs The last growl could never be extracted from him No matter how terribly
he was beaten he had always another growl and when Beauty Smith gave up and
withdrew the defiant growl followed after him or White Fang sprang at the bars
of the cage bellowing his hatred
When the steamboat arrived at Dawson White Fang went ashore But he still
lived a public life in a cage surrounded by curious men He was exhibited as
The Fighting Wolf and men paid fifty cents in gold dust to see him He was
given no rest Did he lie down to sleep he was stirred up by a sharp stick so
that the audience might get its moneys worth In order to make the exhibition
interesting he was kept in a rage most of the time But worse than all this
was the atmosphere in which he lived He was regarded as the most fearful of
wild beasts and this was borne in to him through the bars of the cage Every
word every cautious action on the part of the men impressed upon him his own
terrible ferocity It was so much added fuel to the flame of his fierceness
There could be but one result and that was that his ferocity fed upon itself
and increased It was another instance of the plasticity of his clay of his
capacity for being moulded by the pressure of environment
In addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting animal At
irregular intervals whenever a fight could be arranged he was taken out of his
cage and led off into the woods a few miles from town Usually this occurred at
night so as to avoid interference from the mounted police of the Territory
After a few hours of waiting when daylight had come the audience and the dog
with which he was to fight arrived In this manner it came about that he fought
all sizes and breeds of dogs It was a savage land the men were savage and the
fights were usually to the death
Since White Fang continued to fight it is obvious that it was the other
dogs that died He never knew defeat His early training when he fought with
Liplip and the whole puppypack stood him in good stead There was the
tenacity with which he clung to the earth No dog could make him lose his
footing This was the favorite trick of the wolf breeds to rush in upon him
either directly or with an unexpected swerve in the hope of striking his
shoulder and overthrowing him Mackenzie hounds Eskimo and Labrador dogs
huskies and Malemutes all tried it on him and all failed He was never known
to lose his footing Men told this to one another and looked each time to see
it happen but White Fang always disappointed them
Then there was his lightning quickness It gave him a tremendous advantage
over his antagonists No matter what their fighting experience they had never
encountered a dog that moved so swiftly as he Also to be reckoned with was the
immediateness of his attack The average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries
of snarling and bristling and growling and the average dog was knocked off his
feet and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered from his surprise
So often did this happen that it became the custom to hold White Fang until the
other dog went through its preliminaries was good and ready and even made the
first attack
But greatest of all the advantages in White Fangs favor was his
experience He knew more about fighting than did any of the dogs that faced him
He had fought more fights knew how to meet more tricks and methods and had
more tricks himself while his own method was scarcely to be improved upon
As the time went by he had fewer and fewer fights Men despaired of
matching him with an equal and Beauty Smith was compelled to pit wolves against
him These were trapped by the Indians for the purpose and a fight between
White Fang and a wolf was always sure to draw a crowd Once a fullgrown female
lynx was secured and this time White Fang fought for his life Her quickness
matched his her ferocity equalled his while he fought with his fangs alone
and she fought with her sharpclawed feet as well
But after the lynx all fighting ceased for White Fang There were no more
animals with which to fight at least there was none considered worthy of
fighting with him So he remained on exhibition until spring when one Tim
Keenan a farodealer arrived in the land With him came the first bulldog that
had ever entered the Klondike That this dog and White Fang should come together
was inevitable and for a week the anticipated fight was the mainspring of
conversation in certain quarters of the town
IV The Clinging Death
Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back
For once White Fang did not make an immediate attack He stood still ears
pricked forward alert and curious surveying the strange animal that faced him
He had never seen such a dog before Tim Keenan shoved the bulldog forward with
a muttered Go to it The animal waddled toward the centre of the circle short
and squat and ungainly He came to a stop and blinked across at White Fang
There were cries from the crowd of »Go to him Cherokee« »Sick m
Cherokee« »Eat m up«
But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight He turned his head and blinked
at the men who shouted at the same time wagging his stump of a tail
goodnaturedly He was not afraid but merely lazy Besides it did not seem to
him that it was intended he should fight with the dog he saw before him He was
not used to fighting with that kind of dog and he was waiting for them to bring
on the real dog
Tim Keenan stepped in and bent over Cherokee fondling him on both sides of
the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the hair and that made
slight pushingforward movements These were so many suggestions Also their
effect was irritating for Cherokee began to growl very softly deep down in
his throat There was a correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the
movements of the mans hands The growl rose in the throat with the culmination
of each forwardpushing movement and ebbed down to start up afresh with the
beginning of the next movement The end of each movement was the accent of the
rhythm the movement ending abruptly and the growling rising with a jerk
This was not without its effect on White Fang The hair began to rise on his
neck and across the shoulders Tim Keenan gave a final shove forward and stepped
back again As the impetus that carried Cherokee forward died down he continued
to go forward of his own volition in a swift bowlegged run Then White Fang
struck A cry of startled admiration went up He had covered the distance and
gone in more like a cat than a dog and with the same catlike swiftness he had
slashed with his fangs and leaped clear
The bulldog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick neck He
gave no sign did not even snarl but turned and followed after White Fang The
display on both sides the quickness of the one and the steadiness of the other
had excited the partisan spirit of the crowd and the men were making new bets
and increasing original bets Again and yet again White Fang sprang in
slashed and got away untouched and still his strange foe followed after him
without too great haste not slowly but deliberately and determinedly in a
businesslike sort of way There was purpose in his method something for him to
do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing could distract him
His whole demeanor every action was stamped with this purpose It puzzled
White Fang Never had he seen such a dog It had no hair protection It was
soft and bled easily There was no thick mat of fur to baffle White Fangs
teeth as they were often baffled by dogs of his own breed Each time that his
teeth struck they sank easily into the yielding flesh while the animal did not
seem able to defend itself Another disconcerting thing was that it made no
outcry such as he had been accustomed to with the other dogs he had fought
Beyond a growl or a grunt the dog took its punishment silently And never did
it flag in its pursuit of him
Not that Cherokee was slow He could turn and whirl swiftly enough but
White Fang was never there Cherokee was puzzled too He had never fought
before with a dog with which he could not close The desire to close had always
been mutual But here was a dog that kept at a distance dancing and dodging
here and there and all about And when it did get its teeth into him it did not
hold on but let go instantly and darted away again
But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat The
bulldog stood too short while its massive jaws were an added protection White
Fang darted in and out unscathed while Cherokees wounds increased Both sides
of his neck and head were ripped and slashed He bled freely but showed no
signs of being disconcerted He continued his plodding pursuit though once for
the moment baffled he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on
at the same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of his willingness
to fight
In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out in passing ripping his
trimmed remnant of an ear With a slight manifestation of anger Cherokee took
up the pursuit again running on the inside of the circle White Fang was making
and striving to fasten his deadly grip on White Fangs throat The bulldog
missed by a hairsbreadth and cries of praise went up as White Fang doubled
suddenly out of danger in the opposite direction
The time went by White Fang still danced on dodging and doubling leaping
in and out and ever inflicting damage And still the bulldog with grim
certitude toiled after him Sooner or later he would accomplish his purpose
get the grip that would win the battle In the meantime he accepted all the
punishment the other could deal him His tufts of ears had become tassels his
neck and shoulders were slashed in a score of places and his very lips were cut
and bleeding all from those lightning snaps that were beyond his foreseeing
and guarding
Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off his feet but
the difference in their height was too great Cherokee was too squat too close
to the ground White Fang tried the trick once too often The chance came in one
of his quick doublings and countercirclings He caught Cherokee with head
turned away as he whirled more slowly His shoulder was exposed White Fang
drove in upon it but his own shoulder was high above while he struck with such
force that his momentum carried him on across over the others body For the
first time in his fighting history men saw White Fang lose his footing His
body turned a halfsomersault in the air and he would have landed on his back
had he not twisted catlike still in the air in the effort to bring his feet
to the earth As it was he struck heavily on his side The next instant he was
on his feet but in that instant Cherokees teeth closed on his throat
It was not a good grip being too low down toward the chest but Cherokee
held on White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly around trying to shake
off the bulldogs body It made him frantic this clinging dragging weight It
bound his movements restricted his freedom It was like the trap and all his
instinct resented it and revolted against it It was a mad revolt For several
minutes he was to all intents insane The basic life that was in him took charge
of him The will to exist of his body surged over him He was dominated by this
mere fleshlove of life All intelligence was gone It was as though he had no
brain His reason was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist and
move at all hazards to move to continue to move for movement was the
expression of its existence
Round and round he went whirling and turning and reversing trying to shake
off the fiftypound weight that dragged at his throat The bulldog did little
but keep his grip Sometimes and rarely he managed to get his feet to the
earth and for a moment to brace himself against White Fang But the next moment
his footing would be lost and he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of
White Fangs mad gyrations Cherokee identified himself with his instinct He
knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on and there came to him
certain blissful thrills of satisfaction At such moments he even closed his
eyes and allowed his body to be hurled hither and thither willynilly careless
of any hurt that might thereby come to it That did not count The grip was the
thing and the grip he kept
White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out He could do nothing
and he could not understand Never in all his fighting had this thing
happened The dogs he had fought with did not fight that way With them it was
snap and slash and get away snap and slash and get away He lay partly on his
side panting for breath Cherokee still holding his grip urged against him
trying to get him over entirely on his side White Fang resisted and he could
feel the jaws shifting their grip slightly relaxing and coming together again
in a chewing movement Each shift brought the grip closer in to his throat The
bulldogs method was to hold what he had and when opportunity favored to work
in for more Opportunity favored when White Fang remained quiet When White Fang
struggled Cherokee was content merely to hold on
The bulging back of Cherokees neck was the only portion of his body that
White Fangs teeth could reach He got hold toward the base where the neck comes
out from the shoulders but he did not know the chewing method of fighting nor
were his jaws adapted to it He spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for
a space Then a change in their position diverted him The bulldog had managed
to roll him over on his back and still hanging on to his throat was on top of
him Like a cat White Fang bowed his hindquarters in and with the feet
digging into his enemys abdomen above him he began to claw with long tearing
strokes Cherokee might well have been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted
on his grip and got his body off of White Fangs and at right angles to it
There was no escaping that grip It was like Fate itself and as inexorable
Slowly it shifted up along the jugular All that saved White Fang from death was
the loose skin of his neck and the thick fur that covered it This served to
form a large roll in Cherokees mouth the fur of which wellnigh defied his
teeth But bit by bit whenever the chance offered he was getting more of the
loose skin and fur in his mouth The result was that he was slowly throttling
White Fang The latters breath was drawn with greater and greater difficulty as
the moments went by
It began to look as though the battle were over The backers of Cherokee
waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds White Fangs backers were
correspondingly depressed and refused bets of ten to one and twenty to one
though one man was rash enough to close a wager of fifty to one This man was
Beauty Smith He took a step into the ring and pointed his finger at White Fang
Then he began to laugh derisively and scornfully This produced the desired
effect White Fang went wild with rage He called up his reserves of strength
and gained his feet As he struggled around the ring the fifty pounds of his
foe ever dragging on his throat his anger passed on into panic The basic life
of him dominated him again and his intelligence fled before the will of his
flesh to live Round and round and back again stumbling and falling and rising
even uprearing at times on his hindlegs and lifting his foe clear of the earth
he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death
At last he fell toppling backward exhausted and the bulldog promptly
shifted his grip getting in closer mangling more and more of the furfolded
flesh throttling White Fang more severely than ever Shouts of applause went up
for the victor and there were many cries of »Cherokee« »Cherokee« To this
Cherokee responded by vigorous wagging of the stump of his tail But the clamor
of approval did not distract him There was no sympathetic relation between his
tail and his massive jaws The one might wag but the others held their terrible
grip on White Fangs throat
It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators There was a
jingle of bells Dogmushers cries were heard Everybody save Beauty Smith
looked apprehensively the fear of the police strong upon them But they saw up
the trail and not down two men running with sled and dogs They were evidently
coming down the creek from some prospecting trip At sight of the crowd they
stopped their dogs and came over and joined it curious to see the cause of the
excitement The dogmusher wore a mustache but the other a taller and younger
man was smoothshaven his skin rosy from the pounding of his blood and the
running in the frosty air
White Fang had practically ceased struggling Now and again he resisted
spasmodically and to no purpose He could get little air and that little grew
less and less under the merciless grip that ever tightened In spite of his
armor of fur the great vein of his throat would have long since been torn open
had not the first grip of the bulldog been so low down as to be practically on
the chest It had taken Cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward and this
had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skinfold
In the meantime the abysmal brute in Beauty Smith had been rising up into
his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best When
he saw White Fangs eyes beginning to glaze he knew beyond doubt that the fight
was lost Then he broke loose He sprang upon White Fang and began savagely to
kick him There were hisses from the crowd and cries of protest but that was
all While this went on and Beauty Smith continued to kick White Fang there
was a commotion in the crowd The tall young newcomer was forcing his way
through shouldering men right and left without ceremony or gentleness When he
broke through into the ring Beauty Smith was just in the act of delivering
another kick All his weight was on one foot and he was in a state of unstable
equilibrium At that moment the newcomers fist landed a smashing blow full in
his face Beauty Smiths remaining leg left the ground and his whole body
seemed to lift into the air as he turned over backward and struck the snow The
newcomer turned upon the crowd
»You cowards« he cried »You beasts«
He was in a rage himself a sane rage His gray eyes seemed metallic and
steellike as they flashed upon the crowd Beauty Smith regained his feet and
came toward him sniffling and cowardly The newcomer did not understand He did
not know how abject a coward the other was and thought he was coming back
intent on fighting So with a »You beast« he smashed Beauty Smith over
backward with a second blow in the face Beauty Smith decided that the snow was
the safest place for him and lay where he had fallen making no effort to get
up
»Come on Matt lend a hand« the newcomer called to the dogmusher who had
followed him into the ring
Both men bent over the dogs Matt took hold of White Fang ready to pull
when Cherokees jaws should be loosened This the younger man endeavored to
accomplish by clutching the bulldogs jaws in his hands and trying to spread
them It was a vain undertaking As he pulled and tugged and wrenched he kept
exclaiming with every expulsion of breath »Beasts«
The crowd began to grow unruly and some of the men were protesting against
the spoiling of the sport but they were silenced when the newcomer lifted his
head from his work for a moment and glared at them
»You damn beasts« he finally exploded and went back to his task
»Its no use Mr Scott you cant break m apart that way« Matt said at
last
The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs
»Aint bleedin much« Matt announced »Aint got all the way in yet«
»But hes liable to any moment« Scott answered »There did you see that
He shifted his grip in a bit«
The younger mans excitement and apprehension for White Fang was growing He
struck Cherokee about the head savagely again and again But that did not loosen
the jaws Cherokee wagged the stump of his tail in advertisement that he
understood the meaning of the blows but that he knew he was himself in the
right and only doing his duty by keeping his grip
»Wont some of you help« Scott cried desperately at the crowd
But no help was offered Instead the crowd began sarcastically to cheer him
on and showered him with facetious advice
»Youll have to get a pry« Matt counselled
The other reached into the holster at his hip drew his revolver and tried
to thrust its muzzle between the bulldogs jaws He shoved and shoved hard
till the grating of the steel against the locked teeth could be distinctly
heard Both men were on their knees bending over the dogs Tim Keenan strode
into the ring He paused beside Scott and touched him on the shoulder saying
ominously
»Dont break them teeth stranger«
»Then Ill break his neck« Scott retorted continuing his shoving and
wedging with the revolver muzzle
»I said dont break them teeth« the farodealer repeated more ominously
than before
But if it was a bluff he intended it did not work Scott never desisted
from his efforts though he looked up coolly and asked
»Your dog«
The farodealer grunted
»Then get in here and break this grip«
»Well stranger« the other drawled irritatingly »I dont mind telling you
thats something I aint worked out for myself I dont know how to turn the
trick«
»Then get out of the way« was the reply »and dont bother me Im busy«
Tim Keenan continued standing over him but Scott took no further notice of
his presence He had managed to get the muzzle in between the jaws on one side
and was trying to get it out between the jaws on the other side This
accomplished he pried gently and carefully loosening the jaws a bit at a time
while Matt a bit at a time extricated White Fangs mangled neck
»Stand by to receive your dog« was Scotts peremptory order to Cherokees
owner
The farodealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on Cherokee
»Now« Scott warned giving the final pry
The dogs were drawn apart the bulldog struggling vigorously
»Take him away« Scott commanded and Tim Keenan dragged Cherokee back into
the crowd
White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up Once he gained his
feet but his legs were too weak to sustain him and he slowly wilted and sank
back into the snow His eyes were half closed and the surface of them was
glassy His jaws were apart and through them the tongue protruded draggled and
limp To all appearances he looked like a dog that had been strangled to death
Matt examined him
»Just about all in« he announced »but hes breathin all right«
Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at White Fang
»Matt how much is a good sleddog worth« Scott asked
The dogmusher still on his knees and stooped over White Fang calculated
for a moment
»Three hundred dollars« he answered
»And how much for one thats all chewed up like this one« Scott asked
nudging White Fang with his foot
»Half of that« was the dogmushers judgment
Scott turned upon Beauty Smith
»Did you hear Mr Beast Im going to take your dog from you and Im going
to give you a hundred and fifty for him«
He opened his pocketbook and counted out the bills
Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back refusing to touch the proffered
money
»I aint asellin« he said
»Oh yes you are« the other assured him »Because Im buying Heres your
money The dogs mine«
Beauty Smith his hands still behind him began to back away
Scott sprang toward him drawing his fist back to strike Beauty Smith
cowered down in anticipation of the blow
»Ive got my rights« he whimpered
»Youve forfeited your rights to own that dog« was the rejoinder »Are you
going to take the money or do I have to hit you again«
»All right« Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity of fear »But I take
the money under protest« he added »The dogs a mint I aint agoin to be
robbed A mans got his rights«
»Correct« Scott answered passing the money over to him »A mans got his
rights But youre not a man Youre a beast«
»Wait till I get back to Dawson« Beauty Smith threatened »Ill have the
law on you«
»If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson Ill have you run out
of town Understand«
Beauty Smith replied with a grunt
»Understand« the other thundered with abrupt fierceness
»Yes« Beauty Smith grunted shrinking away
»Yes what«
»Yes sir« Beauty Smith snarled
»Look out Hell bite« some one shouted and a guffaw of laughter went up
Scott turned his back on him and returned to help the dogmusher who was
working over White Fang
Some of the men were already departing others stood in groups looking on
and talking Tim Keenan joined one of the groups
»Whos that mug« he asked
»Weedon Scott« some one answered
»And who in hell is Weedon Scott« the farodealer demanded
»Oh one of them crackajack minin experts Hes in with all the big bugs
If you want to keep out of trouble youll steer clear of him thats my talk
Hes all hunky with the officials The Gold Commissioners a special pal of
his«
»I thought he must be somebody« was the farodealers comment »Thats why
I kept my hands offen him at the start«
V The Indomitable
»Its hopeless« Weedon Scott confessed
He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dogmusher who responded
with a shrug that was equally hopeless
Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched chain
bristling snarling ferocious straining to get at the sleddogs Having
received sundry lessons from Matt said lessons being imparted by means of a
club the sleddogs had learned to leave White Fang alone and even then they
were lying down at a distance apparently oblivious of his existence
»Its a wolf and theres no taming it« Weedon Scott announced
»Oh I dont know about that« Matt objected »Might be a lot of dog in m
for all you can tell But theres one thing I know sure an that theres no
gettin away from«
The dogmusher paused and nodded his head confidentially at Moosehide
Mountain
»Well dont be a miser with what you know« Scott said sharply after
waiting a suitable length of time »Spit it out What is it«
The dogmusher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his thumb
»Wolf or dog its all the same hes ben tamed aready«
»No«
»I tell you yes an broke to harness Look close there Dye see them marks
across the chest«
»Youre right Matt He was a sleddog before Beauty Smith got hold of him«
»An theres not much reason against his bein a sleddog again«
»What dye think« Scott queried eagerly Then the hope died down as he
added shaking his head »Weve had him two weeks now and if anything hes
wilder than ever at the present moment«
»Give m a chance« Matt counselled »Turn m loose for a spell«
The other looked at him incredulously
»Yes« Matt went on »I know youve tried to but you didnt take a club«
»You try it then«
The dogmusher secured a club and went over to the chained animal White
Fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion watching the whip of its
trainer
»See m keep his eye on that club« Matt said »Thats a good sign Hes no
fool Dont dast tackle me so long as I got that club handy Hes not clean
crazy sure«
As the mans hand approached his neck White Fang bristled and snarled and
crouched down But while he eyed the approaching hand he at the same time
contrived to keep track of the club in the other hand suspended threateningly
above him Matt unsnapped the chain from the collar and stepped back
White Fang could scarcely realize that he was free Many months had gone by
since he passed into the possession of Beauty Smith and in all that period he
had never known a moment of freedom except at the times he had been loosed to
fight with other dogs Immediately after such fights he had always been
imprisoned again
He did not know what to make of it Perhaps some new deviltry of the gods
was about to be perpetrated on him He walked slowly and cautiously prepared to
be assailed at any moment He did not know what to do it was all so
unprecedented He took the precaution to sheer off from the two watching gods
and walked carefully to the corner of the cabin Nothing happened He was
plainly perplexed and he came back again pausing a dozen feet away and
regarding the two men intently
»Wont he run away« his new owner asked
Matt shrugged his shoulders »Got to take a gamble Only way to find out is
to find out«
»Poor devil« Scott murmured pityingly »What he needs is some show of human
kindness« he added turning and going into the cabin
He came out with a piece of meat which he tossed to White Fang He sprang
away from it and from a distance studied it suspiciously
»Hiyu Major« Matt shouted warningly but too late
Major had made a spring for the meat At the instant his jaws closed on it
White Fang struck him He was overthrown Matt rushed in but quicker than he
was White Fang Major staggered to his feet but the blood spouting from his
throat reddened the snow in a widening path
»Its too bad but it served him right« Scott said hastily
But Matts foot had already started on its way to kick White Fang There was
a leap a flash of teeth a sharp exclamation White Fang snarling fiercely
scrambled backward for several yards while Matt stooped and investigated his
leg
»He got me all right« he announced pointing to the torn trousers and
underclothes and the growing stain of red
»I told you it was hopeless Matt« Scott said in a discouraged voice »Ive
thought about it off and on while not wanting to think of it But weve come to
it now Its the only thing to do«
As he talked with reluctant movements he drew his revolver threw open the
cylinder and assured himself of its contents
»Look here Mr Scott« Matt objected »that dogs ben through hell You
cant expect m to come out a white an shinin angel Give m time«
»Look at Major« the other rejoined
The dogmusher surveyed the stricken dog He had sunk down on the snow in
the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp
»Served m right You said so yourself Mr Scott He tried to take White
Fangs meat an hes deadO That was to be expected I wouldnt give two
whoops in hell for a dog that wouldnt fight for his own meat«
»But look at yourself Matt Its all right about the dogs but we must draw
the line somewhere«
»Served me right« Matt argued stubbornly »What d I want to kick m for
You said yourself hed done right Then I had no right to kick m«
»It would be a mercy to kill him« Scott insisted »Hes untamable«
»Now look here Mr Scott give the poor devil a fightin chance He aint
had no chance yet Hes just come through hell an this is the first time hes
ben loose Give m a fair chance an if he dont deliver the goods Ill kill
m myself There«
»God knows I dont want to kill him or have him killed« Scott answered
putting away the revolver »Well let him run loose and see what kindness can do
for him And heres a try at it«
He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and soothingly
»Better have a club handy« Matt warned
Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fangs confidence
White Fang was suspicious Something was impending He had killed this gods
dog bitten his companion god and what else was to be expected than some
terrible punishment But in the face of it he was indomitable He bristled and
showed his teeth his eyes vigilant his whole body wary and prepared for
anything The god had no club so he suffered him to approach quite near The
gods hand had come out and was descending upon his head White Fang shrank
together and grew tense as he crouched under it Here was danger some treachery
or something He knew the hands of the gods their proved mastery their cunning
to hurt Besides there was his old antipathy to being touched He snarled more
menacingly crouched still lower and still the hand descended He did not want
to bite the hand and he endured the peril of it until his instinct surged up in
him mastering him with its insatiable yearning for life
Weedon Scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap or
slash But he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of White Fang who
struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled snake
Scott cried out sharply with surprise catching his torn hand and holding it
tightly in his other hand Matt uttered a great oath and sprang to his side
White Fang crouched down and backed away bristling showing his fangs his eyes
malignant with menace Now he could expect a beating as fearful as any he had
received from Beauty Smith
»Here What are you doing« Scott cried suddenly
Matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle
»Nothin« he said slowly with a careless calmness that was assumed »only
goin to keep that promise I made I reckon its up to me to kill m as I said
Id do«
»No you dont«
»Yes I do Watch me«
As Matt had pleaded for White Fang when he had been bitten it was now
Weedon Scotts turn to plead
»You said to give him a chance Well give it to him Weve only just
started and we cant quit at the beginning It served me right this time And
look at him«
White Fang near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away was snarling
with bloodcurdling viciousness not at Scott but at the dogmusher
»Well Ill be everlastinly goshswoggled« was the dogmushers expression
of astonishment
»Look at the intelligence of him« Scott went on hastily »He knows the
meaning of firearms as well as you do Hes got intelligence and weve got to
give that intelligence a chance Put up the gun«
»All right Im willin« Matt agreed leaning the rifle against the
woodpile
»But will you look at that« he exclaimed the next moment
White Fang had quieted down and ceased snarling
»This is worth investigatin Watch«
Matt reached for the rifle and at the same moment White Fang snarled He
stepped away from the rifle and White Fangs lifted lips descended covering
his teeth
»Now just for fun«
Matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder White
Fangs snarling began with the movement and increased as the movement
approached its culmination But the moment before the rifle came to a level on
him he leaped sidewise behind the corner of the cabin Matt stood staring along
the sights at the empty space of snow which had been occupied by White Fang
The dogmusher put the rifle down solemnly then turned and looked at his
employer
»I agree with you Mr Scott That dogs too intelligent to kill«
VI The LoveMaster
As White Fang watched Weedon Scott approach he bristled and snarled to
advertise that he would not submit to punishment Twentyfour hours had passed
since he had slashed open the hand that was now bandaged and held up by a sling
to keep the blood out of it In the past White Fang had experienced delayed
punishments and he apprehended that such a one was about to befall him How
could it be otherwise He had committed what was to him sacrilege sunk his
fangs into the holy flesh of a god and of a whiteskinned superior god at that
In the nature of things and of intercourse with gods something terrible
awaited him
The god sat down several feet away White Fang could see nothing dangerous
in that When the gods administered punishment they stood on their legs
Besides this god had no club no whip no firearm And furthermore he himself
was free No chain nor stick bound him He could escape into safety while the
god was scrambling to his feet In the meantime he would wait and see
The god remained quiet made no movement and White Fangs snarl slowly
dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased Then the god
spoke and at the first sound of his voice the hair rose on White Fangs neck
and the growl rushed up in his throat But the god made no hostile movement and
went on calmly talking For a time White Fang growled in unison with him a
correspondence of rhythm being established between growl and voice But the god
talked on interminably He talked to White Fang as White Fang had never been
talked to before He talked softly and soothingly with a gentleness that
somehow somewhere touched White Fang In spite of himself and all the pricking
warnings of his instinct White Fang began to have confidence in this god He
had a feeling of security that was belied by all his experience with men
After a long time the god got up and went into the cabin White Fang
scanned him apprehensively when he came out He had neither whip nor club nor
weapon Nor was his uninjured hand behind his back hiding something He sat down
as before in the same spot several feet away He held out a small piece of
meat White Fang pricked his ears and investigated it suspiciously managing to
look at the same time both at the meat and the god alert for any overt act his
body tense and ready to spring away at the first sign of hostility
Still the punishment delayed The god merely held near to his nose a piece
of meat And about the meat there seemed nothing wrong Still White Fang
suspected and though the meat was proffered to him with short inviting thrusts
of the hand he refused to touch it The gods were allwise and there was no
telling what masterful treachery lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of
meat In past experience especially in dealing with squaws meat and punishment
had often been disastrously related
In the end the god tossed the meat on the snow at White Fangs feet He
smelled the meat carefully but he did not look at it While he smelled it he
kept his eyes on the god Nothing happened He took the meat into his mouth and
swallowed it Still nothing happened The god was actually offering him another
piece of meat Again he refused to take it from the hand and again it was
tossed to him This was repeated a number of times But there came a time when
the god refused to toss it He kept it in his hand and steadfastly proffered it
The meat was good meat and White Fang was hungry Bit by bit infinitely
cautious he approached the hand At last the time came that he decided to eat
the meat from the hand He never took his eyes from the god thrusting his head
forward with ears flattened back and hair involuntarily rising and cresting on
his neck Also a low growl rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to
be trifled with He ate the meat and nothing happened Piece by piece he ate
all the meat and nothing happened Still the punishment delayed
He licked his chops and waited The god went on talking In his voice was
kindness something of which White Fang had no experience whatever And within
him it aroused feelings which he had likewise never experienced before He was
aware of a certain strange satisfaction as though some need were being
gratified as though some void in his being were being filled Then again came
the prod of his instinct and the warning of past experience The gods were ever
crafty and they had unguessed ways of attaining their ends
Ah he had thought so There it came now the gods hand cunning to hurt
thrusting out at him descending upon his head But the god went on talking His
voice was soft and soothing In spite of the menacing hand the voice inspired
confidence And in spite of the assuring voice the hand inspired distrust
White Fang was torn by conflicting feelings impulses It seemed he would fly to
pieces so terrible was the control he was exerting holding together by an
unwonted indecision the counterforces that struggled within him for mastery
He compromised He snarled and bristled and flattened his ears But he
neither snapped nor sprang away The hand descended Nearer and nearer it came
It touched the ends of his upstanding hair He shrank down under it It followed
down after him pressing more closely against him Shrinking almost shivering
he still managed to hold himself together It was a torment this hand that
touched him and violated his instinct He could not forget in a day all the evil
that had been wrought him at the hands of men But it was the will of the god
and he strove to submit
The hand lifted and descended again in a patting caressing movement This
continued but every time the hand lifted the hair lifted under it And every
time the hand descended the ears flattened down and a cavernous growl surged in
his throat White Fang growled and growled with insistent warning By this means
he announced that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive
There was no telling when the gods ulterior motive might be disclosed At any
moment that soft confidenceinspiring voice might break forth in a roar of
wrath that gentle and caressing hand transform itself into a viselike grip to
hold him helpless and administer punishment
But the god talked on softly and ever the hand rose and fell with
nonhostile pats White Fang experienced dual feelings It was distasteful to
his instinct It restrained him opposed the will of him toward personal
liberty And yet it was not physically painful On the contrary it was even
pleasant in a physical way The patting movement slowly and carefully changed
to a rubbing of the ears about their bases and the physical pleasure even
increased a little Yet he continued to fear and he stood on guard expectant
of unguessed evil alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling or the
other came uppermost and swayed him
»Well Ill be goshswoggled«
So spoke Matt coming out of the cabin his sleeves rolled up a pan of
dirty dishwater in his hands arrested in the act of emptying the pan by the
sight of Weedon Scott patting White Fang
At the instant his voice broke the silence White Fang leaped back snarling
savagely at him
Matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval
»If you dont mind my expressin my feelins Mr Scott Ill make free to
say youre seventeen kinds of a damn fool an all of em different and then
some«
Weedon Scott smiled with a superior air gained his feet and walked over to
White Fang He talked soothingly to him but not for long then slowly put out
his hand rested it on White Fangs head and resumed the interrupted patting
White Fang endured it keeping his eyes fixed suspiciously not upon the man
that petted him but upon the man that stood in the doorway
»You may be a number one tiptop minin expert all right all right« the
dogmusher delivered himself oracularly »but you missed the chance of your life
when you was a boy an didnt run off an join a circus«
White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice but this time did not leap
away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back of his neck
with long soothing strokes
It was the beginning of the end for White Fang the ending of the old life
and the reign of hate A new and incomprehensibly fairer life was dawning It
required much thinking and endless patience on the part of Weedon Scott to
accomplish this And on the part of White Fang it required nothing less than a
revolution He had to ignore the urges and promptings of instinct and reason
defy experience give the lie to life itself
Life as he had known it not only had had no place in it for much that he
now did but all the currents had gone counter to those to which he now
abandoned himself In short when all things were considered he had to achieve
an orientation far vaster than the one he had achieved at the time he came
voluntarily in from the Wild and accepted Gray Beaver as his lord At that time
he was a mere puppy soft from the making without form ready for the thumb of
circumstance to begin its work upon him But now it was different The thumb of
circumstance had done its work only too well By it he had been formed and
hardened into the Fighting Wolf fierce and implacable unloving and unlovable
To accomplish the change was like a reflux of being and this when the
plasticity of youth was no longer his when the fibre of him had become tough
and knotty when the warp and the woof of him had made of him an adamantine
texture harsh and unyielding when the face of his spirit had become iron and
all his instincts and axioms had crystallized into set rules cautions
dislikes and desires
Yet again in this new orientation it was the thumb of circumstance that
pressed and prodded him softening that which had become hard and remoulding it
into fairer form Weedon Scott was in truth this thumb He had gone to the roots
of White Fangs nature and with kindness touched to life potencies that had
languished and wellnigh perished One such potency was love It took the place
of like which latter had been the highest feeling that thrilled him in his
intercourse with the gods
But this love did not come in a day It began with like and out of it slowly
developed White Fang did not run away though he was allowed to remain loose
because he liked this new god This was certainly better than the life he had
lived in the cage of Beauty Smith and it was necessary that he should have some
god The lordship of man was a need of his nature The seal of his dependence on
man had been set upon him in that early day when he turned his back on the Wild
and crawled to Gray Beavers feet to receive the expected beating This seal had
been stamped upon him again and ineradicably on his second return from the
Wild when the long famine was over and there was fish once more in the village
of Gray Beaver
And so because he needed a god and because he preferred Weedon Scott to
Beauty Smith White Fang remained In acknowledgment of fealty he proceeded to
take upon himself the guardianship of his masters property He prowled about
the cabin while the sleddogs slept and the first nightvisitor to the cabin
fought him off with a club until Weedon Scott came to the rescue But White Fang
soon learned to differentiate between thieves and honest men to appraise the
true value of step and carriage The man who travelled loudstepping the
direct line to the cabin door he let alone though he watched him vigilantly
until the door opened and he received the indorsement of the master But the man
who went softly by circuitous ways peering with caution seeking after secrecy
that was the man who received no suspension of judgment from White Fang and
who went away abruptly hurriedly and without dignity
Weedon Scott had set himself the task of redeeming White Fang or rather
of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done White Fang It was a matter of
principle and conscience He felt that the ill done White Fang was a debt
incurred by man and that it must be paid So he went out of his way to be
especially kind to the Fighting Wolf Each day he made it a point to caress and
pet White Fang and to do it at length
At first suspicious and hostile White Fang grew to like this petting But
there was one thing that he never outgrew his growling Growl he would from
the moment the petting began until it ended But it was a growl with a new note
in it A stranger could not hear this note and to such a stranger the growling
of White Fang was an exhibition of primordial savagery nerveracking and
bloodcurdling But White Fangs throat had become harshfibred from the making
of ferocious sounds through the many years since his first little rasp of anger
in the lair of his cubhood and he could not soften the sounds of that throat
now to express the gentleness he felt Nevertheless Weedon Scotts ear and
sympathy were fine enough to catch the new note all but drowned in the
fierceness the note that was the faintest hint of a croon of content and that
none but he could hear
As the days went by the evolution of like into love was accelerated White
Fang himself began to grow aware of it though in his consciousness he knew not
what love was It manifested itself to him as a void in his being a hungry
aching yearning void that clamored to be filled It was a pain and an unrest
and it received easement only by the touch of the new gods presence At such
times love was a joy to him a wild keenthrilling satisfaction But when away
from his god the pain and the unrest returned the void in him sprang up and
pressed against him with its emptiness and the hunger gnawed and gnawed
unceasingly
White Fang was in the process of finding himself In spite of the maturity
of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould that had formed him his
nature was undergoing an expansion There was a burgeoning within him of strange
feelings and unwonted impulses His old code of conduct was changing In the
past he had liked comfort and surcease from pain disliked discomfort and pain
and he had adjusted his actions accordingly But now it was different Because
of this new feeling within him he ofttimes elected discomfort and pain for the
sake of his god Thus in the early morning instead of roaming and foraging or
lying in a sheltered nook he would wait for hours on the cheerless cabinstoop
for a sight of the gods face At night when the god returned home White Fang
would leave the warm sleepingplace he had burrowed in the snow in order to
receive the friendly snap of fingers and the word of greeting Meat even meat
itself he would forego to be with his god to receive a caress from him or to
accompany him down into the town
Like had been replaced by love And love was the plummet dropped down into
the deeps of him where like had never gone And responsive out of his deeps had
come the new thing love That which was given unto him did he return This was
a god indeed a lovegod a warm and radiant god in whose light White Fangs
nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun
But White Fang was not demonstrative He was too old too firmly moulded to
become adept at expressing himself in new ways He was too selfpossessed too
strongly poised in his own isolation Too long had he cultivated reticence
aloofness and moroseness He had never barked in his life and he could not now
learn to bark a welcome when his god approached He was never in the way never
extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love He never ran to meet his
god He waited at a distance but he always waited was always there His love
partook of the nature of worship dumb inarticulate a silent adoration Only
by the steady regard of his eyes did he express his love and by the unceasing
following with his eyes of his gods every movement Also at times when his
god looked at him and spoke to him he betrayed an awkward selfconsciousness
caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical inability
to express it
He learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life It was
borne in upon him that he must let his masters dogs alone Yet his dominant
nature asserted itself and he had first to thrash them into an acknowledgment
of his superiority and leadership This accomplished he had little trouble with
them They gave trail to him when he came and went or walked among them and
when he asserted his will they obeyed
In the same way he came to tolerate Matt as a possession of his master
His master rarely fed him Matt did that it was his business yet White Fang
divined that it was his masters food he ate and that it was his master who thus
fed him vicariously Matt it was who tried to put him into the harness and make
him haul sled with the other dogs But Matt failed It was not until Weedon
Scott put the harness on White Fang and worked him that he understood He took
it as his masters will that Matt should drive him and work him just as he drove
and worked his masters other dogs
Different from the Mackenzie toboggans were the Klondike sleds with runners
under them And different was the method of driving the dogs There was no
fanformation of the team The dogs worked in single file one behind another
hauling on double traces And here in the Klondike the leader was indeed the
leader The wisest as well as strongest dog was the leader and the team obeyed
him and feared him That White Fang should quickly gain this post was
inevitable He could not be satisfied with less as Matt learned after much
inconvenience and trouble White Fang picked out the post for himself and Matt
backed his judgment with strong language after the experiment had been tried
But though he worked in the sled in the day White Fang did not forego the
guarding of his masters property in the night Thus he was on duty all the
time ever vigilant and faithful the most valuable of all the dogs
»Makin free to spit out whats in me« Matt said one day »I beg to state
that you was a wise guy all right when you paid the price you did for that dog
You clean swindled Beauty Smith on top of pushin his face in with your fist«
A recrudescence of anger glinted in Weedon Scotts gray eyes and he
muttered savagely »The beast«
In the late spring a great trouble came to White Fang Without warning the
lovemaster disappeared There had been warning but White Fang was unversed in
such things and did not understand the packing of a grip He remembered
afterward that this packing had preceded the masters disappearance but at the
time he suspected nothing That night he waited for the master to return At
midnight the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear of the cabin
There he drowsed only half asleep his ears keyed for the first sound of the
familiar step But at two in the morning his anxiety drove him out to the cold
front stoop where he crouched and waited
But no master came In the morning the door opened and Matt stepped outside
White Fang gazed at him wistfully There was no common speech by which he might
learn what he wanted to know The days came and went but never the master
White Fang who had never known sickness in his life became sick He became
very sick so sick that Matt was finally compelled to bring him inside the
cabin Also in writing to his employer Matt devoted a postscript to White
Fang
Weedon Scott reading the letter down in Circle City came upon the
following
»That dam wolf wont work Wont eat Aint got no spunk left All the dogs is
licking him Wants to know what has become of you and I dont know how to tell
him Mebbe he is going to die«
It was as Matt had said White Fang had ceased eating lost heart and
allowed every dog of the team to thrash him In the cabin he lay on the floor
near the stove without interest in food in Matt nor in life Matt might talk
gently to him or swear at him it was all the same he never did more than turn
his dull eyes upon the man then drop his head back to its customary position on
his forepaws
And then one night Matt reading to himself with moving lips and mumbled
sounds was startled by a low whine from White Fang He had got up on his feet
his ears cocked toward the door and he was listening intently A moment later
Matt heard a footstep The door opened and Weedon Scott stepped in The two men
shook hands Then Scott looked around the room
»Wheres the wolf« he asked
Then he discovered him standing where he had been lying near to the stove
He had not rushed forward after the manner of other dogs He stood watching and
waiting
»Holy smoke« Matt exclaimed »Look at m wag his tail«
Weedon Scott strode half across the room toward him at the same time
calling him White Fang came to him not with a great bound yet quickly He was
awkward from selfconsciousness but as he drew near his eyes took on a strange
expression Something an incommunicable vastness of feeling rose up into his
eyes as a light and shone forth
»He never looked at me that way all the time you was gone« Matt commented
Weedon Scott did not hear He was squatting down on his heels face to face
with White Fang and petting him rubbing at the roots of the ears making long
caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders tapping the spine gently with
the balls of his fingers And White Fang was growling responsively the crooning
note of the growl more pronounced than ever
But that was not all What of his joy the great love in him ever surging
and struggling to express itself succeeded in finding a new mode of expression
He suddenly thrust his head forward and nudged his way in between the masters
arm and body And here confined hidden from view all except his ears no
longer growling he continued to nudge and snuggle
The two men looked at each other Scotts eyes were shining
»Gosh« said Matt in an awestricken voice
A moment later when he had recovered himself he said »I always insisted
that wolf was a dog Look at m«
With the return of the lovemaster White Fangs recovery was rapid Two
nights and a day he spent in the cabin Then he sallied forth The sleddogs had
forgotten his prowess They remembered only the latest which was his weakness
and sickness At the sight of him as he came out of the cabin they sprang upon
him
»Talk about your roughhouses« Matt murmured gleefully standing in the
doorway and looking on »Give m hell you wolf Give m hell and then some«
White Fang did not need the encouragement The return of the lovemaster was
enough Life was flowing through him again splendid and indomitable He fought
from sheer joy finding in it an expression of much that he felt and that
otherwise was without speech There could be but one ending The team dispersed
in ignominious defeat and it was not until after dark that the dogs came
sneaking back one by one by meekness and humility signifying their fealty to
White Fang
Having learned to snuggle White Fang was guilty of it often It was the
final word He could not go beyond it The one thing of which he had always been
particularly jealous was his head He had always disliked to have it touched
It was the Wild in him the fear of hurt and of the trap that had given rise to
the panicky impulses to avoid contacts It was the mandate of his instinct that
that head must be free And now with the lovemaster his snuggling was the
deliberate act of putting himself into a position of hopeless helplessness It
was an expression of perfect confidence of absolute selfsurrender as though
he said »I put myself into thy hands Work thou thy will with me«
One night not long after the return Scott and Matt sat at a game of
cribbage preliminary to going to bed »Fifteentwo fifteenfour an a pair
makes six« Matt was pegging up when there was an outcry and sound of snarling
without They looked at each other as they started to rise to their feet
»The wolfs nailed somebody« Matt said
A wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them
»Bring a light« Scott shouted as he sprang outside
Matt followed with the lamp and by its light they saw a man lying on his
back in the snow His arms were folded one above the other across his face and
throat Thus he was trying to shield himself from White Fangs teeth And there
was need for it White Fang was in a rage wickedly making his attack on the
most vulnerable spot From shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms the
coatsleeve blue flannel shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags while the
arms themselves were terribly slashed and streaming blood
All this the two men saw in the first instant The next instant Weedon Scott
had White Fang by the throat and was dragging him clear White Fang struggled
and snarled but made no attempt to bite while he quickly quieted down at a
sharp word from the master
Matt helped the man to his feet As he arose he lowered his crossed arms
exposing the bestial face of Beauty Smith The dogmusher let go of him
precipitately with action similar to that of a man who has picked up live fire
Beauty Smith blinked in the lamplight and looked about him He caught sight of
White Fang and terror rushed into his face
At the same moment Matt noticed two objects lying in the snow He held the
lamp close to them indicating them with his toe for his employers benefit a
steel dogchain and a stout club
Weedon Scott saw and nodded Not a word was spoken The dogmusher laid his
hand on Beauty Smiths shoulder and faced him to the rightabout No word needed
to be spoken Beauty Smith started
In the meantime the lovemaster was patting White Fang and talking to him
»Tried to steal you eh And you wouldnt have it Well well he made a
mistake didnt he«
»Must a thought he had hold of seventeen devils« the dogmusher
sniggered
White Fang still wrought up and bristling growled and growled the hair
slowly lying down the crooning note remote and dim but growing in his throat
Part Five The Tame
I The Long Trail
It was in the air White Fang sensed the coming calamity even before there was
tangible evidence of it In vague ways it was borne in upon him that a change
was impending He knew not how nor why yet he got his feel of the oncoming
event from the gods themselves In ways subtler than they knew they betrayed
their intentions to the wolfdog that haunted the cabinstoop and that though
he never came inside the cabin knew what went on inside their brains
»Listen to that will you« the dogmusher exclaimed at supper one night
Weedon Scott listened Through the door came a low anxious whine like a
sobbing under the breath that has just grown audible Then came the long sniff
as White Fang reassured himself that his god was still inside and had not yet
taken himself off in mysterious and solitary flight
»I do believe that wolfs on to you« the dogmusher said
Weedon Scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost pleaded
though this was given the lie by his words
»What the devil can I do with a wolf in California« he demanded
»Thats what I say« Matt answered »What the devil can you do with a wolf
in California«
But this did not satisfy Weedon Scott The other seemed to be judging him in
a noncommittal sort of way
»Whitemans dogs would have no show against him« Scott went on »Hed kill
them on sight If he didnt bankrupt me with damage suits the authorities would
take him away from me and electrocute him«
»Hes a downright murderer I know« was the dogmushers comment
Weedon Scott looked at him suspiciously
»It would never do« he said decisively
»It would never do« Matt concurred »Why youd have to hire a man
specially to take care of m«
The others suspicion was allayed He nodded cheerfully In the silence that
followed the low halfsobbing whine was heard at the door and then the long
questing sniff
»Theres no denyin he thinks a hell of a lot of you« Matt said
The other glared at him in sudden wrath »Damn it all man I know my own
mind and whats best«
»Im agreein with you only «
»Only what« Scott snapped out
»Only « the dogmusher began softly then changed his mind and betrayed a
rising anger of his own »Well you neednt get so allfired het up about it
Judgin by your actions one d think you didnt know your own mind«
Weedon Scott debated with himself for a while and then said more gently
»You are right Matt I dont know my own mind and thats whats the trouble«
»Why it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog along« he
broke out after another pause
»Im agreein with you« was Matts answer and again his employer was not
quite satisfied with him
»But how in the name of the great Sardanapalus he knows youre goin is what
gets me« the dogmusher continued innocently
»Its beyond me Matt« Scott answered with a mournful shake of the head
Then came the day when through the open cabin door White Fang saw the
fatal grip on the floor and the lovemaster packing things into it Also there
were comings and goings and the erstwhile placid atmosphere of the cabin was
vexed with strange perturbations and unrest Here was indubitable evidence
White Fang had already sensed it He now reasoned it His god was preparing for
another flight And since he had not taken him with him before so now he
could look to be left behind
That night he lifted the long wolfhowl As he had howled in his puppy
days when he fled back from the Wild to the village to find it vanished and
naught but a rubbishheap to mark the site of Gray Beavers tepee so now he
pointed his muzzle to the cold stars and told to them his woe
Inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed
»Hes gone off his food again« Matt remarked from his bunk
There was a grunt from Weedon Scotts bunk and a stir of blankets
»From the way he cut up the other time you went away I wouldnt wonder this
time but what he died«
The blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably
»Oh shut up« Scott cried out through the darkness »You nag worse than a
woman«
»Im agreein with you« the dogmusher answered and Weedon Scott was not
quite sure whether or not the other had snickered
The next day White Fangs anxiety and restlessness were even more
pronounced He dogged his masters heels whenever he left the cabin and haunted
the front stoop when he remained inside Through the open door he could catch
glimpses of the luggage on the floor The grip had been joined by two large
canvas bags and a box Matt was rolling the masters blankets and fur robe
inside a small tarpaulin White Fang whined as he watched the operation
Later on two Indians arrived He watched them closely as they shouldered
the luggage and were led off down the hill by Matt who carried the bedding and
the grip But White Fang did not follow them The master was still in the cabin
After a time Matt returned The master came to the door and called White Fang
inside
»You poor devil« he said gently rubbing White Fangs ears and tapping his
spine »Im hitting the long trail old man where you cannot follow Now give
me a growl the last good goodby growl«
But White Fang refused to growl Instead and after a wistful searching
look he snuggled in burrowing his head out of sight between the masters arm
and body
»There she blows« Matt cried From the Yukon arose the hoarse bellowing of
a river steamboat »Youve got to cut it short Be sure and lock the front door
Ill go out the back Get a move on«
The two doors slammed at the same moment and Weedon Scott waited for Matt
to come around to the front From inside the door came a low whining and
sobbing Then there were long deepdrawn sniffs
»You must take good care of him Matt« Scott said as they started down the
hill »Write and let me know how he gets along«
»Sure« the dogmusher answered »But listen to that will you«
Both men stopped White Fang was howling as dogs howl when their masters lie
dead He was voicing an utter woe his cry bursting upward in great
heartbreaking rushes dying down into quavering misery and bursting upward
again with rush upon rush of grief
The Aurora was the first steamboat of the year for the Outside and her
decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and broken gold seekers all
equally as mad to get to the Outside as they had been originally to get to the
Inside Near the gangplank Scott was shaking hands with Matt who was
preparing to go ashore But Matts hand went limp in the others grasp as his
gaze shot past and remained fixed on something behind him Scott turned to see
Sitting on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was White Fang
The dogmusher swore softly in awestricken accents Scott could only look
in wonder
»Did you lock the front door« Matt demanded
The other nodded and asked »How about the back«
»You just bet I did« was the fervent reply
White Fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly but remained where he was
making no attempt to approach
»Ill have to take m ashore with me«
Matt made a couple of steps toward White Fang but the latter slid away from
him The dogmusher made a rush of it and White Fang dodged between the legs of
a group of men Ducking turning doubling he slid about the deck eluding the
others efforts to capture him
But when the lovemaster spoke White Fang came to him with prompt
obedience
»Wont come to the hand thats fed m all these months« the dogmusher
muttered resentfully »And you you aint never fed m after them first days of
gettin acquainted Im blamed if I can see how he works it out that youre the
boss«
Scott who had been patting White Fang suddenly bent closer and pointed out
freshmade cuts on his muzzle and a gash between the eyes
Matt bent over and passed his hand along White Fangs belly
»We plumb forgot the window Hes all cut an gouged underneath Must a
butted clean through it bgosh«
But Weedon Scott was not listening He was thinking rapidly The Auroras
whistle hooted a final announcement of departure Men were scurrying down the
gangplank to the shore Matt loosened the bandana from his own neck and started
to put it around White Fangs Scott grasped the dogmushers hand
»Goodby Matt old man About the wolf you neednt write You see Ive
«
»What« the dogmusher exploded »You dont mean to say «
»The very thing I mean Heres your bandana Ill write to you about him«
Matt paused halfway down the gangplank
»Hell never stand the climate« he shouted back »Unless you clip m in
warm weather«
The gangplank was hauled in and the Aurora swung out from the bank Weedon
Scott waved a last goodby Then he turned and bent over White Fang standing by
his side
»Now growl damn you growl« he said as he patted the responsive head and
rubbed the flattening ears
II The Southland
White Fang landed from the steamer in San Francisco He was appalled Deep in
him below any reasoning process or act of consciousness he had associated
power with godhead And never had the white men seemed such marvellous gods as
now when he trod the slimy pavement of San Francisco The log cabins he had
known were replaced by towering buildings The streets were crowded with perils
wagons carts automobiles great straining horses pulling huge trucks and
monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and clanging through the midst
screeching their insistent menace after the manner of the lynxes he had known in
the northern woods
All this was the manifestation of power Through it all behind it all was
man governing and controlling expressing himself as of old by his mastery
over matter It was colossal stunning White Fang was awed Fear sat upon him
As in his cubhood he had been made to feel his smallness and puniness on the day
he first came in from the Wild to the village of Gray Beaver so now in his
fullgrown stature and pride of strength he was made to feel small and puny
And there were so many gods He was made dizzy by the swarming of them The
thunder of the streets smote upon his ears He was bewildered by the tremendous
and endless rush and movement of things As never before he felt his dependence
on the lovemaster close at whose heels he followed no matter what happened
never losing sight of him
But White Fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the city an
experience that was like a bad dream unreal and terrible that haunted him for
long after in his dreams He was put into a baggagecar by the master chained
in a corner in the midst of heaped trunks and valises Here a squat and brawny
god held sway with much noise hurling trunks and boxes about dragging them in
through the door and tossing them into the piles or flinging them out of the
door smashing and crashing to other gods who awaited them
And here in this inferno of luggage was White Fang deserted by the master
Or at least White Fang thought he was deserted until he smelled out the
masters canvas clothesbags alongside of him and proceeded to mount guard over
them
»Bout time you come« growled the god of the car an hour later when
Weedon Scott appeared at the door »That dog of yourn wont let me lay a finger
on your stuff«
White Fang emerged from the car He was astonished The nightmare city was
gone The car had been to him no more than a room in a house and when he had
entered it the city had been all around him In the interval the city had
disappeared The roar of it no longer dinned upon his ears Before him was
smiling country streaming with sunshine lazy with quietude But he had little
time to marvel at the transformation He accepted it as he accepted all the
unaccountable doings and manifestations of the gods It was their way
There was a carriage waiting A man and a woman approached the master The
womans arms went out and clutched the master around the neck a hostile act
The next moment Weedon Scott had torn loose from the embrace and closed with
White Fang who had become a snarling raging demon
»Its all right mother« Scott was saying as he kept tight hold of White
Fang and placated him »He thought you were going to injure me and he wouldnt
stand for it Its all right Its all right Hell learn soon enough«
»And in the meantime I may be permitted to love my son when his dog is not
around« she laughed though she was pale and weak from the fright
She looked at White Fang who snarled and bristled and glared malevolently
»Hell have to learn and he shall without postponement« Scott said
He spoke softly to White Fang until he had quieted him then his voice
became firm
»Down sir Down with you«
This had been one of the things taught him by the master and White Fang
obeyed though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly
»Now mother«
Scott opened his arms to her but kept his eyes on White Fang
»Down« he warned »Down«
White Fang bristling silently halfcrouching as he rose sank back and
watched the hostile act repeated But no harm came of it nor of the embrace
from the strange mangod that followed Then the clothesbags were taken into
the carriage the strange gods and the lovemaster followed and White Fang
pursued now running vigilantly behind now bristling up to the running horses
and warning them that he was there to see that no harm befell the god they
dragged so swiftly across the earth
At the end of fifteen minutes the carriage swung in through a stone gateway
and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut trees On either
side stretched lawns their broad sweep broken here and there by great
sturdylimbed oaks In the near distance in contrast with the young green of
the tended grass sunburnt hayfields showed tan and gold while beyond were the
tawny hills and upland pastures From the head of the lawn on the first soft
swell from the valleylevel looked down the deepporched manywindowed house
Little opportunity was given White Fang to see all this Hardly had the
carriage entered the grounds when he was set upon by a sheepdog brighteyed
sharpmuzzled righteously indignant and angry It was between him and the
master cutting him off White Fang snarled no warning but his hair bristled as
he made his silent and deadly rush This rush was never completed He halted
with awkward abruptness with stiff forelegs bracing himself against his
momentum almost sitting down on his haunches so desirous was he of avoiding
contact with the dog he was in the act of attacking It was a female and the
law of his kind thrust a barrier between For him to attack her would require
nothing less than a violation of his instinct
But with the sheepdog it was otherwise Being a female she possessed no
such instinct On the other hand being a sheepdog her instinctive fear of the
Wild and especially of the wolf was unusually keen White Fang was to her a
wolf the hereditary marauder who had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep
were first herded and guarded by some dim ancestor of hers And so as he
abandoned his rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact she sprang
upon him He snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth in his shoulder but
beyond this made no offer to hurt her He backed away stifflegged with
selfconsciousness and tried to go around her He dodged this way and that and
curved and turned but to no purpose She remained always between him and the
way he wanted to go
»Here Collie« called the strange man in the carriage
Weedon Scott laughed
»Never mind father It is good discipline White Fang will have to learn
many things and its just as well that he begins now Hell adjust himself all
right«
The carriage drove on and still Collie blocked White Fangs way He tried
to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling across the lawn but she ran on
the inner and smaller circle and was always there facing him with her two rows
of gleaming teeth Back he circled across the drive to the other lawn and
again she headed him off
The carriage was bearing the master away White Fang caught glimpses of it
disappearing amongst the trees The situation was desperate He essayed another
circle She followed running swiftly And then suddenly he turned upon her
It was his old fighting trick Shoulder to shoulder he struck her squarely Not
only was she overthrown So fast had she been running that she rolled along now
on her back now on her side as she struggled to stop clawing gravel with her
feet and crying shrilly her hurt pride and indignation
White Fang did not wait The way was clear and that was all he had wanted
She took after him never ceasing her outcry It was the straightaway now and
when it came to real running White Fang could teach her things She ran
frantically hysterically straining to the utmost advertising the effort she
was making with every leap and all the time White Fang slid smoothly away from
her silently without effort gliding like a ghost over the ground
As he rounded the house to the portecochère he came upon the carriage It
had stopped and the master was alighting At this moment still running at top
speed White Fang became suddenly aware of an attack from the side It was a
deerhound rushing upon him White Fang tried to face it But he was going too
fast and the hound was too close It struck him on the side and such was his
forward momentum and the unexpectedness of it White Fang was hurled to the
ground and rolled clear over He came out of the tangle a spectacle of
malignancy ears flattened back lips writhing nose wrinkling his teeth
clipping together as the fangs barely missed the hounds soft throat
The master was running up but was too far away and it was Collie that
saved the hounds life Before White Fang could spring in and deliver the fatal
stroke and just as he was in the act of springing in Collie arrived She had
been outmanoeuvred and outrun to say nothing of her having been
unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel and her arrival was like that of a
tornado made up of offended dignity justifiable wrath and instinctive hatred
for this marauder from the Wild She struck White Fang at right angles in the
midst of his spring and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over
The next moment the master arrived and with one hand held White Fang while
the father called off the dogs
»I say this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf from the
Arctic« the master said while White Fang calmed down under his caressing hand
»In all his life hes only been known once to go off his feet and here hes
been rolled twice in thirty seconds«
The carriage had driven away and other strange gods had appeared from out
the house Some of these stood respectfully at a distance but two of them
women perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the master around the neck
White Fang however was beginning to tolerate this act No harm seemed to come
of it while the noises the gods made were certainly not threatening These gods
also made overtures to White Fang but he warned them off with a snarl and the
master did likewise with word of mouth At such times White Fang leaned in close
against the masters legs and received reassuring pats on the head
The hound under the command »Dick Lie down sir« had gone up the steps
and lain down to one side on the porch still growling and keeping a sullen
watch on the intruder Collie had been taken in charge by one of the womangods
who held arms around her neck and petted and caressed her but Collie was very
much perplexed and worried whining and restless outraged by the permitted
presence of this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake
All the gods started up the steps to enter the house White Fang followed
closely at the masters heels Dick on the porch growled and White Fang on
the steps bristled and growled back
»Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out« suggested
Scotts father »After that theyll be friends«
»Then White Fang to show his friendship will have to be chief mourner at
the funeral« laughed the master
The elder Scott looked increduously first at White Fang then at Dick and
finally at his son
»You mean that «
Weedon nodded his head »I mean just that Youd have a dead Dick inside one
minute two minutes at the farthest«
He turned to White Fang »Come on you wolf Its you thatll have to come
inside«
White Fang walked stifflegged up the steps and across the porch with tail
rigidly erect keeping his eyes on Dick to guard against a flank attack and at
the same time prepared for whatever fierce manifestation of the unknown that
might pounce out upon him from the interior of the house But no thing of fear
pounced out and when he had gained the inside he scouted carefully around
looking for it and finding it not Then he lay down with a contented grunt at
the masters feet observing all that went on ever ready to spring to his feet
and fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under the traproof of the
dwelling
III The Gods Domain
Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature but he had travelled much and knew
the meaning and necessity of adjustment Here in Sierra Vista which was the
name of Judge Scotts place White Fang quickly began to make himself at home
He had no further serious trouble with the dogs They knew more about the ways
of the Southland gods than did he and in their eyes he had qualified when he
accompanied the gods inside the house Wolf that he was and unprecedented as it
was the gods had sanctioned his presence and they the dogs of the gods could
only recognize this sanction
Dick perforce had to go through a few stiff formalities at first after
which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the premises Had Dick had
his way they would have been good friends but White Fang was adverse to
friendship All he asked of other dogs was to be let alone His whole life he
had kept aloof from his kind and he still desired to keep aloof Dicks
overtures bothered him so he snarled Dick away In the north he had learned the
lesson that he must let the masters dogs alone and he did not forget that
lesson now But he insisted on his own privacy and selfseclusion and so
thoroughly ignored Dick that that goodnatured creature finally gave him up and
scarcely took as much interest in him as in the hitchingpost near the stable
Not so with Collie While she accepted him because it was the mandate of the
gods that was no reason that she should leave him in peace Woven into her
being was the memory of countless crimes he and his had perpetrated against her
ancestry Not in a day nor a generation were the ravaged sheepfolds to be
forgotten All this was a spur to her pricking her to retaliation She could
not fly in the face of the gods who permitted him but that did not prevent her
from making life miserable for him in petty ways A feud ages old was between
them and she for one would see to it that he was reminded
So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreat
him His instinct would not permit him to attack her while her persistence
would not permit him to ignore her When she rushed at him he turned his
furprotected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away stifflegged and
stately When she forced him too hard he was compelled to go about in a circle
his shoulder presented to her his head turned from her and on his face and in
his eyes a patient and bored expression Sometimes however a nip on his
hindquarters hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately But as a
rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity He ignored her
existence whenever it was possible and made it a point to keep out of her way
When he saw or heard her coming he got up and walked off
There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn Life in the
Northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated affairs of
Sierra Vista First of all he had to learn the family of the master In a way
he was prepared to do this As Mitsah and Klookooch had belonged to Gray
Beaver sharing his food his fire and his blankets so now at Sierra Vista
belonged to the lovemaster all the denizens of the house
But in this matter there was a difference and many differences Sierra
Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Gray Beaver There were many
persons to be considered There was Judge Scott and there was his wife There
were the masters two sisters Beth and Mary There was his wife Alice and
then there were his children Weedon and Maud toddlers of four and six There
was no way for anybody to tell him about all these people and of bloodties and
relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable of knowing Yet
he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged to the master Then by
observation whenever opportunity offered by study of action speech and the
very intonations of the voice he slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of
favor they enjoyed with the master And by this ascertained standard White Fang
treated them accordingly What was of value to the master he valued what was
dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and guarded carefully
Thus it was with the two children All his life he had disliked children He
hated and feared their hands The lessons were not tender that he had learned of
their tyranny and cruelty in the days of the Indian villages When Weedon and
Maud had first approached him he growled warningly and looked malignant A cuff
from the master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their
caresses though he growled and growled under their tiny hands and in the growl
there was no crooning note Later he observed that the boy and girl were of
great value in the masters eyes Then it was that no cuff nor sharp word was
necessary before they could pat him
Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate He yielded to the masters
children with an ill but honest grace and endured their fooling as one would
endure a painful operation When he could no longer endure he would get up and
stalk determinedly away from them But after a time he grew even to like the
children Still he was not demonstrative He would not go up to them On the
other hand instead of walking away at sight of them he waited for them to come
to him And still later it was noticed that a pleased light came into his eyes
when he saw them approaching and that he looked after them with an appearance
of curious regret when they left him for other amusements
All this was a matter of development and took time Next in his regard
after the children was Judge Scott There were two reasons possibly for this
First he was evidently a valuable possession of the masters and next he was
undemonstrative White Fang liked to lie at his feet on the wide porch when he
read the newspaper from time to time favoring White Fang with a look or a word
untroublesome tokens that he recognized White Fangs presence and existence
But this was only when the master was not around When the master appeared all
other beings ceased to exist so far as White Fang was concerned
White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make much of
him but he never gave to them what he gave to the master No caress of theirs
could put the lovecroon into his throat and try as they would they could
never persuade him into snuggling against them This expression of abandon and
surrender of absolute trust he reserved for the master alone In fact he
never regarded the members of the family in any other light than possessions of
the lovemaster
Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family and the
servants of the household The latter were afraid of him while he merely
refrained from attacking them This because he considered that they were
likewise possessions of the master Between White Fang and them existed a
neutrality and no more They cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did
other things just as Matt had done up in the Klondike They were in short
appurtenances of the household
Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn The
masters domain was wide and complex yet it had its metes and bounds The land
itself ceased at the county road Outside was the common domain of all gods
the roads and streets Then inside other fences were the particular domains of
other gods A myriad laws governed all these things and determined conduct yet
he did not know the speech of the gods nor was there any way for him to learn
save by experience He obeyed his natural impulses until they ran him counter to
some law When this had been done a few times he learned the law and after that
observed it
But most potent in his education were the cuff of the masters hand the
censure of the masters voice Because of White Fangs very great love a cuff
from the master hurt him far more than any beating Gray Beaver or Beauty Smith
had ever given him They had hurt only the flesh of him beneath the flesh the
spirit had still raged splendid and invincible But with the master the cuff
was always too light to hurt the flesh Yet it went deeper It was an expression
of the masters disapproval and White Fangs spirit wilted under it
In point of fact the cuff was rarely administered The masters voice was
sufficient By it White Fang knew whether he did right or not By it he trimmed
his conduct and adjusted his actions It was the compass by which he steered and
learned to chart the manners of a new land and life
In the Northland the only domesticated animal was the dog All other
animals lived in the Wild and were when not too formidable lawful spoil for
any dog All his days White Fang had foraged among the live things for food It
did not enter his head that in the Southland it was otherwise But this he was
to learn early in his residence in Santa Clara Valley Sauntering around the
corner of the house in the early morning he came upon a chicken that had
escaped from the chickenyard White Fangs natural impulse was to eat it A
couple of bounds a flash of teeth and a frightened squawk and he had scooped
in the adventurous fowl It was farmbred and fat and tender and White Fang
licked his chops and decided that such fare was good
Later in the day he chanced upon another stray chicken near the stables
One of the grooms ran to the rescue He did not know White Fangs breed so for
weapon he took a light buggywhip At the first cut of the whip White Fang left
the chicken for the man A club might have stopped White Fang but not a whip
Silently without flinching he took a second cut in his forward rush and as he
leaped for the throat the groom cried out »My God« and staggered backward He
dropped the whip and shielded his throat with his arms In consequence his
forearm was ripped open to the bone
The man was badly frightened It was not so much White Fangs ferocity as it
was his silence that unnerved the groom Still protecting his throat and face
with his torn and bleeding arm he tried to retreat to the barn And it would
have gone hard with him had not Collie appeared on the scene As she had saved
Dicks life she now saved the grooms She rushed upon White Fang in frenzied
wrath She had been right She had known better than the blundering gods All
her suspicions were justified Here was the ancient marauder up to his old
tricks again
The groom escaped into the stables and White Fang backed away before
Collies wicked teeth or presented his shoulder to them and circled round and
round But Collie did not give over as was her wont after a decent interval of
chastisement On the contrary she grew more excited and angry every moment
until in the end White Fang flung dignity to the winds and frankly fled away
from her across the fields
»Hell learn to leave chickens alone« the master said »But I cant give
him the lesson until I catch him in the act«
Two nights later came the act but on a more generous scale than the master
had anticipated White Fang had observed closely the chickenyards and the
habits of the chickens In the nighttime after they had gone to roost he
climbed to the top of a pile of newly hauled lumber From there he gained the
roof of a chickenhouse passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground
inside A moment later he was inside the house and the slaughter began
In the morning when the master came out on to the porch fifty white
Leghorn hens laid out in a row by the groom greeted his eyes He whistled to
himself softly first with surprise and then at the end with admiration His
eyes were likewise greeted by White Fang but about the latter there were no
signs of shame nor guilt He carried himself with pride as though forsooth he
had achieved a deed praiseworthy and meritorious There was about him no
consciousness of sin The masters lips tightened as he faced the disagreeable
task Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit and in his voice there
was nothing but godlike wrath Also he held White Fangs nose down to the slain
hens and at the same time cuffed him soundly
White Fang never raided a chickenroost again It was against the law and
he had learned it Then the master took him into the chickenyards White Fangs
natural impulse when he saw the live food fluttering about him and under his
very nose was to spring upon it He obeyed the impulse but was checked by the
masters voice They continued in the yards for half an hour Time and again the
impulse surged over White Fang and each time as he yielded to it he was
checked by the masters voice Thus it was he learned the law and ere he left
the domain of the chickens he had learned to ignore their existence
»You can never cure a chickenkiller« Judge Scott shook his head sadly at
the luncheon table when his son narrated the lesson he had given White Fang
»Once theyve got the habit and the taste of blood « Again he shook his head
sadly
But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father
»Ill tell you what Ill do« he challenged finally »Ill lock White Fang
in with the chickens all afternoon«
»But think of the chickens« objected the Judge
»And furthermore« the son went on »for every chicken he kills Ill pay
you one dollar gold coin of the realm«
»But you should penalize father too« interposed Beth
Her sister seconded her and a chorus of approval arose from around the
table Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement
»All right« Weedon Scott pondered for a moment »And if at the end of the
afternoon White Fang hasnt harmed a chicken for every ten minutes of the time
he has spent in the yard you will have to say to him gravely and with
deliberation just as if you were sitting on the bench and solemnly passing
judgment White Fang you are smarter than I thought«
From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance But it was
a fizzle Locked in the yard and there deserted by the master White Fang lay
down and went to sleep Once he got up and walked over to the trough for a drink
of water The chickens he calmly ignored So far as he was concerned they did
not exist At four oclock he executed a running jump gained the roof of the
chicken house and leaped to the ground outside whence he sauntered gravely to
the house He had learned the law And on the porch before the delighted
family Judge Scott face to face with White Fang said slowly and solemnly
sixteen times »White Fang you are smarter than I thought«
But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and often
brought him into disgrace He had to learn that he must not touch the chickens
that belonged to other gods Then there were cats and rabbits and turkeys all
these he must let alone In fact when he had but partly learned the law his
impression was that he must leave all live things alone Out in the
backpasture a quail could flutter up under his nose unharmed All tense and
trembling with eagerness and desire he mastered his instinct and stood still
He was obeying the will of the gods
And then one day again out in the backpasture he saw Dick start a
jackrabbit and run it The master himself was looking on and did not interfere
Nay he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase And thus he learned that
there was no taboo on jackrabbits In the end he worked out the complete law
Between him and all domestic animals there must be no hostilities If not amity
at least neutrality must obtain But the other animals the squirrels and
quail and cottontails were creatures of the Wild who had never yielded
allegiance to man They were the lawful prey of any dog It was only the tame
that the gods protected and between the tame deadly strife was not permitted
The gods held the power of life and death over their subjects and the gods were
jealous of their power
Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities of the
Northland And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of civilization was
control restraint a poise of self that was as delicate as the fluttering of
gossamer wings and at the same time as rigid as steel Life had a thousand
faces and White Fang found he must meet them all thus when he went to town
in to San Jose running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when
the carriage stopped Life flowed past him deep and wide and varied
continually impinging upon his senses demanding of him instant and endless
adjustments and correspondences and compelling him almost always to suppress
his natural impulses
There were butchershops where meat hung within reach This meat he must not
touch There were cats at the houses the master visited that must be let alone
And there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and that he must not attack
And then on the crowded sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose
attention he attracted They would stop and look at him point him out to one
another examine him talk to him and worst of all pat him And these
perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure Yet this
endurance he achieved Furthermore he got over being awkward and selfconscious
In a lofty way he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods
With condescension he accepted their condescension On the other hand there was
something about him that prevented great familiarity They patted him on the
head and passed on contented and pleased with their own daring
But it was not all easy for White Fang Running behind the carriage in the
outskirts of San Jose he encountered certain small boys who made a practice of
flinging stones at him Yet he knew that it was not permitted him to pursue and
drag them down Here he was compelled to violate his instinct of
selfpreservation and violate it he did for he was becoming tame and
qualifying himself for civilization
Nevertheless White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement He
had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play But there is a certain sense
of equity that resides in life and it was this sense in him that resented the
unfairness of his being permitted no defence against the stonethrowers He
forgot that in the covenant entered into between him and the gods they were
pledged to care for him and defend him But one day the master sprang from the
carriage whip in hand and gave the stonethrowers a thrashing After that they
threw stones no more and White Fang understood and was satisfied
One other experience of similar nature was his On the way to town hanging
around the saloon at the crossroads were three dogs that made a practice of
rushing out upon him when he went by Knowing his deadly method of fighting the
master had never ceased impressing upon White Fang the law that he must not
fight As a result having learned the lesson well White Fang was hard put
whenever he passed the crossroads saloon After the first rush each time his
snarl kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind yelping
and bickering and insulting him This endured for some time The men at the
saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang One day they openly sicked
the dogs on him The master stopped the carriage
»Go to it« he said to White Fang
But White Fang could not believe He looked at the master and he looked at
the dogs Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at the master
The master nodded his head Go to them old fellow Eat them up
White Fang no longer hesitated He turned and leaped silently among his
enemies All three faced him There was a great snarling and growling a
clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies The dust of the road arose in a cloud
and screened the battle But at the end of several minutes two dogs were
struggling in the dirt and the third was in full flight He leaped a ditch went
through a rail fence and fled across a field White Fang followed sliding over
the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed swiftly and without noise and
in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog
With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased The word went
up and down the valley and men saw to it that their dogs did not molest the
Fighting Wolf
IV The Call of Kind
The months came and went There was plenty of food and no work in the Southland
and White Fang lived fat and prosperous and happy Not alone was he in the
geographical Southland for he was in the Southland of life Human kindness was
like a sun shining upon him and he flourished like a flower planted in good
soil
And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs He knew the law even
better than did the dogs that had known no other life and he observed the law
more punctiliously but still there was about him a suggestion of lurking
ferocity as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely
slept
He never chummed with other dogs Lonely he had lived so far as his kind
was concerned and lonely he would continue to live In his puppyhood under the
persecution of Liplip and the puppypack and in his fighting days with Beauty
Smith he had acquired a fixed aversion for dogs The natural course of his life
had been diverted and recoiling from his kind he had clung to the human
Besides all Southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion He aroused in
them their instinctive fear of the Wild and they greeted him always with snarl
and growl and belligerent hatred He on the other hand learned that it was not
necessary to use his teeth upon them His naked fangs and writhing lips were
uniformly efficacious rarely failing to send a bellowing onrushing dog back on
its haunches
But there was one trial in White Fangs life Collie She never gave him a
moments peace She was not so amenable to the law as he She defied all efforts
of the master to make her become friends with White Fang Ever in his ears was
sounding her sharp and nervous snarl She had never forgiven him the
chickenkilling episode and persistently held to the belief that his intentions
were bad She found him guilty before the act and treated him accordingly She
became a pest to him like a policeman following him around the stable and the
grounds and if he even so much as glanced curiously at a pigeon or chicken
bursting into an outcry of indignation and wrath His favorite way of ignoring
her was to lie down with his head on his forepaws and pretend sleep This
always dumfounded and silenced her
With the exception of Collie all things went well with White Fang He had
learned control and poise and he knew the law He achieved a staidness and
calmness and philosophical tolerance He no longer lived in a hostile
environment Danger and hurt and death did not lurk everywhere about him In
time the unknown as a thing of terror and menace ever impending faded away
Life was soft and easy It flowed along smoothly and neither fear nor foe
lurked by the way
He missed the snow without being aware of it An unduly long summer would
have been his thought had he thought about it as it was he merely missed the
snow in a vague subconscious way In the same fashion especially in the heat
of summer when he suffered from the sun he experienced faint longings for the
Northland Their only effect upon him however was to make him uneasy and
restless without his knowing what was the matter
White Fang had never been very demonstrative Beyond his snuggling and the
throwing of a crooning note into his lovegrowl he had no way of expressing his
love Yet it was given him to discover a third way He had always been
susceptible to the laughter of the gods Laughter had affected him with madness
made him frantic with rage But he did not have it in him to be angry with the
lovemaster and when that god elected to laugh at him in a goodnatured
bantering way he was nonplussed He could feel the pricking and stinging of the
old anger as it strove to rise up in him but it strove against love He could
not be angry yet he had to do something At first he was dignified and the
master laughed the harder Then he tried to be more dignified and the master
laughed harder than before In the end the master laughed him out of his
dignity His jaws slightly parted his lips lifted a little and a quizzical
expression that was more love than humor came into his eyes He had learned to
laugh
Likewise he learned to romp with the master to be tumbled down and rolled
over and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks In return he feigned anger
bristling and growling ferociously and clipping his teeth together in snaps
that had all the seeming of deadly intention But he never forgot himself Those
snaps were always delivered on the empty air At the end of such a romp when
blow and cuff and snap and snarl were fast and furious they would break off
suddenly and stand several feet apart glaring at each other And then just as
suddenly like the sun rising on a stormy sea they would begin to laugh This
would always culminate with the masters arms going around White Fangs neck and
shoulders while the latter crooned and growled his lovesong
But nobody else ever romped with White Fang He did not permit it He stood
on his dignity and when they attempted it his warning snarl and bristling mane
were anything but playful That he allowed the master these liberties was no
reason that he should be a common dog loving here and loving there everybodys
property for a romp and good time He loved with single heart and refused to
cheapen himself or his love
The master went out on horseback a great deal and to accompany him was one
of White Fangs chief duties in life In the Northland he had evidenced his
fealty by toiling in the harness but there were no sleds in the Southland nor
did dogs pack burdens on their backs So he rendered fealty in the new way by
running with the masters horse The longest day never played White Fang out
His was the gait of the wolf smooth tireless and effortless and at the end
of fifty miles he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse
It was in connection with the riding that White Fang achieved one other
mode of expression remarkable in that he did it but twice in all his life The
first time occurred when the master was trying to teach a spirited thoroughbred
the method of opening and closing gates without the riders dismounting Time
and again and many times he ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to
close it and each time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away
It grew more nervous and excited every moment When it reared the master put
the spurs to it and made it drop its forelegs back to earth whereupon it would
begin kicking with its hindlegs White Fang watched the performance with
increasing anxiety until he could contain himself no longer when he sprang in
front of the horse and barked savagely and warningly
Though he often tried to bark thereafter and the master encouraged him he
succeeded only once and then it was not in the masters presence A scamper
across the pasture a jackrabbit rising suddenly under the horses feet a
violent sheer a stumble a fall to earth and a broken leg for the master were
the cause of it White Fang sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending
horse but was checked by the masters voice
»Home Go home« the master commanded when he had ascertained his injury
White Fang was disinclined to desert him The master thought of writing a
note but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper Again he commanded
White Fang to go home
The latter regarded him wistfully started away then returned and whined
softly The master talked to him gently but seriously and he cocked his ears
and listened with painful intentness
»Thats all right old fellow you just run along home« ran the talk »Go
on home and tell them whats happened to me Home with you you wolf Get along
home«
White Fang knew the meaning of home and though he did not understand the
remainder of the masters language he knew it was his will that he should go
home He turned and trotted reluctantly away Then he stopped undecided and
looked back over his shoulder
»Go home« came the sharp command and this time he obeyed
The family was on the porch taking the cool of the afternoon when White
Fang arrived He came in among them panting covered with dust
»Weedons back« Weedons mother announced
The children welcomed White Fang with glad cries and ran to meet him He
avoided them and passed down the porch but they cornered him against a
rockingchair and the railing He growled and tried to push by them Their
mother looked apprehensively in their direction
»I confess he makes me nervous around the children« she said »I have a
dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly some day«
Growling savagely White Fang sprang out of the corner overturning the boy
and the girl The mother called them to her and comforted them telling them not
to bother White Fang
»A wolf is a wolf« commented Judge Scott »There is no trusting one«
»But he is not all wolf« interposed Beth standing for her brother in his
absence
»You have only Weedons opinion for that« rejoined the Judge »He merely
surmises that there is some strain of dog in White Fang but as he will tell you
himself he knows nothing about it As for his appearance «
He did not finish the sentence White Fang stood before him growling
fiercely
»Go away Lie down sir« Judge Scott commanded
White Fang turned to the lovemasters wife She screamed with fright as he
seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till the frail fabric tore away
By this time he had become the centre of interest He had ceased from his
growling and stood head up looking into their faces His throat worked
spasmodically but made no sound while he struggled with all his body
convulsed with the effort to rid himself of the incommunicable something that
strained for utterance
»I hope he is not going mad« said Weedons mother »I told Weedon that I
was afraid the warm climate would not agree with an Arctic animal«
»Hes trying to speak I do believe« Beth announced
At this moment speech came to White Fang rushing up in a great burst of
barking
»Something has happened to Weedon« his wife said decisively
They were all on their feet now and White Fang ran down the steps looking
back for them to follow For the second and last time in his life he had barked
and made himself understood
After this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the Sierra Vista
people and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted that he was a wise
dog even if he was a wolf Judge Scott still held to the same opinion and
proved it to everybodys dissatisfaction by measurements and descriptions taken
from the encyclopædia and various works on natural history
The days came and went streaming their unbroken sunshine over the Santa
Clara Valley But as they grew shorter and White Fangs second winter in the
Southland came on he made a strange discovery Collies teeth were no longer
sharp There was a playfulness about her nips and a gentleness that prevented
them from really hurting him He forgot that she had made life a burden to him
and when she disported herself around him he responded solemnly striving to be
playful and becoming no more than ridiculous
One day she led him off on a long chase through the backpasture and into
the woods It was the afternoon that the master was to ride and White Fang knew
it The horse stood saddled and waiting at the door White Fang hesitated But
there was that in him deeper than all the law he had learned than the customs
that had moulded him than his love for the master than the very will to live
of himself and when in the moment of his indecision Collie nipped him and
scampered off he turned and followed after The master rode alone that day and
in the woods side by side White Fang ran with Collie as his mother Kiche
and old One Eye had run long years before in the silent Northland forest
V The Sleeping Wolf
It was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring escape of a
convict from San Quentin prison He was a ferocious man He had been illmade in
the making He had not been born right and he had not been helped any by the
moulding he had received at the hands of society The hands of society are
harsh and this man was a striking sample of its handiwork He was a beast a
human beast it is true but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he can best
be characterized as carnivorous
In San Quentin prison he had proved incorrigible Punishment failed to break
his spirit He could die dumbmad and fighting to the last but he could not
live and be beaten The more fiercely he fought the more harshly society
handled him and the only effect of harshness was to make him fiercer
Straightjackets starvation and beatings and clubbings were the wrong
treatment for Jim Hall but it was the treatment he received It was the
treatment he had received from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a San
Francisco slum soft clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed into
something
It was during Jim Halls third term in prison that he encountered a guard
that was almost as great a beast as he The guard treated him unfairly lied
about him to the warden lost him his credits persecuted him The difference
between them was that the guard carried a bunch of keys and a revolver Jim Hall
had only his naked hands and his teeth But he sprang upon the guard one day and
used his teeth on the others throat just like any jungle animal
After this Jim Hall went to live in the incorrigible cell He lived there
three years The cell was of iron the floor the walls the roof He never left
this cell He never saw the sky nor the sunshine Day was a twilight and night
was a black silence He was in an iron tomb buried alive He saw no human face
spoke to no human thing When his food was shoved in to him he growled like a
wild animal He hated all things For days and nights he bellowed his rage at
the universe For weeks and months he never made a sound in the black silence
eating his very soul He was a man and a monstrosity as fearful a thing of fear
as ever gibbered in the visions of a maddened brain
And then one night he escaped The warden said it was impossible but
nevertheless the cell was empty and half in half out of it lay the body of a
dead guard Two other dead guards marked his trail through the prison to the
outer walls and he had killed with his hands to avoid noise
He was armed with the weapons of the slain guards a live arsenal that fled
through the hills pursued by the organized might of society A heavy price of
gold was upon his head Avaricious farmers hunted him with shotguns His blood
might pay off a mortgage or send a son to college Publicspirited citizens took
down their rifles and went out after him A pack of bloodhounds followed the way
of his bleeding feet And the sleuthhounds of the law the paid fighting
animals of society with telephone and telegraph and special train clung to
his trail night and day
Sometimes they came upon him and men faced him like heroes or stampeded
through barbwire fences to the delight of the commonwealth reading the account
at the breakfast table It was after such encounters that the dead and wounded
were carted back to the towns and their places filled by men eager for the
manhunt
And then Jim Hall disappeared The bloodhounds vainly quested on the lost
trail Inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were held up by armed men and
compelled to identify themselves while the remains of Jim Hall were discovered
on a dozen mountainsides by greedy claimants for bloodmoney
In the meantime the newspapers were read at Sierra Vista not so much with
interest as with anxiety The women were afraid Judge Scott poohpoohed and
laughed but not with reason for it was in his last days on the bench that Jim
Hall had stood before him and received sentence And in open courtroom before
all men Jim Hall had proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak
vengeance on the judge that sentenced him
For once Jim Hall was right He was innocent of the crime for which he was
sentenced It was a case in the parlance of thieves and police of railroading
Jim Hall was being railroaded to prison for a crime he had not committed
Because of the two prior convictions against him Judge Scott imposed upon him a
sentence of fifty years
Judge Scott did not know all things and he did not know that he was party
to a police conspiracy that the evidence was hatched and perjured that Jim
Hall was guiltless of the crime charged And Jim Hall on the other hand did
not know that Judge Scott was merely ignorant Jim Hall believed that the judge
knew all about it and was hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of
the monstrous injustice So it was when the doom of fifty years of living death
was uttered by Judge Scott that Jim Hall hating all things in the society that
misused him rose up and raged in the courtroom until dragged down by half a
dozen of his bluecoated enemies To him Judge Scott was the keystone in the
arch of injustice and upon Judge Scott he emptied the vials of his wrath and
hurled the threats of his revenge yet to come Then Jim Hall went to his living
death and escaped
Of all this White Fang knew nothing But between him and Alice the masters
wife there existed a secret Each night after Sierra Vista had gone to bed
she arose and let in White Fang to sleep in the big hall Now White Fang was not
a housedog nor was he permitted to sleep in the house so each morning early
she slipped down and let him out before the family was awake
On one such night while all the house slept White Fang awoke and lay very
quietly And very quietly he smelled the air and read the message it bore of a
strange gods presence And to his ears came sounds of the strange gods
movements White Fang burst into no furious outcry It was not his way The
strange god walked softly but more softly walked White Fang for he had no
clothes to rub against the flesh of his body He followed silently In the Wild
he had hunted live meat that was infinitely timid and he knew the advantage of
surprise
The strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and listened and
White Fang was as dead so without movement was he as he watched and waited Up
that staircase the way led to the lovemaster and to the lovemasters dearest
possessions White Fang bristled but waited The strange gods foot lifted He
was beginning the ascent
Then it was that White Fang struck He gave no warning with no snarl
anticipated his own action Into the air he lifted his body in the spring that
landed him on the strange gods back White Fang clung with his forepaws to the
mans shoulders at the same time burying his fangs into the back of the mans
neck He clung on for a moment long enough to drag the god over backward
Together they crashed to the floor White Fang leaped clear and as the man
struggled to rise was in again with the slashing fangs
Sierra Vista awoke in alarm The noise from downstairs was as that of a
score of battling fiends There were revolver shots A mans voice screamed once
in horror and anguish There was a great snarling and growling and over all
arose a smashing and crashing of furniture and glass
But almost as quickly as it had arisen the commotion died away The
struggle had not lasted more than three minutes The frightened household
clustered at the top of the stairway From below as from out an abyss of
blackness came up a gurgling sound as of air bubbling through water Sometimes
this gurgle became sibilant almost a whistle But this too quickly died down
and ceased Then naught came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of
some creature struggling sorely for air
Weedon Scott pressed a button and the staircase and downstairs hall were
flooded with light Then he and Judge Scott revolvers in hand cautiously
descended There was no need for this caution White Fang had done his work In
the midst of the wreckage of overthrown and smashed furniture partly on his
side his face hidden by an arm lay a man Weedon Scott bent over removed the
arm and turned the mans face upward A gaping throat explained the manner of
his death
»Jim Hall« said Judge Scott and father and son looked significantly at
each other
Then they turned to White Fang He too was lying on his side His eyes
were closed but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look at them as they
bent over him and the tail was perceptibly agitated in a vain effort to wag
Weedon Scott patted him and his throat rumbled an acknowledging growl But it
was a weak growl at best and it quickly ceased His eyelids drooped and went
shut and his whole body seemed to relax and flatten out upon the floor
»Hes all in poor devil« muttered the master
»Well see about that« asserted the Judge as he started for the telephone
»Frankly he has one chance in a thousand« announced the surgeon after he
had worked an hour and a half on White Fang
Dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric lights With
the exception of the children the whole family was gathered about the surgeon
to hear his verdict
»One broken hindleg« he went on »Three broken ribs one at least of which
has pierced the lungs He has lost nearly all the blood in his body There is a
large likelihood of internal injuries He must have been jumped upon To say
nothing of three bullet holes clear through him One chance in a thousand is
really optimistic He hasnt a chance in ten thousand«
»But he mustnt lose any chance that might be of help to him« Judge Scott
exclaimed »Never mind expense Put him under the Xray anything Weedon
telegraph at once to San Francisco for Doctor Nichols No reflection on you
doctor you understand but he must have the advantage of every chance«
The surgeon smiled indulgently »Of course I understand He deserves all
that can be done for him He must be nursed as you would nurse a human being a
sick child And dont forget what I told you about temperature Ill be back at
ten oclock again«
White Fang received the nursing Judge Scotts suggestion of a trained nurse
was indignantly clamored down by the girls who themselves undertook the task
And White Fang won out on the one chance in ten thousand denied him by the
surgeon
The latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment All his life he had
tended and operated on the soft humans of civilization who lived sheltered
lives and had descended out of many sheltered generations Compared with White
Fang they were frail and flabby and clutched life without any strength in
their grip White Fang had come straight from the Wild where the weak perish
early and shelter is vouchsafed to none In neither his father nor his mother
was there any weakness nor in the generations before them A constitution of
iron and the vitality of the Wild were White Fangs inheritance and he clung to
life the whole of him and every part of him in spirit and in flesh with the
tenacity that of old belonged to all creatures
Bound down a prisoner denied even movement by the plaster casts and
bandages White Fang lingered out the weeks He slept long hours and dreamed
much and through his mind passed an unending pageant of Northland visions All
the ghosts of the past arose and were with him Once again he lived in the lair
with Kiche crept trembling to the knees of Gray Beaver to tender his
allegiance ran for his life before Liplip and all the howling bedlam of the
puppypack
He ran again through the silence hunting his living food through the months
of famine and again he ran at the head of the team the gutwhips of Mitsah
and Gray Beaver snapping behind their voices crying »Raa Raa« when they came
to a narrow passage and the team closed together like a fan to go through He
lived again all his days with Beauty Smith and the fights he had fought At such
times he whimpered and snarled in his sleep and they that looked on said that
his dreams were bad
But there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered the
clanking clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him colossal screaming
lynxes He would lie in a screen of bushes watching for a squirrel to venture
far enough out on the ground from its treerefuge Then when he sprang out upon
it it would transform itself into an electric car menacing and terrible
towering over him like a mountain screaming and clanging and spitting fire at
him It was the same when he challenged the hawk down out of the sky Down out
of the blue it would rush as it dropped upon him changing itself into the
ubiquitous electric car Or again he would be in the pen of Beauty Smith
Outside the pen men would be gathering and he knew that a fight was on He
watched the door for his antagonist to enter The door would open and thrust in
upon him would come the awful electric car A thousand times this occurred and
each time the terror it inspired was as vivid and great as ever
Then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast were taken
off It was a gala day All Sierra Vista was gathered around The master rubbed
his ears and he crooned his lovegrowl The masters wife called him the
Blessed Wolf which name was taken up with acclaim and all the women called him
the Blessed Wolf
He tried to rise to his feet and after several attempts fell down from
weakness He had lain so long that his muscles had lost their cunning and all
the strength had gone out of them He felt a little shame because of his
weakness as though forsooth he were failing the gods in the service he owed
them Because of this he made heroic efforts to arise and at last he stood on
his four legs tottering and swaying back and forth
»The Blessed Wolf« chorused the women
Judge Scott surveyed them triumphantly
»Out of your own mouths be it« he said »Just as I contended right along
No mere dog could have done what he did Hes a wolf«
»A Blessed Wolf« amended the Judges wife
»Yes Blessed Wolf« agreed the Judge »And henceforth that shall be my name
for him«
»Hell have to learn to walk again« said the surgeon »so he might as well
start in right now It wont hurt him Take him outside«
And outside he went like a king with all Sierra Vista about him and
tending on him He was very weak and when he reached the lawn he lay down and
rested for a while
Then the procession started on little spurts of strength coming into White
Fangs muscles as he used them and the blood began to surge through them The
stables were reached and there in the doorway lay Collie a halfdozen pudgy
puppies playing about her in the sun
White Fang looked on with a wondering eye Collie snarled warningly at him
and he was careful to keep his distance The master with his toe helped one
sprawling puppy toward him He bristled suspiciously but the master warned him
that all was well Collie clasped in the arms of one of the women watched him
jealously and with a snarl warned him that all was not well
The puppy sprawled in front of him He cocked his ears and watched it
curiously Then their noses touched and he felt the warm little tongue of the
puppy on his jowl White Fangs tongue went out he knew not why and he licked
the puppys face
Handclapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance He
was surprised and looked at them in a puzzled way Then his weakness asserted
itself and he lay down his ears cocked his head on one side as he watched
the puppy The other puppies came sprawling toward him to Collies great
disgust and he gravely permitted them to clamber and tumble over him At first
amid the applause of the gods he betrayed a trifle of his old
selfconsciousness and awkwardness This passed away as the puppies antics and
mauling continued and he lay with halfshut patient eyes drowsing in the sun