Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the situation they realised 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 fastest-footed,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, velvet-footed, 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 favourite trick of his was to lose his trail in running water and then lie quietly in a near-by 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 one-sided.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. Grey 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 survive the hostile environment in which he found himself.
CHAPTER 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 Grey Beaver’s voice calling him by name.There were other voices. White Fang could hear Grey Beaver’s squaw taking part in the search, and Mit-sah, who was Grey Beaver’s son.
White Fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl out of his hiding-place,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 fore-foot 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 memory-pictures.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 tree-shadow 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 camp-smoke.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 rubbish-heaps 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 Grey Beaver descending upon him in wrath;while he would have welcomed with delight Lip-lip and the whole snarling, cowardly pack.
He came to where Grey Beaver’s 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 heart-broken 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 wolf-howl, full-throated 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 for ever. His iron-like body ignored fatigue.And even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance braced him to endless endeavour 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 rim-ice 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.
Grey 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 Kloo-kooch, who was Grey Beaver’s squaw. Now,had not the moose come down to drink, had not Mit-sah been steering out of the course because of the snow,had not Kloo-kooch sighted the moose, and had not Grey Beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his rifle,all subsequent things would have happened differently.Grey 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 camp-sounds came to his ears.He saw the blaze of the fire, Kloo-kooch cooking,and Grey 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. Grey 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 Grey Beaver,every inch of his progress becoming slower and more painful. At last he lay at the master’s feet,into whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, body and soul. Of his own choice,he came in to sit by man’s 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.Grey Beaver was breaking the lump of tallow in half!Grey 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.Grey 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 Grey Beaver’s 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 forest-stretches, but in the camp of the man-animals,with the gods to whom he had given himself and upon whom he was now dependent.
CHAPTER V THE COVENANT
When December was well along, Grey Beaver went on a journey up the Mackenzie.Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch 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 Mit-sah,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 Mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to do a man’s 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 camp-dogs 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 moss-stuffed collar,which was connected by two pulling-traces 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 dog’s body.Every rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the sled. The sled itself was without runners,being a birch-bark 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 snow-surface;for the snow was crystal-powder and very soft.Observing the same principle of widest distribution of weight,the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated fan-fashion from the nose of the sled,so that no dog trod in another’s footsteps.
There was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation.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.
Mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he possessed.In the past he had observed Lip-lip’s persecution of White Fang;but at that time Lip-lip was another man’s dog,and Mit-sah had never dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him.But now Lip-lip was his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance on him by putting him at the end of the longest rope.This made Lip-lip the leader, and was apparently an honour!but in reality it took away from him all honour, 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 Lip-lip 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 Mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run on.Lip-lip 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, Mit-sah favoured him over the other dogs.These favours aroused in them jealousy and hatred.In their presence Mit-sah would give him meat and would give it to him only.This was maddening to them. They would rage around just outside the throwing-distance of the whip,while Lip-lip devoured the meat and Mit-sah protected him. And when there was no meat to give,Mit-sah would keep the team at a distance and make believe to give meat to Lip-lip.
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 well-nigh 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 characterised his toil.These are essential traits of the wolf and the wild-dog 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 hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they had given him in the days when Lip-lip was leader of the pack.But Lip-lip 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 Mit-sah or Grey Beaver or Kloo-kooch.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 Fang’s.
With the overthrow of Lip-lip, White Fang could have become leader of the pack.But he was too morose and solitary for that. He merely thrashed his team-mates.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 sled-discipline 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 stiff-leggedness 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 struggles for life in the day 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 Grey Beaver he walked softly indeed amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals they encountered.
The months passed by. Still continued the journey of Grey Beaver.White Fang’s 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 well-nigh 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 Grey 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 Fang’s being that made his 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 Grey Beaver, might have sounded these deeps;but Grey 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 man’s hand might contain for him. Besides,he did not like the hands of the man-animals. 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 man-animals,he came to modify the law that he had learned from Grey 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 moose-meat 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 club-hand had been ripped wide open by White Fang’s 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 Grey Beaver,behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten boy and the boy’s family came,demanding vengeance. But they went away with vengeance unsatisfied.Grey Beaver defended White Fang. So did Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch. 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. Mit-sah, 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 Mit-sah.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 realised that this was Mit-sah, 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 Fang’s teeth had not been idle.When Mit-sah told the story in camp, Grey 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 god’s body to the protection of his god’s possessions was a step,and this step he made. What was his god’s 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 all-powerful, 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 Grey Beaver’s property alone.
One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt,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 Grey Beaver coming to his aid.He came to know that it was not fear of him that drove the thief away, but fear of Grey 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 master’s property;and in this he was encouraged and trained by Grey 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 flesh-and-blood 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 god’s property, defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him.
The possession of a god implies service. White Fang’s 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 ever he 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.
CHAPTER VI THE FAMINE
The spring of the year was at hand when Grey Beaver finished his long journey. It was April,and White Fang was a year old when he pulled into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by Mit-sah.Though a long way from his full growth, White Fang, next to Lip-lip,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 full-grown 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 wolf-grey,and to all appearances he was true wolf himself.The quarter-strain of dog he had inherited from Kiche had left no mark on him physically,though it had played its part in his mental make-up.