White Fang by Jack London (read the beginning after the end novel txt) 📕

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