Белый Клык / White Fang

And, as Kiche, when she was with the wolves, had brought out to destruction the dogs from the camps of men, so White Fang brought Lip-lip into Kiche’s jaws. Lip-lip, excited by the chase, forgot caution and ran into Kiche lying at the end of her stick. She was tied, but he could not get away from her easily.

When at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to his feet, badly hurt both in body and in spirit. White Fang sank his teeth into his hind leg. He ran away shamelessly.

There came the day when Grey Beaver released Kiche. White Fang was delighted with his mother’s freedom. He accompanied her joyfully about the camp; and, as he remained close by her side, Lip-lip kept a respectful distance.

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 call 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 did not move. He whined pleadingly, and jumped 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. She turned her head and looked back at the camp.

There was something calling to him out there in the open. His mother heard it too. But she heard also the call of the fire and of man, the call which has been given—of all animals—to the wolf and the wild-dog, who are brothers.

Kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. Stronger than the physical bondage was the clutch of the camp upon her. White Fang sat down in the shadow of a tree and whimpered softly. There were wood smells reminding him of his old life of freedom. But he was still only a part-grown puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or of the Wild was the call of his mother. All his short life he had depended upon her. The time has not yet come for independence. So he trotted back to camp, pausing once, and twice, to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call that still sounded in his ears.

In the Wild the time of a mother with her cub is short; but under the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. Grey 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 piece of 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 sailed off. He sprang into the water and swam after it, deaf to the sharp cries of Grey Beaver to return. White Fang ignored even a man-animal, a god, such was the terror of losing his mother.

But gods are used to being obeyed, and Grey Beaver pursued him in his canoe. He lifted him from water by the nape of the neck. Holding him with one hand, with the other hand he gave him a beating. And it was a beating. His hand was heavy. And White Fang snarled.

Grey Beaver continued to beat, White Fang continued to snarl. But this could not last forever. Finally he broke down and began to cry. For a time each blow brought a yell from him. At last Grey Beaver stopped. White Fang continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who threw him down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. When Grey Beaver took the paddle and hit the cub savagely with his foot, White Fang’s free nature protested again, and he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot.

The beating that had gone before was nothing compared with the beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; likewise was White Fang’s 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. Again, and this time with purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White Fang did not repeat his attack on the foot. He had learned another lesson of his bondage. Never must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body of the lord and master was sacred.

On the bank Lip-lip tried to use the opportunity and revenge White Fang, but Grey Beaver’s foot lifted Lip-lip into the air, so that he fell down to earth a dozen feet away. This was the man-animal’s justice. At Grey Beaver’s heels White Fang went obediently through the village to the tepee.

That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother and sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey Beaver, who beat him. After that he sorrowed silently when the gods were around. But sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods by himself, he gave outlet to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings and wailings.