white fang(白牙)-第24章
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This was too much for White Fang。 Fresh upon his months of mastery
over his own team…mates； it was beyond his self…control to stand idly by
while another devoured the meat that belonged to him。 He struck； after his
custom； without warning。 With the first slash； Baseek's 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 shin… bone；
bristling and menacing； while Baseek stood a little way off； preparing to
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retreat。 He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning…flash； 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 shin…bone； as though both were beneath his notice and
unworthy of his 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 team…mates。 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 pre… eminently
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 centre…pin of the universe。 The old familiar feelings of that
time came back upon him； surged up within him。 He bounded towards 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
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puzzled。
But it was not Kiche's fault。 A wolf…mother 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 half…
brothers； only they did not know it。 White Fang sniffed the puppy
curiously； whereupon Kiche rushed upon him； gashing is 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 generalisation of the mind； not
a something acquired by experience of 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 life… stuff 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
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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 Grey 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 of Grey Beaver；
behind Grey Beaver were a club and godhead。 But behind the dogs there
was nothing but space； and into this space they flew 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 food…supply；
weakened by hunger； they fell upon and devoured one another。 Only the
strong survived。 White Fang's gods were always 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 hollow…eyed hunters who trod
the forest in the vain pursuit of meat。
To such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft… tanned
leather of their mocassins and mittens； while the dogs ate the harnesses off
their backs and the very whip…lashes。 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
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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 tree…squirrel； 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 tree…refuge。 Then； and not
until then； would he flash from his hiding…place； a grey 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 wood…
mice 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 into the fires。 He lurked in the forest； avoi
