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with every moment. There was their mastery over all these sharp-
fanged dogs. It breathed of power. But greater than that, to the
wolf-cub, was their mastery over things not alive; 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 either side, like some monstrous quick-
growing 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 Kiche s 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 day s 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 man-smell. He closed on the
canvas with his teeth and gave a gentle tug. Nothing happened,
though the adjacent portion 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.
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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 part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came
toward him slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance.
The puppy s name, as White Fang was afterward to hear him
called, was Lip-lip. He had had experience in puppy fights and
was already something of a bully.
Lip-lip was White Fang s own kind, and, being only a puppy, did
not seem dangerous; so White Fang prepared to meet him in
friendly spirit. But when the stranger s walk became stiff-legged
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, Lip-lip 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 Lip-lip and
snapping viciously.
But Lip-lip 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
many fights he was to have with Lip-lip, 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 man-animals, 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 mouth-noises 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 Beaver s knee, so curious was he, and already
forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. Suddenly he saw a
strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks and moss
beneath Gray Beaver s hands. Then, amongst the sticks themselves,
appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a color like the color
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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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]