Джек Лондон - Белый клык / White Fang

The master was running up, but was too far away; and it was Collie that saved the hound’s life. Before White Fang could make the fatal stroke, she came like a tornado – a tornado made up of offended dignity, sane rage and instinctive hatred for this marauder from the Wild. She struck White Fang in the midst of his spring, and again fell and rolled over.

The next moment the master arrived, and held White Fang, while his father called off the dogs.

“This is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf from the Arctic,” the master said, while White Fang calmed down under his caressing hand. “In all his life he’s only been known to fell once, and here he’s been rolled twice in thirty seconds.”

Other strange gods had appeared from out the house. Some of them stood respectfully at a distance; but two of them, women, clutched the master around the neck. White Fang, however, was beginning to tolerate this. No harm seemed to come of it.

The deer-hound, under the command, “Dick! Lie down, sir!” had gone up the steps and lain down, still growling and watching the intruder. One of the woman-gods held her arms around Collie’s neck and petted and caressed her; but Collie was very much worried by the presence of this wolf. She was sure that the gods were making a mistake.

White Fang could not be left outside – it would have been the death of Dick. So the master let him enter the house. At first he was very cautious, but then he lay down with a contented grunt at the master’s feet, ready to spring to his feet and fight for life with the terrors that must have been in that house.

White Fang was adaptable by nature. He had travelled much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White Fang quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further serious trouble with the dogs.

Dick soon accepted White Fang as an inevitable problem. They did not become friends. Dick bothered him, so White Fang snarled him away. In the north he had learned the lesson that he must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did not forget that lesson now, so he did not hurt them. But he insisted on his own privacy, so he ignored Dick, and Dick ignored him.

Not so with Collie. She accepted him because it was the order of the gods, but she did not leave him in peace. She had a memory of crimes that wolves had committed against her ancestry. So Collie took advantage [49]of her sex to fight White Fang. When she rushed at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away stately. He ignored her existence whenever it was possible. When he saw or heard her coming, he walked off.

Life in the Northland was simplicity itself when compared with Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family of the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, all who lived the house belonged to the love-master.

But Sierra Vista was bigger than the tepee of Grey Beaver. There were many people. There was Judge Scott, and there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, Beth and Mary. There was master’s wife, Alice, and then there were his children, Weedon and Maud, of four and six years old. Of blood-ties White Fang knew nothing but he quickly understood that all of them belonged to the master. Then he slowly learned the intimacy they enjoyed with the master. And he treated them accordingly.

Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked children. He hated and feared their hands. When Weedon and Maud had first approached him, he growled warningly and looked fierce. But he had to obey and tolerate them. Later, he observed that the boy and girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Since then no sharp word was necessary before they could pat him.

White Fang was never affectionate. When he could no longer endure children, he got up and walked away from them. But after a time, he grew even to like the children. Still he was not demonstrative. He would not go up to them. On the other hand, he waited for them to come to him.

All this took time. Next, after the children, was Judge Scott. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to lie at his feet when he read the newspaper. But this was only when the master was away. When the master appeared, all other beings ceased to exist for him.

White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. No caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and they could never persuade him into snuggling. This expression of absolute trust he left for the master alone.

Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family and the servants. Between him and the servants existed a neutrality and no more. They cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things just as Matt had done up in the Klondike.

Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. The master’s domain was big. Outside was the common domain of all gods – the roads and streets. Then inside other fences were the particular domains of other gods.

But most potent in his education was the master’s hand, the change of the master’s voice. Because of White Fang’s very great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any beating Grey Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. They had hurt only the flesh of him. But the master’s cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. It went deeper. It was an expression of the master’s disapproval. In fact, the cuff was rarely given. The master’s voice was enough. It was the compass by which White Fang learned the new land and life.

In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. All other animals lived in the Wild, and anyone could eat them. So, when White Fang saw a chicken that had escaped from the chicken-yard, his natural impulse was to eat it. Later in the day, he saw another chicken. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. [50]In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone. Then Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s life, she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang in wrath. She had been right. She had known better than the gods. All her suspicions were justified. Here was the son of ancient marauders.

Two nights later White Fang studied the chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, he got to the roof of a chicken-house, and from there got inside.

In the morning, when the master came, fifty white hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. He whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the end, with admiration. White Fang had no signs of shame or guilt. He carried himself with pride, as though he had done something good. The master’s lips tightened. Then he talked harshly to the culprit, with godlike wrath. Also, he held White Fang’s nose down to the killed hens, and at the same time cuffed him soundly.

White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the law, and he had learned it.

“You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott shook his head at luncheon table, when his son told about the lesson he had given White Fang.

But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll lock White Fang in with the chickens all afternoon.”

“But think of the chickens!”

“And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every chicken he kills, I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin.”

“But you should penalize father as well”, said Beth.