Not only was White Fang1 adaptable2 by nature, but he had travelled much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in Sierra Vista3, 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. They knew more about the ways of the Southland gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified4 when he accompanied the gods inside the house. Wolf that he was, and unprecedented5 as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and they, the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction.
Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, after which he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the premises6. Had Dick had his way, they would have been good friends. All but White Fang was averse7 to friendship. All he asked of other dogs was to be let alone. His whole life he had kept aloof8 from his kind, and he still desired to keep aloof. Dick’s overtures9 bothered him, so he snarled10 Dick 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. But he insisted on his own privacy and self-seclusion, and so thoroughly12 ignored Dick that that good-natured creature finally gave him up and scarcely took as much interest in him as in the hitching-post near the stable.
Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the mandate13 of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in peace. Woven into her being was the memory of countless14 crimes he and his had perpetrated against her ancestry15. Not in a day nor a generation were the ravaged16 sheepfolds to be forgotten. All this was a spur to her, pricking17 her to retaliation18. She could not fly in the face of the gods who permitted him, but that did not prevent her from making life miserable19 for him in petty ways. A feud20, ages old, was between them, and she, for one, would see to it that he was reminded.
So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreat him. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while her persistence21 would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away stiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he was compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, his head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient and bored expression. Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. But as a rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity. He ignored her existence whenever it was possible, and made it a point to keep out of her way. When he saw or heard her coming, he got up and walked off.
There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life in the Northland was simplicity22 itself when compared with the complicated affairs of 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 Beaver23, sharing his food, his fire, and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the love-master all the denizens24 of the house.
But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. Sierra Vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. There were many persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, and there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, Beth and Mary. There was his wife, Alice, and then there were his children, Weedon and Maud, toddlers of four and six. There was no way for anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties and relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable of knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged to the master. Then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, by study of action, speech, and the very intonations25 of the voice, he slowly learned the intimacy26 and the degree of favour they enjoyed with the master. And by this ascertained27 standard, White Fang treated them accordingly. What was of value to the master he valued; what was dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang and guarded carefully.
Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked children. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were not tender that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days of the Indian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached him, he growled29 warningly and looked malignant30. A cuff31 from the master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses32, though he growled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl28 there was no crooning note. Later, he observed that the boy and girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Then it was that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him.
Yet White Fang was never effusively34 affectionate. He yielded to the master’s children with an ill but honest grace, and endured their fooling as one would endure a painful operation. When he could no longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly35 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, instead of walking away at sight of them, he waited for them to come to him. And still later, it was noticed that a pleased light came into his eyes when he saw them approaching, and that he looked after them with an appearance of curious regret when they left him for other amusements.
All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in his regard, after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two reasons, possibly, for this. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the newspaper, from time to time favouring White Fang with a look or a word—untroublesome tokens that he recognised White Fang’s presence and existence. But this was only when the master was not around. When the master appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as White Fang was concerned.
White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. No caress33 of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try as they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling against them. This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone. In fact, he never regarded the members of the family in any other light than possessions of the love-master.
Also White Fang had early come to differentiate37 between the family and the servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, while he merely refrained from attacking them. This because he considered that they were likewise possessions of the master. Between White Fang and them 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. They were, in short, appurtenances of the household.
Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. The master’s domain38 was wide and complex, yet it had its metes39 and bounds. The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside was the common domain of all gods—the roads and streets. Then inside other fences were the particular domains40 of other gods. A myriad41 laws governed all these things and determined36 conduct; yet he did not know the speech of the gods, nor was there any way for him to learn save by experience. He obeyed his natural impulses until they ran him counter to some law. When this had been done a few times, he learned the law and after that observed it.
But most potent42 in his education was the cuff of the master’s hand, the censure43 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; beneath the flesh the spirit had still raged, splendid and invincible44. But with the master the cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. Yet it went deeper. It was an expression of the master’s disapproval45, and White Fang’s spirit wilted46 under it.
In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master’s voice was sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right or not. By it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. It was the compass by which he steered47 and learned to chart the manners of a new land and life.
In the Northland, the only domesticated48 animal was the dog. All other animals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, lawful49 spoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged50 among the live things for food. It did not enter his head that in the Southland it was otherwise. But this he was to learn early in his residence in Santa Clara Valley. Sauntering around the corner of the house in the early morning, he came upon a chicken that had escaped from the chicken-yard. White Fang’s natural impulse was to eat it. A couple of bounds, a flash of teeth and a frightened squawk, and he had scooped51 in the adventurous52 fowl53. It was farm-bred and fat and tender; and White Fang licked his chops and decided54 that such fare was good.
Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the stables. One of the grooms56 ran to the rescue. He did not know White Fang’s breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. At the first cut of the whip, White Fang left the chicken for the man. A club might have stopped White Fang, but not a whip. Silently, without flinching57, he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as he leaped for the throat the groom55 cried out, “My God!” and staggered backward. He dropped the whip and shielded his throat with his arms. In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone.
The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang’s ferocity as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still protecting his throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried to retreat to the barn. And it would have gone hard with him had not Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s life, she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang in frenzied58 wrath59. She had been right. She had known better than the blundering gods. All her suspicions were justified60. Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again.
The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away before Collie’s wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled round and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont61, after a decent interval62 of chastisement63. On the contrary, she grew more excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, White Fang flung dignity to the winds and frankly64 fled away from her across the fields.
“He’ll learn to leave chickens alone,” the master said. “But I can’t give him the lesson until I catch him in the act.”
Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than the master had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely the chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, after they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly hauled lumber65. From there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. A moment later he was inside the house, and the slaughter66 began.
In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty white Leghorn 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 admiration67. His eyes were likewise greeted by White Fang, but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt68. He carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved a deed praiseworthy and meritorious69. There was about him no consciousness of sin. The master’s lips tightened70 as he faced the disagreeable task. Then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, and in his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. Also, he held White Fang’s nose down to the slain71 hens, and at the same time cuffed72 him soundly.
White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the law, and he had learned it. Then the master took him into the chicken-yards. White Fang’s natural impulse, when he saw the live food fluttering about him and under his very nose, was to spring upon it. He obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the master’s voice. They continued in the yards for half an hour. Time and again the impulse surged over White Fang, and each time, as he yielded to it, he was checked by the master’s voice. Thus it was he learned the law, and ere he left the domain of the chickens, he had learned to ignore their existence.
“You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott shook his head sadly at luncheon73 table, when his son narrated74 the lesson he had given White Fang. “Once they’ve got the habit and the taste of blood . . .” Again he shook his head sadly.
But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he challenged finally. “I’ll lock White Fang in with the chickens all afternoon.”
“But think of the chickens,” objected the judge.
“And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every chicken he kills, I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm.”
“But you should penalise father, too,” interpose Beth.
Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around the table. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement.
“All right.” Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. “And if, at the end of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t harmed a chicken, for every ten minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were sitting on the bench and solemnly passing judgment75, ‘White Fang, you are smarter than I thought.’”
From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. But it was a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted76 by the master, White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got up and walked over to the trough for a drink of water. The chickens he calmly ignored. So far as he was concerned they did not exist. At four o’clock he executed a running jump, gained the roof of the chicken-house and leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered gravely to the house. He had learned the law. And on the porch, before the delighted family, Judge Scott, face to face with White Fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you are smarter than I thought.”
But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled77 White Fang and often brought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must not touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there were cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. In fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was that he must leave all live things alone. Out in the back-pasture, a quail78 could flutter up under his nose unharmed. All tense and trembling with eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and stood still. He was obeying the will of the gods.
And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start a jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and did not interfere79. Nay80, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase. And thus he learned that there was no taboo81 on jackrabbits. In the end he worked out the complete law. Between him and all domestic animals there must be no hostilities82. If not amity83, at least neutrality must obtain. But the other animals—the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who had never yielded allegiance to man. They were the lawful prey84 of any dog. It was only the tame that the gods protected, and between the tame deadly strife85 was not permitted. The gods held the power of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous of their power.
Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities86 of the Northland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of civilisation87 was control, restraint—a poise88 of self that was as delicate as the fluttering of gossamer89 wings and at the same time as rigid90 as steel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he must meet them all—thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage stopped. Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied91, continually impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress his natural impulses.
There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This meat he must not touch. There were cats at the houses the master visited that must be let alone. And there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and that he must not attack. And then, on the crowded sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose attention he attracted. They would stop and look at him, point him out to one another, examine him, talk of him, and, worst of all, pat him. And these perilous92 contacts from all these strange hands he must endure. Yet this endurance he achieved. Furthermore, he got over being awkward and self-conscious. In a lofty way he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods. With condescension93 he accepted their condescension. On the other hand, there was something about him that prevented great familiarity. They patted him on the head and passed on, contented94 and pleased with their own daring.
But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the carriage in the outskirts95 of San Jose, he encountered certain small boys who made a practice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here he was compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation.
Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. But there is a certain sense of equity96 that resides in life, and it was this sense in him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defence against the stone-throwers. He forgot that in the covenant97 entered into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and defend him. But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. After that they threw stones no more, and White Fang understood and was satisfied.
One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way to town, hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. Knowing his deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing upon White Fang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having learned the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed the cross-roads saloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl11 kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping98 and bickering99 and insulting him. This endured for some time. The men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang. One day they openly sicked the dogs on him. The master stopped the carriage.
“Go to it,” he said to White Fang.
But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, and he looked at the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at the master.
The master nodded his head. “Go to them, old fellow. Eat them up.”
White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently among his enemies. All three faced him. There was a great snarling100 and growling101, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. The dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. But at the end of several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third was in full flight. He leaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, and fled across a field. White Fang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without noise, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew102 the dog.
With this triple killing103 his main troubles with dogs ceased. The word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs did not molest104 the Fighting Wolf.
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1
fang
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| n.尖牙，犬牙 | |
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adaptable
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| adj.能适应的，适应性强的，可改编的 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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intonations
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| n.语调，说话的抑扬顿挫( intonation的名词复数 )；（演奏或唱歌中的）音准 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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differentiate
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| vi.(between)区分；vt.区别；使不同 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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metes
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的第三人称单数 ) | |
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domains
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| n.范围( domain的名词复数 )；领域；版图；地产 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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foraged
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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56
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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chastisement
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| n.惩罚 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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befuddled
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| adj.迷糊的，糊涂的v.使烂醉( befuddle的过去式和过去分词 )；使迷惑不解 | |
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quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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taboo
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| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
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hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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84
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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86
simplicities
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| n.简单，朴素，率直( simplicity的名词复数 ) | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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88
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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equity
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| n.公正，公平，（无固定利息的）股票 | |
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covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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99
bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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101
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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102
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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103
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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104
molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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