white fang(白牙)-第33节
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had been downed and destroyed； the white men hustled their own animals
back on board and wrecked savage vengeance on the offenders。 One white
man； having seen his dog； a setter； torn to pieces before his eyes； drew a
revolver。 He fired rapidly； six times； and six of the pack lay dead or dying
… another manifestation of power that sank deep into White Fang's
consciousness。
White Fang enjoyed it all。 He did not love his kind； and he was shrewd
enough to escape hurt himself。 At first； the killing of the white men's dogs
had been a diversion。 After a time it became his occupation。 There was no
work for him to do。 Grey Beaver was busy trading and getting wealthy。 So
White Fang hung around the landing with the disreputable gang of Indian
dogs； waiting for steamers。 With the arrival of a steamer the fun began。
After a few minutes； by the time the white men had got over their surprise；
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the gang scattered。 The fun was over until the next steamer should arrive。
But it can scarcely be said that White Fang was a member of the gang。
He did not mingle with it； but remained aloof； always himself； and was
even feared by it。 It is true； he worked with it。 He picked the quarrel with
the strange dog while the gang waited。 And when he had overthrown the
strange dog the gang went in to finish it。 But it is equally true that he then
withdrew； leaving the gang to receive the punishment of the outraged
gods。
It did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels。 All he had to do；
when the strange dogs came ashore； was to show himself。 When they saw
him they rushed for him。 It was their instinct。 He was the Wild … the
unknown； the terrible； the ever…menacing； the thing that prowled in the
darkness around the fires of the primeval world when they； cowering close
to the fires； were reshaping their instincts； learning to fear the Wild out of
which they had come； and which they had deserted and betrayed。
Generation by generation； down all the generations； had this fear of the
Wild been stamped into their natures。 For centuries the Wild had stood for
terror and destruction。 And during all this time free licence had been theirs；
from their masters； to kill the things of the Wild。 In doing this they had
protected both themselves and the gods whose companionship they shared
And so； fresh from the soft southern world； these dogs； trotting down
the gang…plank and out upon the Yukon shore had but to see White Fang to
experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy him。 They
might be town…reared dogs； but the instinctive fear of the Wild was theirs
just the same。 Not alone with their own eyes did they see the wolfish
creature in the clear light of day； standing before them。 They saw him with
the eyes of their ancestors； and by their inherited memory they knew
White Fang for the wolf； and they remembered the ancient feud。
All of which served to make White Fang's days enjoyable。 If the sight
of him drove these strange dogs upon him； so much the better for him； so
much the worse for them。 They looked upon him as legitimate prey； and as
legitimate prey he looked upon them。
Not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair and
fought his first fights with the ptarmigan； the weasel； and the lynx。 And
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not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by the persecution of
Lip…lip and the whole puppy pack。 It might have been otherwise； and he
would then have been otherwise。 Had Lip…lip not existed； he would have
passed his puppyhood with the other puppies and grown up more doglike
and with more liking for dogs。 Had Grey Beaver possessed the plummet of
affection and love； he might have sounded the deeps of White Fang's
nature and brought up to the surface all manner of kindly qualities。 But
these things had not been so。 The clay of White Fang had been moulded
until he became what he was； morose and lonely； unloving and ferocious；
the enemy of all his kind。
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CHAPTER II … THE MAD GOD
A small number of white men lived in Fort Yukon。 These men had
been long in the country。 They called themselves Sour…doughs； and took
great pride in so classifying themselves。 For other men； new in the land；
they felt nothing but disdain。 The men who came ashore from the steamers
were newcomers。 They were known as CHECHAQUOS； and they always
wilted at the application of the name。 They made their bread with baking…
powder。 This was the invidious distinction between them and the Sour…
doughs； who； forsooth； made their bread from sour…dough because they
had no baking…powder。
All of which is neither here nor there。 The men in the fort disdained
the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief。 Especially did they
enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers' dogs by White Fang and
his disreputable gang。 When a steamer arrived； the men of the fort made it
a point always to come down to the bank and see the fun。 They looked
forward to it with as much anticipation as did the Indian dogs； while they
were not slow to appreciate the savage and crafty part played by White
Fang。
But there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the
sport。 He would come running at the first sound of a steamboat's whistle；
and when the last fight was over and White Fang and the pack had
scattered； he would return slowly to the fort； his face heavy with regret。
Sometimes； when a soft southland dog went down； shrieking its death…cry
under the fangs of the pack； this man would be unable to contain himself；
and would leap into the air and cry out with delight。 And always he had a
sharp and covetous eye for White Fang。
This man was called 〃Beauty〃 by the other men of the fort。 No one
knew his first name； and in general he was known in the country as Beauty
Smith。 But he was anything save a beauty。 To antithesis was due his
naming。 He was pre…eminently unbeautiful。 Nature had been niggardly
with him。 He was a small man to begin with； and upon his meagre frame
was deposited an even more strikingly meagre head。 Its apex might be
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likened to a point。 In fact； in his boyhood； before he had been named
Beauty by his fellows； he had been called 〃Pinhead。〃
Backward； from the apex； his head slanted down to his neck and
forward it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide
forehead。 Beginning here； as though regretting her parsimony； Nature had
spread his features with a lavish hand。 His eyes were large； and between
them was the distance of two eyes。 His face； in relation to the rest of him；
was prodigious。 In order to discover the necessary area； Nature had given
him an enormous prognathous jaw。 It was wide and heavy； and protruded
outward and down until it seemed to rest on his chest。 Possibly this
appearance was due to the weariness of the slender neck； unable properly
to support so great a burden。
This jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination。 But
something lacked。 Perhaps it was from excess。 Perhaps the jaw was too
large。 At any rate； it was a lie。 Beauty Smith was known far and wide as
the weakest of weak…kneed and snivelling cowards。 To complete his
description； his teeth were large and yellow； while the two eye…teeth；
larger than their fellows； showed under his lean lips like fangs。 His eyes
were yellow and muddy； as though Nature had run short on pigments and
squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes。 It was the same with his hair；
sparse and irregular of growth； muddy…yellow and dirty…yellow； rising on
his head and sprouting out of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches； in
appearance like clumped and wind…blown grain。
In short； Beau
