1906 white fang jack london - pinkmonke - Pink Monkey

110
‘You ketch um dog you take um all right,’ was his last word.
The bottles were delivered, but after two days, ‘You ketch um dog,’
were Beauty Smith’s words to Gray Beaver.
White Fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with
a sigh of content. The dreaded white god was not there. For days
his manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing
more insistent, and during that time White Fang had been
compelled to avoid the camp. He did not know what evil was
threatened by those insistent hands. He knew only that they did
threaten evil of some sort, and that it was best for him to keep out
of their reach.
But scarcely had he lain down when Gray Beaver staggered over to
him and tied a leather thong around his neck. He sat down beside
White Fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. In the other
hand he held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted
above his head to the accompaniment of gurgling noises.
An hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with
the ground foreran the one who approached. White Fang heard it
first, and was bristling with recognition while Gray Beaver still
nodded stupidly. White Fang tried to draw the thong softly out of
his master’s hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and Gray
Beaver roused himself.
Beauty Smith strode into camp and stood over White Fang. He
snarled softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the
deportment of the hands. One hand extended outward and began
to descend upon his head. His soft snarl grew tense and harsh. The
hand continued slowly to descend, while he crouched beneath it,
eyeing it malignantly, his snarl growing shorter and shorter as,
with quickening breath, it approached its culmination. Suddenly
he snapped, striking with his fangs like a snake. The hand was
jerked back, and the teeth came together emptily with a sharp click.
Beauty Smith was frightened and angry. Gray Beaver clouted
White Fang alongside the head, so that he cowered down close to
the earth in respectful obedience.
White Fang’s suspicious eyes followed every movement. He saw
Beauty Smith go away and return with a stout club. Then the end
of the thong was given over to him by Gray Beaver. Beauty Smith
started to walk away. The thong grew taut. White Fang resisted it.
Gray Beaver clouted him right and left to make him get up and
follow. He obeyed, but with a rush, hurling himself upon the
stranger who was dragging him away. Beauty Smith did not jump
away. He had been waiting for this. He swung the club smartly,
stopping the rush midway and smashing White Fang down upon
the ground. Gray Beaver laughed and nodded approval.