1906 white fang jack london - pinkmonke - Pink Monkey

74
Even a man-animal, a god, White Fang ignored, such was the
terror he was in of losing his mother.
But gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and Gray Beaver
wrathfully launched a canoe in pursuit. When he overtook White
Fang, he reached down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear
of the water. He did not deposit him at once in the bottom of the
canoe. Holding him suspended with one hand, with the other
hand, he proceeded to give him a beating. And it was a beating.
His hand was heavy. Every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he
delivered a multitude of blows.
Impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side,
now from that, White Fang swung back and forth like an erratic
and jerky pendulum. Varying were the emotions that surged
through him. At first he had known surprise.
Then came a momentary fear, when he yelped several times to the
impact of the hand. But this was quickly followed by anger. His
free nature asserted itself, and he showed his teeth and snarled
fearlessly in the face of the wrathful god. This but served to make
the god more wrathful. The blows came faster, heavier, more
shrewd to hurt.
Gray Beaver continued to beat. White Fang continued to snarl. But
this could not last forever. One or the other must give over and that
one was White Fang.
Fear surged through him again. For the first time he was really
being manhandled. The occasional blows of sticks and stones he
had previously experienced were as caresses compared with this.
He broke down and began to cry and yelp.
For a time each blow brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into
terror, until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession,
unconnected with the rhythm of the punishment.
At last Gray Beaver withheld his hand. White Fang, hanging
limply, continued to cry. This seemed to satisfy his master, who
flung him down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. In the
meantime the canoe had drifted down the stream.
Gray Beaver picked up the paddle. White Fang was in his way. He
spurned him savagely with his foot. In that moment White Fang’s
free nature flashed forth again, and he sunk his teeth into the
moccasined foot.
The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with
the beating he now received. Gray Beaver’s wrath was terrible;
likewise was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but the hard
wooden paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore
in all his small body when he was again flung down in the canoe.
Again, and this time with purpose, did Gray Beaver kick him.