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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
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more wrathful。 The blows came faster； heavier； more shrewd to hurt。
Grey Beaver continued to beat； White Fang continued to snarl。 But this
could not last for ever。 One or the other must give over； and that one was
White Fang。 Fear surged through him again。 For the first time he was
being really man…handled。 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 Grey 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。 Grey 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 sank his teeth into the
moccasined foot。
The beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the
beating he now received。 Grey 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
Grey Beaver kick him。 White Fang did not repeat his attack on the foot。
He had learned another lesson of his bondage。 Never； no matter what the
circumstance； must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over
him； the body of the lord and master was sacred； not to be defiled by the
teeth of such as he。 That was evidently the crime of crimes； the one
offence there was no condoning nor overlooking。
When the canoe touched the shore； White Fang lay whimpering and
motionless； waiting the will of Grey Beaver。 It was Grey Beaver's will that
he should go ashore； for ashore he was flung； striking heavily on his side
and hurting his bruises afresh。 He crawled tremblingly to his feet and
stood whimpering。 Lip…lip； who had watched the whole proceeding from
the bank； now rushed upon him； knocking him over and sinking his teeth
into him。 White Fang was too helpless to defend himself； and it would
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have gone hard with him had not Grey Beaver's foot shot out； lifting Lip…
lip into the air with its violence so that he smashed down to earth a dozen
feet away。 This was the man…animal's justice； and even then； in his own
pitiable plight； White Fang experienced a little grateful thrill。 At Grey
Beaver's heels he limped obediently through the village to the tepee。 And
so it came that White Fang learned that the right to punish was something
the gods reserved for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under
them。
That night； when all was still； White Fang remembered his mother and
sorrowed for her。 He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey Beaver； who
beat him。 After that he mourned gently when the gods were around。 But
sometimes； straying off to the edge of the woods by himself； he gave vent
to his grief； and cried it out with loud whimperings and wailings。
It was during this period that he might have harkened to the memories
of the lair and the stream and run back to the Wild。 But the memory of his
mother held him。 As the hunting man…animals went out and came back； so
she would come back to the village some time。 So he remained in his
bondage waiting for her。
But it was not altogether an unhappy bondage。 There was much to
interest him。 Something was always happening。 There was no end to the
strange things these gods did； and he was always curious to see。 Besides；
he was learning how to get along with Grey Beaver。 Obedience； rigid；
undeviating obedience； was what was exacted of him； and in return he
escaped beatings and his existence was tolerated。
Nay； Grey Beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat； and
defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it。 And such a piece of
meat was of value。 It was worth more； in some strange way； then a dozen
pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw。 Grey Beaver never petted nor
caressed。 Perhaps it was the weight of his hand； perhaps his justice；
perhaps the sheer power of him； and perhaps it was all these things that
influenced White Fang； for a certain tie of attachment was forming
between him and his surly lord。
Insidiously； and by remote ways； as well as by the power of stick and
stone and clout of hand； were the shackles of White Fang's bondage being
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riveted upon him。 The qualities in his kind that in the beginning made it
possible for them to come in to the fires of men； were qualities capable of
development。 They were developing in him； and the camp…life； replete
with misery as it was； was secretly endearing itself to him all the time。 But
White Fang was unaware of it。 He knew only grief for the loss of Kiche；
hope for her return； and a hungry yearning for the free life that had been
his。
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CHAPTER III … THE OUTCAST
Lip…lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became
wickeder and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be。
Savageness was a part of his make…up； but the savageness thus developed
exceeded his make…up。 He acquired a reputation for wickedness amongst
the man…animals themselves。 Wherever there was trouble and uproar in
camp； fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over a bit of stolen
meat； they were sure to find White Fang mixed up in it and usually at the
bottom of it。 They did not bother to look after the causes of his conduct。
They saw only the effects； and the effects were bad。 He was a sneak and a
thief； a mischief…maker； a fomenter of trouble； and irate squaws told him
to his face； the while he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick…
flung missile； that he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an
evil end。
He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp。 All the
young dogs followed Lip…lip's lead。 There was a difference between White
Fang and them。 Perhaps they sensed his wild…wood breed； and
instinctively felt for him the enmity that the domestic dog feels for the
wolf。 But be that as it may； they joined with Lip…lip in the persecution。
And； once declared against him； they found good reason to continue
declared against him。 One and all； from time to time； they felt his teeth；
and to his credit； he gave more than he received。 Many of them he could
whip in single fight； but single fight was denied him。 The beginning of
such a fight was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running
and pitch upon him。
Out of this pa