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White Fang。 And White Fang； resurrecting quite a deal of the old awe；
seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself and grow small； as he cast
about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat not too inglorious。
And right here Baseek erred。 Had he contented himself with looking
fierce and ominous； all would have been well。 White Fang； on the verge of
retreat； would have retreated； leaving the meat to him。 But Baseek did not
wait。 He considered the victory already his and stepped forward to the
meat。 As he bent his head carelessly to smell it； White Fang bristled
slightly。 Even then it was not too late for Baseek to retrieve the situation。
Had he merely stood over the meat； head up and glowering； White Fang
would ultimately have slunk away。 But the fresh meat was strong in
Baseek's nostrils； and greed urged him to take a bite of it。
This was too much for White Fang。 Fresh upon his months of mastery
over his own team…mates； it was beyond his self…control to stand idly by
while another devoured the meat that belonged to him。 He struck； after his
custom； without warning。 With the first slash； Baseek's right ear was
ripped into ribbons。 He was astounded at the suddenness of it。 But more
things； and most grievous ones； were happening with equal suddenness。
He was knocked off his feet。 His throat was bitten。 While he was
struggling to his feet the young dog sank teeth twice into his shoulder。 The
swiftness of it was bewildering。 He made a futile rush at White Fang；
clipping the empty air with an outraged snap。 The next moment his nose
was laid open； and he was staggering backward away from the meat。
The situation was now reversed。 White Fang stood over the shin… bone；
bristling and menacing； while Baseek stood a little way off； preparing to
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retreat。 He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning…flash； and again
he knew； and more bitterly； the enfeeblement of oncoming age。 His
attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic。 Calmly turning his back upon
young dog and shin…bone； as though both were beneath his notice and
unworthy of his consideration； he stalked grandly away。 Nor； until well out
of sight； did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds。
The effect on White Fang was to give him a greater faith in himself；
and a greater pride。 He walked less softly among the grown dogs； his
attitude toward them was less compromising。 Not that he went out of his
way looking for trouble。 Far from it。 But upon his way he demanded
consideration。 He stood upon his right to go his way unmolested and to
give trail to no dog。 He had to be taken into account； that was all。 He was
no longer to be disregarded and ignored； as was the lot of puppies； and as
continued to be the lot of the puppies that were his team…mates。 They got
out of the way； gave trail to the grown dogs； and gave up meat to them
under compulsion。 But White Fang； uncompanionable； solitary； morose；
scarcely looking to right or left； redoubtable； forbidding of aspect； remote
and alien； was accepted as an equal by his puzzled elders。 They quickly
learned to leave him alone； neither venturing hostile acts nor making
overtures of friendliness。 If they left him alone； he left them alone … a state
of affairs that they found； after a few encounters； to be pre… eminently
desirable。
In midsummer White Fang had an experience。 Trotting along in his
silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on the edge
of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose； he came
full upon Kiche。 He paused and looked at her。 He remembered her vaguely；
but he REMEMBERED her； and that was more than could be said for her。
She lifted her lip at him in the old snarl of menace； and his memory
became clear。 His forgotten cubhood； all that was associated with that
familiar snarl； rushed back to him。 Before he had known the gods； she had
been to him the centre…pin of the universe。 The old familiar feelings of that
time came back upon him； surged up within him。 He bounded towards her
joyously； and she met him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to
the bone。 He did not understand。 He backed away； bewildered and
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puzzled。
But it was not Kiche's fault。 A wolf…mother was not made to remember
her cubs of a year or so before。 So she did not remember White Fang。 He
was a strange animal； an intruder； and her present litter of puppies gave
her the right to resent such intrusion。
One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang。 They were half…
brothers； only they did not know it。 White Fang sniffed the puppy
curiously； whereupon Kiche rushed upon him； gashing is face a second
time。 He backed farther away。 All the old memories and associations died
down again and passed into the grave from which they had been
resurrected。 He looked at Kiche licking her puppy and stopping now and
then to snarl at him。 She was without value to him。 He had learned to get
along without her。 Her meaning was forgotten。 There was no place for her
in his scheme of things； as there was no place for him in hers。
He was still standing； stupid and bewildered； the memories forgotten；
wondering what it was all about； when Kiche attacked him a third time；
intent on driving him away altogether from the vicinity。 And White Fang
allowed himself to be driven away。 This was a female of his kind； and it
was a law of his kind that the males must not fight the females。 He did not
know anything about this law； for it was no generalisation of the mind； not
a something acquired by experience of the world。 He knew it as a secret
prompting； as an urge of instinct … of the same instinct that made him howl
at the moon and stars of nights； and that made him fear death and the
unknown。
The months went by。 White Fang grew stronger； heavier； and more
compact； while his character was developing along the lines laid down by
his heredity and his environment。 His heredity was a life… stuff that may be
likened to clay。 It possessed many possibilities； was capable of being
moulded into many different forms。 Environment served to model the clay；
to give it a particular form。 Thus； had White Fang never come in to the
fires of man； the Wild would have moulded him into a true wolf。 But the
gods had given him a different environment； and he was moulded into a
dog that was rather wolfish； but that was a dog and not a wolf。
And so； according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his
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surroundings； his character was being moulded into a certain particular
shape。 There was no escaping it。 He was becoming more morose； more
uncompanionable； more solitary； more ferocious； while the dogs were
learning more and more that it was better to be at peace with him than at
war； and Grey Beaver was coming to prize him more greatly with the
passage of each day。
White Fang； seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities；
nevertheless suffered from one besetting weakness。 He could not stand
being laughed at。 The laughter of men was a hateful thing。 They might
laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except himself； and
he did not mind。 But the moment laughter was turned upon him he would
fly into a most terrible rage。 Grave； dignified； sombre； a laugh made him
frantic to ridiculousness。 It so outraged him and upset him that for hours
he would behave like a demon。 And woe to the dog that at such times ran
foul of him。 He knew the law too well to take it out of Grey Beaver；
behind Grey Beaver were a club and godhead。 But behind the dogs there
was nothing but space； and into this space they flew when White Fang
came on the scene； made mad by laughter。