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 pack-persecution he learned two important things: how

to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him - and how, on a

single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the

briefest space of time. To keep one's feet in the midst of the

hostile mass meant life, and this he learnt well. He became cat-

like in his ability to stay on his feet. Even grown dogs might

hurtle him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy

bodies; and backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding

on the ground, but always with his legs under him and his feet

downward to the mother earth.



When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual

combat - snarlings and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But

White Fang learned to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the

coming against him of all the young dogs. He must do his work

quickly and get away. So he learnt to give no warning of his

intention. He rushed in and snapped and slashed on the instant,

without notice, before his foe could prepare to meet him. Thus he

learned how to inflict quick and severe damage. Also he learned

the value of surprise. A dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder

slashed open or its ear ripped in ribbons before it knew what was

happening, was a dog half whipped.



Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by

surprise; while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a

moment the soft underside of its neck - the vulnerable point at

which to strike for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was

a knowledge bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation

of wolves. So it was that White Fang's method when he took the

offensive, was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to

surprise it and knock it off its feet; and third, to drive in with

his teeth at the soft throat.



Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor

strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young

dog went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White

Fang's intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone

on the edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing

him and attacking the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the

life. There was a great row that night. He had been observed, the

news had been carried to the dead dog's master, the squaws

remembered all the instances of stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was

beset by many angry voices. But he resolutely held the door of his

tepee, inside which he had placed the culprit, and refused to

permit the vengeance for which his tribespeople clamoured.



White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period of his

development he never knew a moment's security. The tooth of every

dog was against him, the hand of every man. He was greeted with

snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. He lived

tensely. He was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary of being

attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared

to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth,

or to leap away with a menacing snarl.



As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young or

old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, and

judgment is required to know when it should be used. White Fang

knew how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he

incorporated all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With

nose serrulated by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent

waves, tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back

again, ears flattened down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled

back, and fangs exposed and dripping, he could compel a pause on

the part of almost any assailant. A temporary pause, when taken

off his guard, gave him the vital moment in which to think and

determine his action. But often a pause so gained lengthened out

until it evolved into a complete cessation from the attack. And

before more than one of the grown dogs White Fang's snarl enabled

him to beat an honourable retreat.



An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his

sanguinary methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for

its persecution of him. Not permitted himself to run with the

pack, the curious state of affairs obtained that no member of the

pack could run outside the pack. White Fang would not permit it.

What of his bushwhacking and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were

afraid to run by themselves. With the exception of Lip-lip, they

were compelled to hunch together for mutual protection against the

terrible enemy they had made. A puppy alone by the river bank

meant a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused the camp with its shrill

pain and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub that had waylaid

it.



But White Fang's reprisals did not cease, even when the young dogs

had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked

them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they

were bunched. The sight of him was sufficient to start them

rushing after him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him

into safety. But woe the dog that outran his fellows in such

pursuit! White Fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer

that was ahead of the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the

pack could arrive. This occurred with great frequency, for, once

in full cry, the dogs were prone to forget themselves in the

excitement of the chase, while White Fang never forgot himself.

Stealing backward glances as he ran, he was always ready to whirl

around and down the overzealous pursuer that outran his fellows.



Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the

situation they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it

was that the hunt of White Fang became their chief game - a deadly

game, withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other

hand, being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere.

During the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come

back, he led the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods.

But the pack invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him

of its presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a

moving shadow among the trees after the manner of his father and

mother before him. Further he was more directly connected with the

Wild than they; and he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. A

favourite trick of his was to lose his trail in running water and

then lie quietly in a near-by thicket while their baffled cries

arose around him.



Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred

upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid

and one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to

blossom in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering.

The code he learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak.

Grey Beaver was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed

him. But the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing

to be destroyed. His development was in the direction of power.

In order to face the constant danger of hurt and even of

destruction, his predatory and protective faculties were unduly

developed. He became quicker of movement than the other dogs,

swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with

ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, more cruel, more

ferocious, and more intelligent. He had to become all these

things, else he would not have held his own nor survive the hostile

environment in which he found himself.

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