CALICO Jack London’s CLASSICS

White Fang

A DA P T E D BY : I L L U ST R AT E D BY :
Lisa Mullarkey Anthony VanArsdale
Invisible Man.indd 1 11/22/10 11:47 AM
CALICO Jack London’s CLASSICS

White Fang

Adapted by: Lisa Mullarkey

Illustrated by: Anthony VanArsdale
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Published by Magic Wagon, a division of the ABDO Group,

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Printed in the United States of America, Melrose Park, Illinois.

102010
012011
This book contains at least 10% recycled materials.

Original text by Jack London

Adapted by Lisa Mullarkey
Illustrated by Anthony VanArsdale
Edited by Stephanie Hedlund and Rochelle Baltzer
Cover and interior design by Abbey Fitzgerald

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mullarkey, Lisa.
White Fang / Jack London ; adapted by Lisa Mullarkey ; illustrated
by Anthony VanArsdale.
p. cm. -- (Calico illustrated classics)
ISBN 978-1-61641-112-1
[1. Dogs--Fiction. 2. Wolves--Fiction. 3. Human-animal
relationships--Fiction. 4. Yukon--History--19th century--Fiction.] I.
VanArsdale, Anthony, ill. II. London, Jack, 1876-1916. White Fang.
III. Title.
PZ10.3.M8Wh 2011
[Fic]--dc22
2010031051
 Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1: The Trail of the Meat . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

CHAPTER 2: The She-Wolf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
CHAPTER 3: The Gray Cub. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
CHAPTER 4: The Makers of Fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
CHAPTER 5: The Way of the Wild. . . . . . . . . . . . 35
CHAPTER 6: The Outcast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
CHAPTER 7: The Laws of the Gods . . . . . . . . . . 48
CHAPTER 8: The Enemy of His Kind. . . . . . . . . 55
CHAPTER 9: The Reign of Terror . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
CHAPTER 10: Death Is Near . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
CHAPTER 11: A Show of Kindness . . . . . . . . . . . 74
CHAPTER 12: A Bond Grows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
CHAPTER 13: Journey on a Steamer . . . . . . . . . . 87
CHAPTER 14: The Southland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
CHAPTER 15: The God’s Domain . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
CHAPTER 16: The Reward of a Hero . . . . . . . . 103
CHAPTER 17: The Sleeping Wolf . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
 1
The Trail of the Meat

The dark spruce forest frowned on both sides

of the frozen waterway. The trees had been
stripped of their snow by a biting wind. They
now leaned toward each other in a black mass.
The land itself was deserted and lifeless.
There was no movement. If you listened closely,
there was a laughter that could be heard. Not a
laughter of happiness. Rather, the evil laughter
of the Wild.
But there was life in the land. Defiant life in
the wolfish dogs near the waterway. Their fur
was covered with frost. Their breath froze in
the air as it left their mouths.
A leather harness was on the dogs, and
leather traces attached to a sled that was

4
dragged behind them. The sled was without
runners. On the sled was a long, narrow box.
Also found on top was an ax, blankets, a coffee
pot, and a frying pan. But, occupying most of
the space was the box.
In front of the dogs as well as in the back was
a man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third man.
A man whom the Wild had conquered. He
was beaten down until he would never struggle
or move again.
The Wild does not like movement. The
Wild aims to destroy movement and life. It
freezes the water to prevent its way to the sea.
It drives the sap out of trees till they are frozen.
And man? It destroys man to the core.
But, at the front and back of the sled worked
two men who were not yet dead. Their bodies
were covered in fur and soft-tanned leather.
Their eyelashes, cheeks, and lips were so coated
with crystals from their frozen breath that you
could not tell who was who. They looked like
ghosts. But underneath their white masks, two
5
adventurers were pitting themselves against
the Wild, determined to win.
They traveled on without speaking. Silence
surrounded them on all sides. When the sun
started to fade, a faint cry arose in the air. The
front man turned his head until he locked eyes
with the second. Then, across the narrow box,
the two men nodded at each other.
A second cry pierced the silence. Both men
turned to face the area they had just come from.
A third, answering cry arose in the same spot.
“They’re after us,” said Bill to the man in the
front. His voice was hoarse.
“Meat is scarce,” answered his friend, Henry.
“I ain’t seen a rabbit for days.”
Although they didn’t speak again, each time
they heard the cry, they gave a nodding look to
each other.
At the fall of darkness, the men swung their
dogs into a cluster of spruce trees and made
camp. The coffin served as chair and table.
The wolf dogs stayed on the other side of the
6
7
fire. Although they snarled and bickered, they
made no attempt to stray into the darkness.
“Seems to me, Henry, that they’re staying
remarkably close to camp,” said Bill.
Henry, squatting over the fire with the coffee
pot, nodded. “They know their hides are safe.
They’d sooner eat grub than be grub. They’re
pretty wise, them dogs.”
Bill shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know about
that. Did you happen to notice the way the
dogs kicked up while I was feeding them?”
“They did cut up more than the usual,”
replied Henry.
“How many dogs we got, Henry?”
“Six,” said Henry.
“Well, Henry, I took six fish out of the bag.
I gave one fish to each dog. But I was short,
Henry. One fish short.”
“You counted wrong, Bill.”
“I didn’t count wrong. One Ear didn’t get a
fish. I won’t say they were all dogs, but there
was seven lined up for fish.”
8
 “There’s six now. Just counted them.”
“I saw one run across the snow.”
Henry sighed. “I’ll be glad when this trip is
done and over. I think it’s getting to you, too.
You’re seeing things.”
“I thought of that,” said Bill. “But I counted
them and saw the tracks of the one that ran off.”
“Then you’re thinking it was one of them?”
A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from
somewhere in the darkness interrupted them.
Bill pointed. “One of them, for sure.”
Cry after cry could be heard from the
distance. It shattered the silence and angered
the Wild. The sled dogs huddled in fear by the
fire. So close did they gather that their fur was
singed by the flames. Looking out around the
fire, a circle of eyes, like gleaming coals, could
be seen getting closer.
“Wish we had more than three bullets left,
Henry. I wish we had 300. I’d show them,” said
Bill. “And I wish this cold snap would break.
Fifty below for over two weeks is frightful.”
9
 Henry settled into bed by the fire. “What’s
got me thinking is, why didn’t the dogs pitch
a fit when that other one ate a fish of theirs?
Don’t make sense.”
Bill was already asleep. They slept side by
side. As the fire died down, the circle of eyes
drew closer. When they got too close for the
dogs, they started an uproar.
Bill got up and added more wood to the fire,
which kept the circles at bay. “Henry,” said Bill,
getting under the covers, “there are seven again.
Just counted.”
In the morning, Bill awoke first and made
some coffee. “Say, Henry, how many dogs we
got?”
“Six.”
“Wrong, Henry.”
“Seven again?” Henry asked.
“Wrong again. We got five. One’s gone. It’s
Fatty. They ate him alive.” He looked at the
tracks. “Just dragged him off and ate him alive,
I bet.”
10
 2
The She-Wolf

Night after night, a dog went missing. It was

Kiche, who was part dog and part wolf, who
led them to their death. She knew the way of
the man-animals. Because she looked so much
like a husky, Kiche was barely noticed standing
among the others.
She was a daring beast. She would slink into
camp and eat their food. But what little food
they had wasn’t enough for her or the pack she
ran with. So each evening, she would enter the
camp and lure a dog out into an open field.
She would trot up to them, touch noses, and
play. When they trusted her, she led them away
from camp. Once they were alone in a field, the
pack would appear and pounce. Kiche did this
until there were no dogs left.
11
 Bill and Henry felt hopeless.
“We can’t just sit here waiting to be eaten,”
said Bill. He grabbed his rifle. “I got three bullets
left, and I plan to make good use of them. Those
wolves are hungry. Their bellies need to be full,
and I’m guessin’ we’re their next meal.”
The men continued on their journey. About
a mile away, they saw Kiche before them.
“Looks like a dog to me,” said Bill. “I wouldn’t
be surprised if she started to wag her tail.”
Henry agreed. “It does look like a dog. I ain’t
never seen a red wolf before. She’s the color of
cinnamon.”
“Hello, husky!” cried Bill.
Kiche inched toward them.
“She ain’t a bit afraid of us,” said Bill. He
pulled a rifle from the sled. When he held it up,
Kiche ran off.
“Look at that,” he said. “She’s seen a rifle
before. Smart wolf. Too smart to let me shoot
her out here in the open. When the time is right,
I’m going to kill her.”
12
 Bill had his chance the next day. “I see her
tracks. I’m going to hunt her down.”
Henry couldn’t talk Bill out of it. Bill was
determined to kill Kiche. It wasn’t long before
Henry heard a commotion of yelps, three shots,
an even larger commotion, and then silence.
The land was calm once more.
Henry found Bill, or what remained of him,
hours later. That night, Henry knew he had
little chance of surviving. The fire was low and
the wolves were bolder than ever. As he rested
his eyes, he shouted, “Come and get me ’cause
I’m tired. You’re going to win anyway.” The last
thing he saw was the red she-wolf circling his
body.
When he woke up hours later, he sensed
something had changed. He sat up and couldn’t
see the wolves. He didn’t hear the wolves. The
fire was still burning.
“Morning,” came a voice. “If we didn’t arrive
when we did, you would have been the wolves’
next meal.”
13
 Henry saw a musher throwing sticks on the
fire. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw
four sleds with half a dozen men crouched in
front of another fire.
“Where’s Lord Alfred?” asked one of the men.
“In a box,” said Henry. “I wasn’t going to let
the wolves get him.”
“And your partner?”
But Henry didn’t need to answer. They knew.
Far and faint as it was, in the remote distance,
the cry of a hungry wolf pack could be heard.
It was Kiche who first heard the approaching
men. She led the wolves away from danger and
led the front of the pack. Next to her was One
Eye. He did not snarl at her, for he was quite
taken with her. It was she who snarled at him
when he got too close.
Their situation was desperate. They were
hungry and growing weaker with each step.
They ran slower than usual. The strongest,
although still weak, ran at the front. Those near

14
death stayed in the rear. As they ran, no life
stirred. There was no food to have.
They ran many miles that day and through
the night. At noon the next day, they crossed
low divides and a dozen small streams before
they were rewarded. They came upon a moose.
He was meat and life. It was a good fight, but in
the end, the moose was defeated. Kiche tore at
his throat and devoured him alive.
The moose provided 800 pounds of food.
The forty some dogs ate it all at one sitting.
There was now much rest and sleep. Soon
after, the pack split in half. Kiche and One Eye
led their half of the pack down to the Mackenzie
River and across the lakes. The pack continued
to dwindle until Kiche and One Eye were alone.
They kept together as the days passed by.
They hunted and killed their meat together.
They ate together. After a time, Kiche became
restless. She seemed to be searching for
something she couldn’t find. The hallows
under fallen trees seemed to attract her. She
15
spent many hours poking and prodding. One
Eye had no interest in such things and would
sit and wait patiently.
They didn’t remain in one place. They traveled
quickly. One day, One Eye stopped suddenly.
Kiche’s ears rose. She darted to a clearing. One
Ear cautiously approached her. Together, they
stood watching, listening, and smelling.
They heard sounds of dogs wrangling and
scuffling. Voices of scolding women and crying
children could be heard. They smelled an array
of scents from the Indian camp before them.
Kiche became increasingly excited. One Ear
grew more cautious. His eyes told her he wanted
to leave. She nuzzled his neck begging to stay.
How she longed to move forward toward the
fire, the people, and the dogs!
For two days, Kiche and One Eye hung about
the camp. He didn’t understand how such a
place could call to his mate. But on the third
morning, after a bullet hit the tree above One
Eye’s head, they fled.
16
 They didn’t go too far. Kiche once again
appeared to be searching for something. Her
running slowed, and she rested most of the day.
Finally, she found the thing she sought. It was
a small cave. She rushed inside to investigate.
Although the roof barely cleared her head, it was
dry and cozy. With a small grunt, she dropped
and curled up beside the wall.
One Eye rested outside at the mouth of the
cave. He glanced at his mate, who showed no
desire to move. The land was awakening and he

17
wanted to explore. He was about to go in search
of food when he heard strange noises coming
from the cave.
He approached Kiche and saw five cubs
curled up beside her. The she-wolf snarled and
showed her teeth to One Eye.
But One Eye posed no threat. He had heard
that some fathers eat their newborns, but he
had no such desire. Instead, he left the cave and
went to get food for his family. His instincts
told him that this is what he was meant to do.
One Eye returned to the mouth of the cave
hours later. With a nervous walk, he entered
and laid a porcupine by Kiche’s feet. The she-
wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and
lightly licked his neck.
In the next instant, she was warning him to
stay away from the cubs. Her snarl wasn’t as
harsh as before. After all, One Eye was behaving
as a father should by providing food for his
family.

18
 3
The Gray Cub

The gray cub was different than his brothers

and sisters. They had the hair of Kiche. But he
took after his father. He had bred true to One
Eye’s wolf stock.
The gray cub’s eyes had not been open long.
Yet, already he could see with steady clearness.
And while his eyes had still been closed, he
had felt, tasted, and smelled. He knew his two
brothers and two sisters well.
He was a fierce cub. By far, he was the
fiercest and strongest of his litter. He made a
louder raspy growl than the others. His rages
were more terrible than theirs. And he certainly
caused his mother the most trouble.
Only a month old, he now stayed awake for
longer periods of time. He came to learn of his
19
new world. It was a dark and gloomy world, but
he didn’t know it since it was the only world he
knew. His world was small. The limits were the
walls of the lair.
The gray cub quickly discovered that one
wall was different from the others. This was the
mouth of the cave and a source of light. He was
attracted to the light like a plant to the sun. But
he quickly learned that he was not to approach
the light. When he did, his mother would slap
her paw on his nose or turn the young cub over.
The light was strange. He couldn’t understand
why his father would walk toward the light then
disappear. He accepted the disappearing wall
without question for some time.
Like most animals in the Wild, he learned
hunger. A great famine had come to the Wild.
Not only did the meat supply stop, but so did
the milk from his mother.
At first, the cubs whimpered and cried
because of their empty bellies. Then, they slept.
There were no more squabbles. No more tiny
20
rages. No more attempts to go toward the light.
The gray cub was the only one of his brothers
and sisters to survive the famine.
One Eye had become desperate and often
went to search for food. Kiche had to leave the
lair to search as well.
Then came the day when the gray cub no
longer saw his father appearing and disappearing
in the wall. This had happened at the end of a
second and less severe famine. Kiche knew why
he didn’t return. When she went searching for
food, she saw what was left of One Eye. A lynx
had engaged him in battle and won.
Kiche found the lair of the lynx but didn’t
dare go inside. There were babies inside. She
knew that there was nothing the lynx wouldn’t
do to protect her young. It was the same for her.
But the Wild is the Wild. Motherhood is
motherhood. For the sake of her young cub,
she returned to him. She knew the time would
come when she would revisit this lair and seek
her revenge.
21
 The hunting was up to Kiche now. She left
the cave more often. It gave the gray cub more
opportunities to explore the light.
As he approached the disappearing wall, the
light became brighter. He was dazzled by it. He
went to the edge of the light and looked down.
The ground was not solid under him.
He gazed down and was surprised at the
greenness he saw. Within seconds, he tumbled
off of the small cliff and rolled down the hill.
This was a new world to him. A scary world.
As scary as it was, it fascinated him. He
inspected the grass beneath him, put his nose
in a dead tree trunk, and saw his first squirrel.
The squirrel gave him great a scare. But when
he snarled, it ran up a tree. This boosted his
confidence.
He soon came upon a bird’s nest. At first
he was frightened of the baby chicks. Once he
realized that he was much bigger than them,
he became bolder. He touched one with his
paw. Then he sniffed one before putting it in
22
his mouth. His instincts told him to chew. So
he snapped his jaws shut. The food was very
good. He didn’t stop chewing until every last
chick was eaten.
Proud of himself, he started back to the cave.
But when he rose up from the nest, he was
blinded by the rush of the mother bird’s angry
wings.
The bird was in a fury. This caused a fury
to rise in the cub as well. It was his first battle.
But neither won the battle. For as he was about
to sink his fangs into the bird, a hawk swooped
down and carried it off.
He was very afraid of this flying creature.
It took him a long time to come out from the
brush where he sought safety. When he finally
felt bold enough, he crawled out only to be
pounced upon by a weasel. The weasel knocked
him off his feet as she buried her teeth into his
neck.
The gray cub would have died if Kiche hadn’t
come bounding out of the bushes. Seconds later,
23
the cub was free, enjoying another fine meal of
meat.
His desire to kill grew stronger as the days
passed. But famine once again came his way.
He was now expected to hunt for his food, and
he quickly realized how scarce food was.
The famine didn’t last long and was officially
over when his mother returned one day. She
dropped a lynx kitten in front of him. It was all
for him! What he didn’t know was that she had
eaten the others all by herself.
As the two rested after their meal, a strange
noise could be heard at the mouth of the cave.
It was the mother lynx! The lynx was angry that
her babies were taken from her. Although she
could not leap inside, she crawled on her belly
into the mouth and was immediately attacked by
the two wolves. Kiche’s revenge was complete.
After that, the gray cub accompanied his
mother on the meat trail. He understood his
part in the killings. It was then that he learned
the law of meat.
24
 There were two kinds of meat. His own kind
and the other kind. His own kind included his
mother and himself.
The other kind was anything that was alive
and moved. But the other kind was divided.
One part was composed of non-killers and small
killers. The other portion killed and ate his own
kind or was eaten by his own kind. This is how
the law came about: eat or be eaten.
He preferred to eat.
Life was once again good. He was very much
alive, happy, and proud of himself.

25
 4
The Makers of Fire

The cub was in the habit of awaking from

sleep and running on a familiar trail down to
the stream to drink. He had traveled on the
trail often. It was always the same. This time,
however, the smells were different as he trotted
among the trees.
Then, in an instant, he saw what he smelled.
Before him, sitting quietly, were five live things.
Things he had never seen before. It was his first
glimpse of mankind.
The five men did not rise, show teeth, or
snarl. They didn’t move. Nor did the cub move.
Every instinct was telling him to dash away.
But a new instinct rose within that compelled
him to stay. It was awe. Something told him that

26
these were powerful creatures. More powerful
than anything he had encountered so far.
One of the Indians rose and walked over to
the cub. As the man reached down to grab him,
the cub cowered and showed his fangs. The
Indian laughed.
“Wabam wabisca ip pit tah,” (Look! The
white fangs!) he said.
The other men laughed and urged the man to
pick up the cub. As the man’s hands approached

27
him, the cub’s natural instincts took over. In a
snap, the white fangs sank into the Indian’s hand.
Within seconds, the man smacked the cub in
his head. His blow knocked the cub over to his
side. In an instant, the instinct to fight faded as
he sat up on his legs and yelped.
The Indian was angry. He kicked the cub
once more. A loud yelping filled the air.
The four Indians laughed again. Even the
man bitten laughed. The cub was hurt and
continued to cry. In the midst of his tears, the
cub heard something. The Indians must have
heard it as well for they stood back.
It was Kiche coming to the rescue of her
cub! She bounded in amongst them as the men
moved farther back. The she-wolf stood over
her cub, snarling a deep rumble in her throat.
Then a cry went up from one of the men.
“Kiche!”
The cub felt his mother’s stance soften. At
once, her tail wagged.

28
 The cub didn’t understand. He was confused
by his mother’s behavior. Did she know the
powers of these men?
The man who yelled Kiche’s name came
over and patted her head. The others did the
same. Kiche didn’t snap or threaten to snap.
She wagged her tail faster.
“Kiche’s mother was my brother’s dog,”
explained Gray Beaver. “She mated with a wolf
years ago and Kiche was the result. A year ago,
she ran away due to the famine. She must have
mated with a wolf since then.” He reached out
to touch the cub. “This cub is the result.”
The cub snarled and sank his fangs into the
hand once again. Gray Beaver laughed. “Yes,
Kiche is his mother. But his father was a wolf.
Within him, there is little dog but much wolf.
Since his fangs are white, he shall be called
White Fang. I have spoken. He is my dog now
for Kiche was my brother’s dog. And now, my
brother is dead.”

29
 White Fang was tired. He lay down and
watched as Gray Beaver took his knife and cut a
branch off a tree. He fastened strings of rawhide
to each end. He tied one string around Kiche’s
throat and the other around a small tree. White
Fang curled up next to his mother.
Gray Beaver rolled White Fang onto his back
and playfully rubbed his stomach. Although
this frightened White Fang at first, he came to
enjoy the feeling.
After a time, White Fang heard strange noises
approaching. A few minutes later, the rest of
the tribe marched into camp. Men, women,
children, and dogs came quickly.
White Fang had never seen dogs before.
Seeing them, he knew at once that they were
like him in many ways but also a bit different.
He soon learned they were unfriendly as they
rushed toward him, snapping their jaws and
slashing him with their teeth.
Kiche did her best to protect her cub, but
she couldn’t reach White Fang. She was tied to
30
the tree. It wasn’t until the man-animals fought
the dogs back with club blows that White Fang
was safe once again. He knew these men were
powerful. They set the laws and did what they
must to make sure they were obeyed by the
dogs. They had godlike power.
White Fang licked his wounds for a short
time before they were led on a new adventure.
Led by Gray Beaver’s son, Mit-sah, they walked
to the river.
White Fang couldn’t stop looking at the poles
in the ground that had strange cloths and skins
on them. Their sheer size surprised him. He
was afraid of these teepees. But as soon as he
saw children passing in and out of them without
harm, his fear passed.
After some time, White Fang wandered away
from Kiche and headed toward a teepee. He
approached carefully and sniffed the cloth. He
waited. Nothing happened. He closed his teeth
on the strange fabric and gently pulled. Nothing
happened. He tugged harder and harder until
31
the entire teepee collapsed. The sharp cry of
the squaw inside sent him scampering back to
his mother for safety.
He was growing braver by the minute and
soon left the safety of his mother’s side again.
This time, it was to approach a small puppy
named Lip-lip.
Lip-lip was White Fang’s own kind. Seeing
this, White Fang greeted him in a playful manner.
But Lip-lip showed his teeth and, within seconds,
pounced on White Fang. He shredded White
Fang’s shoulder with his teeth. It was the first of
many fights these two would have.
White Fang jumped back in pain and ran to
his mother. It was there that he learned to stay
away from Lip-lip, who was known as a bully
about camp. Kiche licked her cub’s wounds and
soothed him.
Soon, White Fang wanted to explore once
again. He saw Gray Beaver squatting and
holding sticks and dry moss on the ground. He

32
watched as Gray Beaver accepted twigs and
sticks from the Indian children. Minutes later,
as White Fang sat by Gray Beaver’s knee, he saw
a strange mist rise from the sticks and moss. The
color of the sky’s sun was now on the sticks!
White Fang knew nothing of fire. He was
drawn to it just like the light had called to him
during his early days in the cave. He crawled
toward the fire. He was so close, his nose
touched the flame at the same time his little
tongue reached out to it.
For a moment, he was paralyzed. Then, he
yelped cries of pain. He had never known such
pain before. Hearing her cub’s cries, Kiche tried
to break free from the tree.
Gray Beaver laughed and slapped his thighs.
He told anyone who would listen what the silly
cub did. White Fang tried to soothe his burned
nose, but his tongue had been hurt too. As he
desperately tried to reach his mother for help,
he was surrounded by more men and children
laughing.
33
 White Fang now knew shame. The fire had
hurt him, but the man-animals’ laughter hurt
much more.
As nighttime came, White Fang grew more
and more homesick. This land was too noisy.
The men were too powerful. The bickering
between dogs never ended. The hum never
stopped.
He watched as the men rushed back and forth
and knew they were superior creatures. They
could make fire. They could force animals to
obey with sticks. They were fire makers. They
were gods!

34
 5
The Way of the Wild

As time passed, White Fang grew to respect

these man-gods more and more. When they
walked, he got out of their way. When they
called, he came. When they threatened, he
cowered down. When they commanded him to
go, he rushed away. He belonged to them as all
dogs belonged to them. His actions were theirs
to command.
While he knew he must stay with them, there
were days he longed to run free in the Wild.
Those instincts would never fade. Although he
had opportunities to run into the Wild, it was
the thought of his mother that held him back.
White Fang came to understand the camp.
He knew the greediness of the older dogs when
meat or fish was thrown out to be eaten. He
35
36
came to know that men were more just, children
more cruel, and women more kindly. He also
learned to stay away from mothers of puppies,
for they would do anything to protect their
young.
He also knew that Lip-lip, who was bigger,
older, and stronger, despised him. He picked
White Fang as his enemy. Lip-lip proved to
be a nightmare for White Fang. Whenever he
ventured away from his mother, Lip-lip would
appear and attack him. Lip-lip always won the
battle and took great delight in doing so.
With each defeat, White Fang grew more
vicious and angry. The playful side of him
disappeared as Lip-lip refused to allow any
puppies to play with him.
Anytime White Fang would approach a dog
for friendship, Lip-lip would force them away.
He robbed White Fang of his puppyhood ,which
only made White Fang more determined to get
revenge.

37
 One day, White Fang got his first taste of
revenge. White Fang was a fast runner, but on
this day he allowed Lip-lip to stay close and
chase him about the camp. He barely stayed
one step in front of Lip-lip.
Lip-lip enjoyed the chase and forgot where
he was. When he remembered, it was too late.
He was already in Kiche’s punishing jaws. For
White Fang had led him to her!
Kiche repeatedly ripped and slashed Lip-
lip with her fangs. White Fang joined in and
gnashed at his legs. By the time they finished
their assault, Lip-lip crawled away barely able
to walk.
Soon after, Gray Beaver rewarded Kiche with
her freedom. He no longer felt she would run
away. He freed her from the leash. Kiche and
White Fang spent the day exploring the camp
and the world beyond it.
When White Fang tried to move farther into
the woods, Kiche wouldn’t go. She turned to
look back at the camp. White Fang tried to
38
nudge her forward, but she refused to move.
Reluctantly, he joined her as she returned to
camp.
There was something calling him out there
in the open. His mother heard it, too. But she
heard another, louder call. The call of fire and
man. That call, for Kiche, was stronger than the
restraints placed upon her at camp. For now,
White Fang needed his mother more than he
needed the Wild.
The Indians didn’t care that White Fang
needed his mother. Gray Beaver had a debt to
repay to Three Eagles. Three Eagles needed to
travel down the Mackenzie River. Gray Beaver
repaid his debt with Kiche.
As Kiche was taken on Three Eagles’s canoe,
White Fang tried to follow her. As he leaped
into the canoe, a club forced him into the
water. The canoe shoved off with White Fang
swimming behind it. He blocked out the cries
of Gray Beaver to return to shore at once.

39
 This enraged Gray Beaver. He shoved off
in his own canoe and overtook White Fang.
Grabbing him by the nape of the neck, he lifted
White Fang out of the water. He didn’t drop
him into the canoe. Instead, Gray Beaver held
him high with one hand while beating him with
his other hand.
White Fang had never received such a beating.
Finally, he showed his teeth and attempted to
bite Gray Beaver. This only made Gray Beaver
angrier and the blows more forceful.
After White Fang’s yelps reached a fevered
pitch, Gray Beaver dropped him to the floor
of the canoe. When they reached shore, Gray
Beaver threw him to the ground. Having
witnessed all of it, Lip-lip pounced on White
Fang and planned on finishing him off. White
Fang was too weak to defend himself.
To White Fang’s surprise, it was Gray Beaver
who came to his defense. He lifted Lip-lip over
his head and flung him through the air. He
crashed down upon the ground ten feet away.
40
The force was violent. White Fang knew that
the right to punish was reserved for the gods
only. It was denied to lesser creatures under
them. Lip-lip had been foolish.
Although White Fang continued to search
and mourn the loss of his mother, his loyalty
toward Gray Beaver grew stronger. By obeying
him, he got extra meat and protection from Lip-
lip.
The fights with Lip-lip continued, but White
Fang was growing stronger and more cunning.
When the dogs ganged up on him, he would
lead one out of the pack, just as his mother had
done before him. He would shred the dog to
pieces before the rest of the pack caught up.
It was the way of the Wild.

41
 6
The Outcast

Lip-lip continued to darken White Fang’s

days. This caused him to become even more
wicked and ferocious. Savageness was part of
his makeup, but his savageness exceeded his
makeup.
His reputation among the animals was known
among the Indians themselves. Whenever an
uproar or trouble brewed in camp, White Fang
was connected to the crime. He was a sneak and
a thief. A mischiefmaker.
He found himself an outcast in camp. All
the young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. Out of
the frequent attacks he learned two things. He
knew how to take care of himself when several
dogs attacked at once. And as a single dog, he

42
learned how he could inflict the greatest amount
of damage in the shortest amount of time.
White Fang became catlike in his ability to
stay on his feet. If knocked off his feet, he knew
death was possible. He learned the value of
surprise and always strived to take the dogs off
guard.
White Fang’s method was an easy one. He
would first find a dog alone. Then, he’d surprise
it and knock it to the ground. Finally, he’d drive
his teeth into its soft throat.
Many a dog walked around camp with scars
from White Fang. He was hated around camp.
Every tooth was out for him as well as the hand
of every man.
The Wild had taught him a code: to obey the
strong and to oppress the weak. Gray Beaver
was a god. Therefore, White Fang obeyed him.
But the dogs younger or smaller than himself
were weak and things to be destroyed.
In order to become stronger, White Fang
worked harder. He became quicker, swifter,
43
crueler, and more ferocious than all the other
dogs. If he hadn’t, he would never have survived
in the hostile environment in which he found
himself.
In the fall of that year, White Fang got his
chance for freedom. For several days, there had
been a great hubbub in the village. The summer
camp was being dismantled. The tribe was
preparing to go off for the fall hunt.
White Fang watched it all with eager eyes.
When the teepees came down, he understood.

44
He was determined to stay behind. He waited
for his opportunity to slink into the woods.
Then, he crawled through the dense thicket and
waited until every canoe had departed.
Soon, White Fang could hear Gray Beaver
calling his name. He saw Mit-sah and the squaw
taking part in a search for him. He resisted the
impulse to crawl out of hiding.
The voices died away as the evening grew
dark. He stepped out bravely at first, but his
bravery soon gave way to loneliness. And it was
cold. There were no warm teepees to snuggle
in. His stomach longed for meat, but there was
none before him.
Noises of the wild invaded his ears and
frightened him. A panic seized him. He made
a mad dash in the direction of the village, but he
had forgotten the village had been packed up
and moved.
He rushed to where Gray Beaver’s teepee
had stood. He sat and pointed his nose at the
moon. A sad cry bubbled from his throat. His
45
grief for Kiche, his past sorrows, and the dangers
of those to come, gripped him. It was a lone
wolf howl, full throated and mournful. The first
howl he ever uttered.
With daylight, White Fang’s bravery returned.
He ran without resting to the river, looking for
the trail that the gods might have taken. By the
second day, he had run for thirty hours straight
and was weary. He was weak with hunger. His
handsome coat was mangled. The broad pads
of his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had
begun to limp and, to make matters worse, the
snow fell.
Luck was with White Fang. For Gray Beaver
had brought down a moose on the bank of the
river. If he had not, the Indians would have
crossed the river. That would have been the
end of White Fang. But White Fang smelled the
food cooking and followed his nose to the camp.
He first saw the blaze of the fire. Then, he
spotted Gray Beaver squatting and eating. White
Fang approached cautiously, expecting a beating.
46
He crouched and bristled at the thought of it.
At once, Gray Beaver heard White Fang.
There was movement of a hand above White
Fang. He prepared himself for a beating but
it never came. Instead, Gray Beaver’s hand
lowered and offered him meat.
Gray Beaver then ordered more meat and
stood guard over White Fang as he ate it. No
dogs would be allowed to steal from him that
evening. White Fang dozed by the fire. He was
content knowing that he was in camp with the
man-animals, the gods to whom he had given
himself and was now dependent upon.

47
 7
The Laws of the Gods

In December, Gray Beaver took his family

on a journey up the Mackenzie River. It was
time to teach Mit-sah how to drive a dog team.
It was perfect timing since the new puppies
themselves had to be broken into the harness.
There were seven puppies on the team. The
others were nine and ten months old while
White Fang, the youngest, was eight months old.
Each dog was fastened to the sled by a
different length of rope. This way, they could
fan out and not run into the dog ahead of him.
White Fang welcomed this, as he had seen many
dogs do this at camp.
The journey continued for many months.
White Fang was happy pulling Mit-sah’s sled.

48
He learned many things from Gray Beaver and
Mit-sah on this trip.
Long ago, Gray Beaver had taught him that
it was a crime to bite one of the gods. But as
White Fang arrived in the village at Great Slave
Lake, his views on the law changed. There were
times when it was acceptable to bite a man-god!
In this village, dogs were allowed to search
for food. On White Fang’s first search, he came
upon a boy chopping frozen moose meat with an
ax. Chips flew into the air and landed at White
Fang’s feet. He ate the chips. When the boy
saw this, he started to chase White Fang with a
club. White Fang fled between two teepees and
was trapped. There was no escape.
White Fang was furious at the boy who held
the club above his head! He faced the boy and
snarled. He knew the laws of foraging. All
meat on the ground was for dogs. He had done
no wrong. Broken no law. Yet, this boy was
preparing to punish him. Out of rage, White
Fang attacked the boy and ripped his hand open.
49
 White Fang knew he had broken the law of
the gods. He had driven his teeth into one of
them! He expected a fierce punishment. He
fled toward Gray Beaver and was surprised to
find Gray Beaver defend him. So did Mit-sah.
They knew White Fang’s attack was justified.
This is when he learned that there were
different gods. His gods and other gods. There
was a difference between the two. Justice or
injustice, it was all the same. He had to take

50
both from his gods, but injustice from the other
gods was not tolerated.
Before the day ended, White Fang learned
more about this law. He was in the woods with
Mit-sah when they came upon the boy White
Fang had bitten. Other boys were there, too.
They attacked Gray Beaver’s son. Blows fell on
him from all sides. White Fang looked on at first.
For wasn’t this an affair between two gods? It
was no concern of his.
Then he realized it was one of his gods who
was being mistreated. His god. A mad rush ran
through his body as he leaped toward the crowd
of boys. Five minutes later, the landscape was
filled with fleeing boys. Many dripped with
blood thanks to White Fang’s teeth.
When Mit-sah told the story in camp, Gray
Beaver ordered meat for White Fang. Another
twist to the law. Protect your own. This law
was the law of reward for protecting the man-
god’s family.

51
 In the third year of White Fang’s life, there
came a great famine to the Mackenzie Indians.
Fish and moose were scarce. The rabbits seemed
to have disappeared. Hunting and preying
animals perished. Felled by hunger, they started
to devour each other.
There was wailing in the village as the women
and children did without so the hunters could
get the energy needed for hunting. The gods
were driven to eat the soft tanned leather from
their moccasins and mittens.
The dogs ate one another, and finally the gods
ate the weakest dogs. The wisest of the dogs
fled to the forest. In the end, those dogs starved
or were eaten by wolves.
White Fang was wise and rushed into the
woods. He was better suited to the woods than
the other dogs. He had his cubhood to guide
him. He was especially good at catching small
things. Although he could catch squirrels with

52
ease, there simply weren’t enough of them to
fill him.
When food was too scarce, he ran back to the
village and stole what little food he could find
there. Fortune seemed to favor him. Just when
all hope would fade, he would find food, whether
it was the remains of a kill or the discovery of a
lone rabbit.
In the last days of the famine, White Fang
had met up with Lip-lip, who had also escaped
into the woods. Lip-lip had lived a miserable
existence since leaving the village. They stared
at each other face-to-face.
White Fang was in splendid condition. His
hunting had been good and he had eaten his
fill. As soon as he saw Lip-lip, the memories
of constant bullying rushed over him. Lip-lip,
weak and frail, was no match for White Fang.
White Fang wasted no time. He snarled
and struck Lip-lip hard and forced him on his
back. White Fang drove his teeth into Lip-lip’s

53
scrawny throat. There wasn’t much of a fight as
White Fang quickly put an end to his life.
Not long after, White Fang came to the edge
of the forest. He saw a village below where the
land had been empty just days before. Familiar
scents, sights, and sounds came to him. It was
the old village in a new place! The sounds were
different. Gone were whimpers and wails.
The air was filled with the smell of fresh fish.
White Fish rushed boldly out of the forest and
trotted up to Gray Beaver’s teepee. Gray Beaver
was not there, but Kloo-kooch welcomed him
with glad cries. White Fang laid down and
waited for Gray Beaver’s return.

54
 8
The Enemy of His Kind

When White Fang was five, he arrived at

Fort Yukon with Gray Beaver. A whisper of the
gold rush had reached Gray Beaver’s ears. He
had come with mittens and moccasins to trade.
He would not have taken such a long trip if he
didn’t think his profits would be great. He had
hoped for 100 percent profit, but what he got
was 1,000 percent profit!
It was at Fort Yukon that White Fang saw
his first white men. He quickly realized they
were gods, too. Gods that were stronger than
his Indian gods. They had bigger places where
they rested and their boats were larger.
White Fang was curious to observe them and
went about watching them from a safe distance.

55
When he saw no harm come to the dogs near
them, he slowly approached the white men.
White Fang was a great curiosity to these
men. His wolfish appearance caught their
attention. They pointed him out to one another.
This put White Fang on guard. When they tried
to approach him, he showed his teeth until they
backed away.
He quickly realized that there were many
of these white gods. Every few days, a steamer
would drop off men and take others away. He
was curious as to why they came and went so
frequently.
As much as the white gods impressed him,
their dogs did not. They were of all shapes and
sizes. They had hair to keep them warm instead
of fur. None of them knew how to fight. That
didn’t stop White Fang and his instincts.
He would strike the dogs and cause harm.
But he was wise. He knew that all gods, no
matter what color, did not like to see their dogs
harmed. So, he would attack and back away.
56
The rest of the Indian dogs would move in for
the final kill.
It was after such a death that White Fang
learned just how powerful the white men could
be. After a man saw his dog torn to pieces, he
withdrew a revolver and fired six times. Six of
the pack lay dead or dying. What powerful tools
these white gods had!
White Fang continued his fights and the dogs
continued to be killed. White Fang didn’t care.
He felt no loyalty to them. It was a sport to him
and a sport to the men who walked off of the
steamer. Each time a new steamer arrived, the
gods would make their way to see White Fang in
battle. All knew of his savage ways.
While all the gods enjoyed watching White
Fang in combat, no one enjoyed it more than
Beauty Smith. This god was anything but a
beauty! Nature had not been kind to him.
Smith was a small man with a tiny head. It
was an odd shape. So much so that he was given

57
the nickname Pinhead when he was a child. His
eyes were large and far apart from each other.
His jaw was enormous and it seemed to rest on
his chest. His teeth were yellow and crooked.
Smith was known as a coward. He cooked
for the men. Because of that, he was tolerated
by all. But he was also feared, as he tended to
rage on from time to time. The men worried
he’d poison their food.
Smith was mesmerized by White Fang and
would often approach him. White Fang wanted
nothing to do with this man. He’d snarl, growl,
and flash his teeth whenever Smith approached
him. This would make the man back off. White
Fang sensed he was evil. He hated the man.
Smith wanted White Fang. He offered Gray
Beaver a large sum of money, but Gray Beaver
would not sell him. Gray Beaver knew how
valuable White Fang was and assured Smith that
he’d never sell him.
But Beauty Smith was conniving. He
continued to visit Gray Beaver’s camp often.
58
59
When he visited, he would bring whiskey and
offer some to Gray Beaver.
Soon, Gray Beaver had a strong thirst for the
whiskey and would do anything to get it. He
started to give his earnings to Smith for a bottle
of whiskey. Soon, all his profits were lost. The
only thing he had left to sell was White Fang,
and that’s exactly what he did.
At camp one evening, Gray Beaver was given
a bottle of whiskey for White Fang. He tied a
leather thong around White Fang’s neck and
handed him over to Beauty Smith.
When White Fang realized what was
happening, he snapped his jaws down upon
Smith’s hands. Smith could not be stopped. He
grabbed a club and brought it down on White
Fang’s head.
White Fang knew he could not win this battle.
At least for now. He was led away and tied to
a fence at Smith’s house. Sometime during the
night, White Fang bit the thong and cut it in

60
two. He ran all the way back to Gray Beaver. It
was where he belonged.
But the next morning, Gray Beaver took
White Fang back to Beauty Smith’s camp. Smith
beat White Fang ten times worse than before.
White Fang knew he had broken the law. He
was to obey his god no matter who it was. But
White Fang didn’t care about the law. Once
again, he escaped to find his way back to his
Indian-god.
Gray Beaver betrayed him once more and
returned him to his new owner. This time the
beating was so severe, it almost killed White
Fang. There were no more attempts to escape.
White Fang knew his fate.
If he had tried to run away, he wouldn’t have
found Gray Beaver anyway. For Gray Beaver
had left to go back to his village, leaving White
Fang with a new owner who was mad. A mad
god who still had to be obeyed.

61
 9
The Reign of Terror

Under the strong arm of Beauty Smith, White

Fang became a mad fiend. He was kept chained
in a pen at the rear of the fort. It was there that
Smith would tease and torment him.
The man quickly discovered the shame
laughing caused White Fang, so he would be
sure to laugh at him every chance he got. This
caused White Fang to become even madder.
White Fang became filled with hate. Hate for
these gods, hate for the chain around his neck,
hate for the pen that confined him. He hated
the very wood that made up the pen.
Most of all, he hated Beauty Smith.
But Smith had a purpose for tormenting
White Fang. One day, a number of men gathered
in the pen. Smith entered the pen with a club
62
and unchained White Fang. Then, he hurried
back out.
A minute later, the door to the pen opened
again. White Fang was confused. Something
unusual was happening.
The door opened wider as a huge dog was
thrust inside. Then, the door slammed shut once
again. White Fang had never seen such a dog!
It was a mastiff. The sheer size didn’t deter him,
though. It was something that he could take his
hate out on.
White Fang jumped in with a flash of his fangs
and ripped open the mastiff’s neck. Within a
minute, the mastiff was dead.
The men cheered and applauded while Smith
gloated and collected his money.
In the weeks that followed, White Fang
defeated every dog that was sent into his pen.
Smith started to bring two, three, and four dogs
in at a time. Even outnumbered, they were no
match for White Fang. He earned his nickname
as the Fighting Wolf.
63
 In the fall, Smith took White Fang up the
Yukon to Dawson. When they arrived, men
surrounded White Fang’s cage. He was a legend
known to all. Smith charged the men fifty cents
just to look at White Fang.
White Fang was given no rest. If he lied
down to rest, a sharp stick would jab his side to
awaken him. He was taken out of his cage from
time to time when a fight could be arranged a
few miles from town. He never knew defeat.
As time went by, he had fewer fights. Men
knew their dogs couldn’t win, so Smith was
compelled to pit wolves against him. These
wolves were trapped by the Indians for the sole
purpose of fighting White Fang. These fights
always drew a crowd and Smith would make
large sums of money from them.
Once a lynx was brought in. All who saw the
lynx pounce on White Fang thought it was the
end of him. But it wasn’t.
After the defeat of the lynx, the fighting
stopped for a while. That is until Tim Keenan
64
arrived in town. With him came the first bulldog
that had ever entered the Klondike. It was
inevitable that this dog and White Fang would
be brought together.
The day these two animals would fight
arrived. Smith entered the pen and slipped the
chain from White Fang’s neck. He stepped back.
For once, White Fang did not immediately
attack. He stood still, ears pricked forward, alert
and curious. He had never seen such a strange
looking dog!
Keenan shoved the bulldog forward. “Go to
it.” The animal waddled toward the center of
the circle. He was short and squat. He came to
a stop in front of White Fang and blinked.
“Go get him, Cherokee!” came cries from the
crowd. “Eat him up!”
But Cherokee didn’t seem too eager to fight.
He wagged his tail.
Keenan stepped in and bent over his dog. He
rubbed his body against the grain of the hair and

65
made slight pushing movements. This seemed
to irritate Cherokee. He started to growl.
The growls made the hair on White Fang’s
neck rise. Cherokee rushed forward in a swift
run. With the same catlike moves, White Fang
lashed out and ripped the bulldog’s thick neck.
The bulldog didn’t yelp. He simply followed
White Fang around the pen. White Fang lashed
out and struck Cherokee again. Once more,

66
the dog merely wagged his tail and followed
White Fang.
This puzzled White Fang. Never had he seen
such a dog. It had no hair protection, bled easily,
and was soft all over.
Cherokee was puzzled by White Fang as well.
He had never come across a dog that stayed his
distance.
White Fang soon realized he couldn’t get the
soft underside of the throat. The bulldog stood
too short. Its massive jaws added protection.
As time passed, White Fang continued to
inflict damage to Cherokee and continued to
dodge his attacks. The bulldog still followed
him around.
Time and again, White Fang tried to knock
Cherokee off his feet. But the difference in their
height was too great. He tried to strike one too
many times. He finally sailed over Cherokee
and fell to the ground.
A gasp could be heard. The men had never
seen White Fang lose his footing. In the next
67
instant, White Fang was back on his feet, but
not before Cherokee’s jaws clamped down on
his neck.
White Fang shook violently and tried to
throw the bulldog off of him but had no luck.
Round and round White Fang went, abandoning
all reasoning. No matter how hard he tried to
shake the fifty pounds off of him, he couldn’t.
Cherokee was delighted with his grip and
even enjoyed the frantic way White Fang moved
through the air.
The only thing that stopped the frantic
movements was exhaustion. White Fang lay
down and tried to think of his next move. The
bulldog was determined to get White Fang on
his back. It only took him a minute before he
succeeded in doing so. As he did, his chewing
jaws worked faster and faster.
White Fang was having trouble breathing. It
looked as if the battle was over. Had he lost his
first fight?

68
 10
Death Is Near

Beauty Smith did not want to lose money on

this fight. He was angry. He took a step into the
ring and pointed his finger at White Fang. Then,
he began to tease White Fang and laugh at him.
Smith’s planned worked. It threw White
Fang into a rage. He stood once more, with
the bulldog’s teeth still in his neck. The teeth
inched toward his jugular vein.
White Fang tried to shake him off but only
fell once more. No matter how hard he tried to
rise again, he had no strength to do so.
Shouts went up. “Cherokee, Cherokee!” The
dog wagged his tail. Smith kicked White Fang.
“Get up, you beast. You lazy beast!”
White Fang did not move.

69
 In the distance came a jingling of bells. The
sound drew closer. Dog mushers!
The mushers stopped their dogs and joined
the crowd. They were curious as to what the
fuss was all about.
It was then that they saw an enraged Smith
kicking White Fang. The tall musher broke
through the crowd and smashed a blow on
Smith’s face.
“Cowards! All of you,” he said as he faced the
crowd. “You beasts!” He was in a rage himself.
Smith stood up and walked toward the man.
The man lifted his hands again and smashed
him over backward with a second blow.
“You beast,” he repeated. He called to his
friend, “Come help me, Matt. Lend a hand.”
Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took
hold of White Fang and was ready to pull when
Cherokee’s jaw tightened. As hard as they tried,
neither could loosen the grip.
“It’s no use, Mr. Scott. You can’t break them
apart,” Matt said at last.
70
 The pair paused to survey the dogs. “We ain’t
got much time,” said Matt. “He’s closing in on
the jugular.”
Cherokee wagged his tail while maintaining
the grip. His eyes never left his master.
“Won’t some of you help?” yelled Mr. Scott.
“We need help.”
No one came forward. Matt reached for his
revolver. “You’ll have to pry his mouth open
with this.” He tried to thrust its muzzle between
the dog’s jaws.
Keenan strode into the ring. “Don’t be
breaking any teeth. You break those teeth and
there will be trouble—more trouble than you’ll
be wantin’.”
“Then I’ll have to break his neck,” said Scott.
He stared at the man. “Is this your dog?”
The man grunted. He nodded.
“Then break his grip,” commanded Weedon
Scott. “Do it now.”

71
 Keenan stood back and didn’t reply. Finally,
Matt accomplished what he had set out to do
with the muzzle. The jaws were released.
Once the dogs were free, Keenan was ordered
to carry his dog away. Now the men turned their
attention toward White Fang. His eyes were
half closed. Matt approached him and listened.
“He’s still breathing, Mr. Scott.”
Smith walked toward the dog.
“Matt, how much is a good sled dog worth?”
asked Scott.
The dog musher thought for a moment.
“Three hundred dollars.”
Scott scratched his head. “And how much
for one that’s all chewed up like this one?”
“Half of that,” was the answer.
“Did you hear, Mr. Beast?” asked Scott. “I’m
taking your dog from you. I’m giving you $150
for him.” He opened his bag and started to
count out the bills.
Smith put his hands behind his back refusing
to touch the money. “I ain’t sellin’ him.”
72
 “Oh, yes you are,” said Scott. “You have no
choice.” He sprang toward Smith.
“I’ve got my rights,” said Smith as he cowered.
“You can’t take my rights away from me.”
“You gave up those rights,” said Scott. He
stood there with the money in his clenched fist.
“Are you taking the money, or do I have to slug
you again?”
“Oh, all right,” sighed Smith. “But he’s worth
a mint. A man’s got rights, you know.”
“Correct,” said Scott, passing the money to
him. “But you’re not a man. You’re a beast,
plain and simple. You got no rights.”
“Wait till I get back to Dawson,” threatened
Smith. “I’ll have the law on you. Both of you!”
“You do that,” said Scott, “and I promise you
that I’ll run you out of every town you step
foot in.”
With that, he turned his attention to White
Fang. And Scott, a man of great importance,
meant every word he said.

73
 11
A Show of Kindness

“It’s hopeless,” Weedon Scott confessed. He

sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog
musher. “Not much we can do.”
“Yep, hopeless,” Matt agreed.
Together they looked at White Fang at the
end of his chain. He was snarling and straining
to get at the sled dogs.
“It’s a wild one and there’s no taming it,”
Scott announced.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Matt.
“Might be a lot of dog in him for all you can tell.
But there’s one think I know for sure. Wolf or
dog, he’s been tamed already. I’m sure of it.”
Scott didn’t believe it.
“It’s true,” said Matt. “Look at those marks
across his chest. He’s had a harness on him.”
74
 Scott was surprised. “You’re right, Matt. Must
have been a sled dog before Smith got ahold
of him. Think he can be a sled dog again?” he
asked eagerly. Then he shook his head. “We’ve
had him two weeks already. If anything, he’s
wilder than ever.”
“Give him a chance and turn him loose for
a bit,” said Matt. “You tried before but did it
without a club.”
“You try it then,” said Scott.
Matt grabbed a club and approached White
Fang.
“Look at him keeping his eye on that club,”
said Matt. “That’s a good sign. He’s no fool.”
Matt unhooked the chain from White Fang’s
collar and stood back.
White Fang couldn’t believe he was free!
Many months had passed by since he was passed
on to Smith. In all that time, he had never known
freedom. He didn’t know what to make of it.
He walked slowly and cautiously, never
taking his eyes off of the white gods. He walked
75
quietly to the corner of the cabin and waited.
Nothing happened.
“Won’t he run away?” Scott asked. “He might
take off any minute.”
Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Got to take a
gamble. Only way to find out is to find out.”
“Poor devil,” Scott muttered. “What he needs
is some show of human kindness.”
He reached into a bucket and pulled out a
piece of meat. He tossed it to White Fang.

76
 White Fang sprang away from it and studied
it from a distance. Another dog, Major, made a
dash for the meat. As his jaws clamped down
on it, White Fang struck. Before Matt could step
in, the snow was covered with Major’s blood.
“That’s too bad, but it served him right,” said
Scott.
Matt’s foot was already in midair to kick
White Fang. White Fang sprang into action and
tore at Matt’s leg.
Matt let out a cry of pain. “He got me all
right,” said Matt, examining his leg.
Scott withdrew his revolver. “We have no
choice. It’s the right thing to do.”
Matt objected. “Look here, Mr. Scott. That
dog’s been through the toughest of times. Let’s
give him time.” He rubbed his leg. “Serves me
right. I had no right to kick him. I would have
bit me, too.”
“He’s untamable,” insisted Scott. “No way
can we tame an animal like that.”

77
 Matt protested. “No one’s given him a chance
yet. We just turned him loose.”
“God knows I don’t want to kill him,” said
Scott. He put the gun away. “Let’s let him run
loose and see if kindness can work for him.” He
walked over to White Fang and began talking to
him in a soothing way.
“Better have a club ready,” warned Matt.
“Don’t get too close without one.”
Scott shook his head and went on trying to
win White Fang’s confidence.
White Fang was suspicious. He waited for a
beating. After all, he had just killed this god’s
dog and bitten the other god’s leg. He was
confused as to why this man carried no club.
He didn’t trust him.
Scott’s hand drew closer. White Fang
crouched and showed his teeth. Although Scott
was quick to withdraw his hand, White Fang
was quicker. His jaws snapped and Scott fell
backward holding his torn hand.

78
 White Fang bristled and backed away. Surely
now he would be beaten.
Matt rushed into the cabin and came back
with a rifle. “This has got to be done.”
Just as Matt had pleaded for White Fang’s
safety when he was bitten, now it was Scott’s
time to beg for mercy.
“You said to give him a chance. Let’s give it to
him. We can’t quit yet,” said Scott. He pointed
to White Fang. “Look at him! He’s not snarling
at us. He’s looking at the rifle. He knows the
rifle.”
The dog musher threw down his rifle. “You’re
right, he’s too intelligent to kill.”

79
 12
A Bond Grows

The next day, Scott walked outside the cabin

and sat down several feet away from White Fang.
His hand was bandaged. White Fang bristled
and snarled at the sight of him. He was certain
he would receive a delayed beating.
White Fang didn’t see a club, a whip, or a
firearm. He was confused. Why was he free?
Where were the chains to bind him? He decided
to wait and see what would happen next.
The god remained quiet. White Fang’s snarl
slowly dwindled to a growl and then stopped
altogether.
Then the god spoke. This caused the hair on
White Fang’s neck to rise. But the god didn’t
get up. He simply continued talking in a calm

80
way. He spoke to White Fang as no one had
done before. He talked softly and soothingly.
There was a sweet gentleness in his voice.
In spite of his instincts, White Fang began to
have confidence in this god. He felt, for the first
time, a sense of security.
After a while, the god went back into the
cabin. When he returned, White Fang was
surprised that he still had no club or weapon.
He sat down in the same spot and continued
to speak gently as he held out a piece of meat.
White Fang wouldn’t move closer, for he knew
these gods were smart. What if they still meant
to harm him?
The man finally tossed the meat on the snow
at White Fang’s feet. While keeping his eyes
on the god, he moved forward and smelled the
meat. Nothing happened. He ate the meat.
Still nothing happened.
The god then offered another piece of meat
and tossed it to White Fang once again. This

81
was repeated several times. But there came a
time when the white god refused to toss it. He
held it in his hand and offered it out.
The meat was good and White Fang was
hungry. Slowly, he approached the man. Piece
by piece, he ate the meat and nothing happened!
Was the punishment just being delayed?
He licked his chops and waited. The god
went on talking. In his voice was kindness.
Kindness was something White Fang had never
encountered.
Soon, the god’s hands gently touched his
head. White Fang was used to the strong force
of a hand. But this time, it was different. White
Fang growled a warning to let the god know he
was ready to strike if the hand started to strike.
The hand lifted and lowered again and again.
As the god did this, he spoke in soft whispers.
White Fang was confused, for he had never
known the sweet touch of man. This touch was
pleasurable, especially when the man rubbed
his ears.
82
 This was the beginning of the end for White
Fang. The ending of his old life full of hate. The
beginning of a new life filled with love. But this
love did not come in one day. It started with
like, and from it love slowly developed.
White Fang liked this new god who let him
remain free. This was far better than the life he
had with Smith. And it was a different life than
he had with Gray Beaver.
White Fang needed a god to protect, and this
god was a fair and just god. So he remained. He
took it upon himself to guard the property. As
the dogs slept, he prowled the cabin, waiting to
attack anyone who didn’t belong.
It didn’t take too long for White Fang’s love
to grow. Seeing his god each day filled him
with joy. Despite knowing he loved this god,
he didn’t know how to show it. He knew how
to show his anger and hatred. The only way to
show his love was to keep his eyes on his god at
all times.

83
 White Fang grew to love his life. He left the
other dogs alone and tolerated Matt because
he was his god’s friend. Because of his size and
strength, he became the lead sled dog on the
team.
In the spring, great trouble came to White
Fang. Without warning, his master disappeared.
White Fang waited in the snow for his return.
He wouldn’t work or eat. He just laid around
the cabin floor, lifeless and longing for his master.
Matt was so concerned, he wrote Scott a letter.
Several weeks later, White Fang sprang to
his feet. His ears cocked toward the door. A
moment later, the door opened and Weedon
Scott walked inside.
White Fang’s soft growl rose from his throat
as Scott knelt down and rubbed his ears. But
something was wrong. White Fang was bothered
that he could not show his love. Suddenly, he
thrust his head between his master’s arm and
body.

84
85
 “Look at that!” said Matt. “That wolf really
is a dog!”
With his master at his side, White Fang
recovered quickly and was his old self in no
time. A few nights later, Matt and Scott were
awoken by a commotion outside. Matt grabbed
the lantern and they ran outside.
“I think that wolf mauled someone.”
Holding the lamp high, they found a man
lying in the snow. His arms were folded across
his face and throat. He was trying to shield
himself from White Fang’s teeth.
Scott pulled White Fang off of the man.
Although snarling and growling, White Fang
stood still and did not disobey his master.
Matt helped the man to his feet. It was
Beauty Smith! Next to his feet were a chain
and a club. He had come to steal White Fang!
Without another word, Scott turned Smith
around and pushed him in the direction from
which he came. It was the last they ever saw of
that coward.
86
 13
Journey on a Steamer

Something was in the air. White Fang

sensed change was coming. Although he rarely
went inside the cabin, he knew something was
happening inside. He had heard the noises.
“Listen to that,” said Matt one night. “That’s
one sad wolf.”
Scott listened. Through the door came a low,
anxious whine, like a sobbing.
“I do believe the wolf’s onto you. He
senses you’re leaving,” said Matt. “He’s already
mourning his loss.”
“I can’t take a wolf to California,” said Scott.
“Simple as that. He’d kill the dogs on sight.
He’d bankrupt me with lawsuits. In the end,
they would take him away from me.” He looked

87
out the window and searched for White Fang’s
shadow. “It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Soon after, the fateful day came when White
Fang saw the bag next to the open door. His
master was shoving something into it. His god,
he knew, was preparing for another trip. He was
going to be left behind once more!
That night, he let out the long wolf-howl.
He pointed his muzzle to the cold stars and told
them of his woe. He had never felt such sorrow.
Inside the cabin, the men were getting ready
for bed.
“He’s not eating again,” said Matt. “Won’t eat
a bite of meat. He won’t make it this time. He
loves you too much to have you leave him. He’s
gonna die.”
Scott pulled the blankets around his head.
“Shut up! Do you think I want to leave him? I
don’t have a choice.”
Neither Scott nor White Fang slept that night.
The next day, two Indians arrived to take the
bags down to the steamer on the Yukon River
88
with Matt. White Fang didn’t follow, for he
knew his master was still inside the cabin.
When Matt returned, Scott came to the door
and looked at White Fang. He rubbed his ears
and spoke lovingly. “This is it. The time to say
good-bye. I must travel to a land where you
cannot follow. Give me a growl so I can be on
my way.”
White Fang refused to growl. Instead, after
a searching look, he burrowed his head out of
sight between his master’s arm and body.
“There she blows,” cried Matt. From the
Yukon rose the hoarse bellowing of a river
steamboat. “Finish your good-byes. You got to
get moving.”
Scott knew that White Fang wouldn’t allow
him to pass. So while Matt distracted him, he
snuck out the back door.
A minute later, Matt rushed out the front and
locked the door behind him. From inside, a low
whining and sobbing could be heard.

89
 “Take good care of him, Matt. Write me
often and let me know how he’s getting along.”
Matt turned toward the cabin. “Listen to
that, will you?” White Fang was howling the
way dogs do when their masters lie dead. “He’ll
never make it without you here.”
The Aurora’s decks were packed with failed
gold seekers. Near the gangplank, Scott and
Matt shook hands as Matt prepared to go to
shore. But Matt’s hand went limp. He gazed
past Scott and fixated on something behind
him. Scott turned to see. Sitting on the deck
several feet away was White Fang.
Scott smiled. “Did you lock the door?”
Matt nodded. Then Scott called to White
Fang. White Fang was by his master’s side in a
flash.
Matt rubbed White Fang’s belly. “We
plumb forgot about the window. He’s all cut
underneath.”
But Scott wasn’t listening. He had to think
fast. A million thoughts flooded his mind.
90
The Aurora’s whistle hooted one final time,
announcing the departure. Men scurried down
the gangplank to the shore. Matt loosened the
bandana from his own neck and started to put
it around White Fang’s. Scott grabbed his hand.
“Good-bye, Matt. About the wolf, you
needn’t write. I’ll be writing to you about him!”
Matt paused halfway down the gangplank
and shook his head. “He’ll never understand the
climate.”
Scott had a smile on his face as he waved
one final good-bye to Matt. The gangplank was
hauled in, and the Aurora swung out from the
bank. Scott turned and bent over White Fang.
“Now growl,” he said, as he smiled and rubbed
White Fang’s ears.
And White Fang did.

91
 14
The Southland

When White Fang stepped off of the steamer,

he was in awe of his surroundings. The log cabins
were replaced by tall buildings. The streets
were full of dangers: wagons, carts, automobiles,
horses, and monstrous cable and electric cars.
They hooted and clanged through it all.
This was power. And the power responsible
for it all was the man-gods. White Fang felt like
a young cub once more. He was fearful and
made to feel small and helpless.
He looked around and couldn’t believe how
many gods there were here! He needed his
master more than ever to help him now. To
protect him from these new sights.
White Fang’s uneasy feeling didn’t last long.
He was led to a baggage car and chained in a
92
corner in the midst of trunks and suitcases. It
was here that White Fang was deserted by his
master. Or at least he thought he was until he
smelled the man’s scent on the bags next to him.
An hour later, the car’s door slid open. There
was his master! Outside, the city was gone.
Before him was a smiling countryside, streaming
with sunshine. It was peaceful. A type of Wild
that he could survive in.
There was a carriage waiting. A man and
woman approached his master. The woman’s
hands reached out and clutched his master
around the neck. A hostile act in the eyes of
White Fang! Weedon Scott had to tear himself
free of his mother’s arms to calm down a raging
White Fang.
“It’s all right, Mother,” Scott said as he held
White Fang in place. “He thought you were
going to harm me. He wouldn’t allow it.” He
rubbed White Fang’s ears. “He’ll learn soon
enough. I can promise you that.”

93
 His mother laughed. “In the meantime, I will
love my son from afar when his dog is around.
No more hugs.”
Scott looked into White Fang’s eyes. “Down
with you.” Immediately, White Fang rested. It
was his way to obey his master.
“You can hug me now,” said Scott. “He won’t
bother you again.”
Judge Scott inched forward to embrace his
son. This time, White Fang didn’t react.
After everything was loaded into the carriage,
they were off. White Fang ran alongside the
horses and continued to snarl at them to warn
them to be careful with his master.
Fifteen minutes later, the carriage arrived at
the home of Judge Scott and his wife. Almost
immediately, a sheepdog appeared before White
Fang. White Fang’s instincts told him to attack.
But when he saw that the dog was a female, he
knew he could not.
The sheepdog didn’t know of that instinct.
She only knew of the instinct to attack wolves,
94
since they had attacked her kind since the
beginning of time. As White Fang tried to
approach the house, Collie blocked him. White
Fang had no choice but to knock her to the
ground to escape her.
The next moment, he met Dick. Dick saw
White Fang as a stranger and would do anything
to protect his master. Before White Fang could
see this dog, Dick barreled into him and caused
him to tumble over. When White Fang got up,
Collie knocked him off his feet once again.
Scott rushed over to help White Fang. With
one hand, he held White Fang while Judge Scott
called off Collie and Dick.
“I must say, this is a pretty warm reception
for a poor wolf from the Arctic,” said Scott.
White Fang calmed down under the caressing
hand. “In all his life, he’s only been known to go
off his feet once, and here he’s been rolled twice
in thirty seconds.”
It would be the last time another animal
knocked him off of his feet.
95
 15
The God’s Domain

White Fang quickly made himself at home

at Judge Scott’s place. He had no more trouble
with the dogs. They obeyed their gods and must
have decided that if their god allowed the beast
inside, they had to accept it.
Dick was the first to accept White Fang. If
he had his way, they would have become good
friends. But White Fang did not want friendship.
He just wanted all the dogs to leave him alone.
For a time, Dick tried to play with him, but
eventually, White Fang’s snarls were obeyed.
Dick finally gave up and didn’t pay much
attention to him after a while.
Not so with Collie. While she accepted him
because the gods said so, she saw no reason why
she should leave him in peace.
96
 Woven into Collie’s being was the memory of
countless crimes he and his kind had committed
against her kind. The ravaged sheepfold would
not be forgotten! She wanted to retaliate. She
knew she couldn’t go against the god’s wishes,
but she planned to make life miserable for White
Fang. A feud, many ages old, was between them.
She would see that she paid him back for all the
ill his kind had created.
White Fang came to understand his master’s
family. Gray Beaver had Kloo-kooch and
Mit-sah. He understood that his master had
possessions as well. In this house, there were
many such possessions including the master’s
children, Weedon and Maud.
White Fang did not like children. He hated
and feared their hands. He couldn’t forget the
cruel taunting that came from their mouths
back at camp. But Weedon and Maud were
loved by his master. So, White Fang knew he
must protect them.

97
 Although it took a while, he grew to love
them and welcomed their hands on his body.
Although he allowed the members of the family
to pet him, he never would give the special love
croon to anyone but his master. He also refused
to snuggle against them. That was reserved for
his master and his master only.
There was much to learn outside of the
master’s house. He was used to the laws of the
98
North. In the North, all animals could be eaten.
It was a matter of survival. He did not know
that it was different here in the South.
Following his natural instincts, he ate a chicken
that he came upon one morning. It had escaped
from its coop and was an easy target. Later that
day, he saw another chicken by the stables. As
he was about to pounce on the animal, a stable
hand came running with a whip. He lashed
out at White Fang. White Fang, following his
instincts, attacked the man and sunk his teeth
into his arm.
Collie was watching this unfold and rushed
into the yard to protect the man. Collie was
relentless in her attack on White Fang. She was
so fierce, she forced him to run off into some
woods in the distance.
When Scott heard of the attacks, he knew he
had to teach White Fang that the chickens were
not his for the taking. But to teach White Fang
this, he knew he’d have to catch him in the act.

99
 Two nights later, White Fang’s lesson was
about to begin. He snuck into a coop that
held fifty white Leghorn chickens. When Scott
saw the slaughter the next morning, he called
to White Fang. White Fang was unaware that
there was anything wrong.
Scott spoke to White Fang in a harsh voice.
This scared White Fang. Then Scott shoved
White Fang’s nose against the dead chickens
and smacked him. He then led White Fang into
a yard where chickens roamed free. As soon as
White Fang was ready to pounce on one, Scott
firmly commanded White Fang to stop.
When the judge heard of the story, he was
angry. “You can never cure chicken-killers once
they get a taste of blood.”
But Scott knew his father was wrong. He
devised a plan. “Father, I know White Fang. He
has learned his lesson. To prove it, I’ll lock him
in the coop with the chickens for the afternoon.
For every chicken he kills, I will pay you a gold

100
coin. But for every ten minutes he spends inside
without harming any, you must admit he’s the
smartest dog around. You must say, ‘White Fang,
you are smarter than I thought.’”
A deal was struck.
All afternoon, the family spied on White Fang
to see what he would do. The very first thing he
did? Take a nap! After he woke up, he walked
around the pen minding his own business.
Later that evening, to Scott’s delight, the
judge sat rocking in a chair and told White Fang
what a smart dog he was!
That was just one of many lessons that White
Fang learned. He soon knew that the meat
hanging from the hooks in the butcher’s market
was off limits to him. Attacking dogs and cats
that belonged to gods was off limits, too.
He had to accept that some strangers would
want to touch and pet him. When they did, he
learned that he wasn’t allowed to snap at them
or show his teeth.

101
 One day, he passed a saloon where three dogs
rushed up to attack him. They had done this
several times in the past, at the encouragement
of their owners. This time, Scott lost his patience.
He stopped the carriage and spoke to White
Fang. “Go get them, old fellow.”
White Fang was surprised! He had been tame
for too long. Scott repeated his orders. “Go get
them! Eat them up!”
White Fang jumped out of the wagon and
attacked the dogs. Within minutes, two of the
dogs lay dead. The third ran off whimpering.
That was the last day any dogs attacked White
Fang. Word spread about the Fighting Wolf, and
all the gods knew it was wise to leave him alone.

102
 16
The Reward of a Hero

The months came and went. White Fang

was happier than he had ever been. And yet, he
remained somehow different from other dogs.
The Wild still lingered in him, and the wolf
merely slept.
He never played with other dogs. Lonely
he had lived, and as far as the other dogs were
concerned, he would remain that way.
All the dogs looked upon him with suspicion.
He aroused their instinctive fear of the Wild.
Therefore, they always greeted him with a
growl. He ignored them and no longer bothered
to show his teeth at them or return the growls.
But there was still one annoyance in White
Fang’s life—Collie. Despite Scott’s efforts to
coax her into a friendship with White Fang,
103
she refused. She had never forgiven him for
the chicken coop incident. Since that day, she
became a pest to him.
Anytime White Fang was near an animal on
the farm, Collie would yap and force him away.
He grew tired of her ways and tried his best to
ignore her. His favorite way of ignoring her was
to lie down and pretend to sleep.
One of White Fang’s duties was to
accompany his master as he went out on
horseback. He loved this time to run free
beside his master.
One day, a jackrabbit darted out in front of
the horse’s feet. The horse stumbled and Scott
sailed through the air. When he landed on the
ground, his leg was broken. Although he tried
to get up, Scott could not get back home.
“Home!” said Scott to White Fang. “Go home
and get help.”
White Fang didn’t want to leave his master.
“It will be okay,” said Scott. “You must go
home and get help. Tell them what happened.”
104
 White Fang knew the meaning of home. He
just didn’t understand the rest of the message.
He turned and trotted away reluctantly. Then
he stopped and stared back over his shoulder.
He didn’t want to abandon his master.
“Go home,” cried a sharp voice.
This time, White Fang obeyed. When he
arrived home, the family was on the porch
taking in the cool afternoon.
“Looks like Weedon is home,” said Judge
Scott. He scanned the yard before him for a
sign of his son.
The children welcomed White Fang back
with cries of delight. White Fang growled at
them. He flashed his fangs. This frightened
everyone.
“He’s making me nervous,” said their mother.
She stood up but quickly sat down as White
Fang approached her. He started to nudge her
to her feet and bit the corner of her skirt.
“A wolf will always be a wolf,” said Judge
Scott. But he didn’t finish his thoughts.
105
106
 The growling became fiercer. White Fang
seized the woman’s dress and started to drag her
until the fabric tore away.
Then the judge spoke. “I believe he’s trying
to speak. Something is wrong!’
At once, they were all on their feet, following
White Fang. He led them through the woods to
where his master lay.
White Fang became a hero that day.
Even Collie seemed to sense he was a hero.
She became playful with White Fang. He soon
forgot how she had made such trouble for him
in the past.
One day, she led him off on a long chase into
the woods. White Fang knew he was supposed
to accompany his master as he rode that day.
But his instincts overcame him, and he felt
compelled to go with Collie.
They played and romped in the woods
throughout the day. By evening, they lay side by
side and thought about the children that would
be theirs someday.
107
 17
The Sleeping Wolf

It was about this time that a man, Jim Hall,

made a daring escape from San Quentin Prison.
He was a terrible man. He was in jail for murder.
During his escape, he killed three guards and
took their weapons.
The newspapers had many stories about
Hall. A reward was offered for his capture. Men
promised to hunt him down.
At Sierra Vista, the fear was real. For Judge
Scott was the one who had sentenced Hall to
fifty years in prison for the murder.
When Hall heard the verdict, he vowed to
one day seek his revenge on Judge Scott and his
family. Although Judge Scott wasn’t afraid, his
wife was very much so.

108
 White Fang knew nothing of this. However,
he did know that a secret was born between
the judge’s wife and himself. Each night, after
everyone had gone to bed, she arose and led
White Fang into the house.
Now, White Fang was not a house dog and
was never permitted to sleep inside. But with
the news of the daring escape, Alice thought it
best to let White Fang sleep in the hall. Before
the sun rose, she would once again go downstairs
and lead White Fang back outside.
On one such night, while everyone slept,
White Fang awoke. He smelled a strange god’s
presence. His ears heard the strange god’s
movements. White Fang followed the man. He
had learned the advantage of a surprise attack
long ago.
The strange god paused at the foot of the
great staircase. White Fang knew that everything
his master loved was up that staircase. As
the stranger’s foot started to rise, White Fang
attacked.
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 He gave no warning. Into the air he jumped.
He lifted the stranger’s body and forced him to
land on his back. He buried his fangs in the
man’s neck.
Sierra Vista awoke in alarm to the sound of
shots. It sounded like a battle was raging on
downstairs. But almost as quickly as it started,
the fighting stopped. The struggle had not lasted
more than three minutes. Everyone gathered at
the top of the staircase.
Weedon Scott pressed a button and the
staircase and hallway flooded with light. Judge
Scott and Weedon cautiously descended the
steps. Carefully, they turned the body over to
reveal the stranger’s face! It was Jim Hall!
White Fang had protected his family. Hall
was dead. But, White Fang was near death
himself.
“I don’t think he’ll make it,” said the doctor
that was called to help. “He has three bullet
wounds, a broken leg, and three broken ribs. He

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has one chance in a thousand to make it.” Then
he gently rubbed White Fang’s head. “More like
one chance in ten thousand.”
“Never mind the expense,” said Judge Scott.
“He saved my life and now I must save his.”
White Fang had come straight from the Wild.
He was strong. A survivor. With the love and
help of the family, White Fang was nursed back
to health. It was a miracle!
The day came when the last bandage was
removed from White Fang.
“He must learn to walk again,” said the
doctor. “Now is as good a time as ever. Take
him outside.”
And outside he went, like a king, with all of
Sierra Vista about him and tending to his every
need. He was so weak when he reached the
lawn, he had to rest.
After a while, he was able to get back up and
inch forward toward the stables. In the doorway,
he saw Collie with six pudgy puppies playing
about her in the sun.
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 White Fang looked at them with a wondering
eye. A puppy romped forward and looked at
White Fang. Their noses touched. White Fang
felt the warm tongue of the puppy on his chin.
White Fang licked the puppy back. The other
puppies came forward to meet their father.
They tumbled over him and nipped as his nose.
White Fang closed his eyes and soaked
up the healing sun and the loving family that
surrounded him.

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