Doc 2
THE WOLF PACK
The land was enormous, white with snow. A vast silence reigned over it.
The land itself was a desolation, it was lifeless. The silence was broken by
the sounds and movements of life – of sled dogs breathing and men
calling to the dogs. The dogs were pulling a sled over the ice and frozen
snow.
When the far north-west of Canada freezes, cruel hunger controls the
land and everything that lives and grows there. The strong and the clever
live, the weak die.
An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to
fade, when a faint far cry arose on the still air. The two men looked at each other across the
sled, but said nothing. Then, they heard a second cry, and a third, from all around.
"They're after us, Bill." said the man at the front of the sled. His voice sounded hoarse and
unreal.
Bill didn’t reply, except to crack his whip over the heads of the tired dogs. All the rest of that
day the cries came closer and closer.
At the fall of darkness, the men tied up the dogs by some trees and built a large fire. Bill
threw food to the dogs while the other man, Henry, heated the coffee and cooked bacon on
the fire. Bill looked across at Henry and asked him curiously, “How many dogs have we got,
Henry?
"Six."
"You counted wrong."
"You know we’ve got six dogs, there’s one Eat, and Fatty and …. But why are you asking?”
“Because I’m sure I saw seven pairs of eyes just now, when I threw them the meat.”
“It’s only your imagination”, said Henry.
But Bill was thoughtful as he went to sleep that night, surrounded by the cries of the wolves.
In the morning, he asked Henry the same question: “Did you say we had six dogs?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there are only five now. Fatty’s gone, Bill answered gravely.”
Adapted from White Fang, by Jack
London