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- Джек Лондон
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Women
and
children
were
carrying
more
sticks
and
branches
to
Grey
Beaver
.
It
was
evidently
an
affair
of
moment
.
White
Fang
came
in
until
he
touched
Grey
Beaver
's
knee
,
so
curious
was
he
,
and
already
forgetful
that
this
was
a
terrible
man-animal
.
Suddenly
he
saw
a
strange
thing
like
mist
beginning
to
arise
from
the
sticks
and
moss
beneath
Grey
Beaver
's
hands
.
Then
,
amongst
the
sticks
themselves
,
appeared
a
live
thing
,
twisting
and
turning
,
of
a
colour
like
the
colour
of
the
sun
in
the
sky
.
White
Fang
knew
nothing
about
fire
.
It
drew
him
as
the
light
,
in
the
mouth
of
the
cave
had
drawn
him
in
his
early
puppyhood
.
He
crawled
the
several
steps
toward
the
flame
.
He
heard
Grey
Beaver
chuckle
above
him
,
and
he
knew
the
sound
was
not
hostile
.
Then
his
nose
touched
the
flame
,
and
at
the
same
instant
his
little
tongue
went
out
to
it
.
For
a
moment
he
was
paralysed
.
The
unknown
,
lurking
in
the
midst
of
the
sticks
and
moss
,
was
savagely
clutching
him
by
the
nose
.
He
scrambled
backward
,
bursting
out
in
an
astonished
explosion
of
ki-yi
's
.
At
the
sound
,
Kiche
leaped
snarling
to
the
end
of
her
stick
,
and
there
raged
terribly
because
she
could
not
come
to
his
aid
.
But
Grey
Beaver
laughed
loudly
,
and
slapped
his
thighs
,
and
told
the
happening
to
all
the
rest
of
the
camp
,
till
everybody
was
laughing
uproariously
.
But
White
Fang
sat
on
his
haunches
and
ki-yi
'd
and
ki-yi
'd
,
a
forlorn
and
pitiable
little
figure
in
the
midst
of
the
man-animals
.
It
was
the
worst
hurt
he
had
ever
known
.
Both
nose
and
tongue
had
been
scorched
by
the
live
thing
,
sun-coloured
,
that
had
grown
up
under
Grey
Beaver
's
hands
.
He
cried
and
cried
interminably
,
and
every
fresh
wail
was
greeted
by
bursts
of
laughter
on
the
part
of
the
man-animals
.
He
tried
to
soothe
his
nose
with
his
tongue
,
but
the
tongue
was
burnt
too
,
and
the
two
hurts
coming
together
produced
greater
hurt
;
whereupon
he
cried
more
hopelessly
and
helplessly
than
ever
.
And
then
shame
came
to
him
.
He
knew
laughter
and
the
meaning
of
it
.
It
is
not
given
us
to
know
how
some
animals
know
laughter
,
and
know
when
they
are
being
laughed
at
;
but
it
was
this
same
way
that
White
Fang
knew
it
.
And
he
felt
shame
that
the
man-animals
should
be
laughing
at
him
.
He
turned
and
fled
away
,
not
from
the
hurt
of
the
fire
,
but
from
the
laughter
that
sank
even
deeper
,
and
hurt
in
the
spirit
of
him
.
And
he
fled
to
Kiche
,
raging
at
the
end
of
her
stick
like
an
animal
gone
mad
--
to
Kiche
,
the
one
creature
in
the
world
who
was
not
laughing
at
him
.
Twilight
drew
down
and
night
came
on
,
and
White
Fang
lay
by
his
mother
's
side
.
His
nose
and
tongue
still
hurt
,
but
he
was
perplexed
by
a
greater
trouble
.
He
was
homesick
.
He
felt
a
vacancy
in
him
,
a
need
for
the
hush
and
quietude
of
the
stream
and
the
cave
in
the
cliff
.
Life
had
become
too
populous
.
There
were
so
many
of
the
man-animals
,
men
,
women
,
and
children
,
all
making
noises
and
irritations
.
And
there
were
the
dogs
,
ever
squabbling
and
bickering
,
bursting
into
uproars
and
creating
confusions
.
The
restful
loneliness
of
the
only
life
he
had
known
was
gone
.
Here
the
very
air
was
palpitant
with
life
.
It
hummed
and
buzzed
unceasingly
.
Continually
changing
its
intensity
and
abruptly
variant
in
pitch
,
it
impinged
on
his
nerves
and
senses
,
made
him
nervous
and
restless
and
worried
him
with
a
perpetual
imminence
of
happening
.
He
watched
the
man-animals
coming
and
going
and
moving
about
the
camp
.
In
fashion
distantly
resembling
the
way
men
look
upon
the
gods
they
create
,
so
looked
White
Fang
upon
the
man-animals
before
him
.
They
were
superior
creatures
,
of
a
verity
,
gods
.
To
his
dim
comprehension
they
were
as
much
wonder-workers
as
gods
are
to
men
.
They
were
creatures
of
mastery
,
possessing
all
manner
of
unknown
and
impossible
potencies
,
overlords
of
the
alive
and
the
not
alive
--
making
obey
that
which
moved
,
imparting
movement
to
that
which
did
not
move
,
and
making
life
,
sun-coloured
and
biting
life
,
to
grow
out
of
dead
moss
and
wood
.
They
were
fire-makers
!
They
were
gods
.
The
days
were
thronged
with
experience
for
White
Fang
.
During
the
time
that
Kiche
was
tied
by
the
stick
,
he
ran
about
over
all
the
camp
,
inquiring
,
investigating
,
learning
.
He
quickly
came
to
know
much
of
the
ways
of
the
man-animals
,
but
familiarity
did
not
breed
contempt
.
The
more
he
came
to
know
them
,
the
more
they
vindicated
their
superiority
,
the
more
they
displayed
their
mysterious
powers
,
the
greater
loomed
their
god-likeness
.
To
man
has
been
given
the
grief
,
often
,
of
seeing
his
gods
overthrown
and
his
altars
crumbling
;
but
to
the
wolf
and
the
wild
dog
that
have
come
in
to
crouch
at
man
's
feet
,
this
grief
has
never
come
.
Unlike
man
,
whose
gods
are
of
the
unseen
and
the
overguessed
,
vapours
and
mists
of
fancy
eluding
the
garmenture
of
reality
,
wandering
wraiths
of
desired
goodness
and
power
,
intangible
out-croppings
of
self
into
the
realm
of
spirit
--
unlike
man
,
the
wolf
and
the
wild
dog
that
have
come
in
to
the
fire
find
their
gods
in
the
living
flesh
,
solid
to
the
touch
,
occupying
earth-space
and
requiring
time
for
the
accomplishment
of
their
ends
and
their
existence
.
No
effort
of
faith
is
necessary
to
believe
in
such
a
god
;
no
effort
of
will
can
possibly
induce
disbelief
in
such
a
god
.
There
is
no
getting
away
from
it
.
There
it
stands
,
on
its
two
hind-legs
,
club
in
hand
,
immensely
potential
,
passionate
and
wrathful
and
loving
,
god
and
mystery
and
power
all
wrapped
up
and
around
by
flesh
that
bleeds
when
it
is
torn
and
that
is
good
to
eat
like
any
flesh
.
