第 35 节
作者:摄氏0度      更新:2022-11-23 12:12      字数:9322
  the space of ten seconds was free。 He had wasted no time with his teeth。
  There had been no useless gnawing。 The thong was cut across; diagonally;
  almost as clean as though done by a knife。 White Fang looked up at the
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  fort; at the same time bristling and growling。 Then he turned and trotted
  back   to   Grey  Beaver's   camp。   He   owed   no   allegiance to this   strange   and
  terrible god。 He had given himself to Grey Beaver; and to Grey Beaver he
  considered he still belonged。
  But what had occurred before was repeated … with a difference。 Grey
  Beaver again made him fast with a thong; and in the morning turned him
  over to Beauty Smith。 And here was where the difference came in。 Beauty
  Smith   gave   him   a   beating。   Tied   securely;   White   Fang   could   only   rage
  futilely and endure the punishment。 Club and whip were both used upon
  him; and he experienced the worst beating he had ever received in his life。
  Even   the   big   beating   given   him   in   his   puppyhood   by   Grey   Beaver   was
  mild compared with this。
  Beauty Smith enjoyed the task。 He delighted in it。 He gloated over his
  victim;   and   his   eyes   flamed   dully;   as   he   swung   the   whip   or   club   and
  listened   to   White   Fang's   cries   of   pain   and   to   his   helpless   bellows   and
  snarls。   For   Beauty   Smith   was   cruel   in   the   way   that   cowards   are   cruel。
  Cringing and snivelling himself before the blows or angry speech of a man;
  he revenged himself; in turn; upon creatures weaker than he。 All life likes
  power;   and   Beauty   Smith   was   no   exception。   Denied   the   expression   of
  power amongst his own kind; he fell back upon the lesser creatures   and
  there vindicated the life that was in him。 But Beauty Smith had not created
  himself; and no blame was to be attached to him。 He had come into the
  world with a twisted   body and a brute  intelligence。 This had   constituted
  the clay of him; and it had not been kindly moulded by the world。
  White Fang knew why he was being beaten。 When Grey Beaver tied
  the thong   around his   neck;  and   passed the  end of   the  thong   into   Beauty
  Smith's keeping; White Fang knew that it was his god's will for him to go
  with Beauty Smith。 And when Beauty Smith left him tied outside the fort;
  he   knew   that   it   was   Beauty   Smith's   will   that   he   should   remain   there。
  Therefore;   he   had   disobeyed   the   will   of   both   the   gods;   and   earned   the
  consequent punishment。 He had seen dogs change owners in the past; and
  he had seen the runaways beaten as he was being beaten。 He was wise; and
  yet   in   the   nature   of   him  there   were   forces   greater   than   wisdom。   One   of
  these was fidelity。 He did not love Grey Beaver; yet; even in the face of his
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  will   and   his   anger;   he   was   faithful   to   him。   He   could   not   help   it。   This
  faithfulness was a quality of the clay that composed him。 It was the quality
  that was peculiarly the possession of his kind; the quality that set apart his
  species from all other species; the quality that has enabled the wolf and the
  wild dog to come in from the open and be the companions of man。
  After the beating; White Fang was dragged back to the fort。 But this
  time Beauty Smith left him tied with a stick。 One does not give up a god
  easily; and so with White Fang。 Grey Beaver was his own particular god;
  and;   in   spite   of   Grey   Beaver's   will;   White   Fang   still   clung   to   him   and
  would not give him up。 Grey Beaver had betrayed and forsaken him; but
  that had no effect upon him。 Not for nothing had he surrendered himself
  body  and   soul to   Grey  Beaver。 There   had   been no   reservation on White
  Fang's part; and the bond was not to be broken easily。
  So;   in   the   night;   when   the   men   in   the   fort   were   asleep;  White   Fang
  applied his teeth to the stick that held him。 The wood was seasoned and
  dry; and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely get his
  teeth to it。 It was only by the severest muscular exertion and neck…arching
  that   he   succeeded     in  getting   the   wood    between     his   teeth;  and   barely
  between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise of an immense
  patience;   extending   through   many   hours;   that   he   succeeded   in   gnawing
  through the stick。 This was something that dogs were not supposed to do。
  It was unprecedented。 But White Fang did it; trotting away from the fort in
  the early morning; with the end of the stick hanging to his neck。
  He was wise。 But had he been merely  wise he would not have gone
  back to Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him。 But there was
  his faithfulness; and he went back to be betrayed yet a third time。 Again he
  yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck by Grey Beaver; and again
  Beauty Smith came to claim him。 And this time he was beaten even more
  severely than before。
  Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip。
  He gave  no   protection。  It   was no longer his   dog。 When   the  beating   was
  over White Fang was sick。 A soft southland dog would have died under it;
  but   not   he。   His   school   of   life   had   been   sterner;   and   he   was   himself   of
  sterner stuff。 He had too great vitality。 His clutch on life was too strong。
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  But he was very  sick。 At first he was unable to drag himself along;  and
  Beauty   Smith      had   to  wait   half…an…hour     for   him。   And    then;  blind   and
  reeling; he followed at Beauty Smith's heels back to the fort。
  But now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth; and he strove in
  vain;   by   lunging;   to   draw   the   staple   from   the   timber   into   which   it   was
  driven。 After a few days; sober and bankrupt; Grey Beaver departed up the
  Porcupine on his long journey to the Mackenzie。 White Fang remained on
  the Yukon; the property of a man more than half mad and all brute。 But
  what is a dog to know in its consciousness of madness? To White Fang;
  Beauty Smith was a veritable; if terrible; god。 He was a mad god at best;
  but   White   Fang   knew   nothing   of   madness;   he   knew   only   that   he   must
  submit to the will of this new master; obey his every whim and fancy。
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  CHAPTER III … THE REIGN OF HATE
  Under   the   tutelage   of   the   mad   god; White   Fang   became   a   fiend。   He
  was kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort; and here Beauty Smith
  teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments。 The man early
  discovered   White   Fang's   susceptibility   to   laughter;   and   made   it   a   point
  after painfully tricking him; to laugh at him。 This laughter was uproarious
  and scornful; and at the same time the god pointed his finger derisively at
  White     Fang。    At  such   times   reason    fled  from   White     Fang;   and   in  his
  transports of rage he was even more mad than Beauty Smith。
  Formerly; White Fang had been merely the enemy of his kind; withal a
  ferocious   enemy。      He   now    became     the  enemy     of  all  things;   and   more
  ferocious   than   ever。   To   such   an   extent   was   he   tormented;   that   he   hated
  blindly and without the faintest spark of reason。 He hated the chain that
  bound him; the men who peered in at him through the slats of the pen; the
  dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled malignantly at him in his
  helplessness。 He hated the very wood of the pen that confined him。 And;
  first; last; and most of all; he hated Beauty Smith。
  But Beauty Smith had a purpose in all that he did to White Fang。 One
  day a number of men gathered about the pen。 Beauty Smith entered; club
  in hand; and took the chain off from White Fang's neck。 When his master
  had gone out; White Fang turned loose and tore around the pen; trying to
  get   at   the   men   outside。  He   was   magnificently  terrible。   Fully  five   feet   in
  length;    and    standing    two    and   one…half    feet   at  the   shoulder;    he  far
  outweighed       a  wolf    of  corresponding       size。  From     his  mother     he  had
  inherited the heavier proportions of the dog; so that he weighed; without
  any fat and without an ounce of superfluous flesh; over ninety pounds。 It
  was all muscle; bone