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White Fang
Dark
spruce
forest
frowned
on
either
side
the
frozen
waterway
.
The
trees
had
been
stripped
by
a
recent
wind
of
their
white
covering
of
frost
,
and
they
seemed
to
lean
towards
each
other
,
black
and
ominous
,
in
the
fading
light
.
A
vast
silence
reigned
over
the
land
.
The
land
itself
was
a
desolation
,
lifeless
,
without
movement
,
so
lone
and
cold
that
the
spirit
of
it
was
not
even
that
of
sadness
.
There
was
a
hint
in
it
of
laughter
,
but
of
a
laughter
more
terrible
than
any
sadness
--
a
laughter
that
was
mirthless
as
the
smile
of
the
sphinx
,
a
laughter
cold
as
the
frost
and
partaking
of
the
grimness
of
infallibility
.
It
was
the
masterful
and
incommunicable
wisdom
of
eternity
laughing
at
the
futility
of
life
and
the
effort
of
life
.
It
was
the
Wild
,
the
savage
,
frozen-hearted
Northland
Wild
.
But
there
was
life
,
abroad
in
the
land
and
defiant
.
Down
the
frozen
waterway
toiled
a
string
of
wolfish
dogs
.
Their
bristly
fur
was
rimed
with
frost
.
Their
breath
froze
in
the
air
as
it
left
their
mouths
,
spouting
forth
in
spumes
of
vapour
that
settled
upon
the
hair
of
their
bodies
and
formed
into
crystals
of
frost
.
Leather
harness
was
on
the
dogs
,
and
leather
traces
attached
them
to
a
sled
which
dragged
along
behind
.
The
sled
was
without
runners
.
It
was
made
of
stout
birch-bark
,
and
its
full
surface
rested
on
the
snow
.
The
front
end
of
the
sled
was
turned
up
,
like
a
scroll
,
in
order
to
force
down
and
under
the
bore
of
soft
snow
that
surged
like
a
wave
before
it
.
On
the
sled
,
securely
lashed
,
was
a
long
and
narrow
oblong
box
.
There
were
other
things
on
the
sled
--
blankets
,
an
axe
,
and
a
coffee-pot
and
frying-pan
;
but
prominent
,
occupying
most
of
the
space
,
was
the
long
and
narrow
oblong
box
.
In
advance
of
the
dogs
,
on
wide
snowshoes
,
toiled
a
man
.
At
the
rear
of
the
sled
toiled
a
second
man
.
On
the
sled
,
in
the
box
,
lay
a
third
man
whose
toil
was
over
--
a
man
whom
the
Wild
had
conquered
and
beaten
down
until
he
would
never
move
nor
struggle
again
.
It
is
not
the
way
of
the
Wild
to
like
movement
.
Life
is
an
offence
to
it
,
for
life
is
movement
;
and
the
Wild
aims
always
to
destroy
movement
.
It
freezes
the
water
to
prevent
it
running
to
the
sea
;
it
drives
the
sap
out
of
the
trees
till
they
are
frozen
to
their
mighty
hearts
;
and
most
ferociously
and
terribly
of
all
does
the
Wild
harry
and
crush
into
submission
man
--
man
who
is
the
most
restless
of
life
,
ever
in
revolt
against
the
dictum
that
all
movement
must
in
the
end
come
to
the
cessation
of
movement
.
But
at
front
and
rear
,
unawed
and
indomitable
,
toiled
the
two
men
who
were
not
yet
dead
.
Their
bodies
were
covered
with
fur
and
soft-tanned
leather
.
Eyelashes
and
cheeks
and
lips
were
so
coated
with
the
crystals
from
their
frozen
breath
that
their
faces
were
not
discernible
.
This
gave
them
the
seeming
of
ghostly
masques
,
undertakers
in
a
spectral
world
at
the
funeral
of
some
ghost
.
But
under
it
all
they
were
men
,
penetrating
the
land
of
desolation
and
mockery
and
silence
,
puny
adventurers
bent
on
colossal
adventure
,
pitting
themselves
against
the
might
of
a
world
as
remote
and
alien
and
pulseless
as
the
abysses
of
space
.
They
travelled
on
without
speech
,
saving
their
breath
for
the
work
of
their
bodies
.
On
every
side
was
the
silence
,
pressing
upon
them
with
a
tangible
presence
.
It
affected
their
minds
as
the
many
atmospheres
of
deep
water
affect
the
body
of
the
diver
.
It
crushed
them
with
the
weight
of
unending
vastness
and
unalterable
decree
.
It
crushed
them
into
the
remotest
recesses
of
their
own
minds
,
pressing
out
of
them
,
like
juices
from
the
grape
,
all
the
false
ardours
and
exaltations
and
undue
self-values
of
the
human
soul
,
until
they
perceived
themselves
finite
and
small
,
specks
and
motes
,
moving
with
weak
cunning
and
little
wisdom
amidst
the
play
and
inter-play
of
the
great
blind
elements
and
forces
.
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
.
It
soared
upward
with
a
swift
rush
,
till
it
reached
its
topmost
note
,
where
it
persisted
,
palpitant
and
tense
,
and
then
slowly
died
away
.
It
might
have
been
a
lost
soul
wailing
,
had
it
not
been
invested
with
a
certain
sad
fierceness
and
hungry
eagerness
.
The
front
man
turned
his
head
until
his
eyes
met
the
eyes
of
the
man
behind
.
And
then
,
across
the
narrow
oblong
box
,
each
nodded
to
the
other
.
A
second
cry
arose
,
piercing
the
silence
with
needle-like
shrillness
.
Both
men
located
the
sound
.
It
was
to
the
rear
,
somewhere
in
the
snow
expanse
they
had
just
traversed
.
A
third
and
answering
cry
arose
,
also
to
the
rear
and
to
the
left
of
the
second
cry
.
"
They
're
after
us
,
Bill
,
"
said
the
man
at
the
front
.
His
voice
sounded
hoarse
and
unreal
,
and
he
had
spoken
with
apparent
effort
.
