White Fang (Google eBook)

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Review of reviews Company, 1906 - Canada, Northern - 327 pages
23 Reviews
  

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Review: White Fang

User Review  - Angie - Goodreads

Describing the silent journey of the travelers through the cold, barren landscape: "...It affected their minds as the many atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. It crushed them with ... Read full review

Review: White Fang

User Review  - Lyn Tan - Goodreads

The story line was unique and intriguing. At first, it was a little slow-going but after the introduction it was actually quite fun! It didn't stir up any special emotion in me when I read it though ... Read full review

Contents

I
1
II
47
III
111
IV
185
V
269
Copyright

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Page 315 - San Quentin prison. He was a ferocious man. He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been born right, and he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received at the hands of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this man was a striking sample of its handiwork. He was a beast a human beast, it is true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he can best be characterized as carnivorous.
Page 175 - ... village while he was away with the hunters after moose, he came full upon Kiche. He paused and looked at her. He remembered her vaguely, but he remembered her, and that was more than could be said for her. She lifted her lip at him in the old snarl of menace, and his memory became clear. His forgotten cubhood, all that was associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. Before he had known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of the universe.
Page 255 - ... the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, "but you missed the chance of your life when you was a boy an' didn't run off an' join a circus." White Fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back of his neck with long, soothing strokes. It was the beginning of the end for White Fang the ending of the old life and the reign of hate. A new and incomprehensibly fairer life was dawning. It required much thinking...
Page 4 - 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...
Page 305 - Human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, and he flourished like a flower planted in good soil. And yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. He knew the law even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, and he observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.
Page 84 - ... encountered anything of which to be afraid. Yet fear was in him. It had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand lives. It was a heritage he had received directly from One Eye and the she-wolf; but to them, in turn, it had been passed down through all the generations of wolves that had gone before. Fear! that legacy of the Wild which no animal may escape nor exchange for pottage.
Page 151 - Darkness was coming on, and for a while he played about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. Then, and quite suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. He sat down to consider, listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by it. That nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. He felt the lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. He was suspicious of the looming bulks of the trees and of the dark shadows that might conceal all manner of perilous things. Then it was cold. Here was no warm...
Page 218 - ... steamboat's deck was usually surrounded by curious men. He raged and snarled at them, or lay quietly and studied them with cold hatred. Why should he not hate them? He never asked himself the question. He knew only hate and lost himself in the passion of it. Life had become a hell to him. He had not been made for the close confinement wild beasts endure at the hands of men. And yet it was in precisely this way that he was treated. Men stared at him, poked sticks between the bars to make him snarl,...
Page 176 - A wolfmother was not made to remember her cubs of a year or so before. So she did not remember White Fang. He was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present litter of puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion. One of the puppies sprawled up to White Fang. They were halfbrothers, only they did not know it.
Page 300 - ... Dick start a jackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and did not interfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase. And thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. In the end he worked out the complete law. Between him and all domestic animals there must be no hostilities. If not amity, at least neutrality must obtain. But the other animals the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who had never yielded allegiance to man....

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