White Fang |
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Common terms and phrases
ain't animal Beauty Smith began Bill blow body bristling cabin camp cave CHAPTER Cherokee circle club Collie crawled cries crouched dog-musher dogs ears face Fang's fear feet ferocious fight fire flesh Fort Yukon fought gods gone Gray Beaver gray cub grip growl hair hand head Henry hurt instinct jaws Jim Hall Judge Scott Kiche kill lair laughed leaped learned Lip-lip live things looked love-master lynx Mackenzie River man-animals master Matt meat Mit-sah mother mouth movement neck never night nose oblong box old One Eye pack patting White porcupine ptarmigan puppy rage ripped rush savage she-wolf shoulder side Sierra Vista sight slashed sled slowly snap snarl snow softly sound Southland stick stood strange tail teeth tepee terrible throat took trail trees trotted turned waited watched Weedon Scott whimpering whip White Fang knew Wild wolf wolves yelp
Popular passages
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 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 175 - His heredity was a life- stuff that may be likened to clay. It possessed many possibilities, was capable of being moulded into many different forms. Environment served to model the clay, to give it a particular form. Thus, had White Fang never come in to the fires of man, the Wild would have moulded him into a true wolf. But the gods had given him a different environment, and he was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish, but that was a dog and not a wolf.
Page 8 - We've got six dogs," the other reiterated dispassionately. "I took out six fish. One Ear didn't get no fish. I came back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his fish." "We've only got six dogs," Henry said. "Henry," Bill went on. "I won't say they was all dogs, but there was seven of 'm that got fish." Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs. "There's only six now,
Page 255 - ... remoulding it into fairer form. Weedon Scott was in truth this thumb. He had gone to the roots of White Fang's nature, and with kindness touched to life potencies that had languished and well-nigh perished. One such potency was love. It took the place of like, which latter had been the highest feeling that thrilled him in his intercourse with the gods. But this love did not come in a day. It began with like and out of it slowly developed. White Fang did not run away, though he was allowed to...
Page 315 - It was the treatment he had received from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a San Francisco slum — soft clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed into something. It was during Jim Hall's third term in prison that he encountered a guard that was almost as great a beast as he. The guard treated him unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost him his credits, persecuted him.
Page 173 - ... of the 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 237 - ... White Fang. Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, looking on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups. "Who's that mug?" he asked. "Weedon Scott," some one answered. "And who in hell is Weedon Scott?" the faro-dealer demanded. "Oh, one of them crackerjack minin' experts. He's in with all the big bugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, you'll steer clear of him, that's my talk. He's all hunky with the officials. The Gold Commissioner's a special pal of his."...
Page 228 - ... jaws adapted to it. He spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. Then a change in their position diverted him. The bulldog had managed to roll him over on his back, and still hanging on to his throat, was on top of him. Like a cat, White Fang bowed his...
Page 5 - 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...