野性的呼唤(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：杰克·伦敦

出版社：北京理工大学出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

野性的呼唤试读：

Chapter I Into the Primitive

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tidewater dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego.Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland.These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost.

Buck lived at a big house in the sunkissed Santa Clara Valley.Judge Miller’s place, it was called.It stood back from the road, half hidden among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides.The house was approached by gravelled driveways which

wound about through widespreading lawns and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars.At the rear things were on even a more spacious scale than at the front.There were great stables, where a dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vineclad servants’cottages, an endless and orderly array of outhouses, long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches.Then there was the pumping plant for the artesian well, and the big cement tank where Judge Miller’s boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.

And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here he was born, and here he had lived the four years of his life.It was true, there were other dogs, There could not but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they did not count.They came and went, resided in the populous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses of the house after the fashion of Toots, the Japanese pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless，—strange creatures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot to ground.On the other hand, there were the fox terriers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearful promises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops.

But Buck was neither housedog nor kenneldog.The whole realm was his.He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge’s sons；he escorted Mollie and

Alice, the Judge's daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles；on wintry nights he lay at the Judge's feet before the roaring library fire；he carried the Judge's grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king，—king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller's place, humans included.

His father, Elmo, a huge St Bernard, had been the Judge's nseparable companion, and Buck bid fair to follow in the way of is father. He was not so large，—he weighed only one hundred nd forty pounds，—for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotch hepherd dog.Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes of good living and uniersal respect, enabled him to carry himself in right royal fashion.During the four years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of sated aristocrat；he had a fine pride in himself, was even a trifle gotistical, as country gentlemen sometimes become because of heir insular situation.But he had saved himself by not becoming mere pampered housedog.Hunting and kindred outdoor deights had kept down the fat and hardened his muscles；and to im, as to the coldtubbing races, the love of water had been a onic and a health preserver.

And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the fall of 1897，when the Klondike strike dragged men from all the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers, and he did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener's helpers, was an undesirable acquaintance.Manuel had one besetting sin.He loved to play Chinese lottery.Also, in his gambling, he had one besetting weaknessfaith in a system；and this made his damnation certain.For to play a system requires money, while the wages of a gardener’s helper do not lap over the needs of a wife and numerous progeny.

The Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers'Association, and the boys were busy organizing an athletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel’s treachery.No one saw him and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck imagined was merely a stroll.And with the exception of a solitary man, no one saw them arrive at the little flag station known as College Park.This man talked with Manuel, and money chinked between them.

“You might wrap up the goods before you deliver'm，”the stranger said gruffly, and Manuel doubled a piece of stout rope around Buck's neck under the collar.

“Twist it, an'you'll choke'm plentee，”said Manuel, and the stranger grunted a ready affirmative.

Buck had accepted the rope with quiet dignity. To be sure, it was an unwonted performance：but he had learned to trust in men he knew, and to give them credit for a wisdom that outreached his own.But when the ends of the rope were placed in the stranger’s hands, he growled menacingly.He had merely intimated his displeasure, in his pride believing that to intimate was to command.But to his surprise the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off his breath.In quick rage he sprang at the man, who met him halfway, grappled him close by the throat, and with a deft twist threw him over on his back.Then the rope tightened mercilessly, while Buck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his great chest panting futilely.Never in all his life had he been so vilely treated, and never in all his life had he been so angry.But his strength ebbed, his eyes glazed, and he knew nothing when the train was flagged and the two men threw him into the baggage car.

The next he knew, he was dimly aware that his tongue was hurting and that he was being jolted along in some kind of a conveyance. The hoarse shriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing told him where he was.He had travelled too often with the Judge not to know the sensation of riding in a baggage car.He opened his eyes, and into them came the unbridled anger of a kidnapped king.The man sprang for his throat, but Buck was too quick for him.His jaws closed on the hand, nor did they relax till his senses were choked out of him once more.

“Yep, has fits，”the man said, hiding his mangled hand fromthe baggageman, who had been attracted by the sounds of struggle.“I’m takin’m up for the boss to’Frisco.A crack dogdoctor there thinks that he can cure’m.”

Concerning that night's ride, the man spoke most eloquently for himself, in a little shed back of a saloon on the San Francisco water front.

“All I get is fifty for it，”he grumbled；”an'I wouldn't do it over for a thousand, cold cash.”

His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to ankle.

“How much did the other mug get？”the saloonkeeper demanded.

“A hundred，”was the reply.“Wouldn't take a sou less, so help me.”

“That makes a hundred and fifty，”the saloonkeeper calculated；“and he’s worth it, or I’m a squarehead.”

The kidnapper undid the bloody wrappings and looked at his lacerated hand.“If I don't get the hydrophoby—”

“It'll be because you was born to hang，”laughed the saloonkeeper.“Here, lend me a hand before you pull your freight，”he added.

Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat and tongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buck attempted to face his tormentors. But he was thrown down and choked repeatedly, tillthey succeeded in filing the heavy brass collar from off his neck.Then the rope was removed, and he was flung into a cagelike crate.

There he lay for the remainder of the weary night, nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could not understand what it all meant.What did they want with him, these strange men？Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate？He did not know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense of impending calamity.Several times during the night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at least.But each time it was the bulging face of the saloonkeeper that peered in at him by the sickly light of a tallow candle.And each time the joyful bark that trembled in Buck’s throat was twisted into a savage growl.

But the saloonkeeper let him alone, and in the morning four men entered and picked up the crate.More tormentors, Buck decided, for they were evillooking creatures, ragged and unkempt；and he stormed and raged at them through the bars.They only laughed and poked sticks at him, which he promptly assailed with his teeth till he realized that that was what they wanted.Whereupon he lay down sullenly and allowed the crate to be lifted into a wagon.Then he, and the crate in which he was imprisoned, began a passage through many hands.Clerks in the express office took charge of him；he was carted about in anotherwagon；a truck carried him, with an assortment of boxes and parcels, upon a ferry steamer；he was trucked off the steamer into a great railway depot, and finally he was deposited in an express car.

For two days and nights this express car was dragged along at the tail of shrieking locomotives；and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nor drank. In his anger he had met the first advances of the express messengers with growls, and they had retaliated by teasing him.When he flung himself against the bars, quivering and frothing, they laughed at him and taunted him.They growled and barked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flapped their arms and crowed.It was all very silly, he knew；but therefore the more outrage to his dignity, and his anger waxed and waxed.He did not mind the hunger so much, but the lack of water caused him severe suffering and fanned his wrath to feverpitch.For that matter, highstrung and finely sensitive, the ill treatment had flung him into a fever, which was fed by the inflammation of his parched and swollen throat and tongue.

He was glad for one thing：the rope was off his neck. That had given them an unfair advantage；but now that it was off, he would show them.They would never get another rope around his neck.Upon that he was resolved.For two days and nights he neither ate nor drank, and during those two days and nights of torment, he accumulated a fund of wrath that boded ill for who-ever first fell foul of him.His eyes turned bloodshot, and he was metamorphosed into a raging fiend.So changed was he that the Judge himself would not have recognized him；and the express messengers breathed with relief when they bundled him off the train at Seattle.

Four men gingerly carried the crate from the wagon into a small, highwalled back yard.A stout man, with a red sweater that sagged generously at the neck, came out and signed the book for the driver.That was the man, Buck divined, the next tor-mentor, and he hurled himself savagely against the bars.The man smiled grimly, and brought a hatchet and a club.

“You ain't going to take him out now？”the driver asked.

“Sure，”the man replied, driving the hatchet into the crate for a pry.

There was an instantaneous scattering of the four men who had carried it in, and from safe perches on top the wall they pre-pared to watch the performance.

Buck rushed at the splintering wood, sinking his teeth into it, surging and wrestling with it. Wherever the hatchet fell on the outside, he was there on the inside, snarling and growling, as fu-riously anxious to get out as the man in the red sweater was calmly intent on getting him out.

“Now, you redeyed devil，”he said, when he had made an opening sufficient for the passage of Buck’s body.At the sametime he dropped the hatchet and shifted the club to his right hand.

And Buck was truly a redeyed devil, as he drew himself together for the spring, hair bristling, mouth foaming, a mad glitter in his bloodshot eyes.Straight at the man he launched his one hundred and forty pounds of fury, surcharged with the pent passion of two days and nights.In mid air, just as his jaws were about to close on the man, he received a shock that checked his body and brought his teeth together with an agonizing clip.He whirled over, fetching the ground on his back and side.He had never been struck by a club in his life, and did not understand.With a snarl that was part bark and more scream he was again on his feet and launched into the air.And again the shock came and he was brought crushingly to the ground.This time he was aware that it was the club, but his madness knew no caution.A dozen times he charged, and as often the club broke the charge and smashed him down.

After a particularly fierce blow, he crawled to his feet, too dazed to rush. He staggered limply about, the blood flowing from nose and mouth and ears, his beautiful coat sprayed and flecked with bloody slaver.Then the man advanced and deliberately dealt him a frightful blow on the nose.All the pain he had endured was as nothing compared with the exquisite agony of this.With a roar that was almost lionlike in its ferocity, he again hurled himself atthe man.But the man, shifting the club from right to left, coolly caught him by the under jaw, at the same time wrenching downward and backward.Buck described a complete circle in the air, and half of another, then crashed to the ground on his head and chest.

For the last time he rushed. The man struck the shrewd blow he had purposely withheld for so long, and Buck crumpled up and went down, knocked utterly senseless.

“He's no slouch at dogbreakin，’that’s wot I say，”one of the men on the wall cried enthusiastically.

“Druther break cayuses any day, and twice on Sundays，”was the reply of the driver, as he climbed on the wagon and started the horses.

Buck's senses came back to him, but not his strength. He lay where he had fallen, and from there he watched the man in the red sweater.

“‘Answers to the name of Buck，'”the man soliloquized, quoting from the saloonkeeper’s letter which had announced the consignment of the crate and contents.“Well, Buck, my boy，”he went on in a genial voice，“we’ve had our little ruc-tion, and the best thing we can do is to let it go at that.You’ve learned your place, and I know mine.Be a good dog and all’ll go well and the goose hang high.Be a bad dog, and I’ll whale the stuffin’outa you.Understand？”

As he spoke he fearlessly patted the head he had so mercilessly pounded, and though Buck's hair involuntarily bristled at touch of the hand, he endured it without protest.When the man brought him water he drank eagerly, and later bolted a generous meal of raw meat, chunk by chunk, from the man's hand.

He was beaten（he knew that）；but he was not broken. He saw, once for all, that he stood no chance against a man with a club.He had learned the lesson, and in all his after life he never forgot it.That club was a revelation.It was his introduction to the reign of primitive law, and he met the introduction halfway.The facts of life took on a fiercer aspect；and while he faced that aspect uncowed, he faced it with all the latent cunning of his nature aroused.As the days went by, other dogs came, in crates and at the ends of ropes, some docilely, and some raging and roaring as he had come；and, one and all, he watched them pass under the dominion of the man in the red sweater.Again and again, as he looked at each brutal performance, the lesson was driven home to Buck：a man with a club was a lawgiver, a master to be obeyed, though not necessarily conciliated.Of this last Buck was never guilty, though he did see beaten dogs that fawned upon the man, and wagged their tails, and licked his hand.Also he saw one dog, that would neither conciliate nor obey, finally killed in the struggle for mastery.

Now and again men came, strangers, who talked excitedly, wheedlingly, and in all kinds of fashions to the man in the red sweater. And at such times that money passed between them the strangers took one or more of the dogs away with them.Buck wondered where they went, for they never came back；but the fear of the future was strong upon him, and he was glad each time when he was not selected.

Yet his time came, in the end, in the form of a little weazened man who spat broken English and many strange and uncouth exclamations which Buck could not understand.

“Sacredam！”he cried, when his eyes lit upon Buck.“Dat one dam bully dog！Eh？How much？”

“Three hundred, and a present at that，”was the prompt reply of the man in the red sweater.“And seem’it’s government money, you ain’t got no kick coming, eh, Perrault？”

Perrault grinned. Considering that the price of dogs had been boomed skyward by the unwonted demand, it was not an unfair sum for so fine an animal.The Canadian Government would be no loser, nor would its despatches travel the slower.Perrault knew dogs, and when he looked at Buck he knew that he was one in a thousand—“One in ten t'ousand，”he commented mentally.

Buck saw money pass between them, and was not surprised when Curly, a goodnatured Newfoundland, and he were led away by the little weazened man.That was the last he saw of the man inthe red sweater, and as Curly and he looked at receding Seattle from the deck of the Narwhal, it was the last he saw of the warm Southland.Curly and he were taken below by Perrault and turned over to a blackfaced giant called Francois.Perrault was a FrenchCanadian, and swarthy；but Francois was a FrenchCanadian halfbreed, and twice as swarthy.They were a new kind of men to Buck（of which he was destined to see many more），and while he developed no affection for them, he none the less grew honestly to respect them.He speedily learned that Perrault and Francois were fair men, calm and impartial in administering justice, and too wise in the way of dogs to be fooled by dogs.

In the'tweendecks of the Narwhal, Buck and Curly joined two other dogs.One of them was a big, snowwhite fellow from Spitzbergen who had been brought away by a whaling captain, and who had later accompanied a Geological Survey into the Barrens.He was friendly, in a treacherous sort of way, smiling into one’s face the while he meditated some underhand trick, as, for instance, when he stole from Buck’s food at the first meal.As Buck sprang to punish him, the lash of Francois’s whip sang through the air, reaching the culprit first；and nothing remained to Buck but to recover the bone.That was fair of Francois, he decided, and the halfbreed began his rise in Buck’s estimation.

The other dog made no advances, nor received any；also, he did not attempt to steal from the newcomers. He was a gloomy, morose fellow, and he showed Curly plainly that all he desiredwas to be left alone, and further, that there would be trouble if he were not left alone.“Dave”he was called, and he ate and slept, or yawned between times, and took interest in nothing, not even when the Narwhal crossed Queen Charlotte Sound and rolled and pitched and bucked like a thing possessed.When Buck and Curly grew excited, half wild with fear, he raised his head as though annoyed, favored them with an incurious glance, yawned, and went to sleep again.

Day and night the ship throbbed to the tireless pulse of the propeller, and though one day was very like another, it was apparent to Buck that the weather was steadily growing colder.At last, one morning, the propeller was quiet, and the Narwhal was pervaded with an atmosphere of excitement.He felt it, as did the other dogs, and knew that a change was at hand.Francois leashed them and brought them on deck.At the first step upon the cold surface, Buck’s feet sank into a white mushy something very like mud.He sprang back with a snort.More of this white stuff was falling through the air.He shook himself, but more of it fell upon him.He sniffed it curiously, then licked some up on his tongue.It bit like fire, and the next instant was gone.This puzzled him.He tried it again, with the same result.The onlookers laughed uproariously, and he felt ashamed, he knew not why, for it was his first snow.

第一章　一路向北

巴克不读报纸，否则，他就知道麻烦即将来临，这个麻烦不只针对他，而是针对每一条狗——强壮的长毛狗。从普吉特海湾到圣地亚哥沿岸，所有的狗都面临威胁。因为人们在北极探索时，发现了黄金。轮船和货运公司的人大肆渲染这一发现，于是成千上万的人涌向北国。这些人需要强壮多毛的狗——既能承担沉重的劳役，又能忍受寒冷的冰雪的狗。巴克住在一个大庄园里，位于充满阳光的圣克拉拉山谷。那是米勒法官的家。庄园位于马路边上，有一大半掩映于高大浓密的树林中。透过树林，隐约能看到房子的宽阔阳台。庄园有围墙环绕，围墙下面是宽敞凉爽的走廊。铺满碎石的车道蜿蜒曲折，绕过广阔的草坪，穿过高大的杨树林。庄园的后面，比前面的规模更大。这里分布着宽敞的马厩，十几个马夫照料那些高头大马，显得很忙碌。一排排的藤蔓爬满仆人的住所，还有无数的有序排列的仓库，一望无际的绿油油的牧场、葡萄园和草莓地。在角落处还有深井和喷水机，喷洒的水落入了旁边的水泥大游泳池里，在炎热的早上或下午，米勒法官会带他的孩子们到这里玩水。这片广阔的领地，被巴克所统治。他在这里出生，在这里长大，已经生活了四年时间。这里当然还有其他的狗，这么大的一个地方，不可能没有其他的狗，但他们根本不算什么。他们成天四处瞎逛，居住在拥挤不堪的狗窝。或躲在阴暗的深宅内院，娘们儿似的，比如日本哈巴狗吐瓷，和墨西哥无毛狗伊莎贝尔，都是奇怪的生物，很少看到他们到户外活动。另外还有一群专撵狐狸的狗，大概有二十多条。每当吐瓷和伊莎贝尔，在一群女佣的扫帚和拖把的保护下出门的时候，撵狐狸的狗们就会跑过来，恶狠狠地吠叫。

但巴克既不是躲藏于深宅内院的狗，也不是拥挤于窝棚瓦舍的狗。这里整个领域都是他的。他会跳进泳池洗澡，或跟着法官的儿子一起去狩猎；傍晚，或清晨，他会护卫在法官两个女儿莫丽和爱丽丝的身边，陪她们散步；寒冷的冬夜，他会对着书房里的熊熊炉火，安静地躺在法官的脚边；他会驮着法官的小孙子去游玩，或陪他们在草地上打滚，寸步不离地守护他们，防止他们跑到马厩庭院处的水池里，甚至更远的地方，如牧场和葡萄园草莓地，去做疯狂的冒险。在众狗中间脱颖而出，让他有点儿自命不凡，对于吐瓷和伊莎贝尔，他抱着全然忽视的态度。因为他就是这里的王——凌驾于此地众生之上的王，在米勒法官之地的所有蠕动的、爬行的、飞行的众生，甚至包括人类，都匍匐在他的脚下。他的父亲，埃尔莫——一只体态魁梧的圣伯纳德巨型犬，曾经是法官形影不离的好朋友。他有望成就父亲那样的辉煌。他的体形并不是很大，体重只有一百四十磅，这跟他的母亲谢普有关——谢普是一只苏格兰牧羊犬。

不过，一百四十磅，为他带来了威严气势、美好生活和普遍尊敬，足以让他自彰身份，摆起皇室的架子。在这四年里，也就是他的整个幼年生涯里，他一直都过着富足的贵族生活，他有点儿清高自诩，甚至有点儿任性，就像孤陋寡闻的乡间绅士。不过，好在他没有让自己成为一条好吃懒做的看门狗。他喜欢狩猎，可能是家族传统的关系，一旦出了门，他就会变得特别兴奋，快速地跳跃和奔跑，燃烧了身体中多余的脂肪，他的肌肉变得更加坚实。他还会去冬泳，与其他喜欢洗冷水澡的狗一样，他把水当成补药和保健品。

这就是巴克，作为一只狗，在1897年秋天以前的生活状况。就在这个时候，克朗代克地区的爆炸性的消息传播开来，将全世界的人吸引住了，冰天雪地的北方荒原瞬间成了梦想之地。然而巴克没有阅读报纸，他不知道狂热的人们正在一路向北，寻找珍贵的黄金，他不知道这些人正在搜罗长毛大狗去做苦力。还有，他不知道那个猥琐的园丁曼纽尔正在筹谋算计他。当然，他更不知道的是，自己即将和宁静的生活告别。曼纽尔有赌博的恶习，热衷于中国彩票。并且，在赌博的过程中，他有不服输的弱点，相信自己会翻本，于是借了高利贷。结果他一输再输，不断沉沦，他欠的钱越来越多。为了继续玩下去，他需要更多的钱。然而凭借做园丁助手的那点儿工资，养活妻儿老小都勉强，又如何能助他翻本，以偿还债务呢？

这天晚上，米勒法官去葡萄种植者协会开会，孩子们也忙着组织运动俱乐部的事情。就是这个难忘的夜晚，曼纽尔的阴谋发生了。没有人看见他和巴克离开，穿过果园时，巴克以为只是去散步。除了一个独居的人，没有人看见他们到达那被称为大学公园的车站。车站有个陌生的男人似乎正在等候他们的到来。那陌生男人一见到他们，便立刻迎了上来，然后和曼纽尔窃窃私语起来。两人交谈间，钱币叮当作响。“在交货前，你好歹要把货弄得稳当一点儿吧。”陌生人生硬地说。曼纽尔二话没说，当即就拿出一条粗绳子，套在了巴克脖子的项圈上，然后又绕了两圈。“拽他，你想怎么摆布他都可以。”曼纽尔说，陌生人咕哝了一声，表示认可。

出于贵族风度的保持和皇室尊严的维护，巴克平静地接受了绳子的捆绑。的确，这是一个不寻常的举动：但是他已经习惯相信熟人，他相信，人类的智慧超过了自己的认识，他们捆绑自己，想必自有其道理。但是，绳子最后被放在了陌生人的手上，这让他感到有些威胁，于是他咆哮起来。他只是暗示自己的不满。他的骄傲，让他以为暗示会有效。但是令他吃惊的是，绳子勒在他的脖子上收紧了，让他差点背过气去。他顿时愤怒了，扑向那个男人。眼见就要碰到对方的咽喉，对方灵活地闪身，他跃到了对方的背后。

然后，绳索猛然收紧。巴克狂怒地挣扎着，他的舌头从嘴里伸了出来，他宽阔的胸膛徒然地起伏着，在整个生涯中，从来没有遭受过如此残酷的待遇，而且，在过去的人生里，他从来没有像今天，如此生气！但是他的力气逐渐丧失，他的眼神开始消散，然后他什么都不知道，连火车什么时候开动的，都没有印象。他被扔到了行李车厢。

接下来的事情，他是知道的，他在迷迷糊糊中意识到，舌头受了伤，他感觉到身体在摇晃，期间换了许多种运输工具。嘶哑而尖锐的火车汽笛声，提醒了他身在何处。他曾经和米勒法官一起旅行，却从未领受过行李车厢的感觉。他睁开眼睛，映入眼帘的就是那个绑架者。难以抑制的愤怒在这位被绑架的王者心中泛起。似乎不忿于他仇恨的目光，那人跳起来要掐他的喉咙，但是巴克比那人更快。他的牙狠狠地咬住那人的手，就再也不松口了，直到他再一次失去知觉。

行李管理员被打斗的声音惊动了，走过来检查。“呀，这家伙疯了，”那人说着，把那只咬破的手藏在了身后，“老板让我把他送到弗里斯科。听说那里有一个高明的兽医，可以治好他的疯病。”

在旧金山海滨的一家酒吧后面的一间小屋里，那人絮絮叨叨地说着那一夜的经历，很为自己的遭遇鸣不平。“为了他，弄成这样，我才挣了五十块，”他抱怨道，“以后就算给我一千块，现金支付，我也不干了。”他的手被一条血淋淋的手帕包裹着，而且右边的裤腿也被撕裂了，从膝盖到脚踝，开了一条大口子。“偷走他的那人，要了多少？”酒馆的老板问。“一百，”那人答道。“少一个子儿都不干，真行！”“那就是一百五十块，”酒店老板算了算，“那狗就值这些，要不然，价钱太高，我就成冤大头了。”绑架者扯掉血淋淋的手帕，看着自己受伤的手。“要是得了狂犬病——”“嘿，肯定得，你这家伙，本来就该上绞刑架”，酒店老板怪笑道。“来，先别走，搭把手。”他补充说。

巴克的头晕乎乎的，咽喉和舌头疼痛难忍，他像是丢了半条命。巴克试图直面折磨他的人。然而他被人屡次又勒又打，折腾得死去活来，直到他们成功地给他的脖子上套上了沉重的铜环。然后捆着脖子的绳索解开了，他被扔进一个像笼子的板条箱里。

又累又饿的他，在余下的时间里，就这样躺在那里，抚慰着心中的愤怒和受伤的自尊。他无法理解这一切意味着什么：这些奇怪的人，到底要对自己做什么？他们为什么把自己幽禁在这个狭窄的板条箱里？他不知道为什么，但他在隐隐约约中感到某种威胁，似乎灾难正在不断逼近。夜间好几次，房门打开的吱呀声响起，半梦半醒的他就会惊起，跳向房门的方向，他希望看到米勒法官的身影，哪怕来的是法官的孩子们也好，但是每次看到的，都是惨白烛光照耀之下的，酒店老板肿胀的丑脸。每次心中的激动尚未来得及变成欢叫，就瞬间转变成了一声声愤怒而失望的咆哮。酒店老板根本不理他。

第二天一大早，进来四名男子抬箱子。通过酒吧的时候，许多人嘲讽他，这让他感到很难受。巴克认定这些衣衫褴褛、头发蓬乱、嬉皮笑脸的家伙都不是好人。于是他隔着板条箱，对着他们疯狂地吼叫。然而那些人只是大笑着，拿棍子拨弄他，捅他，气得他用牙齿狠狠地咬住了棍子。直到他意识到，那些人只不过是在戏弄他时，他才愠怒地躺下来，任凭他们把囚禁自己的板条箱抬进了一辆货车。随后的几天里，板条箱被许多人抬来抬去，途中的经历很复杂：一个收发室的职员接收了他；接着他被送上了一辆四轮马车，然后又换乘一辆满载箱子和包裹的卡车，再转渡船，接着到达一个很大的铁道仓库，最后他被送上一列特快的包裹运输专线。

火车头发出尖锐的长鸣后，拽起一连串的车厢，开始了昼夜的奔驰，驰骋了整整两天两夜。在这两天两夜里，巴克没有东西吃，也没有水喝。处于怒气中的巴克，一旦看到附近有人经过，就会疯狂地咆哮。然而这些人对他的吼叫没有丝毫畏惧，而是充满报复性地调戏他。他的肺腑简直都要气炸了，全身都激烈地颤抖起来。看到他愤怒的样子，人们更加起劲地嘲笑他，奚落他。

有的人模仿狗叫，有的人则学猫叫，还有的人摆动双手，如同扇翅膀，口里喔喔叫，学公鸡打鸣。他知道这些动作都很可笑，可是他笑不出来，因为这些动作在侮辱他的尊严。他的怒火熊熊燃烧，不断蔓延。他不介意有多饿，但是没有水喝，使他非常痛苦。他的咽喉和舌头，都火烧火燎的。口干舌燥的难受，使他的愤怒情绪高涨。虐待刺激他，让他发狂。综合这些因素，他变得高度紧张，而且十分敏感。

让他高兴的是：绑在脖子上的绳索已经解开。这绳索曾经让他在相互斗争中处于很不利的地位，但现在，他已经不在了。接下来，他决定要给那些人一点颜色看看。而且，他发誓，再也不让另一个绳索捆上他的脖子。两天两夜不吃也不喝，两天两夜的折磨，他的心中沉淀了太多的愤怒，这预示着，接下来第一个触犯他的人，将要倒霉了。他的眼睛血红，整个化身成了狂暴的魔鬼。这种巨大改变，即便米勒法官在此，也将无法辨认。到了西雅图，快递员将他捆绑起来，送下了火车，才算松了口气。

四个男人小心翼翼地把笼子从货车上抬下来，送进了一个高墙围成的小后院里。一个身穿一件红毛衣的身材粗短的胖子摸着粗大的脖子走了出来，然后跟司机签了签收单。就是这个人，巴克心想，这又一个折磨他的人，曾在酒吧狠狠地摔打过他。那胖子冷冷一笑，拿来一把斧头和一根棍子。“你不会是现在就要将他放出来吧？”司机问。“当然。”胖子回答着，操起斧头劈在了板条箱上。那四个把箱子抬进来的人，瞬间四散跑开了。他们爬到高高的墙头上，准备看看接下来的演出。

巴克冲向渐渐断裂开来的木条，用他的牙齿咬木条，不断地撞击将砍开的缺口。斧头在外面不断劈砍，他在里面疯狂地冲撞和咆哮。他急于脱身，而矮胖子却不温不火地劈砍着。终于板条箱被劈开了一个口子，足够通过巴克的身体。“就是现在，快出来吧，红眼睛的家伙。”胖子说着，同时丢下了手里的斧头，右手操起了棍子。巴克真红眼了，在那一刻，他有一种“寒冬过去，春回大地”的感觉，他浑身的毛发笔直地竖立起来，口舌垂涎，充血的眼睛闪烁着疯狂的光芒。带着与身体等重的愤怒，以及被囚禁两天两夜的憋屈，他径直冲向了胖子。

他的身体跳跃起来，他的牙关正要碰上胖子，但他的身体突然受到了一下沉重的打击，猛烈的力量撞击他的牙齿，他整个头脑陷入意识混沌的状态。然后他的身体整个翻了过来，腰背朝下，结结实实地摔落在地。在他的生活中，从未领受过如此沉重的击打。他更加无法理解的是，自己怎么会失手。他伸直腿脚，重新站了起来，发出比上次更强烈的咆哮声，然后再次跳跃而起。然而不幸的事情再现，重击再次将他打落到无比坚硬的地面上。这一次他留心了：是棍子！没错，就是胖子手中的那根棍子击中了他。但是他知道了没有用。他发起了十几次攻击，依然被打退，无论他怎样进攻，那根棍子总是能击中他，并将他摔向地面。

又一次重击后，他再次站起来的时候，变得如同醉汉，脚步松软而蹒跚，整个身躯都在摇晃，他已经看不清周围的景象了，而只会茫然地朝着某个空无一人的方向冲击。血液从他的鼻子、嘴巴和耳朵里流了出来，沾染了鲜血和口涎的皮毛，失去了华丽的色彩，变得凌乱不堪。那胖子故意重击了他的鼻子。身体上所有的疼痛，他能忍受，但是与之相比，精神上的打击，却让他无法接受。随着又一声咆哮，像一只凶猛的怒狮，他再次纵身扑向胖子。但那矮胖子的右手从右向左，轻轻一挥，棍子便击在了他的下巴上。巴克的躯体在空中画出一道完美的弧线，然后脑袋朝下，狠狠撞在坚硬的地面上。

最后一次进攻，巴克依然被击中，摔在地上，昏了过去，整个身体缩成一团，看上去十分可怜。期间胖子始终都是保持着举重若轻、从容淡定的风度。“哇，真是精彩极了，驯狗的时候还能如此淡定！真不简单，看起来好娴熟的样子呢。”墙头上其中的一个人激动地叫道。“那是当然。每个星期天他都要做两次这样的事情，能不熟练吗？哪天来看他驯马吧，那更精彩。”司机摆出理所当然的表情说着，然后爬上马车，赶起了车马。

意识重新回归的巴克虽然醒来了，但他依然很虚弱，没有丝毫的力气。他躺在跌落的地方，勉强睁开耷拉的眼皮，看到了那个穿红毛衣的矮胖子。“你的名字叫作巴克，”胖子看着酒吧老板的来信，喃喃自语道，“嗯，巴克，我的孩子，”他用很亲切的声音说话，“我们刚才发生了一点不愉快，最好让它随风而逝。你曾经拥有你的地盘，但现在到了这里，就得听我的。要做一只好狗，乖乖听话，一切都会好起来的，可要是你是一只坏狗，我会让你吃不了兜着走。明白吗？”

胖子一边温柔地说着话，一边用手轻拍他的脑袋。对于胖子在残忍地毒打他之后，还用手触摸他的皮毛来表示亲近，他感到很厌恶，但他没有反抗。胖子拿来了水，他喝得很快。随后胖子又慷慨地拿出了几块肉，一块接一块，亲手递到他的嘴边。他也没有客气，狼吞虎咽地吃了。

惨痛的教训让他明白，自己并不是无敌的，面对拿着棍棒的胖子，他根本就没有赢的机会。他记住了这个教训，在以后的生活里，从来没有忘记它。

那个棍棒是一个启示，让他模模糊糊地接触到了最简单的统治法则。生活的事实向他呈现出残酷的一面；当他面对这些残酷和恐惧的事实时，所有潜藏的自然本性便开始被引爆出来了。

随着时间的推移，其他的狗陆续到来。有的是被绳索捆绑，牵进来的。有的则像巴克一样，放在板条箱里，被抬进来的。有的狗不吵不闹，很温顺。而有的狗则像巴克当初那样疯狂咆哮，很不安分。然而，无论怎样的狗，通过红毛衣矮胖子的教训，就会变“乖”。

蹲在笼子里面的巴克，安静地看着残酷的驯服过程，一次又一次。这些课程让巴克明白：一个手持棍棒的人，就是规矩的制定者、控制者。对这样的人，你可以表示不情愿，但必须服从。他看到那些被狠揍过的狗们，转眼之间，就开始摇着尾巴，去舔胖子的手。他还看到了一条狗，不服从胖子，不愿意忍受委屈，最后被活活打死。而巴克则选择了委曲求全，他心中没有丝毫愧疚。

现在又有人来了，这是一个生面孔。他和穿红毛衣的矮胖子面对着关在笼子里的狗狗们说话，相互发生了激烈的争论。这样的情况很常见，在此前已经来过许多陌生的人，他们通常会和胖子争论一番后，掏出一沓钞票递给胖子，然后再带走其中的某一只或几只狗。巴克很想知道这些狗都去哪里了，因为他们这么一走，就再也没有回来过。对这事情的疑问和揣测，让巴克怀抱着莫名的恐惧。让他感到庆幸的是，经过很多次选择，他始终都没有被选中过。每当选择过后，他都有一种幸免于难的感受。

但是该来的始终都会来，他是躲不过去的。这一天，有个身材矮小干瘪的男人走了进来，用蹩脚的英语和胖子说话，语气中带着特别的惊奇和感叹，巴克当然听不明白。“苍天啊！”当眼睛看向巴克时，那矮子便兴奋地大喊，“这是一只最上乘的狗！嘿？多少钱？”“三百块，不二价，这是成本价呢。”红毛衣胖子回答，接着继续游说：“贝洛特，反正又不是你私人掏钱，你花的是政府的钱，还犹豫什么？”

贝洛特咧嘴一笑。考虑到目前狗市繁荣的情况，狗供不应求，价格不断上涨，再说像巴克这样一条好狗，就这胖子开出的价钱来说，也不算太贵，如果不赶紧买下来，可能以后的价钱就会更贵。加拿大政府为了方便文书传递，需要大量的狗来拉雪橇。但他们又不想花太多的钱，当然更不希望急件被延误。

贝洛特是一个行家，对狗非常了解，一眼就看出巴克非同寻常。虽然处于笼中的巴克看上去有些无精打采，但是贝洛特肯定他是一只难得的好狗。“万里挑一。”他心中暗暗评论道。巴克看见矮子掏钱了。然后，他和好脾气的纽芬兰狗卷毛，被矮子贝洛特带走了。那是他最后一次看到那个穿红毛衣的胖子。不久之后，他和卷毛就登上了巨鲸号渡轮的甲板，然后看着西雅图渐渐远去。这是他最后一次见到温暖的南国。

随后，巴克和卷毛就被带进了船舱，贝洛特将他们交给了一个叫做弗兰克斯的黑脸大汉。贝洛特是一个法裔加拿大人，皮肤黝黑，但弗兰克斯是混血儿，皮肤比贝洛特要黑上两倍不止。

他们是完全不同的主人，巴克对他们没有特别深厚的感情，但是他打心眼儿里敬重他们。因为他很快就感受到了贝洛特和弗兰克斯的公平和正直。

在船舱的第二层，巴克还看到了另外两只狗。

其中一只全身披满了雪白的皮毛，名字叫作施皮茨，来自于卑尔根群岛，是捕鲸船船长带出来的。他曾经跟着一个地质勘探队，到加拿大西北的荒漠里探过险。他是一个笑里藏刀的家伙，表面上一副友好的样子，而实际上心里不知道在打什么坏主意。船上第一顿饭，它就嬉皮笑脸地抢巴克的食物。巴克想要教训他，但弗兰克斯手中的鞭子更快，早早地落在了施皮茨的身上。虽然鞭子抽在施皮茨身上的声音听起来很悦耳，将巴克心中的愤恨消解了一些，但是食物已经没有了，他只取回一些骨头而已。不过，经过这件事情后，巴克对混血儿弗兰克斯的印象很好。

另外一只狗叫作戴夫，是一个忧郁沉闷的家伙，他喜欢独来独往，平时除了吃，就是睡，却像没睡醒的样子，总是打呵欠，对周遭的事情也总抱着淡漠的态度，没有表现出丝毫的兴趣。即便在“巨鲸”号经过夏洛特皇后海峡发生剧烈摇晃的时候，这家伙也没有什么反应。那时整个船体疯狂颠簸，如同骑乘于马上，而巴克和卷毛既兴奋又紧张，身体不由自主地痉挛，弄得牙齿咯咯直响，这似乎惊扰了戴夫，不过他也只是有些恼火地抬起头瞥了他们一眼，然后打了个哈欠，又睡着了。

轮船的螺旋桨不知疲倦地转动着，“巨鲸”号日夜向前推进。面对茫茫大海，巴克不知道过去了多长时间，只是他清楚地感受到，气候渐渐地寒冷了起来。一天早上，螺旋桨终于安静了下来。整个“巨鲸”号弥漫着激昂的气氛，巴克和其他的狗都意识到，他们即将面临新的生活了。弗兰克斯用皮带拴好了他们，把他们带上了甲板。

迎面而来的寒冷的空气让巴克不禁精神一振。当他一脚踏在寒冷的地面上时，脚一下子就好像踩到了泥浆一样，顿时陷入一些白色糊状的东西里。莫名的触感，惊得巴克往后跳。更多的白色从空中飘下，落在了他的身上。他有些不适地抖了抖身体，将那些白色抖落在地，然而他还是忍不住好奇地嗅了嗅，然后舔了舔，有些白色沾在他的舌头上。那触感有点像火，燎了一下，然后在下一个瞬间就不见了。这让他感到迷惑。他又试了一次，结果还是一样的。人们哄然大笑，不知道为什么，他感到很不好意思。

这是巴克第一次看见雪。

Chapter II The Law of Club and Fang

Buck's first day on the Dyea beach was like a nightmare. Every hour was filled with shock and surprise.He had been suddenly jerked from the heart of civilization and flung into the heart of things primordial.No lazy, sunkissed life was this, with nothing to do but loaf and be bored.Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment’s safety.All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb were in peril.There was imperative need to be constantly alert；for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men.They were savages, all of them, who knew no law but the law of club and fang.

He had never seen dogs fight as these wolfish creatures fought, and his first experience taught him an unforgetable lesson. It is true, it was a vicarious experience, else he would not have lived to profit by it.Curly was the victim.They were camped near the log store, where she, in her friendly way, made advances to a husky dog the size of a fullgrown wolf, though not half so large as she.There was no warning, only a leap in like a flash, a metallic clip of teeth, a leap out equally swift, and Curly’s face was ripped open from eye to jaw.

It was the wolf manner of fighting, to strike and leap away；but there was more to it than this. Thirty or forty huskies ran to the spot and surrounded the combatants in an intent and silent circle.Buck did not comprehend that silent intentness, nor the eager way with which they were licking their chops.Curly rushed her antagonist, who struck again and leaped aside.He met her next rush with his chest, in a peculiar fashion that tumbled her off her feet.She never regained them, This was what the onlooking huskies had waited for.They closed in upon her, snarling and yelping, and she was buried, screaming with agony, beneath the bristling mass of bodies.

So sudden was it, and so unexpected, that Buck was taken aback. He saw Spitz run out his scarlet tongue in a way he had of laughing；and he saw Francois, swinging an axe, spring into the mess of dogs.Three men with clubs were helping him to scatter them.It did not take long.Two minutes from the time Curly went down, the last of her assailants were clubbed off.But she lay there limp and lifeless in the bloody, trampled snow, almost literally torn to pieces, the swart halfbreed standing over her and cursing horribly.The scene often came back to Buck to trouble him in his sleep.So that was the way.No fair play.Once down, that was the end of you.Well, he would see to it that he never went down.Spitz ran out his tongue and laughed again, and from that moment Buck hated him with a bitter and deathless hatred.Before he had recovered from the shock caused by the tragic passing of Curly, he received another shock.Francois fastened upon him an arrangement of straps and buckles.It was a harness, such as he had seen the grooms put on the horses at home.And as he had seen horses work, so he was set to work, hauling Francois on a sled to the forest that fringed the valley, and returning with a load of firewood.Though his dignity was sorely hurt by thus being made a draught animal, he was too wise to rebel.He buckled down with a will and did his best, though it was all new and strange.Francois was stern, demanding instant obedience, and by virtue of his whip receiving instant obedience；while Dave, who was an experienced wheeler, nipped Buck’s hind quarters whenever he was in error.Spitz was the leader, likewise experienced, and while he could not always get at Buck, he growled sharp reproof now and again, or cunningly threw his weight in the traces to jerk Buck into the way he should go.Buck learned easily, and under the combined tuition of his two mates and Francois made remarkable progress.Ere they returned to camp he knew enough to stop at“ho，”to go ahead at“mush，”to swing wide on the bends, and to keep clear of the wheeler when the loaded sled shot downhill at their heels.

“T'ree vair'good dogs，”Francois told Perrault.“Dat Buck, heem pool lak hell. I tich heem queek as anyt'ing.”

By afternoon, Perrault, who was in a hurry to be on the trailwith his despatches, returned with two more dogs.“Billee”and“Joe”he called them, two brothers, and true huskies both. Sons of the one mother though they were, they were as different as day and night.Billee's one fault was his excessive good nature, while Joe was the very opposite, sour and introspective, with a perpetual snarl and a malignant eye.Buck received them in comradely fashion, Dave ignored them, while Spitz proceeded to thrash first one and then the other.Billee wagged his tail appeas-ingly, turned to run when he saw that appeasement was of no avail, and cried（still appeasingly）when Spitz’s sharp teeth scored his flank.But no matter how Spitz circled, Joe whirled around on his heels to face him, mane bristling, ears laid back, lips writhing and snarling, jaws clipping together as fast as he could snap, and eyes diabolically gleamingthe incarnation of belligerent fear.So terrible was his appearance that Spitz was forced to forego disci-plining him；but to cover his own discomfiture he turned upon the inoffensive and wailing Billee and drove him to the confines of the camp.

By evening Perrault secured another dog, an old husky, long and lean and gaunt, with a battlescarred face and a single eye which flashed a warning of prowess that commanded respect.He was called Solleks, which means the Angry One.Like Dave, he asked nothing, gave nothing, expected nothing；and when he marched slowly and deliberately into their midst, even Spitz left him alone.He had one peculiarity which Buck was unlucky enough to discover.He did not like to be approached on his blind side.Of this offence Buck was unwittingly guilty, and the first knowledge he had of his indiscretion was when Solleks whirled upon him and slashed his shoulder to the bone for three inches up and down.Forever after Buck avoided his blind side, and to the last of their comradeship had no more trouble.His only apparent ambition, like Dave’s, was to be left alone；though, as Buck was afterward to learn, each of them possessed one other and even more vital ambition.

That night Buck faced the great problem of sleeping. The tent, illumined by a candle, glowed warmly in the midst of the white plain；and when he, as a matter of course, entered it, both Perrault and Francois bombarded him with curses and cooking utensils, till he recovered from his consternation and fled ignominiously into the outer cold.A chill wind was blowing that nipped him sharply and bit with especial venom into his wounded shoulder.He lay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, but the frost soon drove him shivering to his feet.Miserable and disconsolate, he wandered about among the many tents, only to find that one place was as cold as another.Here and there savage dogs rushed upon him, but he bristled his neckhair and snarled（for he was learning fast），and they let him go his way unmolested.

Finally an idea came to him. He would return and see how his own teammates were making out.To his astonishment, theyhad disappeared.Again he wandered about through the great camp, looking for them, and again he returned.Were they in the tent？No, that could not be, else he would not have been driven out.Then where could they possibly be？With drooping tail and shivering body, very forlorn indeed, he aimlessly circled the tent.Suddenly the snow gave way beneath his fore legs and he sank down.Something wriggled under his feet.He sprang back, bristling and snarling, fearful of the unseen and unknown.But a friendly little yelp reassured him, and he went back to investigate.A whiff of warm air ascended to his nostrils, and there, curled up under the snow in a snug ball, lay Billee.He whined placatingly, squirmed and wriggled to show his good will and intentions, and even ventured, as a bribe for peace, to lick Buck’s face with his warm wet tongue.

Another lesson. So that was the way they did it, eh？Buck confidently selected a spot, and with much fuss and waste effort proceeded to dig a hole for himself.In a trice the heat from his body filled the confined space and he was asleep.The day had been long and arduous, and he slept soundly and comfortably, though he growled and barked and wrestled with bad dreams.

Nor did he open his eyes till roused by the noises of the waking camp. At first he did not know where he was.It had snowed during the night and he was completely buried.The snow walls pressed him on every side, and a great surge of fearswept through him—the fear of the wild thing for the trap.It was a token that he was harking back through his own life to the lives of his forebears；for he was a civilized dog, an unduly civilized dog, and of his own experience knew no trap and so could not of himself fear it.The muscles of his whole body contracted spasmodically and instinctively, the hair on his neck and shoulders stood on end, and with a ferocious snarl he bounded straight up into the blinding day, the snow flying about him in a flashing cloud.Ere he landed on his feet, he saw the white camp spread out before him and knew where he was and remembered all that had passed from the time he went for a stroll with Manuel to the hole he had dug for himself the night before.

A shout from Francois hailed his appearance.“Wot I say？”the dogdriver cried to Perrault.“Dat Buck for sure learn queek as anyt’ing.”

Perrault nodded gravely. As courier for the Canadian Government, bearing important despatches, he was anxious to secure the best dogs, and he was particularly gladdened by the possession of Buck.

Three more huskies were added to the team inside an hour, making a total of nine, and before another quarter of an hour had passed they were in harness and swinging up the trail toward the Dyea Canon. Buck was glad to be gone, and though the work was hard he found he did not particularly despise it.He was surprised at the eagerness which animated the whole team and which was communicated to him；but still more surprising was the change wrought in Dave and Solleks.They were new dogs, utterly transformed by the harness.All passiveness and unconcern had dropped from them.They were alert and active, anxious that the work should go well, and fiercely irritable with whatever, by delay or confusion, retarded that work.The toil of the traces seemed the supreme expression of their being, and all that they lived for and the only thing in which they took delight.

Dave was wheeler or sled dog, pulling in front of him was Buck, then came Solleks；the rest of the team was strung out ahead, single file, to the leader, which position was filled by Spitz.

Buck had been purposely placed between Dave and Solleks so that he might receive instruction.Apt scholar that he was, they were equally apt teachers, never allowing him to linger long in error, and enforcing their teaching with their sharp teeth.Dave was fair and very wise.He never nipped Buck without cause, and he never failed to nip him when he stood in need of it.As Francois’s whip backed him up, Buck found it to be cheaper to mend his ways than to retaliate.Once, during a brief halt, when he got tangled in the traces and delayed the start, both Dave and Solleks flew at him and administered a sound trouncing.The resulting tangle was even worse, but Buck took good care to keep the traces clear thereafter；and ere the day was done, so well had he mastered his work that his mates about ceased nagging him.Francois’s whip snapped less frequently, and Perrault even honored Buck by lifting up his feet and carefully examining them.

It was a hard day's run, up the Canon, through Sheep Camp, past the Scales and the timber line, across glaciers and snowdrifts hundreds of feet deep, and over the great Chilcoot Divide, which stands between the salt water and the fresh and guards forbiddingly the sad and lonely North. They made good time down the chain of lakes which fills the craters of extinct volcanoes, and late that night pulled into the huge camp at the head of Lake Bennett, where thousands of goldseekers were building boats against the breakup of the ice in the spring.Buck made his hole in the snow and slept the sleep of the exhausted just, but all too early was routed out in the cold darkness and harnessed with his mates to the sled.

That day they made forty miles, the trail being packed；but the next day, and for many days to follow, they broke their own trail, worked harder, and made poorer time. As a rule, Perrault travelled ahead of the team, packing the snow with webbed shoes to make it easier for them.Francois, guiding the sled at the geepole, sometimes exchanged places with him, but not often.Perrault was in a hurry, and he prided himself on his knowledge of ice, which knowledge was indispensable, for the fall ice was very thin, and where there was swift water, there was no ice at all.

Day after day, for days unending, Buck toiled in the traces. Always, they broke camp in the dark, and the first gray of dawn found them hitting the trail with fresh miles reeled off behind them.And always they pitched camp after dark, eating their bit of fish, and crawling to sleep into the snow.Buck was ravenous.The pound and a half of sundried salmon, which was his ration for each day, seemed to go nowhere.He never had enough, and suffered from perpetual hunger pangs.Yet the other dogs, because they weighed less and were born to the life, received a pound only of the fish and managed to keep in good condition.

He swiftly lost the fastidiousness which had characterized his old life. A dainty eater, he found that his mates, finishing first, robbed him of his unfinished ration.There was no defending it.While he was fighting off two or three, it was disappearing down the throats of the others.To remedy this, he ate as fast as they；and, so greatly did hunger compel him, he was not above taking what did not belong to him.He watched and learned.When he saw Pike, one of the new dogs, a clever malingerer and thief, slyly steal a slice of bacon when Perrault’s back was turned, he duplicated the performance the following day, getting away with the whole chunk.A great uproar was raised, but he was unsuspected；while Dub, an awkward blunderer who was always getting caught, was punished for Buck’s misdeed.

This first theft marked Buck as fit to survive in the hostile Northland environment. It marked his adaptability, his capacity toadjust himself to changing conditions, the lack of which would have meant swift and terrible death.It marked, further, the decay or going to pieces of his moral nature, a vain thing and a handicap in the ruthless struggle for existence.It was all well enough in the Southland, under the law of love and fellowship, to respect private property and personal feelings；but in the Northland, under the law of club and fang, whoso took such things into account was a fool, and in so far as he observed them he would fail to prosper.

Not that Buck reasoned it out. He was fit, that was all, and unconsciously he accommodated himself to the new mode of life.All his days, no matter what the odds, he had never run from a fight.But the club of the man in the red sweater had beaten into him a more fundamental and primitive code.Civilized, he could have died for a moral consideration, say the defence of Judge Miller's ridingwhip；but the completeness of his decivilization was now evidenced by his ability to flee from the defence of a moral consideration and so save his hide.He did not steal for joy of it, but because of the clamor of his stomach.He did not rob openly, but stole secretly and cunningly, out of respect for club and fang.In short, the things he did were done because it was easier to do them than not to do them.

His development（or retrogression）was rapid. His muscles became hard as iron, and he grew callous to all ordinary pain.He achieved an internal as well as external economy.He could eatanything, no matter how loathsome or indigestible；and, once eaten, the juices of his stomach extracted the last least particle of nutriment；and his blood carried it to the farthest reaches of his body, building it into the toughest and stoutest of tissues.Sight and scent became remarkably keen, while his hearing developed such acuteness that in his sleep he heard the faintest sound and knew whether it heralded peace or peril.He learned to bite the ice out with his teeth when it collected between his toes；and when he was thirsty and there was a thick scum of ice over the water hole, he would break it by rearing and striking it with stiff fore legs.His most conspicuous trait was an ability to scent the wind and forecast it a night in advance.No matter how breathless the air when he dug his nest by tree or bank, the wind that later blew inevitably found him to leeward, sheltered and snug.

And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him.In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down.It was no task for him to learn to fight with cut and slash and the quick wolf snap.In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors.They quickened the old life within him, and the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks.They came to him without effort or discovery, as though they had beenhis always.And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him.And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stiffness, and the cold, and dark.

Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is, the ancient song surged through him and he came into his own again；and he came because men had found a yellow metal in the North, and because Manuel was a gardener's helper whose wages did not lap over the needs of his wife and divers small copies of himself.

第二章　獠牙和棍棒

巴克在泰伊海湾的第一天，就是一个梦魇。他从文明的世界猛然被丢进蛮荒之地，每时每刻都充满震惊和惊奇。这里没有慵懒晒太阳的生活，没有事情可做，总是游手好闲的，让他感到有些无聊。但这里又是不平静的，也没有休息的时候，没有片刻的安宁。所有的事物都充满混乱和无意识，每时每刻生命都处于动荡和危险中。这里有命令和规矩需要遵守，但这里的狗和人都不文明。所有人和动物都非常野蛮，从来就不讲法律，对他们而言，棍子和獠牙才是最大的规矩。

他从来没有见到过狗打架竟然如此的残忍，如此舍生忘死。他的第一次经历给他上了无法忘记的一课。这是真实的无可替代的一次经验，如果没有这样的经验，他就不可能好好地活下去。

卷毛就是那次经历的受害者。那天他们在仓库附近宿营，一只哈士奇慢慢跑了过来，卷毛迎了上去，想要表示友好。那只狗的身体大概也就只有卷毛的一半大小吧。然而，没有任何预兆，这只身形瘦小的突然暴起，寒光一闪，锋利的牙齿快速掠过了卷毛的脸，卷毛根本没有反应过来，脸部就被撕裂了，从眼角到下巴，裂一条恐怖的大口子。

这是狼的进攻方式，攻击之后，他迅速跳开，接着更多的狗跑了过来，可能是三十只，也可能是四十只，他们将争斗的两条狗围了起来，然后默默地注视着场上的情况。

巴克不知道这么多狗都从哪里冒出来的，他更不明白这种围观意味着什么，当然，他更没有看到这些家伙正在贪婪地舔着后槽牙。

剧烈的痛楚使懵懂的卷毛终于明白发生了什么事情。她冲向了她的对手，但对手很灵活，还了一击，便快速地闪到一旁。卷毛的身手不行，发出的攻击总是被对方闪过，即使有几下攻击命中，也被对方用胸口挡住了，然后对方突然使用了一个怪异的姿势，击中了她的脚。

卷毛惨叫一声，摔倒在地上，她还没来得及从地上再次站起来，旁边围观的群狗突然间一拥而上，用脚踩在她的身体上，然后用牙齿撕咬她的肉体。卷毛凄厉的叫声把一旁的巴克吓呆了，这一切发生得太突然，太出人意料了，他根本就不知道该怎么办。

过了好一会儿，弗兰克斯挥舞着斧头跑了出来，然后又来了三个拿棍子的人，一起将群狗赶开了。然后巴克就看到卷毛最后躺下的地方，已经失去了她的踪影，杂乱无章的雪地上，只留下了一些鲜红和碎肉。从卷毛倒下，到最后一只狗被赶跑，前后不过两分钟的时间，卷毛就从这个世界上消失了。

混血儿弗兰克斯的咒骂声将巴克惊醒了。他转过头来，看到施皮茨伸着鲜红的舌头，脸上挂着幸灾乐祸的笑，他的心里突然涌起强烈的反感。

这一次经历的景象，此后常常出现在巴克的梦中，让他备受困扰。他意识到，在这里没有公平的战斗，而且，一旦倒下，就意味着末日。

巴克还没有从卷毛的悲剧中解脱出来，一个新的打击又随之而来。弗兰克斯在他的身上套上了一副皮带扣，然后将扣子挂在雪橇上。没错，就是让他做苦力。弗兰克斯坐在雪橇上，让他沿着山谷的边缘跑向森林，再把那里的木柴拉回来。

那套在脖子上的枷锁，就和套在马脖子上的差不多。这种陌生而屈辱的工作，使他的自尊心备受挫折，但他知道这不是反抗的时候，他默默地忍受了，然后拼命学习，希望能够跟上其他的狗。

弗兰克斯虽然做事公正，但显然不是善人，手上的皮鞭从来不留情。而戴夫的经验很丰富，总是会在巴克犯错时，从后面咬他。施皮茨是领队，以前有过这样的经历，虽然他在前面咬不到巴克，但他会咆哮着发出责备，然后巧妙利用身体的重量，将绳索拽起来，逼迫巴克走上正确的路。

在两个经验丰富的同伴和弗兰克斯的共同教导下，巴克取得了令人瞩目的进步。他已经完全明白了“嗬”表示停下，“走”是前进的意思。还有拐弯时要特别注意，跟紧脚步，而当雪橇载满东西下坡时，则必须要注意不要碰到后面的狗。不然大家就会缠在一起，雪橇会翻掉的。

他们自森林返回营地后，弗兰克斯就对贝洛特说：“这三只狗都非常的棒，特别是巴克，学得很快。就这么一趟，就已经学会怎样工作了。”

下午，贝洛特送完急件回来，又带来两只狗。他们是两兄弟，都是纯种的哈士奇犬，一只叫比利，一只叫乔伊。他们虽然是一母所生，但性格迥异，就像白天和黑夜的分别。比利温顺善良，而乔伊则相反，暴躁疯狂，吠叫不停，一副凶神恶煞的样子。

巴克热情地欢迎他们的加入，戴夫还是半死不活的样子，既不表示欢迎，也没把他们放在眼里。施皮茨则准备揍他们，以确立自己的威严。比利摇尾巴，想要表示亲近，结果被施皮茨咬了一口，可怜的比利，依然乞求和解。

乔伊可就没那么好相处。施皮茨绕着圈圈，寻找乔伊的破绽，乔伊始终保持警惕，他的毛发耸立，耳朵也直立起来，眼睛闪闪发光，身体扭动，嘴中咆哮，就像恶魔的化身——很明显的好战分子。如此的姿态，让施皮茨只好放弃管教他。为了掩饰自己的难堪，施皮茨只好再次将胆小的比利当成目标，不停地袭击他，将他驱赶到了营地的外边。

傍晚，贝洛特不知道从哪里又弄来了一只狗。这只狗身体瘦长，面容憔悴，已经不再年轻。他的名字叫索罗克斯，他的身体上布满了伤痕，一看就知道是一位身经百战的斗士。虽然他只剩下一只眼睛，但是那唯一的一只眼睛里，透射出来的光芒，充满了危险。似乎在警告其他的狗，不要惹他。

索罗克斯和戴夫一样，生活单调，似乎没什么追求。他的冷酷，让其他的狗心生畏惧。他会慢悠悠地走到他们的中间，这时，连施皮茨都不敢轻举妄动。他有一个怪癖，就是不喜欢别人走到他瞎眼的那一边。

有一次巴克不小心犯了这个禁忌，虽然他不是故意的，但索罗克斯可不管这些，立即扑向他，狠狠地在他的肩膀上咬了一口，这个伤口足足有三寸深，骨头都露出来了。巴克被咬了，还感到莫名其妙，弄不清楚到底是怎么回事。后来才明白，是自己触犯了对方的禁忌。从此以后，巴克总是很小心地避开他的禁忌，之后二者之间倒也没有再发生什么麻烦。

表面上看，索罗克斯唯一的追求就是像戴夫那样，独自一人待着。巴克后来才明白，事实上每个人都拥有其他的、更深刻的追求。

那天晚上，巴克想睡觉。他看到白色的平原中间，有一顶帐篷透出明亮的烛光，显得十分温暖，便跑了过去。他很自然地钻了进去，没想到帐篷里的贝洛特和弗兰克斯一见到他，就破口大骂，然后拿起桌子上的炊具砸他。巴克吓坏了，赶紧逃了出去，重新置身于寒冷的原野。

彻骨的寒风吹过，就如同针刺一样，肩膀上的伤口更是疼得厉害。他躺在雪地里试图入睡，但是严寒很快使他颤抖起来。巴克痛苦和孤独地徘徊在各个帐篷之间，却发现到处都是一样的凄冷。时不时还有野狗冲向他，企图袭击他。但他布满全身的膨胀的毛发和他强烈的咆哮，最终让他们悻悻地离开。

最后他突然想到一个主意，回去看看自己的同伴怎么睡觉的。然而让他惊奇的是，他们已经消失了。他穿过大营地去寻找他们，来回找了几遍，都没有找到。它们在帐篷里面吗？不，那不可能，要是那样的话，他就不会被赶出来了。

然而，他们能去哪呢？巴克耷拉着尾巴，身体颤抖，在寒风中孤独地行走着，漫无目的地围着帐篷走着，突然，脚下的雪一沉，然后整个身体就掉了下去。他感到脚下有东西在蠕动，他吓了一跳，全身的毛发都竖了起来，发出咆哮声。但是回应他的是一个友好的声音——比利亲切的吠叫声。

巴克走上前去，定睛仔细看时，发现比利正躺在雪底下，身体蜷缩成舒适的球状，一股温暖的空气上升到他的鼻孔。比利局促不安地嘟哝着，然后扭动温暖的身子，表达他的善意。他用温暖湿润的舌头，舔去巴克脸上的雪花。

这就是他们睡觉的办法啊！这又是十分重要的一堂课。巴克很高兴地选了一块地方，然后挖了一个洞。然后钻进洞里，学着比利那样，将身子蜷缩成球状，转眼之间热量从他的身体散发出来，将狭小的空间充满。寒风已经奈何不了他了，不一会儿，他睡着了。在这个漫长而艰苦的夜里，巴克进入了梦乡，他做了不少噩梦，但睡得很死，很舒服。

第二天清晨，巴克被一阵喧嚣吵醒了。从梦乡醒来的瞬间，他不知道自己在哪里。这一整夜的雪已经将他完全掩埋了起来。四周雪墙的压迫感，让他心中生出强烈的恐惧，使他本能地以为自己掉进了可怕的陷阱里。他不能自已，肌肉瞬间绷紧，毛发也本能地竖了起来，然后发出了咆哮，使尽全身的力气纵身一跃，雪墙被撞了开来，雪花飞溅，如同闪光的云彩。

他落在了雪地上，看见白色的营地在自己面前摊开，于是知道自己在哪里，回想起了经历的一切，从他与曼纽尔一起散步，到昨天晚上投宿无门，然后挖洞睡觉，种种经历，全都涌进了他的脑海里。

弗兰克斯大叫一声：“看我说什么了？就说这家伙聪明，学什么都很快的！”贝洛特严肃地点点头。作为加拿大政府的邮差，需要将重要公文送往各地，他急于找到最好的狗，现在他得到了巴克，他感到很高兴。

又有三只哈士奇犬加入了团队。总共算起来已经有九只狗了。

贝洛特和弗兰克斯很快就给他们套好了缰绳，然后开始跑向泰伊卡农。虽然拉雪橇的工作很辛苦，但巴克发现他并不鄙视这份工作。他很惊讶，整个团队似乎很有默契。但更令人惊讶的是戴夫和索罗克斯的改变，套上缰绳后，他们就像变成另外一只狗似的，一点也没有妨碍工作。他们是那样的活跃，那样的卖力，没有任何延迟，没有任何混乱。雪橇留下的印迹，似乎就是他们存在的最高表现，是生活的全部，是他们唯一的喜悦了。

戴夫在后面负责压阵，在他前面拉的是巴克，接着索罗克斯；其余的团队成员依次排列于施皮茨的后面。

巴克被特意放置在戴夫和索罗克斯之间，这样他可以尽快地适应工作。他是聪明的学生，而戴夫和索罗克斯则是同样聪明的老师，从不允许他一错再错。他们会用锋利的牙齿来维持他们的教学。戴夫是公正的，从不无故咬巴克。因为有弗兰克斯的鞭子在后面监督着。

有一次，短暂休息时，巴克不小心把缰绳缠起来了，结果延误了出发的时间，戴夫和索罗克斯便冲上来，狠狠地教训了他一顿。从此以后，巴克变得特别小心，以免缰绳缠绕引起混乱的状况。

由于巴克学习用心，在不到一天的时间内，他就已经熟练掌握了他的工作，他的同伴几乎不再责罚他。弗兰克斯的鞭子也不再频繁落在他的身上了。贝洛特还特地端起巴克的脚，仔细检查了一番，表示对他的关心。

这是一次充满艰辛的旅程，跃过泰雅峡谷，进入大山。夜晚，他们在班尼特湖岸边的营地休息。在这个营地中，聚集了数以千计的淘金者。他们正在忙碌地修理和打造船只，来年春天冰川融化时，就可以在湖上面使用了。

经过一天的奔驰，巴克感到很疲劳，一到营地，他就开始挖雪洞，然后倒下美美地睡了一觉。第二天一大早，还没有睡够的巴克就被唤醒了。然后套上缰绳，再次出发。那一天，他们拉着雪橇在结实的雪面上奔跑，整整跑了六十多里，然而，接下来数天里，就没有那么轻松了，他们必须在新雪覆盖的地面上，自行开辟出一条路来。

这样一来，事情就比较麻烦了，行进很缓慢。走一段路，就需要贝洛特下来，到前面去用宽大的雪鞋将雪面整平，然后才能前行。弗兰克斯有时会替换一下他。但是弗兰克斯需要掌控雪橇上的方向杆。平整道路雪面的工作主要由贝洛特负责，因为他在冰天雪地里传递邮件多年，经验非常丰富，了解冰层变化的规律。

从冰层的厚薄程度，可以看出天气变化的状况，比如说湖面上的冰层很薄，就说明天气不怎么冷，遭遇风雪的可能性不大。而冰层很薄的时候，在湖面上奔跑要特别小心。所以，对于冰层没有足够的了解，很容易遭受危险。

巴克拼命奔跑，起早摸黑地跑，可漫漫长路，好像没有止境。他们在天蒙蒙亮的时候，就拉着雪橇匆匆上路。直到天很黑，才找地方休息。然后每条狗都会分到一小块鱼肉，各自吃完，就自己挖个雪洞睡觉。

身躯健壮的巴克饭量很大。每天那么点儿鱼肉根本填不饱肚子。自从上路以来，他就从来没有吃饱过，长期的饥饿，再加艰辛的劳作，很快他就变得憔悴起来了。以前在米勒法官家里的时候，他总是很斯文地吃东西，但是现在他早就不这样了，他总是狼吞虎咽，根本就没有仔细咀嚼食物的雅兴。

他必须这样吃东西，如果他吃东西不够快，那么其他伙伴们在吃完自己的那份后，便会毫不客气地抢夺他的食物。最初他总想将抢吃的家伙赶跑，但是不久之后，他就发现这是徒劳的，要是他顾着赶跑这一只狗，回头看时，食物已经被那只狗叼走了。为了避免这样的情况出现，巴克只能加快进食的速度。同时在饥饿的驱使下，他也学会了抢夺食物。

在工作团队当中，有只叫派克的狗，很善于偷东西。有一次在贝洛特转身的瞬间，派克就趁机叼走一块腌猪肉。这件事情被巴克看得真真的，但他没有去揭发派克。第二天他也学着派克的手法，弄到了一整块肉。事情发生之后，贝洛特发现肉少了，大发脾气。不过没有人怀疑巴克。另外一个倒霉鬼，代替巴克受了处罚。

偷窃行动的成功，表明巴克环境适应能力很好。他越来越适应多变的环境，内心的禁锢和原则也越来越少。要在充满艰险的北国生存，就要将内心的禁锢打破，将原则抛弃。这里比的是，谁的棒子粗，谁的力气大，谁的牙齿更加锋利！只有傻瓜才会考虑原则，而傻瓜在这里是无法生存的，只会被无情的环境淘汰掉！

事实上这样做也是出于无奈，他并不是真想要做坏事，所谓的偷窃也不是兴之所至，完全是为了填饱肚子。在这个环境下，他只有这样做才能生存下去。否则只有饿着肚子去应付沉重的工作，这样体力缺乏，他会被活活地累死。

自从受到红毛衣胖子的棍棒毒打后，他已经逐渐接受了最原始的自然法则，适者生存的规矩已经深深烙进了他的内心。为了逃避惩罚，他学会使用巧妙的手段去偷，而不会公开去抢夺。因为他知道这样做比较保险，没有性命之忧。

一切都是为了活下去，巴克变得十分坚忍，无论是多么难吃、多么恶心的东西，只要能吃，他都会丝毫不怵地吞到肚子里去。事实上他的肠胃也非常好，只要咽下去的东西，他的肠胃就会彻底地消化和吸收掉，转化而来的养分被输送到全身各处，让他的筋骨更加强健有力。现在他的身体已经变得如钢似铁，结实且充满韧性。

他的身体发生了巨大的变化，眼睛和鼻子都变得特别敏锐。特别是耳朵，在休息的时候也保持直立，时刻都在收集周围的信息。就算进入梦乡，他也能听到最微弱的声音，同时做出反应和判断。当他的脚被冰雪冻结的时候，他就会用坚固的牙齿将之强行咬开。当他感到口渴，需要喝水的时候，他会跑到冰河边上，用脚把冰块直接敲开。

除了这些本领之外，巴克还有种特殊的本领，他能通过气味判断风的情况，且精准无比，对此，连贝洛特和弗兰克斯都深表赞叹。因此，在暴风雨还没有来临之前，巴克便能预先知道。到了要睡觉的时候，他也总能找到背风之地挖洞。

巴克所表现出来的生存能力，远远比其他的狗更优秀。之所以如此，不能只用他聪明伶俐，善于学习经验来解释，更为重要的原因，是他身上隐藏已久的天性已经开始渐渐苏醒。

很久以前，巴克的祖先还在原始森林里生活，靠着捕杀鸟类和其他动物维持生命。他们的生活习惯，与一种残忍的动物很像，那种动物就是狼。由于和狼生活在一起，巴克的先辈中有了狼的血统，同时也继承了狼的野性。尽管巴克在温暖的南国生活多年，但依然无法改变他体内狼的血性。对他而言，用牙齿撕裂食物是一种习性，用狼惯用的方法去战斗也是一种本能，根本不需要特别学习。

巴克祖辈们的灵魂在他的体内开始苏醒了！澎湃的力量不断充溢他的全身，他的血液开始沸腾了！狗的咆哮声逐渐喑哑了，站在空寂寒夜里的巴克，抬起了头颅，仰望茫茫星空，然后像狼一样，发出了凄厉的长嗥！这是来自远古时代的声音，来自蛮荒世界的喧响！

Chapter III The Dominant Primordial Beast

The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck, and under the fierce conditions of trail life it grew and grew.Yet it was a secret growth.His newborn cunning gave him poise and control.He was too busy adjusting himself to the new life to feel at ease, and not only did he not pick fights, but he avoided them whenever possible.A certain deliberateness characterized his attitude.He was not prone to rashness and precipitate action；and in the bitter hatred between him and Spitz he betrayed no impatience, shunned all offensive acts.

On the other hand, possibly because he divined in Buck a dangerous rival, Spitz never lost an opportunity of showing his teeth. He even went out of his way to bully Buck, striving con-stantly to start the fight which could end only in the death of one or the other.Early in the trip this might have taken place had it not been for an unwonted accident.At the end of this day they made a bleak and miserable camp on the shore of Lake Le Barge.Driving snow, a wind that cut like a whitehot knife, and darkness had forced them to grope for a camping place.They could hardly have fared worse.At their backs rose a perpendicular wall of rock, and Perrault and Francois were compelled to make their fire and spread their sleeping robes on the ice of the lake itself.The tent they had discarded at Dyea in order to travel light.A few sticks of driftwood furnished them with a fire that thawed down through the ice and left them to eat supper in the dark.

Close in under the sheltering rock Buck made his nest. So snug and warm was it, that he was loath to leave it when Francois distributed the fish which he had first thawed over the fire.But when Buck finished his ration and returned, he found his nest occupied.A warning snarl told him that the trespasser was Spitz.Till now Buck had avoided trouble with his enemy, but this was too much.The beast in him roared.He sprang upon Spitz with a fury which surprised them both, and Spitz particularly, for his whole experience with Buck had gone to teach him that his rival was an unusually timid dog, who managed to hold his own only because of his great weight and size.

Francois was surprised, too, when they shot out in a tangle from the disrupted nest and he divined the cause of the trouble.“Aaah！”he cried to Buck.“Gif it to heem, by Gar！Gif it to heem, the dirty t’eef！”

Spitz was equally willing. He was crying with sheer rage and eagerness as he circled back and forth for a chance to spring in.Buck was no less eager, and no less cautious, as he likewise circled back and forth for the advantage.But it was then that the unexpected happened, the thing which projected their struggle for supremacy far into the future, past many a weary mile of trail and toil.

An oath from Perrault, the resounding impact of a club upon a bony frame, and a shrill yelp of pain, heralded the breaking forth of pandemonium.The camp was suddenly discovered to be alive with skulking furry forms，—starving huskies, four or five score of them, who had scented the camp from some Indian village.They had crept in while Buck and Spitz were fighting, and when the two men sprang among them with stout clubs they showed their teeth and fought back.They were crazed by the smell of the food.Perrault found one with head buried in the grubbox.His club landed heavily on the gaunt ribs, and the grubbox was capsized on the ground.On the instant a score of the famished brutes were scrambling for the bread and bacon.The clubs fell upon them unheeded.They yelped and howled under the rain of blows, but struggled none the less madly till the last crumb had been devoured.

In the meantime the astonished teamdogs had burst out of their nests only to be set upon by the fierce invaders.Never had Buck seen such dogs.it seemed as though their bones would burst through their skins.They were mere skeletons, draped loosely in draggled hides, with blazing eyes and slavered fangs.But the hungermadness made them terrifying, irresistible.There was no opposing them.The teamdogs were swept back against the cliff at the first onset.Buck was beset by three huskies, and in a trice his head and shoulders were ripped and slashed.The din was frightful.Billee was crying as usual.Dave and Solleks, dripping blood from a score of wounds, were fighting bravely side by side.Joe was snapping like a demon.Once, his teeth closed on the fore leg of a husky, and he crunched down through the bone.Pike, the malingerer, leaped upon the crippled animal, breaking its neck with a quick flash of teeth and a jerk, Buck got a frothing adversary by the throat, and was sprayed with blood when his teeth sank through the jugular.The warm taste of it in his mouth goaded him to greater fierceness.He flung himself upon another, and at the same time felt teeth sink into his own throat.It was Spitz, treacherously attacking from the side.

Perrault and Francois, having cleaned out their part of the camp, hurried to save their sleddogs.The wild wave of famishedbeasts rolled back before them, and Buck shook himself free.But it was only for a moment.The two men were compelled to run back to save the grub, upon which the huskies returned to the attack on the team.Billee, terrified into bravery, sprang through the savage circle and fled away over the ice.Pike and Dub followed on his heels, with the rest of the team behind.As Buck drew himself together to spring after them, out of the tail of his eye he saw Spitz rush upon him with the evident intention of overthrowing him.Once off his feet and under that mass of huskies, there was no hope for him.But he braced himself to the shock of Spitz’s charge, then joined the flight out on the lake.

Later, the nine teamdogs gathered together and sought shelter in the forest.Though unpursued, they were in a sorry plight.There was not one who was not wounded in four or five places, while some were wounded grievously.Dub was badly injured in a hind leg；Dolly, the last husky added to the team at Dyea, had a badly torn throat；Joe had lost an eye；while Billee, the goodnatured, with an ear chewed and rent to ribbons, cried and whimpered throughout the night.At daybreak they limped warily back to camp, to find the marauders gone and the two men in bad tempers.Fully half their grub supply was gone.The huskies had chewed through the sled lashings and canvas coverings.In fact, nothing, no matter how remotely eatable, had escaped them.They had eaten a pair of Perrault’s moosehide moccasins, chunks out of the leather traces, and even two feet of lash from the end of Francois’s whip.He broke from a mournful contemplation of it to look over his wounded dogs.

“Ah, my frien's，”he said softly，“mebbe it mek you mad dog, dose many bites. Mebbe all mad dog, sacredam！Wot you t'ink, eh, Perrault？”

The courier shook his head dubiously. With four hundred miles of trail still between him and Dawson, he could ill afford to have madness break out among his dogs.Two hours of cursing and exertion got the harnesses into shape, and the woundstiffened team was under way, struggling painfully over the hardest part of the trail they had yet encountered, and for that matter, the hardest between them and Dawson.

The Thirty Mile River was wide open. Its wild water defied the frost, and it was in the eddies only and in the quiet places that the ice held at all.Six days of exhausting toil were required to cover those thirty terrible miles.And terrible they were, for every foot of them was accomplished at the risk of life to dog and man.A dozen times, Perrault, nosing the way, broke through the ice bridges, being saved by the long pole he carried, which he soheld that it fell each time across the hole made by his body.But a cold snap was on, the thermometer registering fifty below zero, and each time he broke through he was compelled for very life to build a fire and dry his garments.

Nothing daunted him. It was because nothing daunted him that he had been chosen for government courier.He took all manner of risks, resolutely thrusting his little weazened face into the frost and struggling on from dim dawn to dark.He skirted the frowning shores on rim ice that bent and crackled under foot and upon which they dared not halt.Once, the sled broke through, with Dave and Buck, and they were halffrozen and all but drowned by the time they were dragged out.The usual fire was necessary to save them.They were coated solidly with ice, and the two men kept them on the run around the fire, sweating and thawing, so close that they were singed by the flames.

At another time Spitz went through, dragging the whole team after him up to Buck, who strained backward with all his strength, his fore paws on the slippery edge and the ice quivering and snapping all around. But behind him was Dave, likewise straining backward, and behind the sled was Francois, pulling till his tendons cracked.

Again, the rim ice broke away before and behind, and therewas no escape except up the cliff. Perrault scaled it by a miracle, while Francois prayed for just that miracle；and with every thong and sled lashing and the last bit of harness rove into a long rope, the dogs were hoisted, one by one, to the cliff crest.Francois came up last, after the sled and load.Then came the search for a place to descend, which descent was ultimately made by the aid of the rope, and night found them back on the river with a quarter of a mile to the day’s credit.

By the time they made the Hootalinqua and good ice, Buck was played out. The rest of the dogs were in like condition；but Perrault, to make up lost time, pushed them late and early.The first day they covered thirtyfive miles to the Big Salmon；the next day thirtyfiv e more to the Little Salmon；the third day forty miles, which brought them well up toward the Five Fingers.

Buck's feet were not so compact and hard as the feet of the huskies. His had softened during the many generations since the day his last wild ancestor was tamed by a cavedweller or river man.All day long he limped in agony, and camp once made, lay down like a dead dog.Hungry as he was, he would not move to receive his ration of fish, which Francois had to bring to him.Also, the dogdriver rubbed Buck’s feet for half an hour each night after supper, and sacrificed the tops of his own moccasins tomake four moccasins for Buck.This was a great relief, and Buck caused even the weazened face of Perrault to twist itself into a grin one morning, when Francois forgot the moccasins and Buck lay on his back, his four feet waving appealingly in the air, and refused to budge without them.Later his feet grew hard to the trail, and the wornout footgear was thrown away.

At the Pelly one morning, as they were harnessing up, Dol-ly, who had never been conspicuous for anything, went suddenly mad. She announced her condition by a long, heartbreaking wolf howl that sent every dog bristling with fear, then sprang straight for Buck.He had never seen a dog go mad, nor did he have any reason to fear madness；yet he knew that here was horror, and fled away from it in a panic.Straight away he raced, with Dolly, panting and frothing, one leap behind；nor could she gain on him, so great was his terror, nor could he leave her, so great was her madness.He plunged through the wooded breast of the island, flew down to the lower end, crossed a back channel filled with rough ice to another island, gained a third island, curved back to the main river, and in desperation started to cross it.And all the time, though he did not look, he could hear her snarling just one leap behind.Francois called to him a quarter of a mile away and he doubled back, still one leap ahead, gasping painfullyfor air and putting all his faith in that Francois would save him.The dogdriver held the axe poised in his hand, and as Buck shot past him the axe crashed down upon mad Dolly’s head.

Buck staggered over against the sled, exhausted, sobbing for breath, helpless. This was Spitz's opportunity.He sprang upon Buck, and twice his teeth sank into his unresisting foe and ripped and tore the flesh to the bone.Then Francois's lash descended, and Buck had the satisfaction of watching Spitz receive the worst whipping as yet administered to any of the teams.

“One devil, dat Spitz，”remarked Perrault.“Some dam day heem keel dat Buck.”

“Dat Buck two devils，”was Francois's rejoinder.“All de tam I watch dat Buck I know for sure. Lissen：some dam fine day heem get mad lak hell an'den heem chew dat Spitz all up an'spit heem out on de snow.Sure.I know.”

From then on it was war between them. Spitz, as leaddog and acknowledged master of the team, felt his supremacy threatened by this strange Southland dog.And strange Buck was to him, for of the many Southland dogs he had known, not one had shown up worthily in camp and on trail.They were all too soft, dying under the toil, the frost, and starvation.Buck was the exception.He alone endured and prospered, matching the husky instrength, savagery, and cunning.Then he was a masterful dog, and what made him dangerous was the fact that the club of the man in the red sweater had knocked all blind pluck and rashness out of his desire for mastery.He was preeminently cunning, and could bide his time with a patience that was nothing less than primitive.

It was inevitable that the clash for leadership should come. Buck wanted it.He wanted it because it was his nature, because he had been gripped tight by that nameless, incomprehensible pride of the trail and trace—that pride which holds dogs in the toil to the last gasp, which lures them to die joyfully in the harness, and breaks their hearts if they are cut out of the harness.This was the pride of Dave as wheeldog, of Solleks as he pulled with all his strength；the pride that laid hold of them at break of camp, transforming them from sour and sullen brutes into straining, eager, ambitious creatures；the pride that spurred them on all day and dropped them at pitch of camp at night, letting them fall back into gloomy unrest and uncontent.This was the pride that bore up Spitz and made him thrash the sleddogs who blundered and shirked in the traces or hid away at harnessup time in the morning.Likewise it was this pride that made him fear Buck as a possible leaddog.And this was Buck’s pride, too.

He openly threatened the other's leadership. He came between him and the shirks he should have punished.And he did it deliberately.One night there was a heavy snowfall, and in the morning Pike, the malingerer, did not appear.He was securely hidden in his nest under a foot of snow.Francois called him and sought him in vain.Spitz was wild with wrath.He raged through the camp, smelling and digging in every likely place, snarling so frightfully that Pike heard and shivered in his hidingplace.

But when he was at last unearthed, and Spitz flew at him to punish him, Buck flew, with equal rage, in between. So unexpected was it, and so shrewdly managed, that Spitz was hurled backward and off his feet.Pike, who had been trembling abjectly, took heart at this open mutiny, and sprang upon his overthrown leader.Buck, to whom fair play was a forgotten code, likewise sprang upon Spitz.But Francois, chuckling at the incident while unswerving in the administration of justice, brought his lash down upon Buck with all his might.This failed to drive Buck from his prostrate rival, and the butt of the whip was brought into play.Halfstunned by the blow, Buck was knocked backward and the lash laid upon him again and again, while Spitz soundly punished the many times offending Pike.

In the days that followed, as Dawson grew closer and closer, Buck still continued to interfere between Spitz and the culprits；but he did it craftily, when Francois was not around, With the covert mutiny of Buck, a general insubordination sprang up and increased. Dave and Solleks were unaffected, but the rest of the team went from bad to worse.Things no longer went right.There was continual bickering and jangling.Trouble was always afoot, and at the bottom of it was Buck.He kept Francois busy, for the dogdriver was in constant apprehension of the lifeanddeath struggle between the two which he knew must take place sooner or later；and on more than one night the sounds of quarrelling and strife among the other dogs turned him out of his sleeping robe, fearful that Buck and Spitz were at it.

But the opportunity did not present itself, and they pulled into Dawson one dreary afternoon with the great fight still to come. Here were many men, and countless dogs, and Buck found them all at work.It seemed the ordained order of things that dogs should work.All day they swung up and down the main street in long teams, and in the night their jingling bells still went by.They hauled cabin logs and firewood, freighted up to the mines, and did all manner of work that horses did in the Santa Clara Valley.Here and there Buck met Southland dogs, but in the main they were the wild wolf husky breed.Every night, regularly, at nine, at twelve, at three, they lifted a nocturnal song, a weird and eerie chant, in which it was Buck’s delight to join.

With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with longdrawn wailings and halfsobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence.It was an old song, old as the breed itself—one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad.It was invested with the woe of unnumbered generations, this plaint by which Buck was so strangely stirred.When he moaned and sobbed, it was with the pain of living that was of old the pain of his wild fathers, and the fear and mystery of the cold and dark that was to them fear and mystery.And that he should be stirred by it marked the completeness with which he harked back through the ages of fire and roof to the raw beginnings of life in the howling ages.

Seven days from the time they pulled into Dawson, they dropped down the steep bank by the Barracks to the Yukon Trail, and pulled for Dyea and Salt Water. Perrault was carrying despatches if anything more urgent than those he had brought in；also, the travel pride had gripped him, and he purposed to makethe record trip of the year.Several things favored him in this.The week's rest had recuperated the dogs and put them in thorough trim.The trail they had broken into the country was packed hard by later journeyers.And further, the police had arranged in two or three places deposits of grub for dog and man, and he was travelling light.

They made Sixty Mile, which is a fiftymile run, on the first day；and the second day saw them booming up the Yukon well on their way to Pelly.But such splendid running was achieved not without great trouble and vexation on the part of Francois.The insidious revolt led by Buck had destroyed the solidarity of the team.It no longer was as one dog leaping in the traces.The encouragement Buck gave the rebels led them into all kinds of petty misdemeanors.No more was Spitz a leader greatly to be feared.The old awe departed, and they grew equal to challenging his authority.Pike robbed him of half a fish one night, and gulped it down under the protection of Buck.Another night Dub and Joe fought Spitz and made him forego the punishment they deserved.And even Billee, the goodnatured, was less goodnatured, and whined not half so placatingly as in former days.Buck never came near Spitz without snarling and bristling menacingly.In fact, his conduct approached that of a bully, and he was givento swaggering up and down before Spitz’s very nose.

The breaking down of discipline likewise affected the dogs in their relations with one another. They quarrelled and bickered more than ever among themselves, till at times the camp was a howling

试读结束[说明：试读内容隐藏了图片]

下载完整电子书