CALL OF THE WILD CH 1

The Call of the Wild

Jack London

THE EMC MASTERPIECE SERIES

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Robert D. Shepherd

EMC/Paradigm PublishingSt. Paul, Minnesota

Staff Credits:For EMC/Paradigm Publishing, St. Paul, Minnesota

For Penobscot School Publishing, Inc., Danvers, Massachusetts

ISBN 0–8219–1615–7

Copyright © 1998 by EMC Corporation

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Published by EMC/Paradigm Publishing875 Montreal WaySt. Paul, Minnesota 55102

Printed in the United States of America.10 9 8 7 6 5 4 xxx 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Laurie SkibaEditor

Shannon O’Donnell TaylorAssociate Editor

Eileen SlaterEditorial Consultant

Editorial

Robert D. ShepherdPresident, Executive Editor

Christina KolbManaging Editor

Kim Leahy BeaudetEditor

Sara HyryEditor

Marilyn Murphy ShepherdEditor

Sharon SalingerCopyeditor

Design and Production

Charles Q. BentProduction Manager

Sara DayArt Director

Tatiana CicutoCompositor

Table of Contents

The Life and Works of Jack London. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iv

Biographical Time Line. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vi

Historical Time Line . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

Introduction: Historical Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . viii

List of Characters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . x

Map and Illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xii

Chapter I . . . . . Into the Primitive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Chapter II . . . . The Law of Club and Fang . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Chapter III . . . . The Dominant Primordial Beast. . . . . . . 29

Chapter IV . . . . Who Has Won to Mastership . . . . . . . . . 48

Chapter V . . . . The Toil of Trace and Trail . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Chapter VI . . . . For the Love of a Man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Chapter VII . . . The Sounding of the Call . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

Plot Analysis of The Call of the Wild . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122

Creative Writing Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124

Critical Writing Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

Projects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Handbook of Literary Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

iv THE CALL OF THE WILD

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF

Jack London

Jack London (1876-1916). London was born in SanFrancisco, California, to Flora Wellman Chaney. His fatherhad deserted the family before he was born. When Londonwas nine months old, his mother married John London, awidower with two daughters. Because of the family’s severepoverty, Jack left school at the age of fourteen to work in acannery, and he experienced the colorful life of the SanFrancisco waterfront. By the age of sixteen, London had beenboth an oyster pirate and a member of the San Francisco BayFish Patrol. In 1893, at the age of seventeen, London joinedthe crew of a sealing schooner called the Sophia Sutherlandand traveled on an eight-month expedition as far away asHawaii, Siberia, and Japan. Based on this experience, Londonwrote the essay “Story of a Typhoon off the Coast of Japan,”which won a twenty-five-dollar first prize in a San Francisconewspaper contest. After his experience at sea, Londonworked as a coal heaver in the power plant of Oakland,California, shoveling coal for ten cents an hour. Then hejoined “Kelly’s Army,” a group of unemployed men march-ing to Washington to protest poor economic conditions.After leaving Kelly’s Army and serving time in prison forvagrancy, London toured the East Coast and then returnedto the West Coast by train, traveling across Canada on a coalcar. He earned passage on a ship going from Vancouver toCalifornia by stoking coal.

On his return to Oakland, London became determined tobecome a writer; he read voraciously and, at the age of nine-teen, continued his education at Oakland High School. Afterone semester at the University of California, London joinedcountless others in the Klondike Gold Rush. He spent a win-ter on Split-Up Island, eight miles from the major communityof the Klondike Region, Dawson City. Ill with scurvy, hereturned to Oakland and began writing seriously, focusingon his Northland experiences. At the age of twenty-three,London made his literary breakthrough with the story “AnOdyssey of the North,” which was published by the AtlanticMonthly magazine in 1899. Another notable piece published

Jack London

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JACK LONDON v

during this time was “To the Man on the Trail,” whichappeared in the Overland Monthly. He also published abouttwenty other stories, essays, and poems.

London wrote over two hundred short stories in the nexttwenty years. During that time he also published twentynovels, more than four hundred nonfiction pieces, and threeplays. Despite the extraordinary variety of subjects exploredin his work, London’s reputation as a writer was based largelyon his works about the great North Country. These worksincluded twenty-eight short stories, four novels, one play,and six nonfiction pieces. London’s writings about the NorthCountry are, by and large, examples of Naturalism, a literarymovement of the late nineteenth and early twentieth cen-turies that saw actions and events as arising inevitably fromforces in the environment. London’s most famous novels setin the North are The Call of the Wild (1903) and White Fang(1906). His other novels include The Sea-Wolf (1904), TheGame (1905), Martin Eden (1909), John Barleycorn (1913), andJerry of the Islands (1917). His collections of short storiesinclude Love of Life (1907), Lost Face (1910), and On theMakaloa Mat (1919).

Sickness plagued London throughout his thirties. At agethirty-one, he contracted tropical sicknesses in the SolomonIslands. At age thirty-seven, he underwent surgery for appen-dicitis and doctors discovered that his kidneys were diseased.The following year he hoped to report on the MexicanRevolution but was struck with dysentery. Two years later, atforty years of age, Jack London died of heart failure and apossible stroke. Despite this untimely death, London left awide body of works. The works of Jack London greatly influ-enced many modern writers, including George Orwell andErnest Hemingway. His works have been translated into overeighty languages and remain extremely popular today.

vi THE CALL OF THE WILD

1876

1878

1881

1890

1892

1893

1894

1895

1897

1899

1900

1903

1904

1906

1910

1913

1916

Biographical Time Line

Jack Griffith Chaney is born in San Francisco, California. His father, WilliamHenry Chaney, deserts the family, but his mother marries a man named JohnLondon when Jack is nine months old.

The family moves to Oakland, California, where John runs a grocery store.

The family moves to a farm in Alameda, and Jack starts grade school.

London leaves school to work in a cannery. A few months later he pur-chases a boat and becomes an oyster pirate on San Francisco Bay.

London serves for nearly a year as a deputy fish patrolman in the FishPatrol of San Francisco Bay.

London sails to Japan and Siberia on a seal-hunting voyage. Based on thisexperience, he writes a prize-winning essay called “Story of a Typhoon off theCoast of Japan,” published in the San Francisco Morning Call.

London works as a coal-heaver in the power plant of Oakland. He joins agroup called “Kelly’s Army,” travels around the Midwest and the East Coastprotesting poor economic conditions, and is arrested for vagrancy inNiagara Falls.

London decides to become a writer and returns to high school inOakland.

London joins the Gold Rush to the Klondike, where he spends two years.His search for gold is unsuccessful, but the setting inspires many of hismost successful novels and stories.

London gets his first literary break: He publishes a story, “An Odyssey ofthe North,” in the Atlantic Monthly magazine.

London publishes a collection of stories, The Son of Wolf. By this time heis a popular and well-paid writer.

London publishes the novel The Call of the Wild, which confirms his sta-tus as a great American writer. He also publishes The People of the Abyss, abook influenced by the theory of Social Darwinism.

London publishes the novel The Sea-Wolf.

London publishes the novel White Fang.

London settles near Glen Ellen, California. He publishes the novel Revolution.

London’s house burns down.

London dies on November 22, at the age of forty.

HISTORICAL TIME LINE vii

1876

1877

1880

1881

1884

1889

1890

1892

1896

1897

1898

1901

1902

1904

1908

1910

1912

1914

1916

Historical Time Line

Colorado is admitted to the Union; Lieutenant George Custer and whitesoldiers are defeated by the Sioux in the Battle of Little Big Horn.

Rutherford B. Hayes becomes president.

James Abram Garfield is elected president.

President Garfield is assassinated. Chester Alan Arthur succeeds as president.

Grover Cleveland is elected president; Alaska becomes a district governedby the laws of the state of Oregon.

North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, and Washington are admitted tothe Union.

The last major military battle between whites and Native Americans—theBattle of Wounded Knee—takes place in South Dakota.

Grover Cleveland is elected to a second term as president.

William McKinley is elected president. Gold is discovered in the Klondikeregion of Canada.

People rush to stake claims in the Klondike. The United States annexesHawaii.

The Spanish-American War, a conflict between Spain and the UnitedStates, is fought in Cuba and the Philippines.

President McKinley is assassinated. Theodore Roosevelt succeeds aspresident.

Gold is discovered in the Fairbanks region of Alaska.

President Roosevelt is reelected.

William Taft is elected president.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People(NAACP) is founded.

Woodrow Wilson is elected president. The Titanic sinks.

World War I begins.

President Wilson is reelected.

viii THE CALL OF THE WILD

INTRODUCTION

Historical Overview

The Klondike Gold Rush

The Call of the Wild is a novel inspired by Jack London’sexperiences during the Klondike Gold Rush in the YukonTerritory of northwest Canada. Like many other Klondikegold-seekers, London was attracted to the Yukon Territorybecause of its promise of wealth, and because the ruggedarea, known to many as the “Last Frontier,” was an idealplace to test one’s courage, adaptability, and endurance.

The Yukon Territory is bordered by the Arctic Ocean tothe north, the Northwest Territory to the east, BritishColumbia to the south, and Alaska to the west. TheKlondike River crosses the territory and enters the YukonRiver at the major city of Dawson. In 1896, gold depositswere discovered in Rabbit (now Bonanza) Creek, which isa tributary, or branch, of the Klondike River. News of goldin the Klondike region of the Yukon Territory reached theUnited States in 1897, attracting thousands of prospec-tors. The term prospector comes from a Latin word mean-ing “to seek.” Traveling to this wild, cold area and thensurviving in it was not easy. The region was nearly unin-habited at the time the first deposits of gold were found.Many people never even made it to the areas that wererichest in gold. After the most easily accessible depositswere exhausted, people tried to travel further into theYukon interior. Out of nearly two hundred and fifty thou-sand prospectors attempting this journey, only about fiftythousand actually completed it. Enough prospectors didmake it to cause the area to experience a sharp rise in pop-ulation. After just four years of the gold rush, thirty thou-sand people had arrived to mine gold. Prospectors facedmany hardships in the region, including near-famineconditions during winter months.

HISTORICAL OVERVIEW ix

Despite hardships, $100 million in gold was mined inthe Yukon Territory within ten years of the start of the GoldRush. The highest annual output in gold was $22 millionin 1900. From that point on, there was a steady decline inproduction. By 1910, many people had left the area, hav-ing moved on to Alaska and other northern regions. TheYukon Territory still produces small amounts of gold andsilver, as well as other minerals, such as lead. The great goldrushes of the nineteenth century were one expression ofthe frontier spirit—the desire to explore and to settle openterritory—that shaped North American culture during thattime. When this period ended, mining was largely takenover by corporations and governments.

London was attracted to the Yukon Territory in partbecause of his personal philosophy, which was based onthe theory of Social Darwinism. He believed the idea thathuman societies are or should be managed according tothe principle of “survival of the fittest,” and this ideaseemed to be lived out fully in the wild and harsh YukonTerritory, where laws and law enforcement were virtuallynonexistent. In The Call of the Wild, London’s SocialDarwinism is combined with Naturalism, a literary move-ment of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuriesthat saw actions and events as resulting inevitably frombiological or natural forces or from forces in the environ-ment. In works of Naturalism, actions and events areoften beyond the comprehension and control of the char-acters subjected to them. London believed that when civ-ilizing influences and conditions are absent, peoples’essentially uncivilized and wild natures come out. Theinfluence of Social Darwinism; the frontier virtues ofcourage, individuality, endurance, and intelligence; andthe experience of surviving a winter eight miles out ofDawson in the Yukon Territory are all reflected in The Callof the Wild.

Dogs

Buck. Buck, part Saint Bernard and part Scottish shep-herd, is the main character of the novel. During the courseof this novel, Buck changes from a pampered, civilized dogfrom the south to an animal who can survive in the ruggednorth. Buck’s experiences illustrate Jack London’s belief inthe principle of “survival of the fittest.”

Curly. Curly is Buck’s friend, whom he meets on the boattrip to the north. She is good natured and has trouble adapt-ing.

Spitz. This dog becomes Buck’s enemy. He has a violentfight with Buck that is significant because it shows that Buckis trying to adapt and survive in his new environment.

Toots and Ysabel. These are two small dogs who live onJudge Miller’s estate with Buck—a Japanese pug and aMexican hairless.

Dave, Joe, Billee, Dolly, Pike, Sol-leks, and Dub. Thesedogs are on Perrault and Francois’s sled team with Buck.

Skeet and Nig. These are two of John Thornton’s dogs.

People

Judge Miller. Judge Miller is Buck’s first owner. The judgepampers Buck and treats him as a member of his family.Buck’s father had been his constant companion.

Manuel. Manuel is a gardener’s helper on Judge Miller’sestate.

Man in the Red Sweater. This man is the first person toteach Buck a “primitive law”—that Buck cannot win a fightagainst a man wielding a weapon. This lesson stays withBuck throughout the book.

Perrault and François. These two Frenchmen are Buck’sfirst owners in the North. They work for the Canadian gov-ernment, carrying mail to different outposts.

The Scot. This man buys Buck from Perrault and Francois.He delivers mail and works his dogs hard.

x THE CALL OF THE WILD

List of Characters

Charles. This man is Buck’s third master in the north. Heis incompetent as a sled driver and continually puts himselfand the dogs at risk because he does not understand thenorth.

Mercedes. She is Charles’s wife. She, also, does not under-stand how to survive in the dangerous north. She thinks oftheir journey as a type of camping trip.

Hal. He is Mercedes’s brother. He carries weapons andmistreats Buck.

John Thornton. John Thornton saves Buck’s life, and, inturn, Buck feels a responsibility to protect him at all times.

Hans and Pete. These men are John Thornton’s partners.They travel with him to pan for gold in the lost mine.

Matthewson. This man bets John Thornton that Buckcannot pull a sled holding a thousand pounds.

Jim O’Brien. This man is a friend of John Thornton’s. Heoffers to lend Thornton money to make the bet withMatthewson.

The Yeehats. The Yeehat Indians come to think of Buck asthe Evil Spirit.

LIST OF CHARACTERS xi

xii THE CALL OF THE WILD

G U L F

O F

A L A S K A

• Circle City

• DawsonKlondike River

LakeLa Barge

Yukon River

Tan

an

aR

iver

• White Horse

• Skagway

ILLUSTRATIONS xiii

A R C T I CC I R C L E

xiv THE CALL OF THE WILD

A dog becomes theleader of a team of sleddogs by inspiring fearand respect in the oth-ers. Dogfights break outwhen the dominance ofthe leader is contested.

People use the Siberianhusky as a sled dog inthe Arctic regionsbecause of its ability toendure extremely coldtemperatures. Thisrugged animal has beenknown to weigh asmuch as 130 pounds.

xv

Prospectors carried onlythe essentials on theirbacks—a stock of pre-served food, warmblankets, and a changeof clothes. They wore ahat and a good pair ofboots to protect headand feet from the cold.

A prospector would fillhis washpan with mud,immerse it in a river,and shake it. Gold dustand nuggets, beingheavier, would remainat the bottom of thepan, while earthdrained off.

A team of six to eight dogs caneasily pull a person and a sledfull of baggage.

CHAPTER I

Into the Primitive

“Old longings nomadic leap,Chafing at custom’s chain;

Again from its brumal1 sleepWakens the ferine2 strain.”

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he wouldhave known that trouble was brewing, not alone forhimself, but for every tidewater dog, strong of mus-cle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound toSan Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic dark-ness, had found a yellow metal,3 and becausesteamship and transportation companies werebooming the find, thousands of men were rushinginto the Northland. These men wanted dogs, andthe dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strongmuscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protectthem from the frost.

Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed SantaClara Valley. Judge Miller’s place, it was called. Itstood back from the road, half hidden among thetrees, through which glimpses could be caught ofthe wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides.The house was approached by graveled drivewayswhich wound about through wide-spreading lawnsand under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars. Atthe rear, things were on even a more spacious scalethan at the front. There were great stables, where a

INTO THE PRIMITIVE 1

1. brumal. Wintry2. ferine. Feral; untamed or wild3. yellow metal. Gold

WWordsForEverydayUse

no • mad • ic (no mad´ ik) adj., wandering, moving aboutconstantly

ve • ran • da (və ran´də) n., open porch

√ Who wantsdogs? Why do theywant dogs?

4. artesian well. Well drilled deep enough to reach water that is draining fromhigher ground, so that pressure will force a flow upward

dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vine-cladservants’ cottages, an endless and orderly array ofouthouses, long grape arbors, green pastures,orchards, and berry patches. Then there was thepumping plant for the artesian well,4 and the bigcement tank where Judge Miller’s boys took theirmorning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.

And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here hewas born, and here he had lived the four years of hislife. It was true, there were other dogs. There couldnot but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they didnot count. They came and went, resided in the pop-ulous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses ofthe house after the fashion of Toots, the Japanesepug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, strange crea-tures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot toground. On the other hand, there were the fox terri-ers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearfulpromises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the win-dows at them and protected by a legion of house-maids armed with brooms and mops.

But Buck was neither house-dog nor kennel-dog.The whole realm was his. He plunged into the swim-ming tank or went hunting with the Judge’s sons; heescorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s daughters, onlong twilight or early morning rambles; on wintrynights he lay at the Judge’s feet before the roaringlibrary fire; he carried the Judge’s grandsons on hisback, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded theirfootsteps through wild adventures down to thefountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, wherethe paddocks were, and the berry patches. Among

2 THE CALL OF THE WILD


de • mesne (di man ) n., region; domainob • scure • ly (əb skyo�o— r´le) adv., unnoticedre • cess (re´ses) n., secluded placepad • dock (pad´ək) n., enclosed field

® What detailsshow Buck’s highstatus at the Judge’splace?

the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots andYsabel he utterly ignored, for he was king—king overall creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller’splace, humans included.

His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been theJudge’s inseparable companion, and Buck bid fair tofollow5 in the way of his father. He was not solarge—he weighed only one hundred and fortypounds—for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotchshepherd dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and fortypounds, to which was added the dignity that comesof good living and universal respect, enabled him tocarry himself in right royal fashion. During the fouryears since his puppyhood he had lived the life of asated aristocrat; he had a fine pride in himself, waseven a trifle egotistical, as country gentlemensometimes become because of their insular situa-tion. But he had saved himself by not becoming amere pampered house-dog. Hunting and kindredoutdoor delights had kept down the fat and hard-ened his muscles; and to him, as to thecold-tubbing races, the love of water had been atonic and a health preserver.

And this was the manner of dog Buck was in thefall of 1897, when the Klondike6 strike dragged menfrom all the world into the frozen North. But Buckdid not read the newspapers, and he did not knowthat Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was anundesirable acquaintance. Manuel had one beset-ting sin. He loved to play Chinese lottery. Also, inhis gambling, he had one besetting weakness—faithin a system; and this made his damnation certain.


5. bid fair to follow. Seemed likely to follow6. Klondike. Gold was found in 1896 in the Klondike, a river in West Yukon

Territory, Canada.


im • per • i • ous • ly (im pir´e es le) adv.,with an overbearing or imperial mannersat • ed (sat əd) adj., satisfiedin • su • lar (in sə lər) adj., detached; isolated

be • set • ting (be set´ŋ) part., constantlyharassing

√ What words anddetails are used toportray Buck’s char-acter?

For to play a system requires money, while the wagesof a gardener’s helper do not lap over the needs of awife and numerous progeny.

The Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers’Association, and the boys were busy organizing anathletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel’streachery. No one saw him and Buck go off throughthe orchard on what Buck imagined was merely astroll. And with the exception of a solitary man, noone saw them arrive at the little flag station knownas College Park. This man talked with Manuel, andmoney chinked between them.

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

“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. Tobe sure, it was an unwonted performance: but hehad learned to trust in men he knew, and to givethem credit for a wisdom that outreached his own.But when the ends of the rope were placed in thestranger’s hands, he growled menacingly. He hadmerely intimated his displeasure, in his pride believ-ing that to intimate was to command. But to his sur-prise the rope tightened around his neck, shuttingoff his breath. In quick rage he sprang at the man,who met him halfway, grappled him close by thethroat, and with a deft twist threw him over on hisback. Then the rope tightened mercilessly, whileBuck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of hismouth and his great chest panting futilely. Never inall his life had he been so vilely treated, and never inall his life had he been so angry. But his strength



prog • e • ny (pra�j´ə ne) n., descendant;offspringun • won • ted (un wa�ntid) adj., uncommonin • ti • mate (in´tə mat ) vt., hint, imply

fu • tile • ly (fyo�o— ´til´le) adv., ineffectively

® What doesManuel do to Buck?

® What are Buck’sfirst reactions to captivity?

ebbed, his eyes glazed, and he knew nothing whenthe train was flagged and the two men threw himinto the baggage car.

The next he knew, he was dimly aware that histongue was hurting and that he was being joltedalong in some kind of a conveyance. The hoarseshriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing told himwhere he was. He had traveled too often with theJudge not to know the sensation of riding in a bag-gage car. He opened his eyes, and into them camethe unbridled anger of a kidnapped king. The mansprang for his throat, but Buck was too quick forhim. His jaws closed on the hand, nor did they relaxtill his senses were choked out of him once more.

“Yep, has fits,” the man said, hiding his mangledhand from the baggageman, who had been attractedby the sounds of struggle. “I’m takin’ ’m up for theboss to ’Frisco. A crack dog-doctor there thinks that hecan cure ’m.”

Concerning that night’s ride, the man spoke mosteloquently for himself, in a little shed back of asaloon on the San Francisco waterfront.

“All I get is fifty for it,” he grumbled; “an’ I wouldn’tdo it over for a thousand, cold cash.”

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

“How much did the other mug get?” the saloon-keeper demanded.

“A hundred,” was the reply. “Wouldn’t take a sou7

less, so help me.”“That makes a hundred and fifty,” the saloon-

keeper calculated; “and he’s worth it, or I’m asquarehead.”


7. sou. Any of several antique French coins of very small denomination

WWords For EverydayUse

con • vey • ance (kən va´əns) n., carrying device

√ Where is Buck?How does he knowwhere he is?

The kidnapper undid the bloody wrappings andlooked at his lacerated hand. “If I don’t get thehydrophoby—”8

“It’ll be because you was born to hang,” laughedthe saloonkeeper. “Here, lend me a hand before youpull your freight,” he added.

Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat andtongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buckattempted to face his tormentors. But he was throwndown and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded infiling the heavy brass collar from off his neck. Thenthe rope was removed, and he was flung into a cage-like crate.

There he lay for the remainder of the weary night,nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could notunderstand what it all meant. What did they wantwith him, these strange men? Why were they keep-ing him pent up in this narrow crate? He did notknow why, but he felt oppressed by the vague senseof impending calamity. Several times during thenight he sprang to his feet when the shed door rat-tled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys atleast. But each time it was the bulging face of thesaloonkeeper that peered in at him by the sicklylight of a tallow candle. And each time the joyfulbark that trembled in Buck’s throat was twisted intoa savage growl.

But the saloonkeeper let him alone, and in themorning four men entered and picked up the crate.More tormentors, Buck decided, for they were evil-looking creatures, ragged and unkempt; and hestormed and raged at them through the bars. Theyonly laughed and poked sticks at him, which he


8. hydrophoby. Hydrophobia, or rabies


lac • er • at • ed (las´ər at´ed) part., cut; woundedtor • men • tor (tôr ment´ər) n., one who causes great painor suffering

® What hope doesBuck still have? Howdoes he feel whenthat hope is disap-pointed?

promptly assailed with his teeth till he realized thatthat was what they wanted. Whereupon he laydown sullenly and allowed the crate to be lifted intoa wagon. Then he, and the crate in which he wasimprisoned, began a passage through many hands.Clerks in the express office took charge of him; hewas carted about in another wagon; a truck carriedhim, with an assortment of boxes and parcels, upona ferry steamer; he was trucked off the steamer intoa great railway depot, and finally he was depositedin an express car.

For two days and nights this express car wasdragged along at the tail of shrieking locomotives;and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nordrank. In his anger he had met the first advances ofthe express messengers with growls, and they hadretaliated by teasing him. When he flung himselfagainst the bars, quivering and frothing, theylaughed at him and taunted him. They growled andbarked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flappedtheir arms and crowed. It was all very silly, he knew,but therefore the more outrage to his dignity, andhis anger waxed and waxed. He did not mind thehunger so much, but the lack of water caused himsevere suffering and fanned his wrath to fever- pitch.For that matter, high-strung and finely sensitive, theill treatment had flung him into a fever, which wasfed by the inflammation of his parched and swollenthroat and tongue.

He was glad for one thing: the rope was off hisneck. That had given them an unfair advantage; butnow that it was off, he would show them. Theywould never get another rope around his neck.Upon that he was resolved. For two days and nightshe neither ate nor drank, and during those two days



sul • len • ly (sul´ən le) adv., showing resentment; gloomilywax (waks) vi., increase in strength; grow largerre • solved (ri za�lvd´) adj., firm and fixed in purpose; determined

√ What behavior ofthe express messen-gers bothered Buck?Why did theseactions anger him?


met • a • mor • phose (met´ə mor´foz ) vt., change; transformgin • ger • ly (jin´jər´le) adv., cautiouslydi • vine (də v� n ) vt., find out by intuition

and nights of torment, he accumulated a fund ofwrath that boded ill for whoever first fell foul ofhim. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he was meta-morphosed into a raging fiend. So changed was hethat the Judge himself would not have recognizedhim; and the express messengers breathed withrelief when they bundled him off the train at Seattle.

Four men gingerly carried the crate from the wagoninto a small, high-walled back yard. A stout man, witha red sweater that sagged generously at the neck,came out and signed the book for the driver. That wasthe man, Buck divined, the next tormentor, and hehurled himself savagely against the bars. The mansmiled grimly, and brought a hatchet and a club.

“You ain’t going to take him out now?” the driverasked.

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

There was an instantaneous scattering of the fourmen who had carried it in, and from safe percheson top of the wall they prepared to watch theperformance.

Buck rushed at the splintering wood, sinking histeeth into it, surging and wrestling with it. Whereverthe hatchet fell on the outside, he was there on theinside, snarling and growling, as furiously anxiousto get out as the man in the red sweater was calmlyintent on getting him out.

“Now, you red-eyed devil,” he said, when he hadmade an opening sufficient for the passage of Buck’sbody. At the same time he dropped the hatchet andshifted the club to his right hand.

And Buck was truly a red-eyed devil, as he drewhimself together for the spring, hair bristling, mouthfoaming, a mad glitter in his bloodshot eyes. Straight


® How has Buckchanged since hewas taken from the Judge’s place?

at the man he launched his one hundred and fortypounds of fury, surcharged with the pent passion oftwo days and nights. In midair, just as his jaws wereabout to close on the man, he received a shock thatchecked his body and brought his teeth together withan agonizing clip. He whirled over, fetching theground on his back and side. He had never beenstruck by a club in his life and did not understand.With a snarl that was part bark and more scream hewas again on his feet and launched into the air. Andagain the shock came and he was brought crushinglyto the ground. This time he was aware that it was theclub, but his madness knew no caution. A dozentimes he charged, and as often the club broke thecharge and smashed him down.

After a particularly fierce blow he crawled to hisfeet, too dazed to rush. He staggered limply about,the blood flowing from nose and mouth and ears, hisbeautiful coat sprayed and flecked with bloodyslaver. Then the man advanced and deliberately dealthim a frightful blow on the nose. All the pain he hadendured was as nothing compared with the exquisiteagony of this. With a roar that was almost lionlike inits ferocity, he again hurled himself at the man. Butthe man, shifting the club from right to left, coollycaught him by the under jaw, at the same timewrenching downward and backward. Buck describeda complete circle in the air, and half of another, thencrashed to the ground on his head and chest.

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

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



sur • charged (s r´chärjd´) adj., overloaded; overburdenedsla • ver (slav´ər) n., saliva

√ What is the man trying to teachBuck?

9. Druther. I’d rather10. cayuses. Small western horses used by cowboys11. ruction. Noisy disturbance or quarrel

“Druther9 break cayuses10 any day, and twice onSundays,” was the reply of the driver, as he climbedon the wagon and started the horses.

Buck’s senses came back to him, but not hisstrength. He lay where he had fallen, and from therehe watched the man in the red sweater.

“‘Answers to the name of Buck,’” the man solilo-quized, quoting from the saloonkeeper’s letterwhich had announced the consignment of the crateand contents. “Well, Buck, my boy,” he went on ina genial voice, “we’ve had our little ruction,11 andthe best thing we can do is to let it go at that. You’velearned your place, and I know mine. Be a good dogand all ’ll go well and the goose hang high. Be a baddog, and I’ll whale the stuffin’ outa you.Understand?”

As he spoke he fearlessly patted the head he had somercilessly pounded, and though Buck’s hair invol-untarily bristled at touch of the hand, he endured itwithout protest. When the man brought him waterhe drank eagerly, and later bolted a generous meal ofraw meat, chunk by chunk, from the man’s hand.

He was beaten (he knew that); but he was not bro-ken. He saw, once for all, that he stood no chanceagainst a man with a club. He had learned the lesson,and in all his afterlife he never forgot it. That was arevelation. It was his introduction to the reign of prim-itive law, and he met the introduction halfway. Thefacts of life took on a fiercer aspect; and while he facedthat aspect uncowed, he faced it with all the latentcunning 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


® What lesson hasBuck learned? How is this lesson signifi-cant?


so • lil • o • quize (sə lil´ə kw� z ) vi., talk tooneselfcon • sign • ment (kən s�¯nmənt) n., ship-ment

ge • ni • al (jen yəl) adj., amiable; cheerfulun • cowed (un koud´) part., unafraid;unintimidatedla • tent (lat ’nt) adj., hidden

come; and, one and all, he watched them pass underthe dominion of the man in the red sweater. Againand again, as he looked at each brutal performance,the lesson was driven home to Buck: a man with a clubwas a lawgiver, a master to be obeyed, though not nec-essarily conciliated. Of this last Buck was never guilty,though he did see beaten dogs that fawned upon theman, and wagged their tails, and licked his hand. Alsohe saw one dog, that would neither conciliate norobey, finally killed in the struggle for mastery.

Now and again men came, strangers, who talkedexcitedly, wheedlingly, and in all kinds of fashionsto the man in the red sweater. And at such times thatmoney passed between them the strangers took oneor more of the dogs away with them. Buck wonderedwhere they went, for they never came back; but thefear of the future was strong upon him, and he wasglad each time when he was not selected.

Yet his time came, in the end, in the form of a lit-tle weazened12 man who spat broken English andmany strange and uncouth exclamations whichBuck could not understand.

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

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

Perrault grinned. Considering that the price ofdogs had been boomed skyward by the unwonteddemand, it was not an unfair sum for so fine an ani-mal. The Canadian Government would be no loser,nor would its dispatches travel the slower. Perrault


12. weazened. Wizened (dried and shrunken, as from aging)


con • cil • i • ate (kən sil´e at ) vt., win overun • couth (un ko�o— th´) adj., uncultured; crude; strange

√ Why does theman curse?

13. Barrens. Extremely remote and sparsely populated region of the NorthwestTerritory, north and west of Hudson Bay, Canada

knew dogs, and when he looked at Buck he knewthat he was one in a thousand—“One in ten t’ou-sand,” he commented mentally.

Buck saw money pass between them, and was notsurprised when Curly, a good-natured Newfound -land, and he were led away by the little weazenedman. That was the last he saw of the man in the redsweater, and as Curly and he looked at recedingSeattle from the deck of the Narwhal, it was the lasthe saw of the warm Southland. Curly and he weretaken below by Perrault and turned over to a black -faced giant called François. Perrault was a French -Canadian, and swarthy; François was a French -Canadian, and twice as swarthy. They were a newkind of men to Buck (of which he was destined tosee many more), and while he developed no affec-tion for them, he nonetheless grew honestly torespect them. He speedily learned that Perrault andFrançois were fair men, calm and impartial inadministering justice, and too wise in the way ofdogs to be fooled by dogs.

In the ’tween-decks of the Narwhal, Buck andCurly joined two other dogs. One of them was a big,snow-white fellow from Spitzbergen who had beenbrought away by a whaling captain, and who hadlater accompanied a Geological Survey into theBarrens.13 He was friendly, in a treacherous sort ofway, smiling into one’s face the while he meditatedsome underhand trick, as, for instance, when hestole from Buck’s food at the first meal. As Bucksprang to punish him, the lash of François’s whipsang through the air, reaching the culprit first; andnothing remained to Buck but to recover the bone.



im • par • tial (im pa�r´shəl) adj., without prejudice or bias

That was fair of François, he decided, and the manbegan his rise in Buck’s estimation.

The other dog made no advances, nor received any;also, he did not attempt to steal from the newcom-ers. He was a gloomy, morose fellow, and he showedCurly plainly that all he desired was to be left alone,and further, that there would be trouble if he werenot left alone. “Dave” he was called, and he ate andslept, or yawned between times, and took interest innothing, not even when the Narwhal crossed QueenCharlotte Sound14 and rolled and pitched andbucked like a thing possessed. When Buck and Curlygrew excited, half wild with fear, he raised his headas though annoyed, favored them with an incuriousglance, yawned, and went to sleep again.

Day and night the ship throbbed to the tirelesspulse of the propeller, and though one day was verylike another, it was apparent to Buck that theweather was steadily growing colder. At last, onemorning, the propeller was quiet, and the Narwhalwas pervaded with an atmosphere of excitement. Hefelt it, as did the other dogs, and knew that a changewas at hand. François leashed them and broughtthem on deck. At the first step upon the cold surface,Buck’s feet sank into a white mushy something verylike mud. He sprang back with a snort. More of thiswhite stuff was falling through the air. He shookhimself, but more of it fell upon him. He sniffed itcuriously, then licked some up on his tongue. It bitlike fire, and the next instant was gone. This puzzledhim. He tried it again, with the same result. Theonlookers laughed uproariously, and he feltashamed, he knew not why, for it was his first snow.



mo • rose (mə ros ) adj., ill-tempered; sullenin • cu • ri • ous (in kyo�o— r´e əs) adj., uninterestedper • vade (pər vad´) vt., fill

14. Queen Charlotte Sound. Body of water off the west coast of BritishColumbia, Canada


Responding to the SelectionImagine that you are the dog Buck in this novel.

Suddenly, your world changes drastically. Imagine that youcan communicate with the Judge back home. Tell him whathas happened to you, expressing your feelings about someof the people you’ve met, such as the man in the redsweater.

Reviewing the SelectionRecalling and Interpreting1. R: What kind of dog is Buck? What aresome typical events in his life on the Judge’s farm?

2. I: How would you characterize the kind of life that Buckenjoys on the Judge’s farm?

3. R: What act of treachery does Manuel commit?4. I: What causes a demand for strong-muscled, thick-coated dogs?

5. R: What is Buck’s “introduction to the reign of primitivelaw”?

6. I: What causes Buck to sense that “the fear of the futurewas strong upon him”?

7. R: Who buys Buck from the man in the red sweater?8. I: What does François do that begins “his rise in Buck’sestimation”?

Synthesizing9. What sort of relationship between humans and dogsexists on the Judge’s farm? How does that differ from therelationship between the man in the red sweater and thedogs that cross his path?

10. In what kind of life is Buck learning his first lessons?What are those lessons?

Understanding Literature (QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION)1. Foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is the act of present-ing materials that hint at events to occur later in a story.What events in this chapter foreshadow the kidnapping ofBuck?

2. Conflict/Plot/Inciting Incident. A conflict is a strugglebetween two forces in a literary work. A plot is a series ofevents related to a central conflict in a literary work. A typi-cal plot involves the following elements: introduction orexposition, inciting incident, rising action, climax, turningpoint, falling action, resolution, and dénouement. Theinciting incident is the event that introduces the centralconflict. What is the inciting incident that occurs in thisopening chapter? What conflicts are introduced? Againstwhat forces does Buck struggle?



CHAPTER II

The Law of Club and Fang

Buck’s first day on the Dyea beach was like a night-mare. Every hour was filled with shock and surprise.He had been suddenly jerked from the heart of civi-lization and flung into the heart of things primor-dial. No lazy, sun-kissed life was this, with nothingto do but loaf and be bored. Here was neither peace,nor rest, nor a moment’s safety. All was confusionand action, and every moment life and limb were inperil. There was imperative need to be constantlyalert; for these dogs and men were not town dogsand men. They were savages, all of them, who knewno law but the law of club and fang.He had never seen dogs fight as these wolfish crea-

tures fought, and his first experience taught him anunforgettable lesson. It is true, it was a vicariousexperience, else he would not have lived to profit byit. Curly was the victim. They were camped near thelog store, where she, in her friendly way, madeadvances to a husky dog the size of a full-grownwolf, though not half so large as she. There was nowarning, only a leap in like a flash, a metallic clip ofteeth, a leap out equally swift, and Curly’s face wasripped 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. Thirtyor forty huskies ran to the spot and surrounded thecombatants in an intent and silent circle. Buck didnot comprehend that silent intentness, nor theeager way with which they were licking their chops.

® What happens toCurly? How do theother dogs react?How does Buckreact?

® How does life onthe Dyea beach com-pare to life at theJudge’s place?


pri • mor • dial (pr�¯môr´de əl) adj., existing from thebeginning of time; primitivevi • car • i • ous (v�¯ker´e əs) adj., experienced by imaginedparticipation in another’s experience

THE LAW OF CLUB AND FANG 17

Curly rushed her antagonist, who struck again andleaped aside. He met her next rush with his chest, ina peculiar fashion that tumbled her off her feet. Shenever regained them. This was what the onlookinghuskies had waited for. They closed in upon her,snarling and yelping, and she was buried, screamingwith 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 tonguein a way he had of laughing; and he saw François,swinging an axe, spring into the mess of dogs. Threemen with clubs were helping him to scatter them. Itdid not take long. Two minutes from the time Curlywent down, the last of her assailants were clubbedoff. But she lay there limp and lifeless in the bloody,trampled snow, almost literally torn to pieces, theswart fellow standing over her and cursing horribly.The scene often came back to Buck to trouble him inhis sleep. So that was the way. No fair play. Oncedown, that was the end of you. Well, he would see toit that he never went down. Spitz ran out his tongueand laughed again, and from that moment Buckhated 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.François fastened upon him an arrangement of strapsand buckles. It was a harness, such as he had seenthe grooms put on the horses at home. And as hehad seen horses work, so he was set to work, haul-ing François on a sled to the forest that fringed thevalley, and returning with a load of firewood.Though his dignity was sorely hurt by thus beingmade a draft animal, he was too wise to rebel. Hebuckled down with a will and did his best, thoughit was all new and strange. François was stern,

√ What is Buckmade to do? Howdoes he feel aboutthis? How does herespond?


an • tag • o • nist (an ta�´ə nist) n., opponent; enemy


demanding instant obedience, and by virtue of hiswhip receiving instant obedience; while Dave, whowas an experienced wheeler,1 nipped Buck’s hind-quarters whenever he was in error. Spitz was theleader, likewise experienced, and while he could notalways get at Buck, he growled sharp reproof nowand again, or cunningly threw his weight in thetraces to jerk Buck into the way he should go. Bucklearned easily, and under the combined tuition ofhis two mates and François made remarkableprogress. Ere they returned to camp he knew enoughto stop at “ho,” to go ahead at “mush,” to swingwide on the bends, and to keep clear of the wheelerwhen the loaded sled shot downhill at their heels.“T’ree vair’ good dogs,” François told Perrault.

“Dat Buck, heem pool lak hell. I tich heem queek asanyt’ing.”By afternoon, Perrault, who was in a hurry to be

on the trail with his dispatches, returned with twomore dogs. “Billee” and “Joe” he called them, twobrothers, and true huskies both. Sons of the onemother though they were, they were as different asday and night. Billee’s one fault was his excessivegood nature, while Joe was the very opposite, sourand introspective, with a perpetual snarl and amalignant eye. Buck received them in comradelyfashion, Dave ignored them, while Spitz proceededto thrash first one and then the other. Billeewagged his tail appeasingly, turned to run when hesaw that appeasement was of no avail, and cried(still appeasingly) when Spitz’s sharp teeth scoredhis flank. But no matter how Spitz circled, Joewhirled around on his heels to face him, mane


re • proof (ri pro�o— f´) n., rebuke; censure; chastisementin • tro • spec • tive (in tro spek´tiv) adj., looking withinone’s own mindma • lig • nant (mə li�´nənt) adj., wishing evil; dangerous

1. wheeler. One who urges on animals that pull a cart or sled


bristling, ears laid back, lips writhing and snarling,jaws clipping together as fast as he could snap, andeyes diabolically gleaming—the incarnation of bel-ligerent fear. So terrible was his appearance thatSpitz was forced to forego disciplining him, but tocover his own discomfiture he turned upon theinoffensive and wailing Billee and drove him to theconfines of the camp.By evening Perrault secured another dog, an old

husky, long and lean and gaunt, with a battle-scarred face and a single eye, which flashed a warn-ing of prowess that commanded respect. He wascalled Sol-leks, which means the Angry One. LikeDave, he asked nothing, gave nothing, expectednothing; and when he marched slowly and deliber-ately into their midst, even Spitz left him alone. Hehad one peculiarity which Buck was unluckyenough to discover. He did not like to be approachedon his blind side. Of this offense Buck was unwit-tingly guilty, and the first knowledge he had of hisindiscretion was when Sol-leks whirled upon himand slashed his shoulder to the bone for three inchesup and down. Forever after Buck avoided his blindside, and to the last of their comradeship had nomore trouble. His only apparent ambition, likeDave’s, was to be left alone; though, as Buck wasafterward to learn, each of them possessed one otherand even more vital ambition.That night Buck faced the great problem of sleep-

ing. The tent, illumined by a candle, glowed warmlyin the midst of the white plain; and when he, as amatter of course, entered it, both Perrault andFrançois bombarded him with curses and cookingutensils, till he recovered from his consternationand fled ignominiously into the outer cold. A chill

√ What aspect ofBuck’s earlier life atthe Judge’s is con-trasted? How hasBuck’s life changed?


in • car • na • tion (in ka�r na´shən) n., anyperson or thing that serves as an embodi-ment of a quality or conceptdis • com • fi • ture (dis kum´fi chər) n.,feeling of frustration and confusion

prow • ess (prou is) n., superior ability; skillcon • ster • na • tion (ka�n stər na´shen) n.,great fear or shockig • no • min • i • ous • ly (i�´nə min e əsle) adv., disgracefully; shamefully


pla • cat • ing • ly (pla´kat iŋ le) adv., pacifyingly; pleasingly


wind was blowing that nipped him sharply and bitwith especial venom into his wounded shoulder. Helay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, butthe frost soon drove him shivering to his feet. Mis-erable and disconsolate, he wandered about amongthe many tents, only to find that one place was ascold as another. Here and there savage dogs rushedupon him, but he bristled his neck-hair and snarled(for he was learning fast), and they let him go hisway unmolested.Finally an idea came to him. He would return and

see how his own teammates were making out. To hisastonishment, they had disappeared. Again he wan-dered about through the great camp, looking forthem, and again he returned. Were they in the tent?No, that could not be, else he would not have beendriven out. Then where could they possibly be? Withdrooping tail and shivering body, very forlorn indeed,he aimlessly circled the tent. Suddenly the snow gaveway beneath his forelegs and he sank down. Some-thing wriggled under his feet. He sprang back,bristling and snarling, fearful of the unseen andunknown. But a friendly little yelp reassured him, andhe went back to investigate. A whiff of warm airascended to his nostrils, and there, curled up underthe snow in a snug ball, lay Billee. He whined placat-ingly, squirmed and wriggled to show his good willand intentions, and even ventured, as a bribe forpeace, 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 fussand wasted effort proceeded to dig a hole for him-self. In a trice2 the heat from his body filled the con-fined space and he was asleep. The day had been

2. trice. Very short time; moment


long and arduous, and he slept soundly and com-fortably, though he growled and barked and wres-tled with bad dreams.Nor did he open his eyes till roused by the noises

of the waking camp. At first he did not know wherehe was. It had snowed during the night and he wascompletely buried. The snow walls pressed him onevery side, and a great surge of fear swept throughhim—the fear of the wild thing for the trap. It was atoken that he was harking back through his own lifeto the lives of his forebears; for he was a civilizeddog, an unduly civilized dog, and of his experienceknew no trap and so could not of himself fear it. Themuscles of his whole body contracted spasmodicallyand instinctively, the hair on his neck and shouldersstood on end, and with a ferocious snarl he boundedstraight up into the blinding day, the snow flyingabout him in a flashing cloud. Ere he landed on hisfeet, he saw the white camp spread out before himand knew where he was and remembered all thathad passed from the time he went for a stroll withManuel to the hole he had dug for himself the nightbefore.A shout from François hailed his appearance.

“Wot I say?” the dog-driver cried to Perrault. “DatBuck for sure learn queek as anyt’ing.”Perrault nodded gravely. As courier for the Cana -

dian Government, bearing important dispatches, hewas anxious to secure the best dogs, and he was par-tic ularly gladdened by the possession of Buck.Three more huskies were added to the team inside

an hour, making a total of nine, and before anotherquarter of an hour had passed they were in harnessand swinging up the trail toward the Dyea Cañon.Buck was glad to be gone, and though the work was

√ What makes Buckafraid? What is thesource of his fear?


ar • du • ous (a�r´jo�o— əs) adj., strenuous;hardfore • bear (fôr´ber´) n., ancestorun • du • ly (un do�o— ´ e) adv., excessively

spas • mod • i • cal • ly (spaz ma�d´ik a le)adv., suddenly; violently; fitfully


hard he found he did not particularly despise it. Hewas surprised at the eagerness which animated thewhole team and which was communicated to him;but still more surprising was the change wrought inDave and Sol-leks. They were new dogs, utterlytransformed by the harness. All passiveness andunconcern had dropped from them. They were alertand active, anxious that the work should go well,and fiercely irritable with whatever, by delay or con-fusion, retarded that work. The toil of the traces3

seemed the supreme expression of their being, andall that they lived for and the only thing in whichthey took delight.Dave was wheeler or sled dog, pulling in front of

him was Buck, then came Sol-leks; the rest of theteam was strung out ahead, single file, to the leader,which position was filled by Spitz.Buck had been purposely placed between Dave and

Sol-leks so that he might receive instruction. Aptscholar that he was, they were equally apt teachers,never allowing him to linger long in error, and enforc -ing their teaching with their sharp teeth. Dave wasfair and very wise. He never nipped Buck withoutcause, and he never failed to nip him when he stoodin need of it. As François’s whip backed him up, Buckfound it to be cheaper to mend his ways than to retal-iate. Once, during a brief halt, when he got tangledin the traces and delayed the start, both Dave andSol-leks flew at him and administered a sound trounc-ing. The resulting tangle was even worse, but Bucktook good care to keep the traces clear thereafter; andere the day was done, so well had he mastered hiswork, his mates about ceased nagging him. François’swhip snapped less frequently, and Perrault even hon-ored Buck by lifting up his feet and carefully exam-ining them. It was a hard day’s run, up the Cañon, through

Sheep Camp, past the Scales and the timberline,

3. traces. Straps and chains connecting a draft animal’s harness to the vehicledrawn

® How are Buck’smistakes punished?How is his learningrewarded?

® How do the dogsfeel when harnessedas a team?



rout (rout) vt., make someone get out; force out

across glaciers and snowdrifts hundreds of feet deep,and over the great Chilcoot Divide, which standsbetween the salt water and the fresh and guards for-biddingly the sad and lonely North. They madegood time down the chain of lakes which fills thecraters of extinct volcanoes, and late that nightpulled into the huge camp at the head of Lake Ben-nett, where thousands of gold-seekers were buildingboats against the breakup of the ice in the spring.Buck made his hole in the snow and slept the sleepof the exhausted just, but all too early was routedout in the cold darkness and harnessed with hismates to the sled.That day they made forty miles, the trail being

packed; but the next day, and for many days to fol-low, they broke their own trail, worked harder, andmade poorer time. As a rule, Perrault traveled aheadof the team, packing the snow with webbed shoes tomake it easier for them. François, guiding the sled atthe gee-pole,4 sometimes exchanged places with him,but not often. Perrault was in a hurry, and he pridedhimself on his knowledge of ice, which knowledgewas indispensable, for the fall ice was very thin, andwhere 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 thefirst gray of dawn found them hitting the trail withfresh miles reeled off behind them. And always theypitched camp after dark, eating their bit of fish, andcrawling to sleep into the snow. Buck was ravenous.The pound and a half of sun-dried salmon, which washis ration for each day, seemed to go nowhere. Henever had enough, and suffered from perpetual hunger

4. gee-pole. Pole at the front of a dog sled for steering


pangs. Yet the other dogs, because they weighed lessand were born to the life, received a pound only ofthe fish and managed to keep in good condition.He swiftly lost the fastidiousness which had char-

acterized his old life. A dainty eater, he found thathis mates, finishing first, robbed him of his unfin-ished ration. There was no defending it. While hewas fighting off two or three, it was disappearingdown the throats of the others. To remedy this, heate as fast as they; and, so greatly did hunger com-pel him, he was not above taking what did notbelong to him. He watched and learned. When hesaw Pike, one of the new dogs, a clever malingererand thief, slyly steal a slice of bacon when Perrault’sback was turned, he duplicated the performance thefollowing day, getting away with the whole chunk.A great uproar was raised, but he was unsuspected;while Dub, an awkward blunderer who was alwaysgetting caught, was punished for Buck’s misdeed.This first theft marked Buck as fit to survive in the

hostile Northland environment. It marked hisadaptability, his capacity to adjust himself to chang-ing conditions, the lack of which would have meantswift and terrible death. It marked, further, the decayor going to pieces of his moral nature, a vain thingand a handicap in the ruthless struggle for existence.It was all well enough in the Southland, under thelaw of love and fellowship, to respect private prop-erty and personal feelings; but in the Northland,under the law of club and fang, whoso took suchthings into account was a fool, and insofar as heobserved them he would fail to prosper.Not that Buck reasoned it out. He was fit, that was

all, and unconsciously he accommodated himself tothe new mode of life. All his days, no matter what


fas • ti • di • ous • ness (fas tid´e əs nes) n., oversensitivenessma • lin • ger • er (mə liŋ´�ər ər) n., someone who avoids duty

ruth • less (ro�o— th´lis) adj., without pity

® What Northlandvirtue does Buckprove to possess?

the odds, he had never run from a fight. But the clubof the man in the red sweater had beaten into him amore fundamental and primitive code. Civilized, hecould have died for a moral consideration, say thedefense of Judge Miller’s riding whip, but the com-pleteness of his decivilization was now evidenced byhis ability to flee from the defense of a moral con-sideration and so save his hide. He did not steal forjoy of it, but because of the clamor of his stomach.He did not rob openly, but stole secretly and cun-ningly, out of respect for club and fang. In short, thethings he did were done because it was easier to dothem than not to do them.His development (or retrogression) was rapid. His

muscles became hard as iron, and he grew callous toall ordinary pain. He achieved an internal as well asexternal economy. He could eat anything, no matterhow loathsome or indigestible, and, once eaten, thejuices of his stomach extracted the last least particleof nutriment; and his blood carried it to the farthestreaches of his body, building it into the toughest andstoutest of tissues. Sight and scent became remark-ably keen, while his hearing developed such acute-ness that in his sleep he heard the faintest sound andknew whether it heralded peace or peril. He learnedto bite the ice out with his teeth when it collectedbetween his toes; and when he was thirsty and therewas a thick scum of ice over the water hole, he wouldbreak it by rearing and striking it with stiff fore legs.His most conspicuous trait was an ability to scent thewind and forecast it a night in advance. No matterhow breathless the air when he dug his nest by treeor bank, the wind that later blew inevitably foundhim to leeward,5 sheltered and snug.



re • tro • gres • sion (re trə �resh´ən) n., return to a lowerlevel or stageher • ald (her´əld) v., announce; introduce

5. leeward. Side or direction away from the wind

√ What new ruleshas Buck come to live by?

And not only did he learn by experience, butinstincts long dead became alive again. The domes-ticated generations fell from him. In vague ways heremembered back to the youth of the breed, to thetime the wild dogs ranged in packs through theprimeval forest and killed their meat as they ran itdown. It was no task for him to learn to fight withcut and slash and the quick wolf snap. In this man-ner had fought forgotten ancestors. They quickenedthe old life within him, and the old tricks whichthey had stamped into the heredity of the breedwere his tricks. They came to him without effort ordiscovery, as though they had been his always. Andwhen, on the still cold nights, he pointed his noseat a star and howled long and wolflike, it was hisancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at a star andhowling down through the centuries and throughhim. And his cadences were their cadences, thecadences which voiced their woe and what to themwas the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, anddark.Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is, the

ancient song surged through him and he came intohis own again; and he came because men had founda yellow metal in the North, and because Manuelwas a gardener’s helper whose wages did not lapover the needs of his wife and divers small copies ofhimself.



ca • dence (kad´�ns) n., rhythmic flow of sounddi • vers (d� ´vərz) adj., several

® What are thecauses of Buck’s self-discovery? Howmuch control overthese forces did Buckhave?

® Why does Bucklearn so quickly?


Responding to the SelectionImagine that you are Perrault. In your journal, write

about the dog Buck, describing the changes in him thatyou see happening.

Reviewing the SelectionRecalling and Interpreting1. R: What was Buck’s first day on the Dyea beach like?

2. I: What event teaches Buck “the law of club and fang”?

3. R: How do the men react to the fight?

4. I: What is probably the reason that Buck feels towardSpitz “a bitter and deathless hatred”?

5. R: Where does Buck try to sleep his first night in camp?Where does he end up sleeping?

6. I: What action on Buck’s part prompts François’s excla-mation, “Dat Buck for sure learn queek as anyt’ing”?

7. R: What action on Buck’s part marks him as “fit to sur-vive in the hostile Northland”?

8. I: Why is adaptability essential to survival?

Synthesizing9. What is “the law of club and fang”?

10. What laws of the Southland are handicaps in theNorthland? Why?


Understanding Literature (QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION)

1. Character and Motive. A character is a person or ani-mal who figures in the action of a story. A motive is a forcethat drives a character to act in a certain way. In this novel,the main character is an animal, the dog Buck. In this chap-ter, Buck develops a new behavior—stealing food. Whatmotivates Buck to act in this way? What motive preventedhim from acting this way in the past?

2. Theme. A theme is a central idea in a literary work. Along work such as a novel may deal with several interre-lated themes. One of the themes in The Call of the Wild isthe decivilization of Buck, a civilized creature who is placedin an uncivilized environment. What moral qualities doesBuck shed in this chapter? Why are these qualities irrele-vant, even dangerous, in an uncivilized environment suchas the Northland?

THE DOMINANT PRIMORDIAL BEAST 29

CHAPTER III

The Dominant Primordial Beast

The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck,and under the fierce conditions of trail life it grewand grew. Yet it was a secret growth. His newborncunning gave him poise and control. He was toobusy adjusting himself to the new life to feel at ease,and not only did he not pick fights, but he avoidedthem whenever possible. A certain deliberatenesscharacterized his attitude. He was not prone to rash-ness and precipitate action; and in the bitter hatredbetween 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 opportu-nity of showing his teeth. He even went out of hisway to bully Buck, striving constantly to start thefight which could end only in the death of one orthe other. Early in the trip this might have takenplace had it not been for an unwonted accident. Atthe end of this day they made a bleak and miserablecamp on the shore of Lake Le Barge. Driving snow, awind that cut like a white-hot knife, and darknesshad forced them to grope for a camping place. Theycould hardly have fared worse. At their backs rose aperpendicular wall of rock, and Perrault and Françoiswere compelled to make their fire and spread theirsleeping robes on the ice of the lake itself. The tentthey had discarded at Dyea in order to travel light. Afew sticks of driftwood furnished them with a firethat thawed down through the ice and left them toeat supper in the dark.

√ What futureevents might be fore-shadowed?

√ What extra hard-ships do the dogsand their mastersendure?


pre • cip • i • tate (pre sip´ə tit) adj., sudden; impetuous,rash


Close in under the sheltering rock Buck made hisnest. So snug and warm was it that he was loath toleave it when François distributed the fish which hehad first thawed over the fire. But when Buck fin-ished his ration and returned, he found his nestoccupied. A warning snarl told him that the tres-passer was Spitz. Till now Buck had avoided troublewith his enemy, but this was too much. The beast inhim roared. He sprang upon Spitz with a fury whichsurprised them both, and Spitz particularly, for hiswhole experience with Buck had gone to teach himthat his rival was an unusually timid dog, who man-aged to hold his own only because of his greatweight and size.François was surprised, too, when they shot out in

a tangle from the disrupted nest and he divined thecause of the trouble. “A-a-ah!” he cried to Buck. “Gifit 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 achance to spring in. Buck was no less eager, and noless cautious, as he likewise circled back and forthfor the advantage. But it was then that the unex-pected happened, the thing which projected theirstruggle for supremacy far into the future, past manya 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. Thecamp was suddenly discovered to be alive withskulking furry forms—starving huskies, four or fivescore1 of them, who had scented the camp fromsome Indian village. They had crept in while Buckand Spitz were fighting, and when the two men


loath (loth) adj., hesitant, reluctantsu • prem • a • cy (sə prem´ ə se) n.,authority

pan • de • mo • ni • um (pan də mo´neəm) n., wild noise and disorderskulk • ing (skulk´ŋ) adj., lurking about ina sinister way

1. score. Twenty people or things

® Who attacks thecamp? Why?



drag • gled (dra ´əld) adj., wet and dirty

2. grub-box. Box where food is kept3. jugular. Large artery that delivers blood to the brain

sprang among them with stout clubs they showedtheir teeth and fought back. They were crazed bythe smell of the food. Perrault found one with headburied in the grub -box.2 His club landed heavily onthe gaunt ribs, and the grub-box was capsized onthe ground. On the instant a score of the famishedbrutes were scrambling for the bread and bacon.The clubs fell upon them unheeded. They yelpedand howled under the rain of blows, but strugglednonetheless madly till the last crumb had beendevoured.In the meantime the astonished team dogs had

burst out of their nests only to be set upon by thefierce invaders. Never had Buck seen such dogs. Itseemed as though their bones would burst throughtheir skins. They were mere skeletons, draped loosely indraggled hides, with blazing eyes and slavered fangs.But the hunger-madness made them terrifying, irre-sistible. There was no opposing them. The team dogswere swept back against the cliff at the first onset.Buck was beset by three huskies, and in a trice hishead and shoulders were ripped and slashed. Thedin was frightful. Billee was crying as usual. Daveand Sol-leks, dripping blood from a score of wounds,were fighting bravely side by side. Joe was snappinglike a demon. Once, his teeth closed on the forelegof a husky, and he crunched down through thebone. Pike, the malingerer, leaped upon the crippledanimal, breaking its neck with a quick flash of teethand a jerk. Buck got a frothing adversary by thethroat, and was sprayed with blood when his teethsank through the jugular.3 The warm taste of it in hismouth goaded him to greater fierceness. He flung



rent (rent) adj., tornwar • i • ly (wer` ə le) adv., cautiouslyma • raud • er (mə rôd´ər) n., one who raids, pillages, orplunders

himself upon another, and at the same time feltteeth sink into his own throat. It was Spitz, treach-erously attacking from the side.Perrault and François, having cleaned out their

part of the camp, hurried to save their sled dogs. Thewild wave of famished beasts rolled back beforethem, and Buck shook himself free. But it was onlyfor a moment. The two men were compelled to runback to save the grub; upon which the huskiesreturned to the attack on the team. Billee, terrifiedinto bravery, sprang through the savage circle andfled away over the ice. Pike and Dub followed on hisheels, with the rest of the team behind. As Buckdrew himself together to spring after them, out ofthe tail of his eye he saw Spitz rush upon him withthe evident intention of overthrowing him. Once offhis feet and under that mass of huskies, there was nohope for him. But he braced himself to the shock ofSpitz’s charge, then joined the flight out on the lake.Later, the nine team dogs gathered together and

sought shelter in the forest. Though unpursued,they were in a sorry plight. There was not one whowas not wounded in four or five places, while somewere wounded grievously. Dub was badly injured ina hind leg; Dolly, the last husky added to the teamat Dyea, had a badly torn throat; Joe had lost an eye;while Billee, the good-natured, with an ear chewedand rent to ribbons, cried and whimpered through-out the night. At daybreak they limped warily backto camp, to find the marauders gone and the twomen in bad tempers. Fully half their grub supply wasgone. The huskies had chewed through the sled lash-ings and canvas coverings. In fact, nothing, no mat-ter how remotely eatable, had escaped them. Theyhad eaten a pair of Perrault’s moosehide moccasins,

® How does theteam escape?


chunks out of the leather traces, and even two feetof lash from the end of François’s whip. He brokefrom a mournful contemplation of it to look over hiswounded 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 andDawson,4 he could ill afford to have madness breakout among his dogs. Two hours of cursing and exer-tion got the harnesses into shape, and thewound-stiffened team was under way, strugglingpainfully over the hardest part of the trail they hadyet encountered, and for that matter, the hardestbetween them and Dawson.The Thirty Mile River was wide open. Its wild

water defied the frost, and it was in the eddies onlyand in the quiet places that the ice held at all. Sixdays of exhausting toil were required to cover thosethirty terrible miles. And terrible they were, for everyfoot of them was accomplished at the risk of life todog and man. A dozen times, Perrault, nosing theway, broke through the ice bridges, being saved bythe long pole he carried, which he so held that it felleach time across the hole made by his body. But acold snap was on, the thermometer registering fiftybelow zero, and each time he broke through he wascompelled for very life to build a fire and dry his gar-ments.Nothing daunted him. It was because nothing

daunted him that he had been chosen for govern-ment courier. He took all manner of risks, resolutely

4. Dawson. City in West Yukon, Canada, a base for gold miners


du • bi • ous • ly (do o— ´ be əs le) adv.,doubtfully, suspiciouslyex • er • tion (e zer´shən) n., efforted • dy (ed´e) n., little whirlpool

daunt (dônt) vt., make afraid, intimidateres • o • lute • ly (rez ə lo o— t´le) adv., withdetermination or fixed purpose

√ How doesPerrault keep fromfalling through theice? What does thisreveal about hischaracter?


thrusting his little weazened face into the frost andstruggling on from dim dawn to dark. He skirted thefrowning shores on rim ice that bent and crackledunder foot and upon which they dared not halt.Once, the sled broke through, with Dave and Buck,and they were half-frozen and all but drowned bythe time they were dragged out. The usual fire wasnecessary to save them. They were coated solidlywith ice, and the two men kept them on the runaround the fire, sweating and thawing, so close thatthey were singed by the flames.At another time Spitz went through, dragging the

whole team after him up to Buck, who strained back-ward with all his strength, his forepaws on the slip-pery edge and the ice quivering and snapping allaround. But behind him was Dave, likewise strainingbackward, and behind the sled was François, pullingtill his tendons cracked.Again, the rim ice broke away before and behind,

and there was no escape except up the cliff. Perraultscaled it by a miracle, while François prayed for justthat miracle; and with every thong and sled lashingand the last bit of harness rove5 into a long rope, thedogs were hoisted, one by one, to the cliff crest.François came up last, after the sled and load. Thencame the search for a place to descend, whichdescent was ultimately made by the aid of the rope,and night found them back on the river with a quar-ter 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 inlike condition; but Perrault, to make up lost time,pushed them late and early. The first day they cov-ered thirty-five miles to the Big Salmon; the next daythirty-five more to the Little Salmon; the third dayforty miles, which brought them well up toward theFive Fingers.6

5. rove. Woven6. Big Salmon . . . Little Salmon . . . Five Fingers. Three rivers


Buck’s feet were not so compact and hard as thefeet of the huskies. His had softened during themany generations since the day his last wild ances-tor was tamed by a cave dweller or river man. Allday long he limped in agony, and camp oncemade, lay down like a dead dog. Hungry as he was,he would not move to receive his ration of fish,which François had to bring to him. Also, the dog -driver rubbed Buck’s feet for half an hour eachnight after supper, and sacrificed the tops of hisown moccasins to make four moccasins for Buck.This was a great relief, and Buck caused even theweazened face of Perrault to twist itself into a grinone morning, when François forgot the moccasinsand Buck lay on his back, his four feet wavingappealingly in the air, and refused to budge with-out them. Later his feet grew hard to the trail, andthe worn-out footgear was thrown away.At the Pelly one morning, as they were harness-

ing up, Dolly, who had never been conspicuous foranything, went suddenly mad. She announced hercondition by a long, heartbreaking wolf howl thatsent every dog bristling with fear, then sprangstraight for Buck. He had never seen a dog go mad,nor did he have any reason to fear madness; yet heknew that here was horror, and fled away from itin a panic. Straight away he raced, with Dolly,panting and frothing, one leap behind; nor couldshe gain on him, so great was his terror, nor couldhe leave her, so great was her madness. He plungedthrough the wooded breast of the island, flewdown to the lower end, crossed a back channelfilled with rough ice to another island, gained athird island, curved back to the main river, and indesperation started to cross it. And all the time,though he did not look, he could hear her snarlingjust one leap behind. François called to him aquarter of a mile away and he doubled back, stillone leap ahead, gasping painfully for air andputting all his faith in that François would save

√ Why does Dollychase Buck? Whathappens to her?

√ What disadvan-tage does Buckhave? How doesFrançois help Buck?



pre • em • i • nent • ly (pre em´ə nənt le) adv., excellingabove others

him. The dog-driver held the axe poised in hishand, and as Buck shot past him the axe crasheddown upon mad Dolly’s head.Buck staggered over against the sled, exhausted,

sobbing for breath, helpless. This was Spitz’s oppor-tunity. He sprang upon Buck, and twice his teethsank into his unresisting foe and ripped and tore theflesh to the bone. Then François’s lash descended,and Buck had the satisfaction of watching Spitzreceive the worst whipping as yet administered toany of the team.“One devil, dat Spitz,” remarked Perrault. “Some

dam day heem keel dat Buck.”“Dat Buck two devils,” was François’s rejoinder.

“All de tam I watch dat Buck I know for sure. Lissen:some dam fine day heem get mad lak hell an’ denheem chew dat Spitz all up an’ spit heem out on desnow. Sure. I know.”From then on it was war between them. Spitz, as

lead dog and acknowledged master of the team, felthis supremacy threatened by this strange Southlanddog. And strange Buck was to him, for of the manySouthland dogs he had known, not one had shownup worthily in camp and on trail. They were all toosoft, dying under the toil, the frost, and starvation.Buck was the exception. He alone endured and pros-pered, matching the husky in strength, savagery,and cunning. Then he was a masterful dog, andwhat made him dangerous was the fact that the clubof the man in the red sweater had knocked all blindpluck and rashness out of his desire for mastery. Hewas preeminently cunning, and could bide his timewith 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

® How is Buck dif-ferent from otherSouthland dogs?What makes Buckdangerous?

® Why does Buckwant “the clash forleadership”?



shirk (sh!rk) vt., neglect; evade doing something

ab • ject • ly (ab´jekt le) adv., miserably, wretchedlymu • ti • ny (myo o— t ´ ��ne) n., revolt; rebellion againstauthority

it was his nature, because he had been gripped tightby that nameless, incomprehensible pride of thetrail and trace—that pride which holds dogs in thetoil to the last gasp, which lures them to die joyful-ly in the harness, and breaks their hearts if they arecut out of the harness. This was the pride of Dave aswheel dog, of Sol-leks as he pulled with all hisstrength; the pride that laid hold of them at break ofcamp, transforming them from sour and sullenbrutes into straining, eager, ambitious creatures; thepride that spurred them on all day and droppedthem at pitch of camp at night, letting them fallback into gloomy unrest and uncontent. This wasthe pride that bore up Spitz and made him thrashthe sled dogs who blundered and shirked in thetraces or hid away at harness-up time in the morn-ing. Likewise it was this pride that made him fearBuck as a possible lead dog. And this was Buck’spride, too.He openly threatened the other’s leadership. He

came between him and the shirks he should havepunished. And he did it deliberately. One night therewas a heavy snowfall, and in the morning Pike, themalingerer, did not appear. He was securely hidden inhis nest under a foot of snow. François called him andsought him in vain. Spitz was wild with wrath. Heraged through the camp, smelling and digging inevery likely place, snarling so frightfully that Pikeheard and shivered in his hiding place.But when he was at last unearthed, and Spitz

flew at him to punish him, Buck flew, with equalrage, in between. So unexpected was it, and soshrewdly managed, that Spitz was hurled back-ward and off his feet. Pike, who had been trem-bling abjectly, took heart at this open mutiny, and


sprang upon his overthrown leader. Buck, towhom fair play was a forgotten code, likewisesprang upon Spitz. But François, chuckling at theincident while unswerving in the administrationof justice, brought his lash down upon Buck withall his might. This failed to drive Buck from hisprostrate rival, and the butt of the whip wasbrought into play. Half stunned by the blow, Buckwas knocked backward and the lash laid upon himagain and again, while Spitz soundly punished themany times offending Pike.In the days that followed, as Dawson grew closer

and closer, Buck still continued to interfere betweenSpitz and the culprits; but he did it craftily, whenFrançois was not around. With the covert mutiny ofBuck, a general insubordination sprang up andincreased. Dave and Sol-leks were unaffected, butthe rest of the team went from bad to worse. Thingsno longer went right. There was continual bickeringand jangling. Trouble was always afoot, and at thebottom of it was Buck. He kept François busy, for thedog-driver was in constant apprehension of thelife-and-death struggle between the two which heknew must take place sooner or later; and on morethan one night the sounds of quarreling and strifeamong the other dogs turned him out of his sleep-ing robe, fearful that Buck and Spitz were at it.But the opportunity did not present itself, and

they pulled into Dawson one dreary afternoon withthe great fight still to come. Here were many men,and countless dogs, and Buck found them all atwork. It seemed the ordained order of things thatdogs should work. All day they swung up and downthe main street in long teams, and in the night theirjingling bells still went by. They hauled cabin logs


pros • trate (pra�s´trat ) adj., lying downcov • ert (kuv´ərt) adj., concealed, hiddenor • dained (or dand´) part., commanded



pall (pôl) n., coveringtrav • ail (trə val´) n., intense pain

and firewood, freighted up to the mines, and did allmanner of work that horses did in the Santa ClaraValley. Here and there Buck met Southland dogs, butin 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 borealis7 flaming coldly overhead,

or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the landnumb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song ofthe huskies might have been the defiance of life, onlyit was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wail-ings and half sobs, 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 theyounger world in a day when songs were sad. It wasinvested with the woe of unnumbered generations,this plaint by which Buck was so strangely stirred.When he moaned and sobbed, it was with the painof living that was of old the pain of his wild fathers,and the fear and mystery of the cold and dark thatwas to them fear and mystery. And that he should bestirred by it marked the completeness with which heharked back through the ages of fire and roof to theraw beginnings of life in the howling ages.Seven days from the time they pulled into

Dawson, they dropped down the steep bank by theBarracks to the Yukon Trail,8 and pulled for Dyeaand Salt Water. Perrault was carrying dispatches ifanything more urgent than those he had broughtin; also, the travel pride had gripped him, and hepurposed to make the record trip of the year.

7. aurora borealis. Luminous phenomena visible at night in a zone surround-ing the north magnetic pole; northern lights8. Yukon Trail. Trail running through Yukon Territory of Northwest Canada

√ Why do the dogshowl? What doestheir howlingexpress?

√ What doesPerrault hope toaccomplish? Whatthings might help to make this goalpossible?



in • sid • i • ous (in sid´e əs) adj., sly or treacheroussol • i • dar • i • ty (sa�l´ə dar´ə te) n., unity or agreementon an opinion or purposefu • tile (fyo o— t �l) adj., useless; vain

Several things favored him in this. The week’s resthad recuperated the dogs and put them in thoroughtrim. The trail they had broken into the country waspacked hard by later journeyers. And further, thepolice had arranged in two or three places depositsof grub for dog and man, and he was traveling light.They made Sixty Mile, which is a fifty-mile run, on

the first day; and the second day saw them boomingup the Yukon well on their way to Pelly. But suchsplendid running was achieved not without greattrouble and vexation on the part of François. Theinsidious revolt led by Buck had destroyed the soli-darity of the team. It no longer was as one dog leap-ing in the traces. The encouragement Buck gave therebels led them into all kinds of petty misdemeanors.No more was Spitz a leader greatly to be feared. Theold awe departed, and they grew equal to challenginghis authority. Pike robbed him of half a fish onenight, and gulped it down under the protection ofBuck. Another night Dub and Joe fought Spitz andmade him forego the punishment they deserved.And even Billee, the good-natured, was lessgood-natured, and whined not half so placatingly asin former days. Buck never came near Spitz withoutsnarling and bristling menacingly. In fact, his con-duct approached that of a bully, and he was given toswaggering up and down before Spitz’s very nose.The breaking down of discipline likewise affected

the dogs in their relations with one another. Theyquarreled and bickered more than ever amongthemselves, till at times the camp was a howlingbedlam. Dave and Sol-leks alone were unaltered,though they were made irritable by the unendingsquabbling. François swore strange barbarous oaths,and stamped the snow in futile rage, and tore his

® What is happen-ing to the dog team,and why?

hair. His lash was always singing among the dogs,but it was of small avail. Directly his back was turnedthey were at it again. He backed up Spitz with hiswhip, while Buck backed up the remainder of theteam. François knew he was behind all the trouble,and Buck knew he knew; but Buck was too cleverever again to be caught red-handed. He workedfaithfully in the harness, for the toil had become adelight to him; yet it was a greater delight slyly toprecipitate a fight amongst his mates and tangle thetraces.At the mouth of the Tahkeena, one night after sup-

per, Dub turned up a snowshoe rabbit, blundered it,and missed. In a second the whole team was in fullcry. A hundred yards away was a camp of theNorthwest Police, with fifty dogs, huskies all, whojoined the chase. The rabbit sped down the river,turned off into a small creek, up the frozen bed ofwhich it held steadily. It ran lightly on the surface ofthe snow, while the dogs ploughed through by mainstrength. Buck led the pack, sixty strong, aroundbend after bend, but he could not gain. He lay downlow to the race, whining eagerly, his splendid bodyflashing forward, leap by leap, in the wan whitemoonlight. And leap by leap, like some pale frostwraith, the snowshoe rabbit flashed on ahead.All that stirring of old instincts which at stated

periods drives men out from the sounding cities toforest and plain to kill things by chemically pro-pelled leaden pellets, the blood lust, the joy to kill—all this was Buck’s, only it was infinitely more inti-mate. He was ranging at the head of the pack, run-ning the wild thing down, the living meat, to killwith his own teeth and wash his muzzle to the eyesin warm blood.



pre • cip • i • tate (pre sip´ə tat´) v., cause; startwraith (rath) n., ghost or specter

√ What does Buck enjoy?

There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life,and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is theparadox of living, this ecstasy comes when one ismost alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulnessthat one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness ofliving, comes to the artist, caught up and out ofhimself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier,war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter;and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding theold wolf cry, straining after the food that was aliveand that fled swiftly before him through the moon-light. He was sounding the deeps of his nature, andof the parts of his nature that were deeper than he,going back into the womb of Time. He was masteredby the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being,the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, andsinew in that it was everything that was not death,that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself inmovement, flying exultantly under the stars andover the face of dead matter that did not move.But Spitz, cold and calculating even in his supreme

moods, left the pack and cut across a narrow neck ofland where the creek made a long bend around.Buck did not know of this, and as he rounded thebend, the frost wraith of a rabbit still flitting beforehim, he saw another and larger frost wraith leapfrom the overhanging bank into the immediate pathof the rabbit. It was Spitz. The rabbit could not turn,and as the white teeth broke its back in midair itshrieked as loudly as a stricken man may shriek. Atthe sound of this, the cry of Life plunging downfrom Life’s apex in the grip of Death, the full pack atBuck’s heels raised a hell’s chorus of delight.Buck did not cry out. He did not check himself,

but drove in upon Spitz, shoulder to shoulder, so



par • a • dox (par´ə däks´) n., person, situa-tion, or act that seems to have contradicto-ry, unbelievable, or absurd qualitiesram • pant (ram´pənt) adj., flourishing

ex • ult • ant • ly (e zult ‘nt le) adv., tri-umphantly; rejoicinglya • pex (a´peks´) n., highest point

® What is Buckexperiencing as hechases the rabbit?

® What has Spitzdone? What does hehope to accomplish?

hard that he missed the throat. They rolled over andover in the powdery snow. Spitz gained his feetalmost as though he had not been overthrown,slashing Buck down the shoulder and leaping clear.Twice his teeth clipped together, like the steel jawsof a trap, as he backed away for better footing, withlean and lifting lips that writhed and snarled.In a flash Buck knew it. The time had come. It was

to the death. As they circled about, snarling, ears laidback, keenly watchful for the advantage, the scenecame to Buck with a sense of familiarity. He seemedto remember it all—the white woods, and earth, andmoonlight, and the thrill of battle. Over the white-ness and silence brooded a ghostly calm. There wasnot the faintest whisper of air—nothing moved, nota leaf quivered, the visible breaths of the dogs risingslowly and lingering in the frosty air. They had madeshort work of the snowshoe rabbit, these dogs thatwere ill-tamed wolves; and they were now drawn upin an expectant circle. They, too, were silent, theireyes only gleaming and their breaths drifting slowlyupward. To Buck it was nothing new or strange, thisscene of old time. It was as though it had alwaysbeen, the wonted way of things.Spitz was a practiced fighter. From Spitzbergen

through the Arctic, and across Canada and theBarrens, he had held his own with all manner ofdogs and achieved to mastery over them. Bitter ragewas his, but never blind rage. In passion to rend anddestroy, he never forgot that his enemy was in likepassion to rend and destroy. He never rushed till hewas prepared to receive a rush; never attacked till hehad first defended that attack.In vain Buck strove to sink his teeth in the neck of

the big white dog. Wherever his fangs struck for the



wont • ed (wänt id) adj., customary; habitual; usual

√ What sense doesBuck have about thefight?

√ What does Buckrealize as he beginsto fight Spitz?

√ What had Spitzlearned about fight-ing?

softer flesh, they were countered by the fangs ofSpitz. Fang clashed fang, and lips were cut andbleeding, but Buck could not penetrate his enemy’sguard. Then he warmed up and enveloped Spitz ina whirlwind of rushes. Time and time again he triedfor the snow-white throat, where life bubbled nearto the surface, and each time and every time Spitzslashed him and got away. Then Buck took to rush-ing, as though for the throat, when, suddenly draw-ing back his head and curving in from the side, hewould drive his shoulder at the shoulder of Spitz, asa ram by which to overthrow him. But instead,Buck’s shoulder was slashed down each time asSpitz leaped lightly away.Spitz was untouched, while Buck was streaming

with blood and panting hard. The fight was growingdesperate. And all the while the silent and wolfishcircle waited to finish off whichever dog went down.As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and hekept him staggering for footing. Once Buck wentover, and the whole circle of sixty dogs started up;but he recovered himself, almost in midair, and thecircle sank down again and waited.But Buck possessed a quality that made for great-

ness—imagination. He fought by instinct, but hecould fight by head as well. He rushed, as thoughattempting the old shoulder trick, but at the lastinstant swept low to the snow and in. His teethclosed on Spitz’s left foreleg. There was a crunch ofbreaking bone, and the white dog faced him onthree legs. Thrice he tried to knock him over, thenrepeated the trick and broke the right fore leg.Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggledmadly to keep up. He saw the silent circle, withgleaming eyes, lolling tongues, and silvery breathsdrifting upward, closing in upon him as he hadseen similar circles close in upon beaten antago-nists in the past. Only this time he was the onewho was beaten.


® What earlier eventis recalled?

® What specialquality does Buckpossess?

There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable.Mercy was a thing reserved for gentler climes. Hemaneuvered for the final rush. The circle had tight-ened till he could feel the breaths of the huskies onhis flanks. He could see them, beyond Spitz and toeither side, half crouching for the spring, their eyesfixed upon him. A pause seemed to fall. Every ani-mal was motionless as though turned to stone. OnlySpitz quivered and bristled as he staggered back andforth, snarling with horrible menace, as though tofrighten off impending death. Then Buck sprang inand out; but while he was in, shoulder had at lastsquarely met shoulder. The dark circle became a doton the moon-flooded snow as Spitz disappearedfrom view. Buck stood and looked on, the successfulchampion, the dominant primordial beast who hadmade his kill and found it good.



in • ex • o • ra • ble (in eks ´ ə rə bəl) adj., that which can-not be moved or influenced; unrelentingim • pend • ing (im pend´iŋ) part., about to happen; threatening

√ How does Spitzbehave in his finalmoments?


Responding to the SelectionIn this chapter, Buck sheds the constraints of civilization

and becomes a “primordial beast.” What does it mean tobe civilized? Why was Buck compelled to shed the con-straints of civilization? Describe the characteristics of Buck,the “primordial beast.”

Reviewing the SelectionRecalling and Interpreting1. R: What primitive nature grows in Buck “under the

fierce conditions of trail life”?

2. I: What action on the part of Spitz causes “the beast” inBuck to roar?

3. R: Who, or what, invades the camp?

4. I: What facts emphasize the “hunger madness” of thesedogs?

5. R: What does Buck do when he hears the “nocturnalsong” of the huskies in Dawson?

6. I: What qualities of the “nocturnal song” emphasize itsconnection to the ancient, “raw beginnings of life”?

7. R: What causes the breakdown of the solidarity of thesled team? Why does this happen?

8. I: What quality does Buck possess that ensures Spitz’sfall from leadership?

Synthesizing9. What instincts and characteristics does Buck, as a

“dominant primordial beast,” now possess?

10. What actions of the dogs, including Buck, are describedas hereditary? What sort of relationship between heredityand survival is described in this chapter? How does Buck’sfight with Spitz emphasize or exemplify that relationship?



1. Protagonist and Antagonist. A protagonist, or maincharacter, is the central figure in a story. An antagonist is acharacter who is pitted against a protagonist. Which termdescribes the character Buck? Which describes Spitz? Thesecharacters are created primarily through the characteriza-tion techniques of direct description and portrayal ofbehavior. Compare and contrast the characteristics of Buckand Spitz. How are these characteristics displayed in thebattles that eventually lead to the final fight to the deathbetween Spitz and Buck?

2. Setting and Mood. The setting of a literary work is thetime and place in which a story occurs, together with allthe details used to create a sense of a particular time andplace. The mood is the emotion created in the reader bydescriptions of the setting, of characters, and of events. Inthe second paragraph of this chapter, what do the descrip-tions of the landscape and the weather tell about the con-ditions of the camp? What kind of mood is created by thedescription of the camp setting? How does this comparewith the mood created by the description of daily life inDawson?



ob • du • rate (a�b´do�o— r it) adj., not easily moved; stubborn

CHAPTER IV

Who Has Won to Mastership

“Eh? Wot I say? I spik true w’en I say dat Buck twodevils.”

This was François’s speech next morning when hediscovered Spitz missing and Buck covered withwounds. He drew him to the fire and by its lightpointed them out.“Dat Spitz fight lak hell,” said Perrault, as he sur -

veyed the gaping rips and cuts.“An’ dat Buck fight lak two hells,” was François’s

answer. “An’ now we make good time. No moreSpitz, no more trouble, sure.”While Perrault packed the camp outfit and loaded

the sled, the dog-driver proceeded to harness thedogs. Buck trotted up to the place Spitz would haveoccupied as leader; but François, not noticing him,brought Sol- leks to the coveted position. In his judg-ment, Sol-leks was the best lead dog left. Buck sprangupon Sol-leks in a fury, driving him back and stand-ing in his place.“Eh? eh?” François cried, slapping his thighs glee -

fully. “Look at dat Buck. Heem keel dat Spitz, heemt’ink to take de job.”“Go ’way, Chook!” he cried, but Buck refused to

budge.He took Buck by the scruff of the neck, and though

the dog growled threateningly, dragged him to oneside and replaced Sol-leks. The old dog did not likeit, and showed plainly that he was afraid of Buck.François was obdurate, but when he turned his back

® What does Buckdo to Sol-leks? Why?

® How does Sol-leksrespond to Buck’sthreat?

WHO HAS WON TO MASTERSHIP 49

Buck again displaced Sol-leks, who was not at allunwilling to go.François was angry. “Now, by Gar, I feex you!” he

cried, coming back with a heavy club in his hand. Buck remembered the man in the red sweater, and

retreated slowly; nor did he attempt to charge in whenSol-leks was once more brought forward. But he circledjust beyond the range of the club, snarling with bit-terness and rage; and while he circled he watched theclub so as to dodge it if thrown by François, for he wasbecome wise in the way of clubs.The driver went about his work, and he called to

Buck when he was ready to put him in his old placein front of Dave. Buck retreated two or three steps.François followed him up, whereupon he againretreated. After some time of this, François threwdown the club, thinking that Buck feared a thrash-ing. But Buck was in open revolt. He wanted, notto escape a clubbing, but to have the leadership. Itwas his by right. He had earned it, and he wouldnot be content with less.Perrault took a hand. Between them they ran him

about for the better part of an hour. They threwclubs at him. He dodged. They cursed him, and hisfathers and mothers before him, and all his seed tocome after him down to the remotest generation,and every hair on his body and drop of blood in hisveins; and he answered curse with snarl and kept outof their reach. He did not try to run away, butretreated around and around the camp, advertisingplainly that when his desire was met, he wouldcome in and be good.François sat down and scratched his head. Perrault

looked at his watch and swore. Time was flying, andthey should have been on the trail an hour gone.François scratched his head again. He shook it andgrinned sheepishly at the courier, who shrugged hisshoulders in sign that they were beaten. ThenFrançois went up to where Sol-leks stood and calledto Buck. Buck laughed, as dogs laugh, yet kept his

√ Why does Buck rebel?


distance. François unfastened Sol-leks’s traces andput him back in his old place. The team stood har-nessed to the sled in an unbroken line, ready for thetrail. There was no place for Buck save at the front.Once more François called, and once more Bucklaughed and kept away.“T’row down de club,” Perrault commanded.François complied, whereupon Buck trotted in,

laughing triumphantly, and swung around intoposition at the head of the team. His traces were fas-tened, the sled broken out, and with both men run-ning they dashed out on to the river trail.Highly as the dog-driver had forevalued Buck, with

his two devils, he found, while the day was yetyoung, that he had undervalued. At a bound Bucktook up the duties of leadership; and where judg-ment was required, and quick thinking and quickacting, he showed himself the superior even of Spitz,of whom François had never seen an equal.But it was in giving the law and making his mates

live up to it that Buck excelled. Dave and Sol-leks didnot mind the change in leadership. It was none oftheir business. Their business was to toil, and toilmightily, in the traces. So long as that were notinterfered with, they did not care what happened.Billee, the good-natured, could lead for all theycared, so long as he kept order. The rest of the team,however, had grown unruly during the last days ofSpitz, and their surprise was great now that Buckproceeded to lick them into shape.Pike, who pulled at Buck’s heels, and who never

put an ounce more of his weight against the breast- band than he was compelled to do, was swiftly andrepeatedly shaken for loafing; and ere the first daywas done he was pulling more than ever before inhis life. The first night in camp, Joe, the sour one,was punished roundly1—a thing that Spitz hadnever succeeded in doing. Buck simply smothered

1. roundly. Severely; fully

® How does Buckact as lead dog?What qualities doeshe display?


2. Skaguay. City in what is now Alaska that served as the entry point to theYukon gold fields

him by virtue of superior weight, and cut him up tillhe ceased snapping and began to whine for mercy.The general tone of the team picked up immedi-

ately. It recovered its old-time solidarity, and oncemore the dogs leaped as one dog in the traces. Atthe Rink Rapids two native huskies, Teek andKoona, were added; and the celerity with whichBuck broke them in took away François’s breath.“Nevaire such a dog as dat Buck!” he cried. “No,

nevaire! Heem worth one t’ousan’ dollair, by Gar!Eh? Wot you say, Perrault?”And Perrault nodded. He was ahead of the record

then, and gaining day by day. The trail was in excel-lent condition, well packed and hard, and there wasno new-fallen snow with which to contend. It wasnot too cold. The temperature dropped to fiftybelow zero and remained there the whole trip. Themen rode and ran by turn, and the dogs were kepton the jump, with but infrequent stoppages.The Thirty Mile River was comparatively coated

with ice, and they covered in one day going outwhat had taken them ten days coming in. In onerun they made a sixty-mile dash from the foot ofLake Le Barge to the White Horse Rapids. AcrossMarsh, Tagish, and Bennett (seventy miles of lakes),they flew so fast that the man whose turn it was torun towed behind the sled at the end of a rope. Andon the last night of the second week they toppedWhite Pass and dropped down the sea slope with thelights of Skaguay 2 and of the shipping at their feet.It was a record run. Each day for fourteen days

they had averaged forty miles. For three daysPerrault and François threw chests up and down the


ce • ler • i • ty (sə ler´i te) n., swiftness

√ What happens tothe dog team? Whatis the result of thischange?


main street of Skaguay and were deluged with invi-tations to drink, while the team was the constantcenter of a worshipful crowd of dog-busters andmushers.3 Then three or four western bad menaspired to clean out the town, were riddled like pep-perboxes4 for their pains, and public interest turnedto other idols. Next came official orders. Françoiscalled Buck to him, threw his arms around him,wept over him. And that was the last of François andPerrault. Like other men, they passed out of Buck’slife for good.A Scot took charge of him and his mates, and in

company with a dozen other dog teams he startedback over the weary trail to Dawson. It was no lightrunning now, nor record time, but heavy toil eachday, with a heavy load behind; for this was the mailtrain, carrying word from the world to the men whosought gold under the shadow of the Pole.Buck did not like it, but he bore up well to the

work, taking pride in it after the manner of Dave andSol-leks, and seeing that his mates, whether theyprided in it or not, did their fair share. It was amonotonous life, operating with machine-like regu-larity. One day was very like another. At a certaintime each morning the cooks turned out, fires werebuilt, and breakfast was eaten. Then, while somebroke camp, others harnessed the dogs, and theywere under way an hour or so before the darkness fellwhich gave warning of dawn. At night, camp wasmade. Some pitched the flies, others cut firewoodand pine boughs for the beds, and still others carriedwater or ice for the cooks. Also, the dogs were fed. To

3. dog-busters and mushers. Dog handlers and sled drivers4. pepperboxes. Pepper shakers—containers with holes in the top for shaking

out pepper


del • uge (del´ yo�o— j) vi., overwhelm as with a floodas • pire (əs p� r´) vi., try, attempt; desire, aimmo • not • o • nous (mə nät ‘n əs) adj., unvarying; tiresomebecause unvarying

® How is the team’snew work differentfrom its prior work?



po • tent (pot ´‘nt) adj., strong, powerfulhe • red • i • ty (hə red´i te) n., inherited characteristics

them, this was the one feature of the day, though itwas good to loaf around, after the fish was eaten, foran hour or so with the other dogs, of which therewere five score and odd. There were fierce fightersamong them, but three battles with the fiercestbrought Buck to mastery, so that when he bristledand showed his teeth they got out of his way.Best of all, perhaps, he loved to lie near the fire,

hind legs crouched under him, forelegs stretched outin front, head raised, and eyes blinking dreamily atthe flames. Sometimes he thought of Judge Miller’sbig house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley, andof the cement swimming-tank, and Ysabel, theMexican hairless, and Toots, the Japanese pug; butoftener he remembered the man in the red sweater,the death of Curly, the great fight with Spitz, and thegood things he had eaten or would like to eat. Hewas not homesick. The Sunland was very dim anddistant, and such memories had no power over him.Far more potent were the memories of his hereditythat gave things he had never seen before a seemingfamiliarity; the instincts (which were but the mem-ories of his ancestors become habits) which hadlapsed in later days, and still later, in him, quickenedand became alive again.Sometimes as he crouched there, blinking dream-

ily at the flames, it seemed that the flames were ofanother fire, and that as he crouched by this otherfire he saw another and different man from the cookbefore him. This other man was shorter of leg andlonger of arm, with muscles that were stringy andknotty rather than rounded and swelling. The hairof this man was long and matted, and his headslanted back under it from the eyes. He utteredstrange sounds, and seemed very much afraid of the

√ What is impor-tant to Buck?

√ Whom does Buckremember?


darkness, into which he peered continually, clutchingin his hand, which hung midway between knee andfoot, a stick with a heavy stone made fast to the end.He was all but naked, a ragged and fire-scorched skinhanging partway down his back, but on his bodythere was much hair. In some places, across the chestand shoulders and down the outside of the arms andthighs, it was matted into almost a thick fur. He didnot stand erect, but with trunk inclined forward fromthe hips, on legs that bent at the knees. About hisbody there was a peculiar springiness, or resiliency,almost catlike, and a quick alertness as of one wholived in perpetual fear of things seen and unseen.At other times this hairy man squatted by the fire

with head between his legs and slept. On such occa-sions his elbows were on his knees, his hands claspedabove his head as though to shed rain by the hairyarms. And beyond that fire, in the circling darkness,Buck could see many gleaming coals, two by two,always two by two, which he knew to be the eyes ofgreat beasts of prey. And he could hear the crashingof their bodies through the undergrowth, and thenoises they made in the night. And dreaming thereby the Yukon bank, with lazy eyes blinking at thefire, these sounds and sights of another world wouldmake the hair to rise along his back and stand on endacross his shoulders and up his neck, till he whim-pered low and suppressedly, or growled softly, andthe cook shouted at him, “Hey, you Buck, wake up!”Whereupon the other world would vanish and thereal world come into his eyes, and he would get upand yawn and stretch as though he had been asleep.It was a hard trip, with the mail behind them, and

the heavy work wore them down. They were short ofweight and in poor condition when they made


pe • cu • liar (pə kyo�o— lýər) adj., unique,strangere • sil • ien • cy (ri zilýens e) n., ability tobounce or spring back to shape; ability torebound

sup • pres • sed • ly (sə preséd le) adv.,with restraint


Dawson, and should have had a ten days’ or a week’srest at least. But in two days’ time they droppeddown the Yukon bank from the Barracks, loadedwith letters for the outside. The dogs were tired, thedrivers grumbling, and to make matters worse, itsnowed every day. This meant a soft trail, greaterfriction on the runners, and heavier pulling for thedogs; yet the drivers were fair through it all, and didtheir best for the animals.Each night the dogs were attended to first. They

ate before the drivers ate, and no man sought hissleeping robe till he had seen to the feet of the dogshe drove. Still, their strength went down. Since thebeginning of the winter they had traveled eighteenhundred miles, dragging sleds the whole weary dis-tance; and eighteen hundred miles will tell upon lifeof the toughest. Buck stood it, keeping his mates upto their work and maintaining discipline, though hetoo was very tired. Billee cried and whimpered regu-larly in his sleep each night. Joe was sourer thanever, and Sol-leks was unapproachable, blind side orother side.But it was Dave who suffered most of all.

Something had gone wrong with him. He becamemore morose and irritable, and when camp waspitched at once made his nest, where his driver fedhim. Once out of the harness and down, he did notget on his feet again till harness-up time in themorning. Sometimes, in the traces, when jerked by asudden stoppage of the sled, or by straining to startit, he would cry out with pain. The driver examinedhim, but could find nothing. All the drivers becameinterested in his case. They talked it over at meal-time, and over their last pipes before going to bed,and one night they held a consultation. He was


con • sul • ta • tion (kän səl ta´shən) n., meeting to decideor plan

√ What shows thatsomething is wrongwith Dave?

brought from his nest to the fire and was pressedand prodded till he cried out many times.Something was wrong inside, but they could locateno broken bones, could not make it out.By the time Cassiar Bar was reached, he was so

weak that he was falling repeatedly in the traces. TheScot called a halt and took him out of the team,making the next dog, Sol-leks, fast to the sled. Hisintention was to rest Dave, letting him run freebehind the sled. Sick as he was, Dave resentedbeing taken out, grunting and growling while thetraces were unfastened, and whimpering broken -heartedly when he saw Sol-leks in the position hehad held and served so long. For the pride of traceand trail was his, and, sick unto death, he could notbear that another dog should do his work.When the sled started, he floundered in the soft

snow alongside the beaten trail, attacking Sol-lekswith his teeth, rushing against him and trying tothrust him off into the soft snow on the other side,striving to leap inside his traces and get between himand the sled, and all the while whining and yelpingand crying with grief and pain. The musher tried todrive him away with the whip; but he paid no heedto the stinging lash, and the man had not the heartto strike harder. Dave refused to run quietly on thetrail behind the sled, where the going was easy, butcontinued to flounder alongside in the soft snow,where the going was most difficult, till exhausted.Then he fell, and lay where he fell, howling lugubri-ously as the long train of sleds churned by.With the last remnant of his strength he managed

to stagger along behind till the train made anotherstop, when he floundered past the sleds to his own,where he stood alongside Sol-leks. His driver lingered



floun • der (floun dər) vi., struggle awkwardly; stumblelu • gu • bri • ous • ly (lə �o�o— ´bre əs le) adv., sadly, mournfully, often in an exaggerated manner

® How does theScot try to helpDave? How doesDave respond? Whydoes he respond inthis way?

a moment to get a light for his pipe from the manbehind. Then he returned and started his dogs. Theyswung out on the trail with remarkable lack of exer-tion, turned their heads uneasily, and stopped insurprise. The driver was surprised, too; the sled hadnot moved. He called his comrades to witness thesight. Dave had bitten through both of Sol-leks’straces, and was standing directly in front of the sledin his proper place.He pleaded with his eyes to remain there. The dri-

ver was perplexed. His comrades talked of how a dogcould break its heart through being denied the workthat killed it, and recalled instances they had knownwhere dogs, too old for the toil, or injured, had diedbecause they were cut out of the traces. Also, theyheld it a mercy, since Dave was to die anyway, thathe should die in the traces, heart-easy and content.So he was harnessed in again, and proudly he pulledas of old, though more than once he cried out invol-untarily from the bite of his inward hurt. Severaltimes he fell down and was dragged in the traces,and once the sled ran upon him so that he limpedthereafter in one of his hind legs.But he held out till camp was reached, when his

driver made a place for him by the fire. Morningfound him too weak to travel. At harness-up time hetried to crawl to his driver. By convulsive efforts hegot on his feet, staggered, and fell. Then he wormedhis way forward slowly toward where the harnesseswere being put on his mates. He would advance hisforelegs and drag up his body with a sort of hitchingmovement, when he would advance his forelegs andhitch ahead again for a few more inches. Hisstrength left him, and the last his mates saw of himhe lay gasping in the snow and yearning toward



con • vul • sive (kən vul´siv) adj., occurring in violent fits;spasmodic

√ What does Dave want?

√ What happens toDave? Why does theScot do this?

them. But they could hear him mournfully howlingtill they passed out of sight behind a belt of rivertimber.Here the train was halted. The Scot slowly retraced

his steps to the camp they had left. The men ceasedtalking. A revolver shot rang out. The man cameback hurriedly. The whips snapped, the bells tinkledmerrily, the sleds churned along the trail; but Buckknew, and every dog knew, what had taken placebehind the belt of river trees.



Responding to the SelectionImagine that you are François. Before heading out on

your next official order, you have time to write a brief entryin your journal about the record run into Skaguay. Explainhow you managed to average forty miles every day forfourteen days, expressing your feelings about having Buckas the lead dog.

Reviewing the SelectionRecalling and Interpreting1. R: What position on the team does Buck think is his?

2. I: Which of Buck’s actions show his ability to outsmartFrançois and Perrault?

3. R: At what does Buck excel?4. I: What actions show Buck’s “mastership” over theother dogs?

5. R: What memories no longer hold any power overBuck?

6. I: What is probably the reason that “memories of hisheredity” are becoming “far more potent” to Buck?

7. R: Which dog suffers most of all from the eighteen hundred miles traveled?

8. I: What actions on the part of Dave show his persever-ance? What else do these actions show about Dave?

Synthesizing9. Who is the other, “different” man in Buck’s dream?How is this man described? What purpose is served by thisdescription?

10. How do the dogs feel about pulling the sleds? Whatsort of relationship between a dog and his work isdescribed in this chapter?



Character and Characterization. Characterization is theuse of literary techniques to create a character. When usingthe characterization technique of portrayal of behavior, thewriter presents the actions and speech of the character,allowing the reader to draw his or her own conclusionsabout the character from what the character says or does.The dog Dave is a minor character, a character who playsa lesser role in the action of the story. In this chapter, thecharacter of Dave is described primarily through the por-trayal of his behavior. What is revealed about Dave throughhis behavior? What qualities does he possess? For whatqualities is he admired by the men and the rest of thedogs?

THE TOIL OF TRACE AND TRAIL 61

CHAPTER V

The Toil of Trace and Trail

Thirty days from the time it left Dawson, the SaltWater Mail, with Buck and his mates at the fore,arrived at Skaguay. They were in a wretched state,worn out and worn down. Buck’s one hundred andforty pounds had dwindled to one hundred and fif-teen. The rest of his mates, though lighter dogs, hadrelatively lost more weight than he. Pike, the malin-gerer, who, in his lifetime of deceit, had often suc-cessfully feigned a hurt leg, was now limping inearnest. Sol-leks was limping, and Dub was sufferingfrom a wrenched shoulderblade.They were all terribly footsore. No spring or

rebound was left in them. Their feet fell heavily onthe trail, jarring their bodies and doubling thefatigue of a day’s travel. There was nothing the mat-ter with them except that they were dead tired. Itwas not the dead-tiredness that comes through briefand excessive effort, from which recovery is a matterof hours; but it was the dead-tiredness that comesthrough the slow and prolonged strength drainageof months of toil. There was no power of recupera-tion left, no reserve strength to call upon. It hadbeen all used, the last least bit of it. Every muscle,every fiber, every cell, was tired, dead tired. Andthere was reason for it. In less than five months theyhad traveled twenty-five hundred miles, during thelast eighteen hundred of which they had had butfive days’ rest. When they arrived at Skaguay theywere apparently on their last legs. They could barelykeep the traces taut, and on the down grades justmanaged to keep out of the way of the sled.

“Mush on, poor sore feets,” the driver encouragedthem as they tottered down the main street ofSkaguay. “Dis is de las’. Den we get one long res’. Eh?For sure. One bully long res’.”The drivers confidently expected a long stopover.

Themselves, they had covered twelve hundred mileswith two days’ rest, and in the nature of reason andcommon justice they deserved an interval of loafing.But so many were the men who had rushed into theKlondike, and so many were the sweethearts, wives,and kin that had not rushed in, that the congestedmail was taking on Alpine1 proportions; also, therewere official orders. Fresh batches of Hudson Baydogs were to take the places of those worthless forthe trail. The worthless ones were to be got rid of,and, since dogs count for little against dollars, theywere to be sold.Three days passed, by which time Buck and his

mates found how really tired and weak they were.Then, on the morning of the fourth day, two menfrom the States came along and bought them, har-ness and all, for a song. The men addressed eachother as “Hal” and “Charles.” Charles was a mid-dle-aged, lightish-colored man, with weak andwatery eyes and a mustache that twisted fiercely andvigorously up, giving the lie to the limply droopinglip it concealed. Hal was a youngster of nineteen ortwenty, with a big Colt’s revolver and a hunting knifestrapped about him on a belt that fairly bristled withcartridges. This belt was the most salient thing abouthim. It advertised his callowness— a callowness sheerand unutterable. Both men were manifestly out ofplace, and why such as they should adventure the


® What does Hal’sbelt say about him?

® What do thedrivers expect? Whatthwarts their plans?

1. Alpine. Having the mountainous quality of the Alps, the highestmountains in Europe


sa • lient (sal´yənt) adj., noticeable; promi-nent

cal • low • ness (kal´o nes) n., youth;immaturity; state of being inexperienced

man • i • fest • ly (man´ə fest´le) adv.,clearly; obviously

North is part of the mystery of things that passesunderstanding.Buck heard the chaffering,2 saw the money pass

between the man and the Government agent, andknew that the Scot and the mail-train drivers werepassing out of his life on the heels of Perrault andFrançois and the others who had gone before. Whendriven with his mates to the new owners’ camp,Buck saw a slipshod and slovenly affair, tenthalf-stretched, dishes unwashed, everything in dis-order; also, he saw a woman. “Mercedes” the mencalled her. She was Charles’s wife and Hal’s sister—anice family party.Buck watched them apprehensively as they pro-

ceeded to take down the tent and load the sled.There was a great deal of effort about their manner,but no businesslike method. The tent was rolled intoan awkward bundle three times as large as it shouldhave been. The tin dishes were packed awayunwashed. Mercedes continually fluttered in theway of her men and kept up an unbroken chatteringof remonstrance and advice. When they put aclothes sack on the front of the sled, she suggested itshould go on the back; and when they had it put onthe back, and covered it over with a couple of otherbundles, she discovered overlooked articles whichcould abide nowhere else but in that very sack, andthey unloaded again.Three men from a neighboring tent came out and

looked on, grinning and winking at one another.“You’ve got a right smart load as it is,” said one of

them; “and it’s not me should tell you your business,but I wouldn’t tote that tent along if I was you.”


2. chaffering. Bargaining, haggling over price


slov • en • ly (sluv´ən le) adj., careless; untidy; slipshodre • mon • strance (ri män ´strəns) n., act of complaining,protesting

√ Why is Buckapprehensive?

“Undreamed of!” cried Mercedes, throwing up herhands in dainty dismay. “However in the worldcould I manage without a tent?”“It’s springtime, and you won’t get any more cold

weather,” the man replied.She shook her head decidedly, and Charles and Hal

put the last odds and ends on top of the mountain-ous load.“Think it’ll ride?” one of the men asked.“Why shouldn’t it?” Charles demanded rather

shortly.“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right,” the man has-

tened meekly to say. “I was just a-wonderin’, that isall. It seemed a mite top-heavy.”Charles turned his back and drew the lashings

down as well as he could, which was not in the leastwell.“An’ of course the dogs can hike along all day with

that contraption behind them,” affirmed a second ofthe men.“Certainly,” said Hal, with freezing politeness, tak-

ing hold of the gee-pole with one hand and swing-ing his whip from the other. “Mush!” he shouted.“Mush on there!”The dogs sprang against the breastbands, strained

hard for a few moments, then relaxed. They wereunable to move the sled.“The lazy brutes, I’ll show them,” he cried, prepar-

ing to lash out at them with the whip.But, Mercedes interfered, crying, “Oh, Hal, you

mustn’t,” as she caught hold of the whip andwrenched it from him. “The poor dears! Now youmust promise you won’t be harsh with them for therest of the trip, or I won’t go a step.”“Precious lot you know about dogs,” her brother

sneered; “and I wish you’d leave me alone. They’relazy, I tell you, and you’ve got to whip them to getanything out of them. That’s their way. You ask anyone. Ask one of those men.”


® Why does Halsneer at Mercedes?Does he know anymore about dogsthan she does? Howdo you know this?

Mercedes looked at them imploringly, untoldrepugnance at sight of pain written in her prettyface.“They’re weak as water, if you want to know,”

came the reply from one of the men. “Plum tuckeredout, that’s what’s the matter. They need a rest.”“Rest be blanked,” said Hal, with his beardless lips;

and Mercedes said, “Oh!” in pain and sorrow at theoath.But she was a clannish creature, and rushed at

once to the defense of her brother. “Never mind thatman,” she said pointedly. “You’re driving our dogs,and you do what you think best with them.”Again Hal’s whip fell upon the dogs. They threw

themselves against the breastbands, dug their feetinto the packed snow, got down low to it, and putforth all their strength. The sled held as though itwere an anchor. After two efforts, they stood still,panting. The whip was whistling savagely, whenonce more Mercedes interfered. She dropped on herknees before Buck, with tears in her eyes, and puther arms around his neck.“You poor, poor dears,” she cried sympathetically,

“why don’t you pull hard? Then you wouldn’t bewhipped.” Buck did not like her, but he was feelingtoo miserable to resist her, taking it as part of theday’s miserable work.One of the onlookers, who had been clenching his

teeth to suppress hot speech, now spoke up:—“It’s not that I care a whoop what becomes of you,

but for the dogs’ sakes I just want to tell you, youcan help them a mighty lot by breaking out thatsled. The runners are froze fast. Throw your weightagainst the gee-pole, right and left, and break it out.”



re • pug • nance (ri pu�´nəns) n., extreme dislike or distaste

√ Why doesMercedes defend Haleven though doingso contradicts her earlier plea?

A third time the attempt was made, but this time,following the advice, Hal broke out the runnerswhich had been frozen to the snow. The overloadedand unwieldy sled forged ahead, Buck and his matesstruggling frantically under the rain of blows. A hun-dred yards ahead the path turned and sloped steeplyinto the main street. It would have required an expe-rienced man to keep the top-heavy sled upright, andHal was not such a man. As they swung on the turnthe sled went over, spilling half its load through theloose lashings. The dogs never stopped. The light-ened sled bounded on its side behind them. Theywere angry because of the ill treatment they hadreceived and the unjust load. Buck was raging. Hebroke into a run, the team following his lead. Halcried “Whoa! whoa!” but they gave no heed. Hetripped and was pulled off his feet. The capsized sledground over him, and the dogs dashed on up thestreet, adding to the gaiety of Skaguay as they scat-tered the remainder of the outfit along its chief thor-oughfare.Kindhearted citizens caught the dogs and gath-

ered up the scattered belongings. Also, they gaveadvice. Half the load and twice the dogs if they everexpected to reach Dawson, was what was said. Haland his sister and brother-in-law listened unwilling-ly, pitched tent, and overhauled the outfit. Cannedgoods were turned out that made men laugh, forcanned goods on the Long Trail is a thing to dreamabout. “Blankets for a hotel,” quoth one of the menwho laughed and helped. “Half as many is toomuch; get rid of them. Throw away that tent, andall those dishes, who’s going to wash them, anyway?Good Lord, do you think you’re traveling on aPullman?”3


® Why does the sledoverturn? Why doesthe load spill? Whatpredictions can youmake about the restof the trip based onthis information?

® What kinds ofthings did the inex-perienced sledderspack? What factorsdid they considerwhen packing?

3. Pullman. Railroad passenger car with convertible berths for sleeping

And so it went, the inexorable elimination of thesuperfluous. Mercedes cried when her clothes bagswere dumped on the ground and article after articlewas thrown out. She cried in general, and she criedin particular over each discarded thing. She claspedhands about knees, rocking back and forth broken -heartedly. She averred she would not go an inch, notfor a dozen Charleses. She appealed to everybodyand to everything, finally wiping her eyes and pro-ceeding to cast out even articles of apparel that wereimperative necessaries. And in her zeal, when shehad finished with her own, she attacked the belong-ings of her men and went through them like a tor-nado.This accomplished, the outfit, though cut in half,

was still a formidable bulk. Charles and Hal went outin the evening and bought six Outside dogs. These,added to the six of the original team, and Teek andKoona, the huskies obtained at the Rink Rapids onthe record trip, brought the team up to fourteen. Butthe Outside dogs, though practically broken in sincetheir landing, did not amount to much. Three wereshort-haired pointers, one was a Newfoundland, andthe other two were mongrels of indeterminatebreed. They did not seem to know anything, thesenewcomers. Buck and his comrades looked uponthem with disgust, and though he speedily taughtthem their places and what not to do, he could notteach them what to do. They did not take kindly totrace and trail. With the exception of the two mon-grels, they were bewildered and spirit-broken by thestrange savage environment in which they foundthemselves and by the ill treatment they hadreceived. The two mongrels were without spirit at



su • per • flu • ous (sə p�r´flo�o— əs) adj., being more than isneeded, excessivea • ver (ə v�r´) vt., declare to be true, affirmfor • mi • da • ble (fôr´mə də bəl) adj., large; hard to handle


jad • ed (jad´id) adj., worn out; dulled

all; bones were the only things breakable aboutthem.With the newcomers hopeless and forlorn, and the

old team worn out by twenty-five hundred miles ofcontinuous trail, the outlook was anything butbright. The two men, however, were quite cheerful.And they were proud, too. They were doing the thingin style, with fourteen dogs. They had seen othersleds depart over the Pass for Dawson, or come infrom Dawson, but never had they seen a sled with somany as fourteen dogs. In the nature of Arctic travelthere was a reason why fourteen dogs should notdrag one sled, and that was that one sled could notcarry the food for fourteen dogs. But Charles and Haldid not know this. They had worked the trip out witha pencil, so much to a dog, so many dogs, so manydays, Q.E.D.4 Mercedes looked over their shouldersand nodded comprehensively, it was all so very sim-ple.Late next morning Buck led the long team up the

street. There was nothing lively about it, no snap orgo in him and his fellows. They were starting deadweary. Four times he had covered the distancebetween Salt Water and Dawson, and the knowledgethat, jaded and tired, he was facing the same trailonce more, made him bitter. His heart was not in thework, nor was the heart of any dog. The Outsideswere timid and frightened, the Insides without confi-dence in their masters.Buck felt vaguely that there was no depending

upon these two men and the woman. They did notknow how to do anything, and as the days went byit became apparent that they could not learn. They


® Why had Hal andCharles never seen asled with fourteendogs?

® How are the dogsfeeling as they setout? Why is Buck’sfeeling justified?

4. Q.E.D. Latin, quod erat demonstrandum; which was to be demonstrated orproved


were slack in all things, without order or discipline.It took them half the night to pitch a slovenly camp,and half the morn ing to break that camp and get thesled loaded in fash ion so slovenly that for the rest ofthe day they were occupied in stopping and rear-ranging the load. Some days they did not make tenmiles. On other days they were unable to get startedat all. And on no day did they succeed in makingmore than half the distance used by the men as abasis in their dog food computa tion.It was inevitable that they should go short on dog

food. But they hastened it by overfeeding, bringingthe day nearer when underfeeding would com-mence. The Outside dogs, whose digestions had notbeen trained by chronic famine to make the most oflittle, had vora cious appetites. And when, in addi-tion to this, the worn-out huskies pulled weakly, Haldecided that the orthodox ration was too small. Hedoubled it. And to cap it all, when Mercedes, withtears in her pretty eyes and a quaver in her throat,could not cajole him into giving the dogs still more,she stole from the fish sacks and fed them slyly. Butit was not food that Buck and the huskies needed,but rest. And though they were making poor time,the heavy load they dragged sapped their strengthseverely.Then came the underfeeding. Hal awoke one day

to the fact that his dog food was half gone and thedis tance only quarter covered; further, that for loveor money no additional dog food was to beobtained. So he cut down even the orthodox rationand tried to in crease the day’s travel. His sister andbrother-in-law seconded him; but they were frus-trated by their heavy outfit and their own incompe-tence. It was a simple matter to give the dogs less

√ What did thepeople do to causefood supply prob-lems?

√ How does Hal tryto remedy the prob-lem? Why doesn’tthis solution work?


vo • ra • cious (vô ra´shəs) adj., greedy; ravenousor • tho • dox (ôr´tho däks ´) adj., usual; established (as in beliefs)in • com • pe • tence (in ka�m´pə təns) n., lack of ability or skill


a • men • i • ty (ə men ´ə te) n., comfort or convenience


food; but it was impossible to make the dogs travelfaster, while their own inability to get under wayearlier in the morning prevented them from travel-ing longer hours. Not only did they not know howto work dogs, but they did not know how to workthemselves.The first to go was Dub. Poor blundering thief that

he was, always getting caught and punished, he hadnonetheless been a faithful worker. His wrenchedshoulder blade, untreated and unrested, went frombad to worse, till finally Hal shot him with the bigColt’s re volver. It is a saying of the country that anOutside dog starves to death on the ration of thehusky, so the six Outside dogs under Buck could dono less than die on half the ration of the husky. TheNewfoundland went first, followed by the threeshort-haired pointers, the two mongrels hangingmore grittily on to life, but going in the end.By this time all the amenities and gentlenesses of

the Southland had fallen away from the three people.Shorn of its glamour and romance, Arctic travel be -came to them a reality too harsh for their manhoodand womanhood. Mercedes ceased weeping over thedogs, being too occupied with weeping over herselfand with quarreling with her husband and brother.To quarrel was the one thing they were never tooweary to do. Their irritability arose out of their mis-ery, increased with it, doubled upon it, outdistancedit. The won derful patience of the trail which comesto men who toil hard and suffer sore, and remainsweet of speech and kindly, did not come to thesetwo men and the woman. They had no inkling ofsuch a patience. They were stiff and in pain; theirmuscles ached, their bones ached, their very heartsached; and because of this they became sharp of

® How do Charles,Hal, and Mercedesreact to life on thetrail?

speech, and hard words were first on their lips in themorning and last at night.Charles and Hal wrangled whenever Mercedes gave

them a chance. It was the cherished belief of each thathe did more than his share of the work, and neitherforbore to speak this belief at every opportunity.Sometimes Mercedes sided with her husband, some-times with her brother. The result was a beautiful andunending family quarrel. Starting from a dispute as towhich should chop a few sticks for the fire (a disputewhich concerned only Charles and Hal), presentlywould be lugged in the rest of the family, fathers,mothers, uncles, cousins, people thousands of milesaway, and some of them dead. That Hal’s views on art,or the sort of society plays his mother’s brother wrote,should have anything to do with the chopping of afew sticks of firewood, passes comprehension; never-theless the quarrel was as likely to tend in that direc-tion as in the direction of Charles’s political preju-dices. And that Charles’s sister’s tale-bearing tongueshould be relevant to the building of a Yukon fire wasapparent only to Mercedes, who disburdened herselfof copious opinions upon that topic, and incidentallyupon a few other traits unpleasantly peculiar to herhusband’s family. In the meantime the fire remainedunbuilt, the camp half pitched, and the dogs unfed.Mercedes nursed a special grievance—the griev-

ance of sex. She was pretty and soft, and had beenchivalrously treated all her days. But the presenttreatment by her husband and brother was every-thing save chivalrous. It was her custom to behelpless. They complained. Upon which impeach-ment of what to her was her most essentialsex-prerogative, she made their lives unendurable.She no longer considered the dogs, and because she



wran • gle (raŋ´�əl) vi., quarrel angrily andnoisilyco • pi • ous (ko´pe əs) adj., numerous,many

im • peach • ment (im pech´ment) n., dis-credit pre • rog • a • tive (pre ra��´ə tiv) n., rightor privilege, especially peculiar to a rank orclass

was sore and tired, she persisted in riding on thesled. She was pretty and soft, but she weighed onehundred and twenty pounds—a lusty last straw tothe load dragged by the weak and starving ani-mals. She rode for days, till they fell in the tracesand the sled stood still. Charles and Hal beggedher to get off and walk, pleaded with her, entreat-ed, the while she wept and importuned Heavenwith a recital of their brutality.On one occasion they took her off the sled by

main strength. They never did it again. She let herlegs go limp like a spoiled child, and sat down on thetrail. They went on their way, but she did not move.After they had traveled three miles they unloadedthe sled, came back for her, and by main strengthput her on the sled again.In the excess of their own misery they were callous

to the suffering of their animals. Hal’s theory, whichhe practiced on others, was that one must get hard-ened. He had started out preaching it to his sisterand brother-in-law. Failing there, he hammered itinto the dogs with a club. At the Five Fingers the dogfood gave out, and a toothless old squaw offered totrade them a few pounds of frozen horse hide for theColt’s revolver that kept the big hunting knife com-pany at Hal’s hip. A poor substitute for food was thishide, just as it had been stripped from the starvedhorses of the cattlemen six months back. In itsfrozen state it was more like strips of galvanizediron, and when a dog wrestled it into his stomach itthawed into thin and innutritious leathery stringsand into a mass of short hair, irritating and indi-gestible.And through it all Buck staggered along at the

head of the team as in a nightmare. He pulled when



im • por • tune (im´pôr to�o— n´) vt., trouble with requests ordemands

cal • lous (kal´əs) adj., unfeeling

® What is Hal’s the-ory? To whom is heunable to teach thislesson? To whomdoes he teach itinstead?

he could; when he could no longer pull, he felldown and remained down till blows from whip orclub drove him to his feet again. All the stiffness andgloss had gone out of his beautiful furry coat. Thehair hung down, limp and draggled, or matted withdried blood where Hal’s club had bruised him. Hismuscles had wasted away to knotty strings, and theflesh pads had disappeared, so that each rib andevery bone in his frame were outlined cleanlythrough the loose hide that was wrinkled in folds ofemptiness. It was heartbreaking, only Buck’s heartwas unbreakable. The man in the red sweater hadproved that.As it was with Buck, so was it with his mates. They

were perambulating skeletons. There were seven alltogether, including him. In their very great miserythey had become insensible to the bite of the lash orthe bruise of the club. The pain of the beating wasdull and distant, just as the things their eyes saw andtheir ears heard seemed dull and distant. They werenot half living, or quarter living. They were simplyso many bags of bones in which sparks of life flut-tered faintly. When a halt was made, they droppeddown in the traces like dead dogs, and the sparkdimmed and paled and seemed to go out. And whenthe club or whip fell upon them, the spark flutteredfeebly up, and they tottered to their feet and stag-gered on.There came a day when Billee, the good-natured,

fell and could not rise. Hal had traded off hisrevolver, so he took the axe and knocked Billee onthe head as he lay in the traces, then cut the carcassout of the harness and dragged it to one side. Bucksaw, and his mates saw, and they knew that thisthing was very close to them. On the next day



per • am • bu • late (pər am´byo�o— lat ´) vi., walk about

√ What has hap-pened to the dogssince this journeybegan?

Koona went, and but five of them remained: Joe, toofar gone to be malignant; Pike, crippled and limping,only half conscious and not conscious enoughlonger to malinger; Sol-leks, the one-eyed, still faith-ful to the toil of trace and trail, and mournful in thathe had so little strength with which to pull; Teek,who had not traveled so far that winter and who wasnow beaten more than the others because he wasfresher; and Buck, still at the head of the team, butno longer enforcing discipline or striving toenforce it, blind with weakness half the time andkeeping the trail by the loom of it and by the dimfeel of his feet.It was beautiful spring weather, but neither dogs

nor humans were aware of it. Each day the sun roseearlier and set later. It was dawn by three in themorning, and twilight lingered till nine at night.The whole long day was a blaze of sunshine. Theghostly winter silence had given way to the greatspring murmur of awakening life. This murmurarose from all the land, fraught with the joy of liv-ing. It came from the things that lived and movedagain, things which had been as dead and whichhad not moved during the long months of frost.The sap was rising in the pines. The willows andaspens were bursting out in young buds. Shrubsand vines were putting on fresh garbs of green.Crickets sang in the nights, and in the days allmanner of creeping, crawling things rustled forthinto the sun. Partridges and woodpeckers werebooming and knocking in the forest. Squirrels werechattering, birds singing, and overhead honked thewild fowl driving up from the south in cunningwedges that split the air.



fraught (frôt) adj., filled; charged; loaded

® How does this pic-ture of the springlandscape contrastwith the portrait ofthe travelers?


From every hill slope came the trickle of runningwater, the music of unseen fountains. All thingswere thawing, bending, snapping. The Yukon wasstraining to break loose the ice that bound it down.It ate away from beneath; the sun ate from above.Air holes formed, fissures sprang and spread apart,while thin sections of ice fell through bodily into theriver. And amid all this bursting, rending, throbbing ofawakening life, under the blazing sun and through thesoft-sighing breezes, like wayfarers to death, staggeredthe two men, the woman, and the huskies.With the dogs falling, Mercedes weeping and rid-

ing, Hal swearing innocuously, and Charles’s eyeswistfully watering, they staggered into JohnThornton’s camp at the mouth of White River.When they halted, the dogs dropped down asthough they had all been struck dead. Mercedesdried her eyes and looked at John Thornton. Charlessat down on a log to rest. He sat down very slowlyand painstakingly, what of his great stiffness. Hal didthe talking. John Thornton was whittling the lasttouches on an axe -handle he had made from a stickof birch. He whittled and listened, gave monosyl-labic5 replies, and, when it was asked, terse advice.He knew the breed, and he gave his advice in thecertainty that it would not be followed.“They told us up above that the bottom was drop -

ping out of the trail and that the best thing for us todo was to lay over,” Hal said in response toThornton’s warning to take no more chances on therotten ice. “They told us we couldn’t make WhiteRiver, and here we are.” This last with a sneeringring of triumph in it.

5. monosyllabic. Having only one syllable


in • no • cu • ous • ly (in na�k´yo�o— əs le) adv., harmlessly;dully

terse (t�rs) adj., short; concise

√ What does JohnThornton recognizeabout the charactersof these people?

“And they told you true,” John Thorntonanswered. “The bottom’s likely to drop out at anymoment. Only fools, with the blind luck of fools,could have made it. I tell you straight, I wouldn’trisk my carcass on that ice for all the gold in Alaska.”“That’s because you’re not a fool, I suppose,” said

Hal. “All the same, we’ll go on to Dawson.” Heuncoiled his whip. “Get up there, Buck! Hi! Get upthere! Mush on!”Thornton went on whittling. It was idle, he knew,

to get between a fool and his folly, while two orthree fools more or less would not alter the schemeof things.But the team did not get up at the command. It

had long since passed into the stage where blowswere required to rouse it. The whip flashed out, hereand there, on its merciless errands. John Thorntoncompressed his lips. Sol-leks was the first to crawl tohis feet. Teek followed. Joe came next, yelping withpain. Pike made painful efforts. Twice he fell over,when half up, and on the third attempt managed torise. Buck made no effort. He lay quietly where hehad fallen. The lash bit into him again and again,but he neither whined nor struggled. Several timesThornton started, as though to speak, but changedhis mind. A moisture came into his eyes, and, as thewhipping continued, he arose and walked irres-olutely up and down.This was the first time Buck had failed, in itself a

sufficient reason to drive Hal into a rage. Heexchanged the whip for the customary club. Buckrefused to move under the rain of heavier blowswhich now fell upon him. Like his mates, he wasbarely able to get up, but, unlike them, he hadmade up his mind not to get up. He had a vague



ir • re • so • lute • ly (ir rez´ə lo�o— t´le) adv., indecisively

® What does Buckdo for the first time?Why is he differentfrom his mates?

® What answer doesThornton give toHal’s triumphantsneer? What advicedoes Thornton give?

feeling of impending doom. This had been strongupon him when he pulled in to the bank, and ithad not departed from him. What of the thin androtten ice he had felt under his feet all day, itseemed that he sensed disaster close at hand, outthere ahead on the ice where his master was tryingto drive him. He refused to stir. So greatly had hesuffered, and so far gone was he, that the blowsdid not hurt much. And as they continued to fallupon him, the spark of life within flickered andwent down. It was nearly out. He felt strangelynumb. As though from a great distance, he wasaware that he was being beaten. The last sensa-tions of pain left him. He no longer felt anything,though very faintly he could hear the impact ofthe club upon his body. But it was no longer hisbody, it seemed so far away. And then, suddenly, without warning, uttering a

cry that was inarticulate and more like the cry of ananimal, John Thornton sprang upon the man whowielded the club. Hal was hurled backward, asthough struck by a falling tree. Mercedes screamed.Charles looked on wistfully, wiped his watery eyes,but did not get up because of his stiffness.John Thornton stood over Buck, struggling to con-

trol himself, too convulsed with rage to speak.“If you strike that dog again, I’ll kill you,” he at last

managed to say in a choking voice.“It’s my dog,” Hal replied, wiping the blood from

his mouth as he came back. “Get out of my way, orI’ll fix you. I’m going to Dawson.”Thornton stood between him and Buck, and evinced

no intention of getting out of the way. Hal drew hislong hunting-knife. Mercedes screamed, cried,laughed, and manifested the chaotic abandonment of



in • ar • tic • u • late (in ´a�r tik´yo�o— lit) adj., incomprehensi-ble, not understandable

e • vince (e vins ´) vt., show plainly; indicate

hysteria. Thornton rapped Hal’s knuckles with theaxe-handle, knocking the knife to the ground. Herapped his knuckles again as he tried to pick it up.Then he stooped, picked it up himself, and with twostrokes cut Buck’s traces.Hal had no fight left in him. Besides, his hands were

full with his sister, or his arms, rather; while Buck wastoo near dead to be of further use in hauling the sled.A few minutes later they pulled out from the bankand down the river. Buck heard them go and raisedhis head to see. Pike was leading, Sol -leks was at thewheel, and between were Joe and Teek. They werelimping and staggering. Mercedes was riding theloaded sled. Hal guided at the gee- pole, and Charlesstumbled along in the rear.As Buck watched them, Thornton knelt beside him

and with rough, kindly hands searched for brokenbones. By the time his search had disclosed nothingmore than many bruises and a state of terrible star-vation, the sled was a quarter of a mile away. Dogand man watched it crawling along over the ice.Suddenly, they saw its back end drop down, as intoa rut, and the gee-pole, with Hal clinging to it, jerkinto the air. Mercedes’s scream came to their ears.They saw Charles turn and make one step to runback, and then a whole section of ice give way anddogs and humans disappear. A yawning hole was allthat was to be seen. The bottom had dropped out ofthe trail. John Thornton and Buck looked at each other.“You poor devil,” said John Thornton, and Buck

licked his hand.


® What three rea-sons does Hal havefor giving up Buck?

® What happens tothe sled? Do you feelsympathy forCharles, Mercedes,and Hal when thishappens? Why, or why not?


Responding to the SelectionImagine that you are John Thornton. In your journal,

write about Buck, explaining why you saved his life. Expressyour feelings about Hal in your journal entry.

Reviewing the Selection

Recalling and Interpreting1. R: In what condition are the dogs when they reachSkaguay?

2. I: What facts emphasize the grueling effects of the trailupon the dogs’ physical condition?

3. R: What does Hal claim is the reason the dogs areunable to move the sled?

4. I: What is the probable reason that Buck runs the sledwildly down the street of Skaguay?

5. R: Why shouldn’t fourteen dogs drag one sled?

6. I: What actions on the part of Charles and Hal justifythe lack of confidence Buck feels toward them?

7. R: What warning does John Thornton give to Hal aboutthe ice?

8. I: What actions on the part of John Thornton show hiscourage and compassion?

Synthesizing9. What causes inexperienced people like Charles, Hal,and Mercedes to “adventure the North”? What sort ofimage do they have of the North? How is that image differ-ent from the reality?

10. What kind of people does Thornton recognize Charles,Hal, and Mercedes to be? Does Thornton have respect forthem? Why, or why not?



1. Conflict. A conflict is a struggle between two forces ina literary work. A character may struggle against anothercharacter, against the forces of nature, against society orsocial norms, against fate, or against some element withinhimself or herself. A struggle that takes place between acharacter and some outside force is called an externalconflict. A struggle that takes place within a character iscalled an internal conflict. At the end of this chapter, thecharacter John Thornton experiences both kinds of con-flict—external and internal. Against what external conflictdoes Thornton struggle? What internal conflict causesThornton to hesitate before defending Buck from Hal?

2. Character. A character is a person (or sometimes ananimal) who figures in the action of a literary work. Twotypes of characters include a one-dimensional characterand a three-dimensional character. Hal, Charles, andMercedes are examples of one-dimensional characters—characters who exhibit a single dominant quality or charac-ter trait. What dominant quality or trait does each of thesecharacters exhibit? John Thornton is an example of a three-dimensional character—a character who exhibits the com-plexity of traits associated with actual human beings. Whattraits does Thornton exhibit at the end of this chapter?

CHAPTER VI

For the Love of a Man

When John Thornton froze his feet in the previ-ous December, his partners had made him comfort-able and left him to get well, going on themselves upthe river to get out a raft of saw-logs for Dawson. Hewas still limping slightly at the time he rescuedBuck, but with the continued warm weather eventhe slight limp left him. And here, lying by the riverbank through the long spring days, watching therunning water, listening lazily to the songs of birdsand the hum of nature, Buck slowly won back hisstrength.A rest comes very good after one has traveled

three thousand miles, and it must be confessed thatBuck waxed lazy as his wounds healed, his musclesswelled out, and the flesh came back to cover hisbones. For that matter, they were all loafing, Buck,John Thornton—and Skeet and Nig—waiting forthe raft to come that was to carry them down toDawson. Skeet was a little Irish setter who earlymade friends with Buck, who, in a dying condition,was unable to resent her first advances. She had thedoctor trait which some dogs possess; and as amother cat washes her kittens, so she washed andcleansed Buck’s wounds. Regularly, each morningafter he had finished his breakfast, she performedher self-appointed task, till he came to look forher ministrations as much as he did for Thorn-ton’s. Nig, equally friendly, though less demon-strative, was a huge black dog, half-bloodhound

FOR THE LOVE OF A MAN 81


min • is • tra • tion (min is tra´shən) n., act of giving care,help, or service

√ Why is Skeet ableto become friendswith Buck?

and half-deerhound, with eyes that laughed and aboundless good nature.To Buck’s surprise these dogs manifested no jeal-

ousy toward him. They seemed to share the kindli-ness and largeness of John Thornton. As Buck grewstronger they enticed him into all sorts of ridiculousgames, in which Thornton himself could not fore-bear to join; and in this fashion Buck rompedthrough his convalescence and into a new existence.Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the firsttime. This he had never experienced at Judge Miller’sdown in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. With theJudge’s sons, hunting and tramping, it had been aworking partnership; with the Judge’s grandsons, asort of pompous guardianship; and with the Judgehimself, a stately and dignified friendship. But lovethat was feverish and burning, that was adoration,that was madness, it had taken John Thornton toarouse.This man had saved his life, which was something;

but, further, he was the ideal master. Other men sawto the welfare of their dogs from a sense of duty andbusiness expediency; he saw to the welfare of his asif they were his own children, because he could nothelp it. And he saw further. He never forgot a kindlygreeting or a cheering word, and to sit down for along talk with them (“gas” he called it) was as muchhis delight as theirs. He had a way of taking Buck’shead roughly between his hands, and resting hisown head upon Buck’s, of shaking him back andforth, the while calling him ill names that to Buckwere love names. Buck knew no greater joy thanthat rough embrace and the sound of murmuredoaths, and at each jerk back and forth it seemed thathis heart would be shaken out of his body so great



con • va • les • cence (ka�n´və ləs� əns) n., gradual recoveryafter illness or injury

® What surprisesBuck about thesedogs? What pastexperience causesthis surprise?

® What were Buck’srelationships withother masters like?What makes JohnThornton special?

® In what mannerdoes Thornton see tothe welfare of hisdogs? In what doeshe delight?

was its ecstasy. And when, released, he sprang to hisfeet, his mouth laughing, his eyes eloquent, his throatvibrant with unuttered sound, and in that fashionremained without movement, John Thornton wouldreverently exclaim, “God! you can all but speak!”Buck had a trick of love expression that was akin

to hurt. He would often seize Thornton’s hand in hismouth and close so fiercely that the flesh bore theimpress of his teeth for some time afterward. And asBuck understood the oaths to be love words, so theman understood this feigned bite for a caress.For the most part, however, Buck’s love was

expressed in adoration. While he went wild withhappiness when Thornton touched him or spoke tohim, he did not seek these tokens. Unlike Skeet, whowas wont to shove her nose under Thornton’s handand nudge and nudge till petted, or Nig, who wouldstalk up and rest his great head on Thornton’s knee,Buck was content to adore at a distance. He wouldlie by the hour, eager, alert, at Thornton’s feet, look-ing up into his face, dwelling upon it, studying it,following with keenest interest each fleeting expres-sion, every movement or change of feature. Or, aschance might have it, he would lie farther away, tothe side or rear, watching the outlines of the manand the occasional movements of his body. Andoften, such was the communion in which theylived, the strength of Buck’s gaze would draw JohnThornton’s head around, and he would return thegaze, without speech, his heart shining out of hiseyes as Buck’s heart shone out.For a long time after his rescue, Buck did not like

Thornton to get out of his sight. From the momenthe left the tent to when he entered it again, Buckwould follow at his heels. His transient masters since


√ Why does Bucknot like to lose sightof Thornton?


tran • sient (tran´shənt) adj., staying only for a short time

he had come into the Northland had bred in him afear that no master could be permanent. He wasafraid that Thornton would pass out of his life asPerrault and François and the Scot had passed out.Even in the night, in his dreams, he was haunted bythis fear. At such times he would shake off sleep andcreep through the chill to the flap of the tent, wherehe would stand and listen to the sound of his mas-ter’s breathing.But in spite of this great love he bore John Thorn-

ton, which seemed to bespeak the soft civilizinginfluence, the strain of the primitive, which theNorthland had aroused in him, remained alive andactive. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fireand roof, were his; yet he retained his wildness andwiliness. He was a thing of the wild, come in fromthe wild to sit by John Thornton’s fire, rather than adog of the soft Southland stamped with the marksof generations of civilization. Because of his verygreat love, he could not steal from this man, butfrom any other man, in any other camp, he did nothesitate an instant; while the cunning with whichhe stole enabled him to escape detection.His face and body were scored by the teeth of many

dogs, and he fought as fiercely as ever and moreshrewdly. Skeet and Nig were too good -natured forquarreling—besides, they belonged to John Thorn-ton; but the strange dog, no matter what the breedor valor, swiftly acknowledged Buck’s supremacy orfound himself struggling for life with a terribleantagonist. And Buck was merciless. He had learnedwell the law of club and fang, and he never forewentan advantage or drew back from a foe he had startedon the way to death. He had lessoned from Spitz, andfrom the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail,and knew there was no middle course. He must mas-ter or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weak-ness. Mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It wasmisunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings


® What two forcesare active in Buck?Which is stronger?

® What emotiondoes not exist in the“primordial life”?Why doesn’t thisemotion exist?

made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, wasthe law; and this mandate, down out of the depthsof Time, he obeyed.He was older than the days he had seen and the

breaths he had drawn. He linked the past with thepresent, and the eternity behind him throbbedthrough him in a mighty rhythm to which heswayed as the tides and seasons swayed. He sat byJohn Thornton’s fire, a broad-breasted dog,white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him werethe shades of all manner of dogs, half-wolves andwild wolves, urgent and prompting, tasting thesavor of the meat he ate, thirsting for the water hedrank, scenting the wind with him, listening withhim and telling him the sounds made by the wildlifein the forest, dictating his moods, directing hisactions, lying down to sleep with him when he laydown, and dreaming with him and beyond him andbecoming themselves the stuff of his dreams.So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that

each day mankind and the claims of mankindslipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a callwas sounding, and as often as he heard this call mys-teriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled toturn his back upon the fire and the beaten eartharound it, and to plunge into the forest, and on andon, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonderwhere or why, the call sounding imperiously, deepin the forest. But as often as he gained the softunbroken earth and the green shade, the love forJohn Thornton drew him back to the fire again.Thornton alone held him. The rest of mankind

was as nothing. Chance travelers might praise or pethim; but he was cold under it all, and from a toodemonstrative man he would get up and walk away.



man • date (man�dat´) n., command

per • emp • to • ri • ly (pər emp´tə rə le) adv., finally;absolutely

√ In what way isBuck affected by linksto the past?

√ What compelsBuck to plunge intothe forest? Whatcompels him to comeback to the fire?

When Thornton’s partners, Hans and Pete, arrivedon the long-expected raft, Buck refused to noticethem till he learned they were close to Thornton;after that he tolerated them in a passive sort of way,accepting favors from them as though he favoredthem by accepting. They were of the same largetype as Thornton, living close to the earth, think-ing simply and seeing clearly; and ere they swungthe raft into the big eddy by the sawmill at Dawson,they understood Buck and his ways, and did notinsist upon an intimacy such as obtained with Skeetand Nig.For Thornton, however, his love seemed to grow

and grow. He, alone among men, could put a packupon Buck’s back in the summer traveling. Nothingwas too great for Buck to do, when Thornton com-manded. One day (they had grubstaked1 themselvesfrom the proceeds of the raft and left Dawson for theheadwaters of the Tanana) the men and dogs weresitting on the crest of a cliff which fell away, straightdown, to naked bedrock three hundred feet below.John Thornton was sitting near the edge, Buck at hisshoulder. A thoughtless whim seized Thornton, andhe drew the attention of Hans and Pete to the exper-iment he had in mind. “Jump, Buck!” he com-manded, sweeping his arm out and over the chasm.The next instant he was grappling with Buck on theextreme edge, while Hans and Pete were draggingthem back into safety.“It’s uncanny,” Pete said, after it was over and they

had caught their speech.Thornton shook his head. “No, it is splendid, and

it is terrible, too. Do you know, it sometimes makesme afraid.”“I’m not hankering to be the man that lays hands

on you while he’s around,” Pete announced conclu-sively, nodding his head toward Buck.


® What is Buck’sattitude toward Hansand Pete? How doHans and Pete treatBuck?

® What experimentdoes Thornton try ona whim? What doesit prove?

1. grubstaked. Set themselves up with money and supplies

“Py Jingo!” was Hans’s contribution. “Not mine-self either.”It was at Circle City, ere the year was out, that

Pete’s apprehensions were realized. “Black” Burton,a man evil-tempered and malicious, had been pick-ing a quarrel with a tenderfoot2 at the bar, whenThornton stepped good-naturedly between. Buck, aswas his custom, was lying in a corner, head on paws,watching his master’s every action. Burton struckout, without warning, straight from the shoulder.Thornton was sent spinning, and saved himselffrom falling only by clutching the rail of the bar.Those who were looking on heard what was nei-

ther bark nor yelp, but a something which is bestdescribed as a roar, and they saw Buck’s body rise upin the air as he left the floor for Burton’s throat. Theman saved his life by instinctively throwing out hisarm, but was hurled backward to the floor with Buckon top of him. Buck loosed his teeth from the fleshof the arm and drove in again for the throat. Thistime the man succeeded only in partly blocking, andhis throat was torn open. Then the crowd was uponBuck, and he was driven off; but while a surgeonchecked the bleeding, he prowled up and down,growling furiously, attempting to rush in, and beingforced back by an array of hostile clubs. A “miners’meeting,” called on the spot, decided that the doghad sufficient provocation, and Buck was dis-charged. But his reputation was made, and from thatday his name spread through every camp in Alaska.Later on, in the fall of the year, he saved John

Thornton’s life in quite another fashion. The threepartners were lining a long and narrow poling-boat


2. tenderfoot. Any newcomer, novice, or beginner


ma • li • cious (mə lish´əs) adj., intentionally spiteful; harmfulprov • o • ca • tion (pra�v´ə ka´shən) n., something that stirsup feelings or action, especially a cause of resentment or irritation

√ What reputationdoes Buck gain?

down a bad stretch of rapids on the Forty MileCreek. Hans and Pete moved along the bank, snub-bing3 with a thin Manila rope4 from tree to tree,while Thornton remained in the boat, helping itsdescent by means of a pole, and shouting direc-tions to the shore. Buck, on the bank, worried andanxious, kept abreast of the boat, his eyes never offhis master.At a particularly bad spot, where a ledge of barely

submerged rocks jutted out into the river, Hans castoff the rope, and, while Thornton poled the boatout into the stream, ran down the bank with theend in his hand to snub the boat when it hadcleared the ledge. This it did, and was flying down-stream in a current as swift as a millrace,5 whenHans checked it with the rope and checked too sud-denly. The boat flirted over and snubbed in to thebank bottom up, while Thornton, flung sheer outof it, was carried down stream toward the worst partof the rapids, a stretch of wild water in which noswimmer could live.Buck had sprung in on the instant; and at the end

of three hundred yards, amid a mad swirl of water,he overhauled Thornton. When he felt him grasphis tail, Buck headed for the bank, swimming withall his splendid strength. But the progress shorewardwas slow, the progress downstream amazingly rapid.From below came the fatal roaring where the wildcurrent went wilder and was rent in shreds and sprayby the rocks which thrust through like the teeth ofan enormous comb. The suck of the water as it tookthe beginning of the last steep pitch was frightful,



sub • merged (sub m�rjd´) adj., covered by water

® What does Buckdo to save Thornton’slife? What makesprogress difficult?What danger liesahead?

3. snubbing. Moving a boat by turning it around a post4. Manila rope. Strong rope made of hemp from Manila, capital of thePhilippines5. millrace. Current of water that drives a mill wheel

and Thornton knew that the shore was impossible.He scraped furiously over a rock, bruised across a sec-ond, and struck a third with crushing force. Heclutched its slippery top with both hands, releasingBuck, and above the roar of the churning watershouted: “Go, Buck! Go!”Buck could not hold his own, and swept on down-

stream, struggling desperately, but unable to winback. When he heard Thornton’s commandrepeated, he partly reared out of the water, throwinghis head high, as though for a last look, then turnedobediently toward the bank. He swam powerfullyand was dragged ashore by Pete and Hans at the verypoint where swimming ceased to be possible anddestruction began.They knew that the time a man could cling to

a slippery rock in the face of that driving currentwas a matter of minutes, and they ran as fast asthey could up the bank to a point far abovewhere Thornton was hanging on. They attachedthe line with which they had been snubbing theboat to Buck’s neck and shoulders, being carefulthat it should neither strangle him nor impedehis swimming, and launched him into the stream.He struck out boldly, but not straight enough intothe stream. He discovered the mistake too late,when Thornton was abreast of him and a barehalf-dozen strokes away while he was being car-ried helplessly past.Hans promptly snubbed with the rope, as though

Buck were a boat. The rope thus tightening on himin the sweep of the current, he was jerked under thesurface, and under the surface he remained till hisbody struck against the bank and he was hauled out.He was half-drowned, and Hans and Pete threwthemselves upon him, pounding the breath intohim and the water out of him. He staggered to hisfeet and fell down. The faint sound of Thornton’svoice came to them, and though they could not


√ What mistakedoes Buck make?What should he havedone?

make out the words of it, they knew that he was inhis extremity. His master’s voice acted on Buck likean electric shock. He sprang to his feet and ran upthe bank ahead of the men to the point of his previ-ous departure.Again the rope was attached and he was launched,

and again he struck out, but this time straight intothe stream. He had miscalculated once, but hewould not be guilty of it a second time. Hans paidout the rope, permitting no slack, while Pete kept itclear of coils. Buck held on till he was on a linestraight above Thornton; then he turned, and withthe speed of an express train headed down uponhim. Thornton saw him coming, and, as Buck struckhim like a battering ram, with the whole force of thecurrent behind him, he reached up and closed withboth arms around the shaggy neck. Hans snubbedthe rope around the tree, and Buck and Thorntonwere jerked under the water. Strangling, suffocating,sometimes one uppermost and sometimes the other,dragging over the jagged bottom, smashing againstrocks and snags, they veered in to the bank.Thornton came to, belly downward and being vio-

lently propelled back and forth across a drift log byHans and Pete. His first glance was for Buck, overwhose limp and apparently lifeless body Nig was set-ting up a howl, while Skeet was licking the wet faceand closed eyes. Thornton was himself bruised andbattered, and he went carefully over Buck’s body,when he had been brought around, finding threebroken ribs.“That settles it,” he announced. “We camp right

here.” And camp they did, till Buck’s ribs knittedand he was able to travel.



ex • trem • i • ty (ek strem´ ə te) n., state of extremenecessity or danger

® What spurs Buckon to further action?

That winter, at Dawson, Buck performed anotherexploit, not so heroic, perhaps, but one that put hisname many notches higher on the totem-pole6 ofAlaskan fame. This exploit was particularly gratify-ing to the three men; for they stood in need of theoutfit which it furnished, and were enabled to makea long-desired trip into the virgin East, where min-ers had not yet appeared. It was brought about by aconversation in the Eldorado Saloon, in which menwaxed boastful of their favorite dogs. Buck, becauseof his record, was the target for these men, andThornton was driven stoutly to defend him. At theend of half an hour one man stated that his dogcould start a sled with five hundred pounds andwalk off with it; a second bragged six hundred forhis dog; and a third, seven hundred.“Pooh! pooh!” said John Thornton; “Buck can start

a thousand pounds.”“And break it out? and walk off with it for a hun-

dred yards?” demanded Matthewson, a BonanzaKing, he of the seven-hundred vaunt.“And break it out, and walk off with it for a hun-

dred yards,” John Thornton said coolly.“Well,” Matthewson said, slowly and deliberately,

so that all could hear, “I’ve got a thousand dollarsthat says he can’t. And there it is.” So saying, heslammed a sack of gold dust of the size of a bolognasausage down upon the bar.Nobody spoke. Thornton’s bluff, if bluff it was,

had been called. He could feel a flush of warm bloodcreep ing up his face. His tongue had tricked him. He


6. totem-pole. Pole or post carved and painted with totems, or images of ani-mals or natural objects believed to be related to a family’s heritage, often erectedin front of their dwellings by Native Americans from the northwest coast ofNorth America

√ What effect doesBuck’s next act havefor him? forThornton and hisfriends?

√ What boast doesThornton make?What happens as aresult of this boast?


vaunt (vônt) n., boast or brag

did not know whether Buck could start a thousandpounds. Half a ton! The enormousness of it appalledhim. He had great faith in Buck’s strength and hadoften thought him capable of starting such a load;but never, as now, had he faced the possibility of it,the eyes of a dozen men fixed upon him, silent andwaiting. Further, he had no thousand dollars; norhad Hans or Pete.“I’ve got a sled standing outside now, with twenty

fifty-pound sacks of flour on it,” Matthewson wenton with brutal directness; “so don’t let that hinderyou.” Thornton did not reply. He did not know what to

say. He glanced from face to face in the absent wayof a man who has lost the power of thought and isseeking somewhere to find the thing that will startit going again. The face of Jim O’Brien, a MastodonKing and old-time comrade, caught his eyes. It wasas a cue to him, seeming to rouse him to do what hewould never have dreamed of doing.“Can you lend me a thousand?” he asked, almost

in a whisper.“Sure,” answered O’Brien, thumping down a

plethoric sack by the side of Matthewson’s. “Thoughit’s little faith I’m having, John, that the beast cando the trick.”The Eldorado emptied its occupants into the street

to see the test. The tables were deserted, and thedealers and gamekeepers came forth to see the out-come of the wager and to lay odds. Several hundredmen, furred and mittened, banked around the sledwithin easy distance. Matthewson’s sled, loadedwith a thousand pounds of flour, had been standingfor a couple of hours, and in the intense cold (it wassixty below zero) the runners had frozen fast to the



ple • thor • ic (plə thôr´ik) adj., characterized by excess orprofusion

® Does Thorntonbelieve Buck canstart a thousandpounds? Does heregret his statement?

® What rousesThornton to action?What does he askO’Brien? DoesO’Brien believe Buckcan do it?

hard-packed snow. Men offered odds of two to onethat Buck could not budge the sled. A quibble aroseconcerning the phrase “break out.” O’Brien con-tended it was Thornton’s privilege to knock the run-ners loose, leaving Buck to “break it out” from adead standstill. Matthewson insisted that thephrase included breaking the runners from thefrozen grip of the snow. A majority of the men whohad witnessed the making of the bet decided in hisfavor, whereat the odds went up to three to oneagainst Buck.There were no takers. Not a man believed him

capable of the feat. Thornton had been hurried intothe wager, heavy with doubt; and now that helooked at the sled itself, the concrete fact, with theregular team of ten dogs curled up in the snowbefore it, the more impossible the task appeared.Matthewson waxed jubilant.“Three to one!” he proclaimed. “I’ll lay you

another thousand at that figure, Thornton. Whatd’ye say?”Thornton’s doubt was strong in his face, but his

fighting spirit was aroused—the fighting spirit thatsoars above odds, fails to recognize the impossible,and is deaf to all save the clamor for battle. He calledHans and Pete to him. Their sacks were slim, andwith his own the three partners could rake togetheronly two hundred dollars. In the ebb of their for-tunes, this sum was their total capital; yet they laidit unhesitatingly against Matthewson’s six hundred.The team of ten dogs was unhitched, and Buck,

with his own harness, was put into the sled. He hadcaught the contagion of the excitement, and he feltthat in some way he must do a great thing for JohnThornton. Murmurs of admiration at his splendid



con • ta • gion (kən ta´jən) n., spreading of an emotion, idea,or custom from person to person until many are affected

√ What does Bucksense?

appearance went up. He was in perfect condition,without an ounce of superfluous flesh, and the onehundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were somany pounds of grit and virility. His furry coatshone with the sheen of silk. Down the neck andacross the shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was,half bristled and seemed to lift with every move-ment, as though excess of vigor made each particu-lar hair alive and active. The great breast and heavyforelegs were no more than in proportion with therest of the body, where the muscles showed in tightrolls underneath the skin. Men felt these musclesand proclaimed them hard as iron, and the oddswent down to two to one.“Gad, sir! Gad, sir!” stuttered a member of the lat-

est dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches. “I offeryou eight hundred for him, sir, before the test, sir;eight hundred just as he stands.”Thornton shook his head and stepped to Buck’s

side.“You must stand off from him,” Matthewson

protested. “Free play and plenty of room.”The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the

voices of the gamblers vainly offering two to one.Everybody acknowledged Buck a magnificent ani-mal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulkedtoo large in their eyes for them to loosen theirpouch-strings.Thornton knelt down by Buck’s side. He took his

head in his two hands and rested cheek on cheek. Hedid not playfully shake him, as was his wont, or mur-mur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear. “Asyou love me, Buck. As you love me,” was what hewhispered. Buck whined with suppressed eagerness.



vi • ril • i • ty (və ril´ə te) n., strength or vigor

® What doesThornton whisper to Buck?

The crowd was watching curiously. The affair wasgrowing mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. AsThornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittenedhand between his jaws, pressing in with his teethand releasing slowly, half-reluctantly. It was theanswer, in terms, not of speech, but of love. Thorn-ton stepped well back.“Now, Buck,” he said.Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a

matter of several inches. It was the way he hadlearned. “Gee!” Thornton’s voice rang out, sharp in the

tense silence.Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in

a plunge that took up the slack and with a suddenjerk arrested his one hundred and fifty pounds. Theload quivered, and from under the runners arose acrisp crackling.“Haw!” Thornton commanded.Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left.

The crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivot-ing and the runners slipping and grating severalinches to the side. The sled was broken out. Menwere holding their breaths, intensely unconscious ofthe fact.“Now, MUSH!”Thornton’s command cracked out like a pistol

shot. Buck threw himself forward, tightening thetraces with a jarring lunge. His whole body wasgathered compactly together in the tremendouseffort, the muscles writhing and knotting like livethings under the silky fur. His great chest was lowto the ground, his head forward and down, whilehis feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring thehard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sledswayed and trembled, half-started forward. One ofhis feet slipped, and one man groaned aloud. Thenthe sled lurched ahead in what appeared a rapidsuccession of jerks, though it never really came to


a dead stop again . . . half an inch . . . an inch . . .two inches. . . . The jerks perceptibly diminished;as the sled gained momentum, he caught them up,till it was moving steadily along.Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware

that for a moment they had ceased to breathe.Thornton was running behind, encouraging Buckwith short, cheery words. The distance had beenmeasured off, and as he neared the pile of firewoodwhich marked the end of the hundred yards, a cheerbegan to grow and grow, which burst into a roar ashe passed the firewood and halted at command.Every man was tearing himself loose, even Matthew-son. Hats and mittens were flying in the air. Menwere shaking hands, it did not matter with whom,and bubbling over in a general incoherent babel.But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head

was against head, and he was shaking him back andforth. Those who hurried up heard him cursingBuck, and he cursed him long and fervently, andsoftly and lovingly.“Gad, sir! Gad, sir!” spluttered the Skookum Bench

King. “I’ll give you a thousand for him, sir, a thou-sand, sir—twelve hundred, sir.”Thornton rose to his feet. His eyes were wet. The

tears were streaming frankly down his cheeks. “Sir,”he said to the Skookum Bench King, “no, sir. Youcan go to hell, sir. It’s the best I can do for you, sir.”Buck seized Thornton’s hand in his teeth. Thorn-

ton shook him back and forth. As though animatedby a common impulse, the onlookers drew back to arespectful distance; nor were they again indiscreetenough to interrupt.



in • co • her • ent (in´ko hir� ənt) adj., not logically con-nected; disjointed; ramblingba • bel (ba´ bəl) n., confusion of voices, languages, orsounds

® What shows thatthe growing tensionhas been released?

® How does thecrowd react to Buck’ssuccess?

Responding to the SelectionWhich of Buck’s actions for Thornton do you find most

admirable? Which escapade is most exciting? Discuss youropinions and why you feel this way with two or three ofyour classmates.


Recalling and Interpreting1. R: What kind of master is John Thornton to Buck?

2. I: What actions on the part of John Thornton show hisparticular affection for Buck?

3. R: What command does Thornton give to Buck on thecrest of the cliff?

4. I: What is probably the reason that Thornton gives thecommand?

5. R: What heroic feat does Buck perform on the rapids ofForty-Mile Creek?

6. I: What value does Thornton show that he places onBuck when he says “That settles it. We camp right here”?What do you think about Thornton giving the command?

7. R: What feat does Matthewson bet Thornton that Buckcannot do?

8. I: What action on the part of Buck secures his place “onthe totem-pole of Alaskan fame”?

Synthesizing9. What is the difference between the feelings that Buck

has toward John Thornton and his feelings toward his othermasters, such as Judge Miller and François and Perrault?

10. What qualities does John Thornton possess that allowhim to be the only hold humankind has on Buck?



Characterization. Characterization is the use of literarytechniques to create a character. Two of these techniques,direct description and portrayal of a character’s behavior,are used in the following passage from this chapter: “He satby John Thornton’s fire, a broad-breasted dog, white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him were the shades ofall manner of dogs, half-wolves and wild wolves, urgentand prompting, tasting the savor of the meat he ate, thirst-ing for the water he drank, scenting the wind with him, lis-tening with him and telling him the sounds made by thewildlife in the forest, dictating his moods, directing hisactions, lying down to sleep with him when he lay down,and dreaming with him and beyond him and becomingthemselves the stuff of his dreams.” What aspects of Buck’scharacter are revealed by the description of him sitting bythe fire? How does this contrast with the characterization of“the shades of all manner of dogs”? Who are they? Whatkind of influence or power do they have upon the characterof Buck?


CHAPTER VII

The Sounding of the Call

When Buck earned sixteen hundred dollars in fiveminutes for John Thornton, he made it possible forhis master to pay off certain debts and to journeywith his partners into the East after a fabled lostmine, the history of which was as old as the historyof the country. Many men had sought it; few hadfound it; and more than a few there were who hadnever returned from the quest. This lost mine wassteeped in tragedy and shrouded in mystery. No oneknew of the first man. The oldest tradition stoppedbefore it got back to him. From the beginning therehad been an ancient and ramshackle cabin. Dyingmen had sworn to it, and to the mine the site ofwhich it marked, clinching their testimony withnuggets that were unlike any known grade of gold inthe Northland.But no living man had looted this treasure house,

and the dead were dead; wherefore John Thorntonand Pete and Hans, with Buck and half a dozenother dogs, faced into the East on an unknown trailto achieve where men and dogs as good as them-selves had failed. They sledded seventy miles up theYukon, swung to the left into the Stewart River,passed the Mayo and the McQuestion, and held onuntil the Stewart itself became a streamlet, threadingthe upstanding peaks, which marked the backboneof the continent.John Thornton asked little of man or nature. He

was unafraid of the wild. With a handful of salt anda rifle he could plunge into the wilderness and farewherever he pleased and as long as he pleased. Beingin no haste, Indian fashion, he hunted his dinner inthe course of the day’s travel; and if he failed to findit, like the Indian, he kept on traveling, secure in the

THE SOUNDING OF THE CALL 99

√ What did Buck’svictory enable JohnThornton to do?

knowledge that sooner or later he would come to it.So, on this great journey into the East, straight meatwas the bill of fare1, ammunition and tools princi-pally made up the load on the sled, and the timecardwas drawn upon the limitless future.To Buck it was boundless delight, this hunting,

fishing, and indefinite wandering through strangeplaces. For weeks at a time they would hold onsteadily, day after day; and for weeks upon end theywould camp, here and there, the dogs loafing andthe men burning holes through frozen muck andgravel and washing countless pans of dirt by theheat of the fire. Sometimes they went hungry, some-times they feasted riotously, all according to theabundance of game and the fortune of hunting.Summer arrived, and dogs and men packed on theirbacks, rafted across blue mountain lakes, anddescended or ascended unknown rivers in slenderboats whipsawed2 from the standing forest.The months came and went, and back and forth

they twisted through the uncharted vastness, whereno men were and yet where men had been if theLost Cabin were true. They went across divides insummer blizzards, shivered under the midnight sunon naked mountains between the timber line andthe eternal snows, dropped into summer valleysamid swarming gnats and flies, and in the shadowsof glaciers picked strawberries and flowers as ripeand fair as any the Southland could boast. In the fallof the year they penetrated a weird lake country, sadand silent, where wildfowl had been, but where thenthere was no life nor sign of life—only the blowingof chill winds, the forming of ice in sheltered places,and the melancholy rippling of waves on lonelybeaches.


1. bill of fare. Menu2. whipsawed. Cut with a whipsaw, a two-handled crosscut saw,five-and-a-half to seven feet long

® How does Buckfeel about thisadventure? Whatdoes he enjoy aboutit?

And through another winter they wandered on theobliterated trails of men who had gone before. Once,they came upon a path blazed through the forest, anancient path, and the Lost Cabin seemed very near.But the path began nowhere and ended nowhere,and it remained mystery, as the man who made itand the reason he made it remained mystery.Another time they chanced upon the time-gravenwreckage of a hunting lodge, and amid the shreds ofrotted blankets John Thornton found a long-barreledflintlock.3 He knew it for a Hudson Bay Companygun of the young days in the Northwest, when sucha gun was worth its height in beaver skins packedflat. And that was all—no hint as to the man who inan early day had reared the lodge and left the gunamong the blankets.Spring came on once more, and at the end of all

their wandering they found, not the Lost Cabin, buta shallow placer4 in a broad valley where the goldshowed like yellow butter across the bottom of thewashingpan. They sought no farther. Each day theyworked earned them thousands of dollars in cleandust and nuggets, and they worked every day. Thegold was sacked in moosehide bags, fifty pounds tothe bag, and piled like so much firewood outside thespruce-bough lodge. Like giants they toiled, daysflashing on the heels of days like dreams as theyheaped the treasure up.There was nothing for the dogs to do, save the

hauling in of meat now and again that Thorntonkilled, and Buck spent long hours musing by the fire.The vision of the short-legged hairy man came to


3. flintlock. Gun with a lock in which a flint in the hammer strikes a metalplate to produce a spark that ignites the powder4. placer. Gravel or sand containing ore


ob • lit • er • at • ed (o blit ər at əd) part., erased;destroyed

him more frequently, now that there was little workto be done; and often, blinking by the fire, Buckwandered with him in that other world which heremembered.The salient thing of this other world seemed fear.

When he watched the hairy man sleeping by thefire, head between his knees and hands claspedabove, Buck saw that he slept restlessly, with manystarts and awakenings, at which times he wouldpeer fearfully into the darkness and fling morewood upon the fire. Did they walk by the beach ofa sea, where the hairy man gathered shellfish andate them as he gathered, it was with eyes that rovedeverywhere for hidden danger and with legs pre-pared to run like the wind at its first appearance.Through the forest they crept noiselessly, Buck atthe hairy man’s heels; and they were alert and vigi-lant, the pair of them, ears twitching and movingand nostrils quivering, for the man heard andsmelled as keenly as Buck. The hairy man couldspring up into the trees and travel ahead as fast ason the ground, swinging by the arms from limb tolimb, sometimes a dozen feet apart, letting go andcatching, never falling, never missing his grip. Infact, he seemed as much at home among the treesas on the ground; and Buck had memories of nightsof vigil spent beneath trees wherein the hairy manroosted, holding on tightly as he slept.And closely akin to the visions of the hairy man

was the call still sounding in the depths of the forest.It filled him with a great unrest and strange desires.It caused him to feel a vague, sweet gladness, and hewas aware of wild yearnings and stirrings for he knewnot what. Sometimes he pursued the call into the for-est, looking for it as though it were a tangible thing,



vig • il (vij´əl) n., watch kept during normal sleeping hours

tan • gi • ble (tan jə bəl) adj., touchable

® What does thehairy man feel mostoften?

barking softly or defiantly, as the mood might dic-tate. He would thrust his nose into the cool woodmoss, or into the black soil where long grasses grew,and snort with joy at the fat earth smells; or hewould crouch for hours, as if in concealment, behindfungus-covered trunks of fallen trees, wide-eyed andwide-eared to all that moved and sounded abouthim. It might be, lying thus, that he hoped to sur-prise this call he could not understand. But he didnot know why he did these various things. He wasimpelled to do them, and did not reason about themat all.Irresistible impulses seized him. He would be lying

in camp, dozing lazily in the heat of the day, whensuddenly his head would lift and his ears cock up,intent and listening, and he would spring to his feetand dash away, and on and on, for hours, throughthe forest aisles and across the open spaces. He lovedto run down dry watercourses, and to creep and spyupon the bird life in the woods. For a day at a timehe would lie in the underbrush where he couldwatch the partridges drumming and strutting upand down. But especially he loved to run in thedim twilight of the summer midnights, listening tothe subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest,reading signs and sounds as man may read a book,and seeking for the mysterious something thatcalled—called, waking or sleeping, at all times, forhim to come.One night he sprang from sleep with a start, eager-

eyed, nostrils quivering and scenting, his manebristling in recurrent waves. From the forest camethe call (or one note of it, for the call was manynoted), distinct and definite as never before—along-drawn howl, like, yet unlike, any noise made



re • cur • rent (ri k#r´ənt) adj., occurring or appearing again

√ What wakesBuck? Why is heattracted to it?

by a husky dog. And he knew it, in the old familiarway, as a sound heard before. He sprang through thesleeping camp and in swift silence dashed throughthe woods. As he drew closer to the cry he wentmore slowly, with caution in every movement, tillhe came to an open place among the trees, and look-ing out saw, erect on haunches, with nose pointed tothe sky, a long, lean, timber wolf.He had made no noise, yet it ceased from its howl-

ing and tried to sense his presence. Buck stalked intothe open, half crouching, body gathered compactlytogether, tail straight and stiff, feet falling withunwonted care. Every movement advertised com-mingled threatening and overture of friendliness. Itwas the menacing truce that marks the meeting ofwild beasts that prey. But the wolf fled at sight ofhim. He followed, with wild leapings, in a frenzy toovertake. He ran him into a blind channel, in thebed of the creek, where a timber jam barred the way.The wolf whirled about, pivoting on his hind legsafter the fashion of Joe and of all cornered huskydogs, snarling and bristling, clipping his teethtogether in a continuous and rapid succession ofsnaps.Buck did not attack, but circled him about and

hedged him in with friendly advances. The wolf wassuspicious and afraid; for Buck made three of him inweight, while his head barely reached Buck’s shoul-der. Watching his chance he darted away, and thechase was resumed. Time and again he was cornered,and the thing repeated, though he was in poor con-dition or Buck could not so easily have overtakenhim. He would run till Buck’s head was even withhis flank, when he would whirl around at bay, onlyto dash away again at the first opportunity.



com • min • gled (kəm miŋ´ �əld) adj., intermixed

® How does Bucktreat the wolf? Howdoes the wolfrespond?

But in the end Buck’s pertinacity was rewarded; forthe wolf, finding that no harm was intended, finallysniffed noses with him. Then they became friendly,and played about in the nervous, half-coy way withwhich fierce beasts belie their fierceness. After sometime of this the wolf started off at an easy lope in amanner that plainly showed he was going some-where. He made it clear to Buck that he was to come,and they ran side by side through the somber twi-light, straight up the creek bed, into the gorge fromwhich it issued, and across the bleak divide where ittook its rise.On the opposite slope of the watershed they came

down into a level country where were great stretchesof forest and many streams, and through these greatstretches they ran steadily, hour after hour, the sunrising higher and the day growing warmer. Buck waswildly glad. He knew he was at last answering thecall, running by the side of his wood brother towardthe place from where the call surely came. Old mem-ories were coming upon him fast, and he was stir-ring to them as of old he stirred to the realities ofwhich they were the shadows. He had done thisthing before, somewhere in that other and dimlyremembered world, and he was doing it again, now,running free in the open, the unpacked earth under-foot, the wide sky overhead.They stopped by a running stream to drink, and,

stopping, Buck remembered John Thornton. He satdown. The wolf started on toward the place fromwhere the call surely came, then returned to him,sniffing noses and making actions as though toencourage him. But Buck turned about and startedslowly on the back track. For the better part of anhour the wild brother ran by his side, whining softly.



per • ti • nac • i • ty (p#r´tə nas´ə te) n.,stubborn persistance, obstinacy

be • lie (be l� ) vt., disguise, misrepresent

lope (lop) n., long, easy stride

som • ber (sa�m´bər) adj., dark, dull

√ What does Buckbelieve is happening?How does he feelabout this?

√ What does Buckremember?

Then he sat down, pointed his nose upward, andhowled. It was a mournful howl, and as Buck heldsteadily on his way he heard it grow faint and fainteruntil it was lost in the distance.John Thornton was eating dinner when Buck

dashed into camp and sprang upon him in a frenzyof affection, overturning him, scrambling upon him,licking his face, biting his hand—“playing the gen-eral tomfool,” as John Thornton characterized it, thewhile he shook Buck back and forth and cursed himlovingly.For two days and nights Buck never left camp,

never let Thornton out of his sight. He followed himabout at his work, watched him while he ate, sawhim into his blankets at night and out of them in themorning. But after two days the call in the forestbegan to sound more imperiously than ever. Buck’srestlessness came back on him, and he was hauntedby recollections of the wild brother, and of the smil-ing land beyond the divide and the run side by sidethrough the wide forest stretches. Once again hetook to wandering in the woods, but the wild brothercame no more; and though he listened through longvigils, the mournful howl was never raised.He began to sleep out at night, staying away from

camp for days at a time; and once he crossed thedivide at the head of the creek and went down intothe land of timber and streams. There he wanderedfor a week, seeking vainly for fresh sign of the wildbrother, killing his meat as he traveled and travelingwith the long, easy lope that seems never to tire. Hefished for salmon in a broad stream that emptiedsomewhere into the sea, and by this stream hekilled a large black bear, blinded by the mosquitoeswhile likewise fishing, and raging through the for-est helpless and terrible. Even so, it was a hard fight,and it aroused the last latent remnants of Buck’sferocity. And two days later, when he returned tohis kill and found a dozen wolverines quarreling


® What two desirescall Buck in differentdirections?

over the spoil, he scattered them like chaff; andthose that fled left two behind who would quarrelno more.The blood-longing became stronger than ever

before. He was a killer, a thing that preyed, livingon the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtueof his own strength and prowess, surviving tri-umphantly in a hostile environment where onlythe strong survived. Because of all this he becamepossessed of a great pride in himself, which com-municated itself like a contagion to his physicalbeing. It advertised itself in all his movements, wasapparent in the play of every muscle, spoke plainlyas speech in the way he carried himself, and madehis glorious furry coat if anything more glorious.But for the stray brown on his muzzle and abovehis eyes, and for the splash of white hair that ranmidmost down his chest, he might well have beenmistaken for a gigantic wolf, larger than the largestof the breed. From his St. Bernard father he hadinherited size and weight, but it was his shepherdmother who had given shape to that size andweight. His muzzle was the long wolf muzzle, savethat it was larger than the muzzle of any wolf; andhis head, somewhat broader, was the wolf head ona massive scale.His cunning was wolf cunning, and wild cunning;

his intelligence, shepherd intelligence and St.Bernard intelligence; and all this, plus an experiencegained in the fiercest of schools, made him as formi-dable a creature as any that roamed the wild. A car-nivorous animal, living on a straight meat diet, hewas in full flower, at the high tide of his life, over-spilling with vigor and virility. When Thorntonpassed a caressing hand along his back, a snappingand crackling followed the hand, each hair dis-charging its pent magnetism at the contact. Everypart, brain and body, nerve tissue and fiber, waskeyed to the most exquisite pitch; and between all


√ Of what is Buckproud?

√ What traits makeBuck so formidable?Which traits did heinherit and which didhe learn? How didBuck learn thesetraits/behaviors?

the parts there was a perfect equilibrium or adjust-ment. To sights and sounds and events whichrequired action, he responded with lightning-likerapidity. Quickly as a husky dog could leap to defendfrom attack or to attack, he could leap twice asquickly. He saw the movement, or heard sound, andresponded in less time than another dog required tocompass the mere seeing or hearing. He perceivedand determined and responded in the same instant.In point of fact the three actions of perceiving,determining, and responding were sequential; but soinfinitesimal were the intervals of time betweenthem that they appeared simultaneous. His muscleswere surcharged with vitality, and snapped into playsharply, like steel springs. Life streamed through himin splendid flood, glad and rampant, until it seemedthat it would burst him asunder in sheer ecstasy andpour forth generously over the world.“Never was there such a dog,” said John Thornton

one day, as the partners watched Buck marching outof camp.“When he was made, the mold was broke,” said

Pete.“Py jingo! I t’ink so mineself,” Hans affirmed.They saw him marching out of camp, but they did

not see the instant and terrible transformationwhich took place as soon as he was within thesecrecy of the forest. He no longer marched. At oncehe became a thing of the wild, stealing along softly,cat-footed, a passing shadow that appeared and dis-appeared among the shadows. He knew how to takeadvantage of every cover, to crawl on his belly like asnake, and like a snake to leap and strike. He couldtake a ptarmigan5 from its nest, kill a rabbit as it



e • qui • lib • ri • um (e´kwi lib´re um) n.,state of balance

com • pass (kum´pəs) vt., accomplish

se • quen • tial (si kwen shəl) adj., in a reg-ular series or order

in • fin • i • tes • i • mal (in fin i tes´i məl)adj., too small to be measured

5. ptarmigan. Bird; type of grouse often hunted for food

® How does Buckchange upon enter-ing the forest?

slept, and snap in midair the little chipmunks flee-ing a second too late for the trees. Fish, in openpools, were not too quick for him; nor were beaver,mending their dams, too wary. He killed to eat, notfrom wantonness; but he preferred to eat what hekilled himself. So a lurking humor ran through hisdeeds, and it was his delight to steal upon the squir-rels, and, when he all but had them, to let them go,chattering in mortal fear to the treetops.As the fall of the year came on, the moose

appeared in greater abundance, moving slowlydown to meet the winter in the lower and less rigor-ous valleys. Buck had already dragged down a straypart- grown calf; but he wished strongly for largerand more formidable quarry, and he came upon itone day on the divide at the head of the creek. Aband of twenty moose had crossed over from theland of streams and timber, and chief among themwas a great bull. He was in a savage temper, and,standing over six feet from the ground, was as for-midable an antagonist as ever Buck could desire.Back and forth the bull tossed his great palmated6

antlers, branching to fourteen points and embracingseven feet within the tips. His small eyes burnedwith a vicious and bitter light, while he roared withfury at sight of Buck.From the bull’s side, just forward of the flank, pro-

truded a feathered arrow-end, which accounted forhis savageness. Guided by that instinct which camefrom the old hunting days of the primordial world,Buck proceeded to cut the bull out from the herd. Itwas no slight task. He would bark and dance aboutin front of the bull, just out of reach of the great


6. palmated. Shaped like a hand, with spread fingers


rig • or • ous (ri�´ər əs) adj., very severe or harsh

quar • ry (kwôr´e) n., anything being hunted or pursued

√ What “game”does Buck play withthe squirrels? Whydoes he do this?

antlers and of the terrible splay hoofs, which couldhave stamped his life out with a single blow. Unable toturn his back on the fanged danger and go on, the bullwould be driven into paroxysms of rage. At suchmoments he charged Buck, who retreated craftily, lur-ing him on by a simulated inability to escape. Butwhen he was thus separated from his fellows, two orthree of the younger bulls would charge back uponBuck and enable the wounded bull to rejoin theherd.There is a patience of the wild—dogged, tireless,

persistent as life itself—that holds motionless forendless hours the spider in its web, the snake in itscoils, the panther in its ambuscade;7 this patiencebelongs peculiarly to life when it hunts its livingfood; and it belonged to Buck as he clung to theflank of the herd, retarding its march, irritating theyoung bulls, worrying the cows with theirhalf-grown calves, and driving the wounded bullmad with helpless rage. For half a day this contin-ued. Buck multiplied himself, attacking from allsides, enveloping the herd in a whirlwind of men-ace, cutting out his victim as fast as it could rejoinits mates, wearing out the patience of creaturespreyed upon, which is a lesser patience than that ofcreatures preying.As the day wore along and the sun dropped to its

bed in the northwest (the darkness had come back andthe fall nights were six hours long), the young bullsretraced their steps more and more reluctantly to theaid of their beset leader. The down-coming winter washarrying them on to the lower levels, and it seemedthey could never shake off this tireless creature thatheld them back. Besides, it was not the life of the herd,



splay (spla) adj., turning outward; spreading

par • ox • ysm (par´əks iz əm) n., sudden attack or spasm

har • ry (har´e) vt., force or push along

7. ambuscade. Ambush

® Why do theyounger moose even-tually leave?

or of the young bulls, that was threatened. The life ofonly one member was demanded, which was aremoter interest than their lives, and in the end theywere content to pay the toll.As twilight fell the old bull stood with lowered

head, watching his mates—the cows he had known,the calves he had fathered, the bulls he had mas-tered—as they shambled on at a rapid pace throughthe fading light. He could not follow, for before hisnose leaped the merciless fanged terror that wouldnot let him go. Three hundredweight more than halfa ton he weighed; he had lived a long, strong life,full of fight and struggle, and at the end he faceddeath at the teeth of a creature whose head did notreach beyond his great knuckled knees.From then on, night and day, Buck never left his

prey, never gave it a moment’s rest, never permittedit to browse the leaves of trees or the shoots ofyoung birch and willow. Nor did he give thewounded bull opportunity to slake his burningthirst in the slender trickling streams they crossed.Often, in desperation, he burst into long stretches offlight. At such times Buck did not attempt to stayhim, but loped easily at his heels, satisfied with theway the game was played, lying down when themoose stood still, attacking him fiercely when hestrove to eat or drink.The great head drooped more and more under its

tree of horns, and the shambling trot grew weakerand weaker. He took to standing for long periods,with nose to the ground and dejected ears droppedlimply; and Buck found more time in which to getwater for himself and in which to rest. At suchmoments, panting with red lolling tongue and witheyes fixed upon the big bull, it appeared to Buck that



sham • ble (sham´bəl´) vi., walk awkwardly and clumsily

√ How does Buckgain an advantageover his prey? Whatqualities does he display?

a change was coming over the face of things. Hecould feel a new stir in the land. As the moose werecoming into the land, other kinds of life were com-ing in. Forest and stream and air seemed palpitantwith their presence. The news of it was borne inupon him, not by sight, or sound, or smell, but bysome other and subtler sense. He heard nothing, sawnothing, yet knew that the land was somehow dif-ferent; that through it strange things were afoot andranging; and he resolved to investigate after he hadfinished the business in hand.At last, at the end of the fourth day, he pulled the

great moose down. For a day and a night heremained by the kill, eating and sleeping, turn andturn about. Then, rested, refreshed, and strong, heturned his face toward camp and John Thornton. Hebroke into the long easy lope, and went on, hourafter hour, never at loss for the tangled way, headingstraight home through strange country with a certi-tude of direction that put man and his magneticneedle8 to shame.As he held on he became more and more con-

scious of the new stir in the land. There was lifeabroad in it different from the life which had beenthere throughout the summer. No longer was thisfact borne in upon him in some subtle, mysteriousway. The birds talked of it, the squirrels chatteredabout it, the very breeze whispered of it. Severaltimes he stopped and drew in the fresh morning airin great sniffs, reading a message which made himleap on with greater speed. He was oppressed with asense of calamity happening, if it were not calamityalready happened; and as he crossed the last water-shed and dropped down into the valley towardcamp, he proceeded with greater caution.



pal • pi • tant (pal´pə tənt) adj., throbbing, quivering, trembling

ca • lam • i • ty (kə lam ´əte) n., any extreme misfortunebringing great loss and sorrow; disaster

® Where does Buckhead after eating hiskill? Why?

8. magnetic needle. Compass for showing direction

® What does Bucksense?

Three miles away he came upon a fresh trail thatsent his neck hair rippling and bristling. It led straighttoward camp and John Thornton. Buck hurried on,swiftly and stealthily, every nerve straining and tense,alert to the multitudinous details which told a story—all but the end. His nose gave him a varying descrip-tion of the passage of the life on the heels of which hewas traveling. He remarked the pregnant silence ofthe forest. The bird life had flitted. The squirrels werein hiding. One only he saw—a sleek gray fellow, flat-tened against a gray dead limb so that he seemed apart of it, a woody excrescence upon the wood itself.As Buck slid along with the obscureness of a glid-

ing shadow, his nose was jerked suddenly to the sideas though a positive force had gripped and pulled it.He followed the new scent into a thicket and foundNig. He was lying on his side, dead where he haddragged himself, an arrow protruding, head andfeathers, from either side of his body.A hundred yards farther on, Buck came upon one of

the sled-dogs Thornton had bought in Dawson. Thisdog was thrashing about in a death-struggle, directlyon the trail, and Buck passed around him withoutstopping. From the camp came the faint sound ofmany voices, rising and falling in a sing song chant.Bellying forward to the edge of the clearing, hefound Hans, lying on his face, feathered with arrowslike a porcupine. At the same instant Buck peeredout where the spruce-bough lodge had been and sawwhat made his hair leap straight up on his neck andshoulders. A gust of overpowering rage swept overhim. He did not know that he growled, but hegrowled aloud with a terrible ferocity. For the lasttime in his life he allowed passion to usurp cunning


√ What has hap-pened to the camp?


u • surp (yo"o— s#rp) vt., take over; assume power by force or without right

and reason, and it was because of his great love forJohn Thornton that he lost his head. The Yeehats were dancing about the wreckage of

the spruce-bough lodge when they heard a fearfulroaring and saw rushing upon them an animal thelike of which they had never seen before. It was Buck,a live hurricane of fury, hurling himself upon themin a frenzy to destroy. He sprang at the foremost man(it was the chief of the Yeehats), ripping the throatwide open till the rent jugular spouted a fountain ofblood. He did not pause to worry the victim, butripped in passing, with the next bound tearing widethe throat of a second man. There was no withstand-ing him. He plunged about in their very midst, tear-ing, rending, destroying, in constant and terrificmotion which defied the arrows they discharged athim. In fact, so inconceivably rapid were his move-ments, and so closely were the Indians tangledtogether, that they shot one another with the arrows;and one young hunter, hurling a spear at Buck inmidair, drove it through the chest of another hunterwith such force that the point broke through the skinof the back and stood out beyond. Then a panicseized the Yeehats, and they fled in terror to thewoods, proclaiming as they fled the advent of theEvil Spirit.And truly Buck was the Fiend incarnate, raging at

their heels and dragging them down like deer as theyraced through the trees. It was a fateful day for theYeehats. They scattered far and wide over the country,and it was not till a week later that the last of the sur-vivors gathered together in a lower valley andcounted their losses. As for Buck, wearying of the pur-suit, he returned to the desolated camp. He foundPete where he had been killed in his blankets in the



ad • vent (ad´ vent ) n., coming or arrival

in • car • nate (in ka�r´ nit) adj., endowed with a body

first moment of surprise. Thornton’s desperate strug-gle was fresh written on the earth, and Buck scentedevery detail of it down to the edge of a deep pool. Bythe edge, head and forefeet in the water, lay Skeet,faithful to the last. The pool itself, muddy and dis-colored from the sluice boxes, effectually hid what itcontained, and it contained John Thornton; for Buckfollowed his trace into the water, from which notrace led away.All day Buck brooded by the pool or roamed rest-

lessly about the camp. Death, as a cessation of move-ment, as a passing out and away from the lives of theliving, he knew, and he knew John Thornton wasdead. It left a great void in him, somewhat akin tohunger, but a void which ached and ached, andwhich food could not fill. At times, when he pausedto contemplate the carcasses of the Yeehats, he for-got the pain of it; and at such times he was aware ofa great pride in himself—a pride greater than any hehad yet experienced. He had killed man, the noblestgame of all, and he had killed in the face of the lawof club and fang. He sniffed the bodies curiously.They had died so easily. It was harder to kill a huskydog than them. They were no match at all, were itnot for their arrows and spears and clubs.Thenceforward he would be unafraid of them exceptwhen they bore in their hands their arrows, spears,and clubs.Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the

trees into the sky, lighting the land till it lay bathedin ghostly day. And with the coming of the night,brooding and mourning by the pool, Buck becamealive to a stirring of the new life in the forest otherthan that which the Yeehats had made. He stood up,listening and scenting. From far away drifted a faint,



brood (bro"o— d) vi., worry

√ How does Buckfeel about Thornton’sdeath? Whatthoughts comforthim?

√ What surprisedBuck about killingmen? How would hereact to men in thefuture?

sharp yelp, followed by a chorus of similar sharpyelps. As the moments passed the yelps grew closerand louder. Again Buck knew them as things heardin that other world which persisted in his memory.He walked to the center of the open space and lis-tened. It was the call, the many-noted call, soundingmore luringly and compelling than ever before. Andas never before, he was ready to obey. JohnThornton was dead. The last tie was broken. Manand the claims of man no longer bound him.Hunting their living meat, as the Yeehats were

hunting it, on the flanks of the migrating moose,the wolf pack had at last crossed over from the landof streams and timber and invaded Buck’s valley.Into the clearing where the moonlight streamed,they poured in a silvery flood; and in the center ofthe clearing stood Buck, motionless as a statue, wait-ing their coming. They were awed, so still and largehe stood, and a moment’s pause fell, till the boldestone leaped straight for him. Like a flash Buck struck,breaking the neck. Then he stood, without move-ment, as before, the stricken wolf rolling in agonybehind him. Three others tried it in sharp succes-sion; and one after the other they drew back, stream-ing blood from slashed throats or shoulders.This was sufficient to fling the whole pack for-

ward, pell-mell, crowded together, blocked and con-fused by its eagerness to pull down the prey. Buck’smarvelous quickness and agility stood him in goodstead. Pivoting on his hind legs, and snapping andgashing, he was everywhere at once, presenting afront which was apparently unbroken so swiftly didhe whirl and guard from side to side. But to preventthem from getting behind him, he was forced back,down past the pool and into the creek bed, till hebrought up against a high gravel bank. He workedalong to a right angle in the bank which the menhad made in the course of mining, and in this angle


® Why is Buck readyto obey the call?

he came to bay, protected on three sides and withnothing to do but face the front.And so well did he face it, that at the end of half

an hour the wolves drew back discomfited. Thetongues of all were out and lolling, the white fangsshowing cruelly white in the moonlight. Some werelying down with heads raised and ears pricked for-ward; others stood on their feet, watching him; andstill others were lapping water from the pool. Onewolf, long and lean and gray, advanced cautiously,in a friendly manner, and Buck recognized the wildbrother with whom he had run for a night and aday. He was whining softly, and, as Buck whined,they touched noses.Then an old wolf, gaunt and battle-scarred, came

forward. Buck writhed his lips into the preliminaryof a snarl, but sniffed noses with him. Whereuponthe old wolf sat down, pointed nose at the moon,and broke out the long wolf howl. The others satdown and howled. And now the call came to Buckin unmistakable accents. He too sat down andhowled. This over, he came out of his angle and thepack crowded around him, sniffing in half-friendly,half-savage manner. The leaders lifted the yelp9 ofthe pack and sprang away into the woods. Thewolves swung in behind, yelping in chorus. AndBuck ran with them, side by side with the wildbrother, yelping as he ran.And here may well end the story of Buck. The years

were not many when the Yeehats noted a change inthe breed of timber wolves, for some were seen withsplashes of brown on head and muzzle, and with arift of white centering down the chest. But moreremarkable than this, the Yeehats tell of a Ghost Dogthat runs at the head of the pack. They are afraid ofthis Ghost Dog, for it has cunning greater than they,


9. lifted the yelp. Yelped even louder than the rest of the pack

√ Whom does Buckmeet again?

√ What changes dothe Yeehats notice inthe timber wolves?

stealing from their camps in fierce winters, robbingtheir traps, slaying their dogs, and defying theirbravest hunters.Nay, the tale grows worse. Hunters there are who

fail to return to the camp, and hunters there havebeen whom their tribesmen found with throatsslashed cruelly open and with wolf prints aboutthem in the snow greater than the prints of anywolf. Each fall, when the Yeehats follow the move-ment of the moose, there is a certain valley whichthey never enter. And women there are who becomesad when the word goes over the fire of how the EvilSpirit came to select that valley for an abiding-place.In the summers there is one visitor, however, to that

valley, of which the Yeehats do not know. It is a great,gloriously coated wolf, like, and yet unlike, all otherwolves. He crosses alone from the smiling timberlandand comes down into an open space among the trees.Here a yellow stream flows from rotted moosehide sacksand sinks into the ground, with long grasses growingthrough it and vegetable mold overrunning it and hid-ing its yellow from the sun; and here he muses for atime, howling once, long and mournfully, ere hedeparts.But he is not always alone. When the long winter

nights come on and the wolves follow their meat intothe lower valleys, he may be seen running at the headof the pack through the pale moonlight or glimmer-ing borealis, leaping gigantic above his fellows, hisgreat throat a-bellow as he sings a song of the youngerworld, which is the song of the pack. �


Responding to the SelectionImagine that you are a young member of the Yeehat

people. Discuss the myth of the Ghost Dog that you havebeen told by your ancestors. Describe the event that themyth explains.


Recalling and Interpreting1. R: What does John Thornton set out to find in the East?2. I: What qualities does Thornton possess that make him“unafraid of the wild”?

3. R: What vision comes more frequently to Buck, espe-cially when he gazes into the fire?

4. I: What actions on the part of the “hairy man” in Buck’sdream show his fear of the world?

5. R: What kind of void does John Thornton’s death leavein Buck’s heart?

6. I: What causes Buck to forget the pain of Thornton’sdeath?

7. R: With whom is Buck reunited after Thornton’s death?

8. I: What is the probable reason that Buck “sat down andhowled” with the wolves?

Synthesizing9. To what call does John Thornton, in his journey andsearch, respond? To what call does Buck respond?

10. Why has Buck been able to endure, survive, and master?


Understanding Literature (QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION)1. Naturalism. Naturalism was a literary movement ofthe late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that sawactions and events as resulting inevitably from forces in theenvironment. Often these forces were beyond the compre-hension or control of the characters subjected to them.Identify a passage in this chapter that conveys throughBuck’s actions the philosophy of Naturalism. Identify thenatural force that is at work. How does Buck respond to thisforce? Is his response effective? What point might theauthor be trying to make about how one should respond tooverwhelming natural forces?

2. Plot and Dénouement. A plot is a series of eventsrelated to a central conflict, or struggle. A typical plotinvolves the introduction of a conflict, its development, andits eventual resolution. Following the resolution of a conflictis an element of plot called dénouement. The dénouementincludes any material that ties up loose ends in the story.The Call of the Wild closes with a four-paragraph dénoue-ment that begins, “And here may well end the story ofBuck.” What loose ends are resolved in this dénouement?What purpose is served by telling the Yeehat stories of theGhost Dog?



Plot Analysis of The Call of the Wild

The following diagram, known as Freytag’s Pyramid, illus-trates the main parts of a plot.

The Parts of a Plot

A plot is a series of events related to a central conflict, orstruggle. The exposition is that part of the plot that providesbackground information, often about the characters, setting, orconflict. The inciting incident is the event that introduces thecentral conflict. The rising action, or complication, develps theconflict to a high point of intensity. The climax is the high pointof interest or suspense in the plot. The falling action is all theevents that follow the climax. The resolution is the point atwhich the central conflict is ended, or resolved. The dénoue-ment is any material that follows the resolution and that ties uploose ends.

Exposition (A)Buck, a large half Saint Bernard and half Scottish shepherd

dog, lives a leisurely life on a California estate. This life involvesfamily walks, cold nights resting by a fireplace, swimming, hunt-ing, and running around the stable yard. Buck is secure and con-tent in his civilized life.

Inciting Incident (B)Buck is snatched from his civilized life by Manuel, a gardener’s

helper. Gold has been found in the Klondike region of Canada, andpeople searching for gold are in need of large dogs like Buck to pullsleds. A rope is placed around Buck’s neck, and for days he is heldin a cage, tormented, and beaten. Buck learns a lesson about“primitive law,” that a man wielding a club is always in charge.Buck is eventually taken to the North, where he sees his first snow.

FREYTAG’S PYRAMID

Rising Action (C)

Inciting Incident(B)

Exposition (A)

Falling Action (E)

Climax(D)

Resolution(F)

Dénouement (G)

PLOT ANALYSIS OF THE CALL OF THE WILD 123

Rising Action (C)Buck finds himself in a life with no “peace, nor rest, nor a

moment’s safety.” His job is to pull sleds across the cold, snowyNorthland. To keep himself from starving, freezing, or being killed byother dogs, Buck has to rely on his wild instincts. He even fights onedog, Spitz, to the death and becomes the leader of his sled team.Buck’s instincts save him one day as he pulls a sled for an inept dri-ver. Buck, exhausted like the rest of the team, also senses danger andrefuses to go forward over the ice. He is beaten almost to death bythe driver, but then he is saved by a man named John Thornton.Buck and Thornton watch the sled Buck had been pulling fallthrough the ice. Thornton takes Buck and nurses him back to health.

Climax (D)Buck is deeply devoted to Thornton, protecting him whenever

he can. One day Thornton makes a bet that Buck can pull a sledweighing a thousand pounds. Buck succeeds in moving the sled,and Thornton wins a great deal of money. With his winnings,Thornton decides to travel to a legendary lost gold mine. WhileThornton spends long hours panning for gold, Buck spends timein the wilderness stalking animals or running with wild wolves.When he returns to camp on one occasion, he finds that every-one, including Thornton, has been killed by the Yeehats.

Falling Action (E)Without fear, Buck attacks the Yeehats one by one. He kills

several of them and drives the rest away in fear. Buck realizesthat he has proved himself superior to men despite their spears,arrows, and clubs.

Resolution (F)With Thornton gone, Buck has no attachment to civilization.

As he stands in the center of the campsite he hears “the call ofthe wild.” A pack of wolves encircle Buck. He kills one andinjures others. Then one of the wolves touches his nose toBuck’s, and Buck realizes that this is the wolf that he had runwith earlier. Buck is accepted into the wolf pack and spends therest of his life running with the wolves in the wild.

Dénouement (G)After attacking the Yeehats so ferociously, Buck becomes a leg-

end. Yeehats will never enter the area of Thornton’s camp becausethey believe this valley to be inhabited by the Evil Spirit. Legendsays that people who go to that area never return or are foundslashed, surrounded by wolf prints in the snow. London adds thatthere is one regular visitor to the valley—”A great, gloriouslycoated wolf, like, and yet unlike, the other wolves.” He may beseen leading a pack at night, singing the “song of the pack.”


Creative Writing Activity A: Describing a PlaceThe location of most of the action of The Call of the Wild

is important to the novel’s theme. The snow, ice, and ruggedconditions of the north are a constant reality for people andanimals, and these conditions either make creatures strongeror destroy them. Write a descriptive piece about a place thathas special meaning for you. Describe your place using vividwords and images. Your images should appeal to the reader’ssense of sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. Try to helpyour reader to understand the special meaning of the placeand the effect that it has on you.

Creative Writing Activity B: Point of ViewThe Call of the Wild is unusual in that its main character is

a dog. London creates in his readers strong emotions towardBuck by writing about Buck’s thoughts, feelings, and experi-ences in a convincing way. Try your hand at writing a scenefrom the point of view of an animal. First, choose an animal.Then decide what will happen in your scene and what theanimal’s feelings will be toward the action that occurs.

Creative Writing Activity C: Creating a CharacterThe Call of the Wild has an interesting array of characters,

all with distinct personalities. London bases his charactersand their experiences on people and events from his ownlife. Create an interesting character of your own, based onsomeone from your life. First, write a physical description ofyour character. Then make a list of your character’s mostinteresting personality traits. When you feel you know yourcharacter well, write a short paragraph in which you showyour character doing something or interacting with others.

Creative Writing Activity D: Nature WritingJack London was fascinated by the rugged conditions of

Yukon Territory, and he created vivid images of this area inhis writing. What in nature fascinates you the most? Whydoes this particular aspect of nature catch your interest?Write a descriptive paragraph, a poem, or a brief dramaticscene that highlights some aspect of nature.

Creative Writing Activities

CRITICAL WRITING ACTIVITIES 125

Critical Writing Activity A: Comparing and Contrasting Two LifestylesWrite an essay in which you compare and contrast the

qualities needed to survive in a civilized and an uncivilizedenvironment. To begin, look up in a dictionary the defini-tions of the word civilized. The word uncivilized, which beginswith the prefix un–, meaning “not,” is an antonym of theword civilized. That is, the two words are opposite in mean-ing. Draw a line down the middle of a clean sheet of paper.Write the word civilized and its definition at the top of theleft-hand column; write the word uncivilized and its defini-tion at the top of the right-hand column. In each column,list qualities needed to survive in that particular environ-ment. Use these lists when you write your essay.

Critical Writing Activity B: NaturalismWrite an essay in which you define Naturalism and dis-

cuss what is Naturalistic about certain characters and situa-tions of The Call of the Wild. To begin, be sure that you havea clear understanding of Naturalism. Refer to the Handbookof Literary Terms, page 135. Then find two or three exam-ples of Naturalism in The Call of the Wild.

Critical Writing Activity C: Buck’s TransformationDiscuss in an essay the transformation of Buck from a

domesticated pet to a rugged animal who can survive in thewild. In your essay, answer the following questions: What isBuck’s initial reaction to being kidnapped and thrust into anunfamiliar, rough environment? When does he begin tochange? What causes the change? In which environment doyou think Buck is happiest and most lives up to his poten-tial? Explain your reasoning.

Critical Writing Activity D: Frontier ValuesWrite an essay that explains how Buck and John Thornton

provide examples of frontier values such as courage,endurance, self-sufficiency, and individuality. To begin,make a list of frontier values and then find examples ofbehavior on the part of Buck and Thornton that exemplifyeach of these values.

Critical Writing Activities


Project A: The Search for GoldIn small groups, research and put together presentations

about great gold rushes of the past. You can focus on the goldrush in the Klondike region that Jack London experienced,or you might research gold rushes that took place in otherparts of North America and the rest of the world. You canalso choose to focus on one small aspect of a particular goldrush, such as methods of travel, methods of searching forgold, survival techniques, or particular people and places.Try to make your presentations visually appealing by usingoriginal maps and illustrations. Be sure that each group ispresenting a different topic.

Project B: An Original Board GameIn small groups, invent original board games based on

Buck’s journey from Judge Miller’s estate to the wilderness ofthe north. The design of your game and the level of difficultyof your game is completely up to you and your group. Beforeyou begin, you might want to map for yourselves the differ-ent stages of Buck’s journey from civilization toward “thecall of the wild.” Try to use your imaginations and avoid cre-ating straightforward question/answer trivia games.

Project C: Representing The Call of the Wild through ArtChoose an interesting person, animal, place, or scene in

The Call of the Wild to represent through art. You need notfeel that you are a skilled artist to complete this project. Youneed only to use your imagination and think about how youmight represent one aspect of the novel with somethingother than words. You may draw or paint a picture, make asculpture, make a collage, or construct a model, such as amodel sled or a model of a camp, put together a costumebased on what someone in the novel might have worn, orcreate a set of paper dolls. Display all the creations aroundthe classroom.

Projects

PROJECTS 127

Project D: Planning a Journey NorthIn the days of the gold rush in Yukon territory, many peo-

ple died making their journeys north because they were notwell prepared. Get into small groups and plan two tripsnorth to pan for gold, one taking place in 1897 and one tak-ing place in modern times. What would you have taken withyou in 1897? What would you take with you now? Howwould you travel during each time period? How would youcommunicate with others? Create maps and plan what itemsof food, clothing, and equipment you would need for eachtrip. When each group is finished, you should compare notesto see which group would be best prepared for the journey.


Aab • ject • ly (ab´ jekt le) adv., miserably, wretchedly

ad • vent (ad´ vent ) n., coming or arrival

a • men • i • ty (ə menə te) n., comfort or convenience

an • tag • o • nist (an ta�´ə nist) n., opponent; enemy

a • pex (a´peks) n., highest point

ar • du • ous (a�r´jo"o— əs) adj., strenuous; hard

as • pire (əs p� r´) vi., try, attempt; desire, aima • ver (ə v#r´) vt., declare to be true, affirm

Bba • bel (ba´bəl) n., confusion of voices, languages, or sounds

be • lie (be l� ´) vt., disguise, misrepresentbe • set • ting (be set iŋ) part., constantly harassing

brood (bro"od) vi., worry

Cca • dence (kad´�ns) n., rhythmic flow of sound

ca • lam • i • ty (kə lam´ə te) n., extreme misfortune bringinggreat loss and sorrow; disaster

cal • lous (kal´əs) adj., unfeeling

cal • low • ness (kaló nes) n., youth; immaturity; state ofbeing inexperienced

ce • ler • i • ty (sə lerí te) n., swiftness

com • min • gled (kəm miŋ´ �əld) adj., intermixed

com • pass (kum´pəs) vt., accomplishcon • cil • i • ate (kən silé at ) vt., win overcon • sign • ment (kən s� n´mənt) n., shipment

con • ster • na • tion (ka�nstər na´shen) n., great fear or shock

con • sul • ta • tion (kän səl ta´shən) n., meeting to decide orplan

con • ta • gion (kən ta´ jən) n., spreading of an emotion, idea,or custom from person to person until many are affected

con • va • les • cence (ka�n´və ləs�əns) n., gradual recoveryafter illness or injury

con • vey • ance (kən va´əns) n., carrying device

Glossary

GLOSSARY 129

con • vul • sive (kən vul´ siv) adj., occurring in violent fits;spasmodic

co • pi • ous (ko´pe əs) adj., numerous

cov • ert (kuv´ərt) adj., concealed, hidden

Ddaunt (dônt) vt., make afraid, intimidatedel • uge (del´ yo"oj) vi., overwhelm as with a floodde • mesne (di man) n., region; domain

dis • com • fi • ture (dis kum´fi chər) n., feeling of frustrationand confusion

di • vers (d� ´vərz) adj., several

di • vine (də v� n ) vt., find out by intuitiondrag • gled (dra�´əld) adj., wet and dirty

du • bi • ous • ly (do"o´ be əs le) adv., doubtfully, suspiciously

Eed • dy (edé) n., little whirlpool

e • qui • lib • ri • um (e´kwi lib´re um) n., state of balance

e • vince (e vins ) vt., show plainly; indicateex • er • tion (e� zer´shən) n., effort

ex • trem • i • ty (ek strem´ə te) n., state of extreme necessityor danger

ex • ult • ant • ly (e� zult ‘nt le) adv., triumphantly; rejoicingly

Ffas • ti • di • ous • ness (fas tidé əs nes) n., oversensitiveness

floun • der (floundər) vi., struggle awkwardly; stumblefore • bear (fôr´ber´) n., ancestor

for • mi • da • ble (fôr´mə də bəl) adj., large; hard to handle

fraught (frôt) adj., filled; charged; loaded

fu • tile (fyo"o— t�´l) adj., useless; vain

fu • tile • ly (fyo"o— ´til´le) adv., ineffectively

Gge • ni • al (jenýəl) adj., amiable; cheerful


gin • ger • ly (jin´jər´le) adv., cautiously

Hhar • ry (haré) vt., force or push alongher • ald (her´əld) v., announce; introducehe • red • i • ty (hə redí te) n., inherited characteristics

Iig • no • min • i • ous • ly (i�ńə min e əs le) adv., disgracefully; shamefully

im • par • tial (im pa�r´shəl) adj., without prejudice or biasim • peach • ment (im pech´ment) n., discredit im • pend • ing (im pendíŋ) part., about to happen; threatening

im • per • i • ous • ly (im piré es le) adv., with an overbearingor imperial manner

im • por • tune (im´ pôr to"o—n´) vt., demand, ask for urgentlyin • ar • tic • u • late (iná�r tikýo"o— lit) adj., incomprehensible,not understandable

in • car • nate (in´ka�r nit) adj., endowed with a bodyin • car • na • tion (in´ka�r na´shən) n., appearance in humanform; embodiment of a quality or concept

in • co • her • ent (in´ ko hir�ənt) adj., not logically con-nected; disjoined; rambling

in • com • pe • tence (in ka�m pə təns) n., lack of ability or skillin • cu • ri • ous adj., (in kyo"oré əs) uninterested in • ex • o • ra • ble (in eks´ə rə bəl) adj., that which cannotbe moved or influenced; unrelenting

in • fin • i • tes • i • mal (in´fin i tesí məl) adj., too small tobe measured

in • no • cu • ous • ly (in na�kýo"o— əs le) adv., harmlessly; dullyin • sid • i • ous (in sidé əs) adj., sly or treacherousin • su • lar (in´sə lər) adj., detached; isolatedin • ti • mate (in´tə mat ) vt., hint, implyin • tro • spec • tive (in tro spek´tiv) adj., looking within one’sown mind

ir • re • so • lute • ly (ir rez´ə lo"o— t´le) adv., indecisively

Jjad • ed (jadíd) adj., worn out; dulled

GLOSSARY 131

Llac • er • at • ed (las ər at ed) part., cut; wounded

la • tent (lat ’nt) adj., hidden

loath (loth) adj., hesitant, reluctant

lope (lop) n., long, easy stride

lu • gu • bri • ous • ly (lə �o"o´ bre əs le) adv., sadly, mourn-fully, often in an exaggerated manner

Mma • li • cious (mə lish´əs) adj., intentionally spiteful; harmful

ma • lig • nant (mə li�ńənt) adj., wishing evil; dangerous

ma • lin • ger • er (mə liŋ´�ər ər) n., someone who avoids duty

man • date (man�dat´) n., command

man • i • fest • ly (man´ə fest´le) adv., clearly; obviously

ma • raud • er (mə rôd´ər) n., one who raids, pillages, orplunders

met • a • mor • phose (met´ə mor´foz ) vt., change; transformmin • is • tra • tion (minís tra´shən) n., act of giving care,help, or service

mo • not • o • nous (mə nät ‘n əs) adj., unvarying; tiresomebecause unvarying

mo • rose (mə ros ) adj., gloomy; sullen

mu • ti • ny (myo"o— t´ ��n e) n., revolt; rebellion against authority

Nno • mad • ic (no madík) adj., wandering, moving about con-stantly

Oob • du • rate (a�b´ do"or it) adj., not easily moved; stubborn

ob • lit • er • at • ed (o blit ər at əd) part., erased; destroyed

ob • scure • ly (əb skyo"or´le) adv., unnoticed

or • dained (or dand´) part., commanded

or • tho • dox (ôr´tho däks´) adj., usual; established (as inbeliefs)

Ppad • dock (pad´ək) n., enclosed field

pall (pôl) n., covering


pal • pi • tant (pal´pə tənt) adj., throbbing, quivering, trembling

pan • de • mo • ni • um (pandə mońe əm) n., wild noise anddisorder

par • a • dox (par�ə da�ks´) n., person, situation, or act thatseems to have contradictory, unbelievable, or absurd quali-ties

par • ox • ysm (par´ əks iz əm) n., sudden attack or spasm

pe • cu • liar (pə kyo"olýər) adj., unique, strange

per • am • bu • late (pər am´byo"o lat ) vi., walk aboutper • emp • to • ri • ly (pər emp´tə re le) adv., finally;absolutely

per • ti • nac • i • ty (p#r´tə nas´ə te) n., stubborn persistance,obstinacy

per • vade (pər vad´) vt., fillpla • cat • ing • ly (pla´kat iŋ le) adv., pacifyingly; pleasingly

ple • thor • ic (plə thôrík) adj., characterized by excess orprofusion

po • tent (pot´ ‘nt) adj., strong, powerful

pre • cip • i • tate (pre sip´ ə tat´) v., cause; startpre • cip • i • tate (pre sip´ə tit) adj., sudden; impetuous, rash

pre • em • i • nent • ly (pre em´ə nənt le) adv., excellingabove others

pre • rog • a • tive (pre ra�� ` ə tiv) n., right or privilege, espe-cially one peculiar to a rank or class

pri • mor • di • al (pr� môr´de əl) adj., existing from thebeginning of time; primitive

prog • e • ny (pra�j´ə ne) n., descendant; offspring

pros • trate (pra�s´trat ) adj., lying down

prov • o • ca • tion (pra�v´ə ka´shən) n., something that stirsup feelings or action, especially a cause of resentment or irri-tation

prow • ess (prouís) n., superior ability; skill

Qquar • ry (kwôré) n., anything being hunted or pursued

Rram • pant (ram´pənt) adj., flourishing

re • cess (re´ses) n., secluded place

re • cur • rent (ri k#r´ənt) adj., occurring or appearing again

re • mon • strance (ri män strəns) n., act of complaining,protesting

rent (rent) adj., torn

re • proof (ri pro"of´) n., rebuke; censure

re • pug • nance (ri pu�ńəns) n., extreme dislike or distaste

re • sil • ien • cy (ri zil´ yens e) n., ability to bounce or spring backto shape; ability to rebound

res • o • lute • ly (rez´ə lo"ot´le) adv., with determination orfixed purpose

re • solved (ri za�lvd´) adj., firm and fixed in purpose; determined

re • tro • gres • sion (re trə �resh´ən) n., return to a lowerlevel or stage

rig • or • ous (ri�´ər əs) adj., very severe or harsh

rout (rout) vt., make someone get out; force outruth • less (ro"o— th´lis) adj., without pity

Ssa • lient (salýənt) adj., noticeable; prominent

sat • ed (sat əd) adj., satisfied

se • quen • tial (si kwen´shəl) adj., in a regular series or order

sham • ble (sham´bəl´) vi., walk awkwardly and clumsilyshirk (sh#rk) vt., neglect; evade doing somethingskulk • ing (skulkíŋ) part., lurking about in a sinister way

sla • ver (slav´ər) n., saliva

slov • en • ly (sluv´ən le) adj., careless; untidy; slipshod

sol • i • dar • i • ty (sa�l´ə dar´ə te) n., unity or agreement onan opinion or purpose

so • lil • o • quize (sə lil´ə kw�z´) vi., talk to oneselfsom • ber (sa�m´bər) adj., dark, dull

spas • mod • i • cal • ly (spaz ma�dík a le) adv., suddenly; vio-lently; fitfully

splay (spla) adj., turning outward; spreading

sub • merged (sub m#rjd´) adj., covered by water

sul • len • ly (sul´ən le) adv., showing resentment; gloomily

su • per • flu • ous (sə p#r´flo"o əs) adj., being more than isneeded, excessive

GLOSSARY 133

sup • pres • sed • ly (sə preséd le) adv., with restraint

su • prem • a • cy (sə prem´ ə se) n., authority

sur • charged (s#rćhärjd´) adj., overloaded; overburdened

Ttan • gi • ble (tan´jə bəl) adj., touchable

terse (t#rs) adj., short; concise

tor • men • tor (tôr ment ər) n., one who causes great pain orsuffering

tran • sient (tran´shənt) adj., staying only for a short time

trav • ail (trə val´) n., intense pain

Uun • couth (un ko"o— th´) adj., uncultured; crude; strange

un • cowed (un koud´) part., unafraid; unintimidated

un • du • ly (un do"o—´le) adv., excessively

un • won • ted (un wa�n´tid) adj., uncommon

u • surp (yo"o s#rp´) vt., take over, assume power by force orwithout right

Vvaunt (vônt) n., boast or brag

ve • ran • da (və ran´də) n., open porch

vi • car • i • ous (v� keré əs) adj., experienced by imagined par-ticipation in another’s experience

vig • il (vij´əl) n., watch kept during normal sleeping hours

vi • ril • i • ty (və ril´ə te) n., state of having strength or vigor

vo • ra • cious (vô ra´shəs) adj., greedy; ravenous

Wwar • i • ly (wer´ə le) adv., cautiously

wax (waks) vi., increase in strength; grow largerwont • ed (wa�ntíd) adj., customary; habitual; usual

wraith (rath) n., ghost or specter

wran • gle (raŋ´�əl) vi., quarrel angrily and noisily


HANDBOOK OF LITERARY TERMS 135

Character. A character is a person (or sometimes an ani-mal) who figures in the action of a literary work. A protago-nist, or main character, is the central figure in a literary work.An antagonist is a character who is pitted against a protago-nist. Major characters are ones who play significant roles ina work. Minor characters are ones who play lesser roles. A one-dimensional character, flat character, or caricature is one whoexhibits a single dominant quality, or character trait. A three-dimensional, full, or rounded character is one who exhibits thecomplexity of traits associated with actual human beings. Astatic character is one who does not change during the courseof the action. A dynamic character is one who does change. Astock character is one found again and again in different liter-ary works.

Characterization. Characterization is the use of literarytechniques to create a character. Writers use three major tech-niques to create characters: direct description, portrayal ofcharacters’ behavior, and representations of characters’ inter-nal states. When using direct description, the writer, through aspeaker, a narrator, or another character, simply comments onthe character, telling the reader about such matters as the char-acter’s appearance, habits, dress, background, personality,motivations, and so on. When using portrayal of a character’sbehavior, the writer presents the actions and speech of thecharacter, allowing the reader to draw his or her own conclu-sions from what the character says or does. When using repre-sentations of internal states, the writer reveals directly thecharacter’s private thoughts and emotions. See character.

Conflict. A conflict is a struggle between two forces in a lit-erary work. A plot involves the introduction, development,and eventual resolution of a conflict. One side of the centralconflict in a story or drama is usually taken by the main char-acter. That character may struggle against another character,against the forces of nature, against society or social norms,against fate, or against some element within himself or her-self. A struggle that takes place between a character and someoutside force is called an external conflict. A struggle that takesplace within a character is called an internal conflict.

Foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is the act of presentingmaterials that hint at events to occur later in a story.

Inciting Incident. See plot.

Handbook of Literary Terms


Mood. Mood, or atmosphere, is the emotion created in thereader by part or all of a literary work. A writer creates amood through judicious use of concrete details.

Motivation. A motivation is a force that moves a characterto think, feel, or behave in a certain way.

Naturalism. Naturalism was a literary movement of thelate nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that sawactions and events as resulting inevitably from biological ornatural forces or from forces in the environ ment. Often theseforces were beyond the comprehension or control of thecharacters subjected to them. Taken to its extreme,Naturalism views all events as mechanically determined byexternal forces, including decisions made by people. Muchof modern fiction, with its emphasis on social conditionsleading to particular consequences is Naturalistic in thissense. Jack London was one of many authors informed bythe philosophy of Naturalism.

Plot. A plot is a series of events related to a central conflict,or struggle. A typical plot involves the introduction of a con-flict, its development, and its eventual resolution. Termsused to describe elements of plot include the following:

• The exposition, or introduction, sets the tone or mood,introduces the characters and the setting, and providesnecessary background information.

• The inciting incident is the event that introduces the cen-tral conflict.

• The rising action, or complication, develops the conflictto a high point of intensity.

• The climax is the high point of interest or suspense in theplot.

• The crisis, or turning point, often the same event as theclimax, is the point in the plot where something decisivehappens to determine the future course of events and theeventual working out of the conflict.

• The falling action is all of the events that follow the cli-max.

• The resolution is the point at which the central conflict isended, or resolved.

• The dénouement is any material that follows the resolu-tion and that ties up loose ends.

• The catastrophe, in tragedy, is the event that marks theultimate tragic fall of the central character. Often this eventis the character’s death.

HANDBOOK OF LITERARY TERMS 137

Plots rarely contain all these elements in precisely this order.Elements of exposition may be introduced at any time in thecourse of a work. A work may begin with a catastrophe andthen use flashback to explain it. The exposition or dénoue-ment or even the resolution may be missing. The incitingincident may occur before the beginning of the action actu-ally described in the work. These are but a few of the manypossible variations that plots can exhibit. See conflict.

Protagonist. See character.

Setting. The setting of a literary work is the time and placein which it occurs, together with all the details used to createa sense of a particular time and place. Writers create setting byvarious means. In fiction, setting is most often revealed bymeans of description of such elements as landscape, scenery,buildings, furniture, clothing, the weather, and the season. Itcan also be revealed by how characters talk and behave. In itswidest sense, setting includes the general social, political,moral, and psychological conditions in which characters findthemselves.

Theme. A theme is a central idea in a literary work.

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