The Call of the Wild: Chapters 3–4

"Dat Buck two devils," was Franĉois's rejoinder.

He alone endured and prospered, matching the husky in strength, savagery, and cunning.

This failed to drive Buck from his prostrate rival, and the butt of the whip was brought into play.

It seemed the ordained order of things that dogs should work.

With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence.

With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence.

The week's rest had recuperated the dogs and put them in thorough trim.

The insidious revolt led by Buck had destroyed the solidarity of the team.

He lay down low to the race, whining eagerly, his splendid body flashing forward, leap by leap, in the wan white moonlight.

There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable.

Only Spitz quivered and bristled as he staggered back and forth, snarling with horrible menace, as though to frighten off impending death.

Franĉois was obdurate, but when he turned his back Buck again displaced Sol-leks, who was not at all unwilling to go.

But it was in giving the law and making his mates live up to it, that Buck excelled.

At the Rink Rapids two native huskies, Teek and Koona, were added; and the celerity with which Buck broke them in took away Franĉois's breath.

He became more morose and irritable, and when camp was pitched at once made his nest, where his driver fed him.