<h3>CHAPTER III—THE OUTCAST</h3>
<p>Lip-lip continued so to darken his days that White Fang became wickeder
and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. Savageness
was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus developed exceeded
his make-up. He acquired a reputation for wickedness amongst the
man-animals themselves. Wherever there was trouble and uproar
in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over a bit
of stolen meat, they were sure to find White Fang mixed up in it and
usually at the bottom of it. They did not bother to look after
the causes of his conduct. They saw only the effects, and the
effects were bad. He was a sneak and a thief, a mischief-maker,
a fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to his face, the while
he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick-flung missile, that
he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end.</p>
<p>He found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp.
All the young dogs followed Lip-lip’s lead. There was a
difference between White Fang and them. Perhaps they sensed his
wild-wood breed, and instinctively felt for him the enmity that the
domestic dog feels for the wolf. But be that as it may, they joined
with Lip-lip in the persecution. And, once declared against him,
they found good reason to continue declared against him. One and
all, from time to time, they felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave
more than he received. Many of them he could whip in single fight;
but single fight was denied him. The beginning of such a fight
was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running and pitch
upon him.</p>
<p>Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how
to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him—and how, on
a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest
space of time. To keep one’s feet in the midst of the hostile
mass meant life, and this he learnt well. He became cat-like in
his ability to stay on his feet. Even grown dogs might hurtle
him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies; and
backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding on the ground,
but always with his legs under him and his feet downward to the mother
earth.</p>
<p>When dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual combat—snarlings
and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. But White Fang learned
to omit these preliminaries. Delay meant the coming against him
of all the young dogs. He must do his work quickly and get away.
So he learnt to give no warning of his intention. He rushed in
and snapped and slashed on the instant, without notice, before his foe
could prepare to meet him. Thus he learned how to inflict quick
and severe damage. Also he learned the value of surprise.
A dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped
in ribbons before it knew what was happening, was a dog half whipped.</p>
<p>Furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by surprise;
while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a moment the soft
underside of its neck—the vulnerable point at which to strike
for its life. White Fang knew this point. It was a knowledge
bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of wolves.
So it was that White Fang’s method when he took the offensive,
was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise it and knock
it off its feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat.</p>
<p>Being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor
strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog
went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of White Fang’s
intention. And one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the
edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and attacking
the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. There
was a great row that night. He had been observed, the news had
been carried to the dead dog’s master, the squaws remembered all
the instances of stolen meat, and Grey Beaver was beset by many angry
voices. But he resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which
he had placed the culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for which
his tribespeople clamoured.</p>
<p>White Fang became hated by man and dog. During this period
of his development he never knew a moment’s security. The
tooth of every dog was against him, the hand of every man. He
was greeted with snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods.
He lived tensely. He was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary
of being attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared
to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, or
to leap away with a menacing snarl.</p>
<p>As for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young
or old, in camp. The intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten,
and judgment is required to know when it should be used. White
Fang knew how to make it and when to make it. Into his snarl he
incorporated all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. With
nose serrulated by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves,
tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears flattened
down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and
dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant.
A temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him the vital moment
in which to think and determine his action. But often a pause
so gained lengthened out until it evolved into a complete cessation
from the attack. And before more than one of the grown dogs White
Fang’s snarl enabled him to beat an honourable retreat.</p>
<p>An outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his sanguinary
methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its persecution
of him. Not permitted himself to run with the pack, the curious
state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack could run outside
the pack. White Fang would not permit it. What of his bushwhacking
and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run by themselves.
With the exception of Lip-lip, they were compelled to hunch together
for mutual protection against the terrible enemy they had made.
A puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused
the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub
that had waylaid it.</p>
<p>But White Fang’s reprisals did not cease, even when the young
dogs had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. He attacked
them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were
bunched. The sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing
after him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety.
But woe the dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! White
Fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of
the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive.
This occurred with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs
were prone to forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while
White Fang never forgot himself. Stealing backward glances as
he ran, he was always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous
pursuer that outran his fellows.</p>
<p>Young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the situation
they realised their play in this mimic warfare. Thus it was that
the hunt of White Fang became their chief game—a deadly game,
withal, and at all times a serious game. He, on the other hand,
being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. During
the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, he led
the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. But the
pack invariably lost him. Its noise and outcry warned him of its
presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, silently, a moving shadow
among the trees after the manner of his father and mother before him.
Further he was more directly connected with the Wild than they; and
he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. A favourite trick
of his was to lose his trail in running water and then lie quietly in
a near-by thicket while their baffled cries arose around him.</p>
<p>Hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred
upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and
one-sided. This was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom
in. Of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. The
code he learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak.
Grey Beaver was a god, and strong. Therefore White Fang obeyed
him. But the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing
to be destroyed. His development was in the direction of power.
In order to face the constant danger of hurt and even of destruction,
his predatory and protective faculties were unduly developed.
He became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot,
craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew,
more enduring, more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent.
He had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own
nor survive the hostile environment in which he found himself.</p>
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