And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw **** start a jackrabbit and run it.The master himself was looking on and did not interfere.Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase.And thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits.In the end he worked out the complete law.Between him and all domestic animals there must be no hostilities.If not amity, at least neutrality must obtain.But the other animals -- the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild who had never yielded allegiance to man.They were the lawful prey of any dog.It was only the tame that the gods protected, and between the tame deadly strife was not permitted.The gods held the power of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous of their power.
Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities of the Northland.And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of civilization was control, restraint -- a poise of self that was as delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time as rigid as steel.Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he must meet them all -- thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage stopped.Life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress his natural impulses.
There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach.This meat he must not touch.There were cats at the houses the master visited that must be let alone.And there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and that he must not attack.And then, on the crowded sidewalks, there were persons innumerable whose attention he attracted.They would stop and look at him, point him out to one another, examine him, talk to him, and, worst of all, pat him.And these perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure.Yet this endurance he achieved.Furthermore he got over being awkward and self-conscious.In a lofty way he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods.With condescension he accepted their condescension.On the other hand, there was something about him that prevented great familiarity.
They patted him on the head and passed on, contented and pleased with their own daring.
But it was not all easy for White Fang.Running behind the carriage in the outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small boys who made a practice of flinging stones at him.Yet he knew that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down.Here he was compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilization.
Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement.
He had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play.But there is a certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense in him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defense against the stone-throwers.
He forgot that in the covenant entered into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and defend him.But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing.
After that they threw stones no more, and White Fang understood and was satisfied.
One other experience of similar nature was his.On the way to town, hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that mad a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by.Knowing his deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing upon White Fang the law that he must not fight.As a result, having learned the lesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed the crossroads saloon.
After the first rush, each time, his snarl kept the three dogs at a distance, but they trailed along behind, yelping and bickering and insulting him.
This endured for some time.The men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack White Fang.One day they openly sicked the dogs on him.The master stopped the carriage.
"Go to it," he said to White Fang.
But White Fang could not believe.He looked at the master, and he looked at the dogs.Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at the master.
The master nodded his head."Go to them, old fellow.Eat them up."White Fang no longer hesitated.He turned and leaped silently among his enemies.All three faced him.There was a great snarling and growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies.The dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle.But at the end of several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third was in full flight.He leaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, and fled across a field.White Fang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without noise, and in the center of the field he dragged down and slew the dog.
With this triple killing his main trouble with dogs ceased.The word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs did not molest the Fighting Wolf.
