Chapter III. THE GOD’S DOMAIN

White Fang was adaptable by nature. He had travelled much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in Sierra Vista, which was the name of Judge Scott’s place, White Fang quickly began to make himself at home. He had no further serious trouble with the dogs.

Dick soon accepted White Fang as an inevitable problem. They did not become friends. Dick bothered him, so White Fang snarled him away. In the north he had learned the lesson that he must let the master’s dogs alone, and he did not forget that lesson now, so he did not hurt them. But he insisted on his own privacy, so he ignored Dick, and Dick ignored him.

Not so with Collie. She accepted him because it was the order of the gods, but she did not leave him in peace. She had a memory of crimes that wolves had committed against her ancestry. So Collie took advantage of her sex to fight White Fang. When she rushed at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away stately. He ignored her existence whenever it was possible. When he saw or heard her coming, he walked off.

Life in the Northland was simplicity itself when compared with Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family of the master. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah and Kloo-kooch had belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, and his blankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, all who lived the house belonged to the love-master.

But Sierra Vista was bigger than the tepee of Grey Beaver. There were many people. There was Judge Scott, and there was his wife. There were the master’s two sisters, Beth and Mary. There was master’s wife, Alice, and then there were his children, Weedon and Maud, of four and six years old. Of blood-ties White Fang knew nothing but he quickly understood that all of them belonged to the master. Then he slowly learned the intimacy they enjoyed with the master. And he treated them accordingly.

Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had disliked children. He hated and feared their hands. When Weedon and Maud had first approached him, he growled warningly and looked fierce. But he had to obey and tolerate them. Later, he observed that the boy and girl were of great value in the master’s eyes. Since then no sharp word was necessary before they could pat him.

White Fang was never affectionate. When he could no longer endure children, he got up and walked away from them. But after a time, he grew even to like the children. Still he was not demonstrative. He would not go up to them. On the other hand, he waited for them to come to him.

All this took time. Next, after the children, was Judge Scott. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of the master’s, and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to lie at his feet when he read the newspaper. But this was only when the master was away. When the master appeared, all other beings ceased to exist for him.

White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. No caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and they could never persuade him into snuggling. This expression of absolute trust he left for the master alone.

Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family and the servants. Between him and the servants existed a neutrality and no more. They cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things just as Matt had done up in the Klondike.

Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. The master’s domain was big. Outside was the common domain of all gods—the roads and streets. Then inside other fences were the particular domains of other gods.

But most potent in his education was the master’s hand, the change of the master’s voice. Because of White Fang’s very great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any beating Grey Beaver or Beauty Smith had ever given him. They had hurt only the flesh of him.

But the master’s cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. It went deeper. It was an expression of the master’s disapproval. In fact, the cuff was rarely given. The master’s voice was enough. It was the compass by which White Fang learned the new land and life.

In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. All other animals lived in the Wild, and anyone could eat them. So, when White Fang saw a chicken that had escaped from the chicken-yard, his natural impulse was to eat it. Later in the day, he saw another chicken. One of the grooms ran to the rescue. In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone. Then Collie appeared on the scene. As she had saved Dick’s life, she now saved the groom’s. She rushed upon White Fang in wrath. She had been right. She had known better than the gods. All her suspicions were justified. Here was the son of ancient marauders.

Two nights later White Fang studied the chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, he got to the roof of a chicken-house, and from there got inside.

In the morning, when the master came, fifty white hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. He whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the end, with admiration. White Fang had no signs of shame or guilt. He carried himself with pride, as though he had done something good. The master’s lips tightened.

Then he talked harshly to the culprit, with godlike wrath. Also, he held White Fang’s nose down to the killed hens, and at the same time cuffed him soundly.

White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the law, and he had learned it.

“You can never cure a chicken-killer.” Judge Scott shook his head at luncheon table, when his son told about the lesson he had given White Fang.

But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll lock White Fang in with the chickens all afternoon.”

“But think of the chickens!”

“And furthermore,” the son went on, “for every chicken he kills, I’ll pay you one dollar gold coin.”

“But you should penalize father as well”, said Beth.

“All right.” Weedon Scott said. “If at the end of the afternoon White Fang hasn’t killed a chicken, for every ten minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were solemnly passing judgment, ‘White Fang, you are smarter than I thought.’”

But, locked in the yard and there deserted by the master, White Fang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got up and walked over to drink. The chickens he calmly ignored. So far as he was concerned they did not exist. At four o’clock he returned to the house. And on the porch, before the delighted family, Judge Scott said to him, slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, “White Fang, you are smarter than I thought.”

White Fang had to learn yet a lot. He had to learn that he must not touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. Then there were cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. In fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was that he must leave all live things alone. A quail could fly up under his nose unharmed. All tense and trembling, he mastered his instinct and stood still. He was obeying the will of the gods.

And then, one day, he saw Dick start a jack-rabbit and run it. The master himself 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 hostility. But the other animals—the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the Wild. They were the lawful prey of any dog.

Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the Northland. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he must meet them all. In the town of San Jose, life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, and he had almost always to suppress his natural impulses.

There were butcher-shops, there were cats, and there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and that he must not attack. And then, on the crowded pavements there were a lot of people whose attention he attracted. They stopped and looked at him, pointed at him, talked of him, and, worst of all, patted him. And all this he had to endure. And he did. Furthermore, he got over his awkwardness and behaved normally. But there was something about him that prevented familiarity. They patted him and passed on, 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 saw small boys who threw stones at him. Yet he knew that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here he had to violate his instinct of self-preservation.

Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied. He had no ideas about justice and fair play. He forgot that the gods, too, were 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.

On the way to town, near the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. The master always reminded White Fang of the law that he must not fight. He obeyed the law. His snarl kept the three dogs at a distance. The men at the saloon always told 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 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, and clashing of teeth. The dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. But in several minutes two dogs were dead and the third was in running away. White Fang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf manner and with wolf speed, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog.

With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased.