White Fang by Jack London - Part 1, Chapter 3 - The Hunger Cry

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part one, Chapter three of White Fang, presented by Dream
Audio Books. White Fang by Jack London, Part one, Chapter three,
The hunger Cry. The day began auspiciously. They had lost
no dogs during the night, and they swung out upon

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the trail and into the silence, the darkness and the cold,
with spirits that were fairly light. Bill seemed to have
forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and even wax
facetious with the dogs. When at midday they overturned the
sled on a bad piece of trail. It was an
awkward mix up. The sled was upside down and jammed

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between a tree trunk and a huge rock, and they
were forced to unharness the dogs in order to straighten
out the tangle. The two men were bent over the
sled and trying to write it when Henry observed one
ear sidling away. Here you one ear, he cried, straightening
up and turning round on the dog. But one ear
broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing

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behind him, and there out in the snow of their
back track was the she wolf waiting for him. As
he neared her, he became suddenly cautious, He slowed down
to an alert and mincing walk, and then stopped. He
regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. She seemed to
smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather

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than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few
steps playfully, and then halted one ear. Drew near to her,
still alert and cautious, his tail and ears in the air,
his head held high. He tried to sniff noses with her,
but she retreated playfully and coyly. Every advance on his
part was accompanied by a corresponding retreat on her part.

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Step by step, she was luring him away from the
security of his huming companionship. Once, as though a warning
had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned
his head and looked back at the overturned sled, at
his team mates, and at the two men who were
calling to him. But whatever idea was forming in his

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mind was dissipated by the she wolf, who advanced upon him,
sniff noses with him for a fleeting instant, and then
resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances. In the meantime,
Bill had bethought himself of the rifle, but it was
jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time Henry
had helped him to write the load, one ear and

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the she wolf were too close together and the distance
too great to risk a shot. Too late, one ear
learned his mistake before they saw the cause. The two
men saw him turn and start to run back toward them,
Then approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting
off his retreat, they saw a dozen wolves, lean and gray,

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bounding across the snow. On the instant, the she wolf's
coyness and playfulness disappeared. With a snarl, she sprang upon
one ear. He thrust her off with his shoulder, and
as retreat cut off, and still intent on regaining the sled,
he altered his course in an attempt to circle around
to it. More wolves were appearing every moment and joining

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in the chase. The she wolf was one leap behind
one ear and holding her own Where are you going,
Henry suddenly demanded, laying his hand on his partner's arm.
Bill shook it off. I won't stand it, he said.
They ain't a goin to get any more of our dogs.
If I can help it. Gun in hand, he plunged

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into the underbrush that lined the side of the trail.
His intention was apparent enough, taking the sled as the
center of the circle that one ear was making, Bill
planned to tap that circle at a point in advance
of the pursuit with his rifle. In the broad daylight.
It might be possible for him to awe the wolves
and save the dog, Say Bill, Henry called after him.

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Be careful, don't take no change. Henry sat down on
the sled and watched. There was nothing else for him
to do. Bill had already gone from sight, but now
and again, appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the
scattered clumps of spruce, could be seen one ear. Henry
judged his case to be hopeless. The dog was thoroughly

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alive to its danger, but it was running on the
outer circle, while the wolf pack was running on the
inner and shorter circle. It was vain to think of
one ear so out distancing his pursuers as to be
able to cut across their circle in advance of them
and to regain the sled. The different lines were rapidly
approaching a point somewhere out there in the snow, screened

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from his sight by trees and thickets, Henry knew that
the wolf pack, one ear and bill were coming together
all too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected.
It happened. He heard a shot, then two shots in
rapid succession, and he knew that the will's ammunition was gone.
Then he heard a great outcry of snarls and yelps.

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He recognized one ears yell of pain and terror, and
he heard a wolf cry that bespoke a stricken animal,
And that was all. The snarls ceased, the yelping died away.
Silence settled down again over the lonely land. He sat
for a long while upon the sled. There was no

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need for him to go and see what had happened.
He knew it as though it had taken place before
his eyes. Once he roused with a start and hastily
got the axe out from underneath the lashings. But for
some time longer he sat and brooded, the two remaining
dogs crouching and trembling at his feet. At last he
arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience

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had gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten
the dogs to the sled. He passed a rope over
his shoulder a man trace, and pulled with the dogs.
He did not go far. At the first hint of darkness,
he hastened to make a camp, and he saw to
it that he had a generous supply of firewood. He

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fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made
his bed close to the fire. But he was not
destined to enjoy that bed. Before his eyes closed, the
wolves had drawn too near for safety. It no longer
required an effort of the vision to see them. They
were all about him and the fire, in a narrow circle,

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and he could see them plainly in the firelight, lying down,
sitting up, and crawling forward on their bellies, or slinking
back and forth. They even slept here and there he
could see one curled up in the snow, like a dog,
taking the sleep that was now denied himself. He kept
the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone

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intervened between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs.
His two dogs stayed close by him, one on either side,
leaning against him for protection, crying and whimpering, and at
times snarling. Desperately when a wolf approached a little closer
than usual. At such moments, when his dogs snarled, the
whole circle would be agitated, the wolves coming to their

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feet and pressing tentatively forward, a chorus of snarls and
eager yelps rising about him. Then the circle would lie
down again, and here and there a wolf would resume
its broken nap. But this circle had a continuous tendency
to draw in upon him, bit by bit, an inch
at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and

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there a wolf bellying forward. The circle would narrow until
the brutes were almost within springing distance. Then he would
seize brands from the fire and hurl them into the pack.
A hasty drawing back always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps
and frightened snarls when a well aimed brand struck and
scorched a two daring animal. Morning found the man haggard

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and worn wide eyed from want of sleep. He cooked
breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o'clock, when with
the coming of daylight, the wolf pack drew back, he
set about the task he had planned through the long
hours of the night. Chopping down young saplings, he made
them crossbars of a scaffold by lashing them high up

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to the trunks of standing trees, using the sled lashing
for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs,
he hoisted the coffin to the top of the scaffold.
They got Bill, and they may get me, but they'll
sure never get you, young man, he said, addressing the
dead body and its tree sepulcher. Then he took the

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trail the light and sled, bounding along behind the willing dogs,
for they too knew that safety lay open in the
gaining of Fort mc gurry. The wolves were now more
open in their pursuit, trotting sedately behind and ranging along
on either side, their red tongues lolling out their lean sides,
showing the undulating ribs with every movement. They were very lean,

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mere skin bags stretched over bony frames with strings for muscles,
so lean that Henry found it in his mind to
marvel that they still kept their feet and did not
collapse forthright in the snow. He did not dare travel
until dark. At midday, not only did the sun warm
the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim

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pale and golden above the skyline. He received it as
a sign the days were growing longer. The sun was returning,
but scarcely had the cheer of its light departed than
he went into camp. There was still several hours of
gray daylight and somber twilight, and he utilized them in
shopping an enormous supply of firewood. With night came horror.

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Not only were the starving wolves growing bolder, but lack
of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite himself
crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the
axe between his knees, and on either side a dog
pressing close against him. He awoke once and saw in
front of him, not a dozen feet away, a big

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gray wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And
even as he looked, the brute deliberately stretched himself after
the manner of a lazy dog, yawning full in his
face and looking upon him with a possessive eye, as
if in truth he was merely a delayed meal that
was soon to be eaten. This certitude was shown by

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the whole pack fully a score he could count, staring
hungrily at him, or calmly sleeping in the snow. They
reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and
awaiting permission to begin to eat, and he was the
food they were to eat. He wondered how and when
the meal would begin. As he piled wood on the fire,

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he discovered in a preciation of his own body which
he had never felt before. He watched his moving muscles,
and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers.
By the light of the fire, he crooked his fingers
slowly and repeatedly, now one at a time, now all together,
spreading them wide or making quick gripping movements. He studied

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the nail formation and prodded the fingertips, now sharply and
again softly, gaging the while the nerve sensations produced. It
fascinated him, and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle
flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately.
Then he would cast a glance of fear at the

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wolf circle drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow,
the realization would strike him that this wonderful body of his,
this living flesh, was no more than so much meat.
A quest of ravenous animals to be torn and slashed
by the hungry fangs to be sustenance to them, as
the moose and the rabbit had often been sustenance to him.

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He came out of a doze that was half nightmare
to see the red hued she wolf before him. She
was not more than half a dozen feet away, sitting
in the snow and wistfully regarding him. The two dogs
were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took
no notice of them. She was looking at the man,
and for some time he returned her look. There was

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nothing threatening about her. She looked at him merely with
a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the
wistfulness of an equally great hunger. He was the food,
and the sight of him excited in her the gustatory sensations.
Her mouth opened, the saliva drooled forth, and she licked
her chops with the pleasure of anticipation. A spasm of

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fear went through him. He reached hastily for a brand
to throw at her, But even as he reached, and
before his fingers had closed on the missile, she sprang
back into safety, and he knew that she was used
to having things thrown at her. She had snarled as
she sprang away, bearing her white fangs to their roots,
all her wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity

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that made him shudder. He glanced at the hand that
held the brand, noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers
that gripped it, how they adjusted themselves to all the
inequalities of the surface, curling over and under and about
the rough wood, and one little finger too close to
the burning portion of the brand, sensitively and automatically writhing

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back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping place.
And in the same instant he seemed to see a
vision of those same sensitive and delicate fingers being crushed
and torn by the white teeth of the she wolf.
Never had he been so fond of this body of
his as now, when his tenure of it was so precarious.

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All night, with burning brand, he fought off the hungry pack.
When he dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of
the dogs aroused him. Morning came, but for the first
time the light of day failed to scatter the wolves.
The man waited in vain for them to go. They
remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying

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an arrogance of possession that shook his courage. Born of
the morning light, he made one desperate attempt to pull
out on the trail, but the moment he left the
protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped for him,
but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back, the
jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh.

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The rest of the pack was now up and surging
upon him, and a throwing of firebrands right and left
was necessary to drive them back to a respectful distance.
Even in the daylight. He did not dare leave the
fire to chop fresh wood. Twenty feet away towered a
huge dead spruce. He spent half the day extending his
camp fire to the tree at any moment, a half

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dozen burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies.
Once at the tree, he studied the surrounding forest in
order to fell the tree in the direction of the
most firewood. The night was a repetition of the night before,
save that the need for sleep was becoming overpowering. The
snarling of his dogs was losing its efficacy. Besides, they

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were snarling all the time, and his benumbed and drowsy
senses no longer took note of changing pitch and intensity.
He awoke with a start. The she wolf was less
than a yard from him. Mechanically at short range, without
letting go of it, he thrust a brand full into
her open and snarling mouth. She sprang away, yelling with pain,

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and while he took delight in the smell of burning
flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and
growling wrathfully a score of feet away. But this time,
before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine knot
to his right hand. His eyes were closed but few
minutes when the burn of the flame on his flesh
awakened him. For several hours, he adhered to this program.

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Every time he was thus awakened. He drove back the
wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and rearranged the
pine knot on his hand. All worked well, but there
came a time when he fastened the pine knot insecurely.
As his eyes closed, it fell away from his hand.
He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in

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Fort Macgury. It was warm and comfortable, and he was
playing cribbage with the Factor. Also, it seemed to him
that the fort was besieged by wolves. They were howling
at the very gates, and sometimes he and the Factor
paused from the game to listen and laugh at the
feutile efforts of the wolves to get in. And then

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so strange was the dream. There was a crash. The
door was burst open. He could see the wolves flooding
into the big living room of the fort. They were
leaping straight for him and the Factor. With the bursting
open of the door, the noise of their howling had
increased tremendously. This howling now bothered him. His dream was

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merging into something else. He knew not what, but through
it all following him persisted the howling. And then he
awoke to find the howling reel. There was a great
snarling and yelping. The wolves were rushing him. They were
all about him and upon him. The teeth of one
had closed upon his arm. Instinctively, he leaped into the fire,

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and as he leaped he felt the sharp slash of
teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. Then
began a fire fight. His stout mittens temporarily protected his hands,
and he scooped live coals into the air in all
directions until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano.
But it could not last long. His face was blistering

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in the heat, his eyebrows and lashes were singed off,
and the heat was becoming unbearable to his feet. With
a flaming brand in each hand, he sprang to the
edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back
on every side wherever the live coals had fallen. The
snow was sizzling, and every little while a retiring wolf,

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with wild leap and snort and snarl, announced that one
such live coal had been stepped. Upon flinging his brands
at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust his
smoldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool
his feet. His two dogs were missing, and he well
knew that they had served as a course and the
protracted meal which had begun days before with Fatty, the

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last course of which would likely be himself and the
days to follow. You ain't got me yet, he cried, savagely,
shaking his fist at the hungry beast's and at the
sound of his voice, the whole circle was agitated. There
was a general snarl, and a she wolf slid up
close to him across the snow and watched him with
hungry wistfulness. He set to work to carry out a

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new idea that had come to him. He extended the
fire into a large circle. Inside this circle, he crouched
his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the
melting snow. When he had thus disappeared within his shelter
of flame, the whole pack came curiously to the rim
of the fire to see what had become of him.

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Hitherto they had been denied access to the fire, and
they now settled down in a close drawn circle, like
so many dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean
bodies in the unaccustomed warmth. Then the she wolf sat down,
pointed her nose at a star, and began to howl.
One by one the wolves joined her, till the whole pack,

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on haunches with noses pointed skyward, was howling its hungry cry.
Dawn came, and dayly the fire was burning low. The
fuel had run out, and there was need to get more.
The man attempted to step out of his circle a flame,
but the wolves surged to meet him. Burning brands made

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them spring asigh, but they no longer sprang back in vain.
He strove to drive them back. As he gave up
and stumbled inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed,
and landed with all four feet in the coals. He
cried out with terror, at the same time snarling and
scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow. The

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man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position,
His body leaned forward from the hips, his shoulders relaxed
and drooping, and his head on his knees. Advertised that
he had given up the struggle now and again he
raised his head to note the dying down of the fire.
The circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments

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with openings in between. These openings grew in size the
segments diminished. I guess you can come and get me anytime,
he mumbled. Anyway, I'm going to sleep. Once he awakened,
and in an opening in the circle directly in front
of him, he saw the she wolf gazing at him again.

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He awakened a little later, though it seemed hours to him.
A mysterious change had taken place, so mysterious a change
that he was shocked wider awake. Something had happened. He
could not understand it first, then he discovered it. The
wolves were gone, remained only the trampled snow to show

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how closely they had pressed him. Sleep was welling up
and gripping him again. His head was sinking down upon
his knees. When he roused with a sudden start. There
were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking
of harnesses, and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. Pulled
in from the river bed to the camp among the trees.

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Half a dozen men were about the man who crouched
in the center of the dying fire. They were shaking
and prodding him into consciousness. He looked at them like
a drunken man, and maundered in strange, sleepy speech. Red,
she wolf come in with the dogs at feeding time.
First she ate the dog food, then she ate the dogs,

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and after that she ate Bill. Where's lord Alfred? One
of the men bellowed in his ear, shaking him roughly.
He shook his head slowly. No, she didn't eat him.
He's roosting in a tree at the last camp dead.
The man shouted, and in a box Henry answered. He

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jerked his shoulder petulantly away from the grip of his questioner,
say you let me alone. I'm just plump, tuckered out.
Good night everybody. His eyes fluttered and went shut, his
chin fell forward on his chest, and even as they
eased him down upon the blankets, his snores were rising

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on the frosty air. But there was another sound, far
and faint. It was, in the remote distance, the cry
of the hungry wolf pack as it took the trail
of other meat than the man it had just missed.
End of Chapter three.