White Fang by Jack London - Part 4, Chapter 5 - The Indomitable

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Part four, chapter five of White Fang. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain and is read by Mark
Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. White Fang by Jack London,
Part four, chapter five, The Indomitable. It's hopeless whed and

(00:21):
Scott confessed. He sat on the step of his cabin
and stared at the dog Musher, who responded with a
shrug that was equally hopeless. Together they looked at White
Fang at the end of his stretched chain, bristling, snarling, ferocious,
straining to get at the sled dogs. Having received sundry
lessons from Matt, said lessons being imparted by means of

(00:43):
a club, the sled dogs had learned to leave Whitefang alone,
and even then they were lying down at a distance,
apparently oblivious of his existence. It's a wolf and there's
no taming it. Weed and Scott announced, Oh ay, I
don't know about that. Matt objected. Might be a lot

(01:04):
of dog in him, for all you can tell. But
there's one thing I know sure, and that there's no
getting away from. The dog Musher paused and nodded his
head confidentially at moose Hide Mountain. Well, don't be a
miser with what you know, Scott said sharply. After waiting
a suitable length of time, spit it out. What is it?

(01:27):
The dog musher indicated, White Fang with a backward thrust
of his thumb. Well, for dog, it's all the same.
He's been tamed ready, no, I tell you yes, and
broke to harness. Look close there, do you see them
marks across the chest? You're right, Matt, he was a

(01:48):
sled dog before Beauty Smith got hold of him, and
there's not much reason against his being a sled dog again.
What do you think, Scott queried eagerly. Then the hope
died down, as he added, shaking his head. We've had
him two weeks now, and if anything, he's wilder than
ever at the present moment. Give him a chance, Matt counseled,

(02:13):
turn him loose for a spell. The other looked at
him incredulously. Yes, Matt, went on, I know you've tried to,
but you didn't take a club. You try it. Then
the dog musher secured a club and went over to
the chained animal. White Fang watched the club after the
manner of a caged lion watching the whip of its

(02:35):
trainer see him keep his eye on that club. Matt said,
that's a good sign. He's no fool. Don't dash tackle
me so long as I got that club handy. He's
not clean crazy sure. As the man's hand approached his neck,
White Fang bristled and snarled and crouched down. But while

(02:57):
he eyed the approaching hand, he at the same time
contrived to keep track of the club in the other hand,
suspended threateningly above him. Matt unsnapped the chain from the
collar and stepped back. White Fang could scarcely realize that
he was free. Many months had gone by since he
passed into the possession of Beauty Smith, and in all

(03:18):
that period he had never known a moment of freedom,
except at the times he had been loose to fight
with other dogs. Immediately after such fights, he had always
been imprisoned again. He did not know what to make
of it. Perhaps some new devilry of the gods was
about to be perpetrated on him. He walked slowly and cautiously,

(03:39):
prepared to be assailed at any moment. He did not
know what to do. It was also unprecedented. He took
the precaution to sheer off from the two watching gods,
and walked carefully to the corner of the cabin. Nothing happened.
He was plainly perplexed, and he came back again, pausing
a dozen feet away and regarding the two men intently.

(04:03):
Won't he run away, his new owner asked. Matt shrugged
his shoulders. Got to take a gamble. The only way
to find out is to find out, poor devil, Scott murmured, pityingly.
What he needs is some show of human kindness, he added,
turning and going into the cabin. He came out with

(04:25):
a piece of meat, which he tossed to Whitefang. He
sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously.
Hi you, Major, Matt shouted warningly, but too late. Major
had made a spring for the meat. At the instant
his jaws closed on it, White Fang struck him. He
was overthrown. Matt rushed in, but quicker than he was

(04:48):
Whitefang Major staggered to his feet, but the blood spouting
from his throat reddened the snow in a widening path.
It's too bad, but it served him right, Scott said hastily.
But Matt's foot had already started on its way to
kick White Fang. There was a leap, a flash of teeth,
a sharp exclamation. White Fang, snarling, fiercely, scrambled backward for

(05:12):
several yards while Matt stooped and investigated his leg. He
got me all right, he announced, pointing to the torn
trousers and undercloths and the growing stain of red. I
told you it was hopeless, Matt Scott said, in a
discouraged voice. I've thought about it off and on while

(05:32):
not wanted to think of it, but we've come to
it now. It's the only thing to do. As he
talked with reluctant movements, he drew his revolver, threw open
the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents. Look here,
mister Scott, Matt objected, that dog's been through hell. You
can't expect him to come out a white and shine

(05:55):
an angel. Give him time. Look at major. The other
re joined the dog. Musher surveyed the stricken dog. He
had sunk down on the snow and the circle of
his blood, and was plainly in the last gasp served
him right, you said so yourself, mister Scott. He tried
to take White Fang's meat, and he's dead. Oh that

(06:17):
was to be expected. I wouldn't give two whoops in
hell for a dog that wouldn't fight for his own meat.
But look at yourself, Matt. It's all right about the dogs,
but we must draw the line somewhere. Serve me right,
Matt argued stubbornly. What did I want to kick him for?
You said yourself that he'd done right, then I had

(06:39):
no right to kick him. It would be a mercy
to kill him. Scott insisted, he's untamable. Now look here,
mister Scott, give the poor devil a fighting chance. He
ain't had no chance yet. He's just come through hell
and this is the first time he's been loose. Give
him a fair chee, and if he don't deliver the goods,

(07:02):
I'll kill him myself. There. God knows, I don't want
to kill him or have him killed, Scott answered, putting
away the revolver. We'll let him run loose and see
what kindness can do for him. And here's a try
at it. He walked over to white Fang and began
talking to him gently and soothingly. Better have a club, handy,

(07:26):
Matt warned. Scott shook his head and went on trying
to win White Fang's confidence. White Fang was suspicious something
was impending. He had killed this God's dog, bitten his
companion god, and what else was to be expected than
some terrible punishment. But in the face of it he
was indomitable. He bristled and showed his teeth, his eyes vigilant,

(07:50):
his whole body, weary and prepared for anything. The God
had no club, so he suffered him to approach Quite near.
The God's hand come out and was descending upon his head.
White Fang shrank together and grew tense as he crouched
under it. Here was danger, some treachery or something. He

(08:10):
knew the hands of the gods, their proved mastery, their
cunning to hurt. Besides, there was his old antipathy to
being touched. He snarled more menacingly, crouched still lower, and
still the hand descended. He did not want to bite
the hand, and he endured the peril of it until
his instincts surged up in him, mastering him with its

(08:33):
insatiable yearning for life. Wheed and Scott have believed that
he was quick enough to avoid any snap or slash,
but he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of Whitefang,
who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled snake.
Scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand
and holding it tightly in his other hand. Matt uttered

(08:56):
a great oath and sprang to his side. White Fang
crouched down and backed away, bristling, showing his fangs, his
eyes malignant with menace. Now he could expect a beating
as fearful as any he had received from Beauty Smith. Here,
what are you doing, Scott cried. Suddenly, Matt had dashed

(09:16):
into the cabin and come out with a rifle. Nothin,
he said, slowly, with a careless calmness that was assumed.
Only goin to keep that promise I made. I reckon
It's up to me to kill him, and I said
I'd do. No, you don't, yes, I'd do. Watch me.
As Matt had pleaded for Whitefang when he had been bitten,

(09:39):
it was now Wheaton Scott's turn to plead. You said,
to give him a chance. Well give it to him.
We've only just started, and we can't quit at the beginning.
It served me right this time, and look at him.
White Fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty
feet away, was snarling with blood curdling viciousness, not at Scott,

(10:01):
but at the dog musher. Well, I'll be everlastingly gosh swaggled,
was the dog musher's expression of astonishment. Look at the
intelligence of him, Scott went on hastily. He knows the
meaning of firearms as well as you do. He's got intelligence,
and we've got to give that intelligence a chance. Put

(10:22):
up the gun, all right, I'm willin. Matt agreed, leaning
the rifle against the woodpile. But will ye look at that,
he exclaimed. The next moment, White Fang had quieted down
and ceased snarling. This is worth investigating. Watch Mat reached

(10:43):
for the rifle, and at the same moment White Fang snarled.
He stepped away from the rifle, and White Fang's lifted
lips descended, covering his teeth. Now, just for fun, Mat
took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to
his shoulder. White fangs snarling began with the movement and
increased as the movement approached its culmination. But the moment

(11:06):
before the rifle came to a level on him. He
leaped sideways behind the corner of the cabin. Matt stood
staring along the sights at the empty space of snow
which had been occupied by White Fang. The dog musher
put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked at
his employer. I agree with you, mister Scott, that dog's

(11:28):
too intelligent to kill. End of chapter five.