Grey Beaver never
petted nor caressed. Perhaps it was the weight of his hand, perhaps his
justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps it was all these
things that influenced White Fang; for a certain tie of attachment was
forming between him and his surly lord.
Insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick and
stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of White Fang's bondage being
riveted upon him. The qualities in his kind that in the beginning made
it possible for them to come in to the fires of men, were qualities
capable of development. They were developing in him, and the camp-life,
replete with misery as it was, was secretly endearing itself to him all
the time. But White Fang was unaware of it. He knew only grief for the
loss of Kiche, hope for her return, and a hungry yearning for the free
life that had been his.
CHAPTER III--THE OUTCAST
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.
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