Had he merely stood over the meat, head up and glowering,
White Fang would ultimately have slunk away. But the fresh meat was
strong in Baseek's nostrils, and greed urged him to take a bite of it.
This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of mastery over
his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand idly by while
another devoured the meat that belonged to him. He struck, after his
custom, without warning. With the first slash, Baseek's right ear was
ripped into ribbons. He was astounded at the suddenness of it. But more
things, and most grievous ones, were happening with equal suddenness. He
was knocked off his feet. His throat was bitten. While he was
struggling to his feet the young dog sank teeth twice into his shoulder.
The swiftness of it was bewildering. He made a futile rush at White
Fang, clipping the empty air with an outraged snap. The next moment his
nose was laid open, and he was staggering backward away from the meat.
The situation was now reversed. White Fang stood over the shin-bone,
bristling and menacing, while Baseek stood a little way off, preparing to
retreat. He dared not risk a fight with this young lightning-flash, and
again he knew, and more bitterly, the enfeeblement of oncoming age. His
attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169