In the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of the
gods. But he did not go into the fires. He lurked in the forest,
avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals when game
was caught. He even robbed Grey Beaver's snare of a rabbit at a time
when Grey Beaver staggered and tottered through the forest, sitting down
often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness of breath.
One day While Fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, loose-
jointed with famine. Had he not been hungry himself, White Fang might
have gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack amongst his
wild brethren. As it was, he ran the young wolf down and killed and ate
him.
Fortune seemed to favour him. Always, when hardest pressed for food, he
found something to kill. Again, when he was weak, it was his luck that
none of the larger preying animals chanced upon him. Thus, he was strong
from the two days' eating a lynx had afforded him when the hungry wolf-
pack ran full tilt upon him. It was a long, cruel chase, but he was
better nourished than they, and in the end outran them. And not only did
he outrun them, but, circling widely back on his track, he gathered in
one of his exhausted pursuers.
After that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to the
valley wherein he had been born.
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