And yet Grey Beaver was as a child-god among these white-
skinned ones.
To be sure, White Fang only felt these things. He was not conscious of
them. Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that animals
act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon the feeling
that the white men were the superior gods. In the first place he was
very suspicious of them. There was no telling what unknown terrors were
theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer. He was curious to
observe them, fearful of being noticed by them. For the first few hours
he was content with slinking around and watching them from a safe
distance. Then he saw that no harm befell the dogs that were near to
them, and he came in closer.
In turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. His wolfish
appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one
another. This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and when they
tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. Not one
succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they did not.
White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods--not more than a
dozen--lived at this place. Every two or three days a steamer (another
and colossal manifestation of power) came into the bank and stopped for
several hours.
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