There had been no reservation on White
Fang's part, and the bond was not to be broken easily.
So, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, White Fang
applied his teeth to the stick that held him. The wood was seasoned and
dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely get
his teeth to it. It was only by the severest muscular exertion and neck-
arching that he succeeded in getting the wood between his teeth, and
barely between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise of an
immense patience, extending through many hours, that he succeeded in
gnawing through the stick. This was something that dogs were not
supposed to do. It was unprecedented. But White Fang did it, trotting
away from the fort in the early morning, with the end of the stick
hanging to his neck.
He was wise. But had he been merely wise he would not have gone back to
Grey Beaver who had already twice betrayed him. But there was his
faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third time. Again he
yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck by Grey Beaver, and again
Beauty Smith came to claim him. And this time he was beaten even more
severely than before.
Grey Beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. He
gave no protection. It was no longer his dog.
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