Though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged him,
he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master's presence. A
scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly under the
horse's feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to earth, and a broken
leg for the master, was the cause of it. White Fang sprang in a rage at
the throat of the offending horse, but was checked by the master's voice.
"Home! Go home!" the master commanded when he had ascertained his
injury.
White Fang was disinclined to desert him. The master thought of writing
a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper. Again he
commanded White Fang to go home.
The latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and whined
softly. The master talked to him gently but seriously, and he cocked his
ears, and listened with painful intentness.
"That's all right, old fellow, you just run along home," ran the talk.
"Go on home and tell them what's happened to me. Home with you, you
wolf. Get along home!"
White Fang knew the meaning of "home," and though he did not understand
the remainder of the master's language, he knew it was his will that he
should go home. He turned and trotted reluctantly away. Then he
stopped, undecided, and looked back over his shoulder.
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