The stables were reached, and there in the doorway, lay Collie, a
half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her in the sun.
White Fang looked on with a wondering eye. Collie snarled warningly at
him, and he was careful to keep his distance. The master with his toe
helped one sprawling puppy toward him. He bristled suspiciously, but the
master warned him that all was well. Collie, clasped in the arms of one
of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl warned him that all
was not well.
The puppy sprawled in front of him. He cocked his ears and watched it
curiously. Then their noses touched, and he felt the warm little tongue
of the puppy on his jowl. White Fang's tongue went out, he knew not why,
and he licked the puppy's face.
Hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance. He
was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. Then his weakness
asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, his head on one side,
as he watched the puppy. The other puppies came sprawling toward him, to
Collie's great disgust; and he gravely permitted them to clamber and
tumble over him. At first, amid the applause of the gods, he betrayed a
trifle of his old self-consciousness and awkwardness. This passed away
as the puppies' antics and mauling continued, and he lay with half-shut
patient eyes, drowsing in the sun.
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