Not only was White Fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled much,and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. Here, in Sierra Vista,which was the name of Judge Scott's place, White Fang quickly began tomake himself at home. He had no further serious trouble with the dogs.They knew more about the ways of the Southland gods than did he, and intheir eyes he had qualified when he accompanied the gods inside thehouse. Wolf that he was, and unprecedented as it was, the gods hadsanctioned his presence, and they, the dogs of the gods, could onlyrecognise this sanction.

Dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, afterwhich he calmly accepted White Fang as an addition to the premises. HadDick had his way, they would have been good friends. All but White Fangwas averse to friendship. All he asked of other dogs was to be letalone. His whole life he had kept aloof from his kind, and he stilldesired to keep aloof. Dick's overtures bothered him, so he snarled Dickaway. In the north he had learned the lesson that he must let themaster's dogs alone, and he did not forget that lesson now. But heinsisted on his own privacy and self-seclusion, and so thoroughly ignoredDick that that good-natured creature finally gave him up and scarcelytook as much interest in him as in the hitching-post near the stable.

Not so with Collie. While she accepted him because it was the mandate ofthe gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in peace. Woveninto her being was the memory of countless crimes he and his hadperpetrated against her ancestry. Not in a day nor a generation were theravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. All this was a spur to her, prickingher to retaliation. She could not fly in the face of the gods whopermitted him, but that did not prevent her from making life miserablefor him in petty ways. A feud, ages old, was between them, and she, forone, would see to it that he was reminded.

So Collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon White Fang and maltreathim. His instinct would not permit him to attack her, while herpersistence would not permit him to ignore her. When she rushed at himhe turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked awaystiff-legged and stately. When she forced him too hard, he was compelledto go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, his head turnedfrom her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient and bored expression.Sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters hastened his retreat andmade it anything but stately. But as a rule he managed to maintain adignity that was almost solemnity. He ignored her existence whenever itwas possible, and made it a point to keep out of her way. When he saw orheard her coming, he got up and walked off.

There was much in other matters for White Fang to learn. Life in theNorthland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicatedaffairs of Sierra Vista. First of all, he had to learn the family of themaster. In a way he was prepared to do this. As Mit-sah and Kloo-koochhad belonged to Grey Beaver, sharing his food, his fire, and hisblankets, so now, at Sierra Vista, belonged to the love-master all thedenizens of the house.

But in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. SierraVista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of Grey Beaver. There weremany persons to be considered. There was Judge Scott, and there was hiswife. There were the master's two sisters, Beth and Mary. There was hiswife, Alice, and then there were his children, Weedon and Maud, toddlersof four and six. There was no way for anybody to tell him about allthese people, and of blood-ties and relationship he knew nothing whateverand never would be capable of knowing. Yet he quickly worked it out thatall of them belonged to the master. Then, by observation, wheneveropportunity offered, by study of action, speech, and the very intonationsof the voice, he slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of favourthey enjoyed with the master. And by this ascertained standard, WhiteFang treated them accordingly. What was of value to the master hevalued; what was dear to the master was to be cherished by White Fang andguarded carefully.

Thus it was with the two children. All his life he had dislikedchildren. He hated and feared their hands. The lessons were not tenderthat he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days of theIndian villages. When Weedon and Maud had first approached him, hegrowled warningly and looked malignant. A cuff from the master and asharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses, though hegrowled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl there was nocrooning note. Later, he observed that the boy and girl were of greatvalue in the master's eyes. Then it was that no cuff nor sharp word wasnecessary before they could pat him.

Yet White Fang was never effusively affectionate. He yielded to themaster's children with an ill but honest grace, and endured their foolingas one would endure a painful operation. When he could no longer endure,he would get up and stalk determinedly away from them. But after a time,he grew even to like the children. Still he was not demonstrative. Hewould not go up to them. On the other hand, instead of walking away atsight of them, he waited for them to come to him. And still later, itwas noticed that a pleased light came into his eyes when he saw themapproaching, and that he looked after them with an appearance of curiousregret when they left him for other amusements.

All this was a matter of development, and took time. Next in his regard,after the children, was Judge Scott. There were two reasons, possibly,for this. First, he was evidently a valuable possession of the master's,and next, he was undemonstrative. White Fang liked to lie at his feet onthe wide porch when he read the newspaper, from time to time favouringWhite Fang with a look or a word--untroublesome tokens that he recognisedWhite Fang's presence and existence. But this was only when the masterwas not around. When the master appeared, all other beings ceased toexist so far as White Fang was concerned.

White Fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make muchof him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. No caressof theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try as theywould, they could never persuade him into snuggling against them. Thisexpression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved forthe master alone. In fact, he never regarded the members of the familyin any other light than possessions of the love-master.

Also White Fang had early come to differentiate between the family andthe servants of the household. The latter were afraid of him, while hemerely refrained from attacking them. This because he considered thatthey were likewise possessions of the master. Between White Fang andthem existed a neutrality and no more. They cooked for the master andwashed the dishes and did other things just as Matt had done up in theKlondike. They were, in short, appurtenances of the household.

Outside the household there was even more for White Fang to learn. Themaster's domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes and bounds.The land itself ceased at the county road. Outside was the common domainof all gods--the roads and streets. Then inside other fences were theparticular domains of other gods. A myriad laws governed all thesethings and determined conduct; yet he did not know the speech of thegods, nor was there any way for him to learn save by experience. Heobeyed his natural impulses until they ran him counter to some law. Whenthis had been done a few times, he learned the law and after thatobserved it.

But most potent in his education was the cuff of the master's hand, thecensure of the master's voice. Because of White Fang's very great love,a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any beating Grey Beaver orBeauty Smith had ever given him. They had hurt only the flesh of him;beneath the flesh the spirit had still raged, splendid and invincible.But with the master the cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. Yetit went deeper. It was an expression of the master's disapproval, andWhite Fang's spirit wilted under it.

In point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. The master's voicewas sufficient. By it White Fang knew whether he did right or not. Byit he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. It was the compassby which he steered and learned to chart the manners of a new land andlife.

In the Northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. All otheranimals lived in the Wild, and were, when not too formidable, lawfulspoil for any dog. All his days White Fang had foraged among the livethings for food. It did not enter his head that in the Southland it wasotherwise. But this he was to learn early in his residence in SantaClara Valley. Sauntering around the corner of the house in the earlymorning, he came upon a chicken that had escaped from the chicken-yard.White Fang's natural impulse was to eat it. A couple of bounds, a flashof teeth and a frightened squawk, and he had scooped in the adventurousfowl. It was farm-bred and fat and tender; and White Fang licked hischops and decided that such fare was good.

Later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the stables.One of the grooms ran to the rescue. He did not know White Fang's breed,so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. At the first cut of the whip,White Fang left the chicken for the man. A club might have stopped WhiteFang, but not a whip. Silently, without flinching, he took a second cutin his forward rush, and as he leaped for the throat the groom cried out,"My God!" and staggered backward. He dropped the whip and shielded histhroat with his arms. In consequence, his forearm was ripped open to thebone.

The man was badly frightened. It was not so much White Fang's ferocityas it was his silence that unnerved the groom. Still protecting histhroat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried to retreat tothe barn. And it would have gone hard with him had not Collie appearedon the scene. As she had saved Dick's life, she now saved the groom's.She rushed upon White Fang in frenzied wrath. She had been right. Shehad known better than the blundering gods. All her suspicions werejustified. Here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again.

The groom escaped into the stables, and White Fang backed away beforeCollie's wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circledround and round. But Collie did not give over, as was her wont, after adecent interval of chastisement. On the contrary, she grew more excitedand angry every moment, until, in the end, White Fang flung dignity tothe winds and frankly fled away from her across the fields.

"He'll learn to leave chickens alone," the master said. "But I can'tgive him the lesson until I catch him in the act."

Two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than themaster had anticipated. White Fang had observed closely thechicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. In the night-time, afterthey had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly hauledlumber. From there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, passed overthe ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. A moment later he wasinside the house, and the slaughter began.

In the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty whiteLeghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. Hewhistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the end,with admiration. His eyes were likewise greeted by White Fang, but aboutthe latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. He carried himselfwith pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved a deed praiseworthy andmeritorious. There was about him no consciousness of sin. The master'slips tightened as he faced the disagreeable task. Then he talked harshlyto the unwitting culprit, and in his voice there was nothing but godlikewrath. Also, he held White Fang's nose down to the slain hens, and atthe same time cuffed him soundly.

White Fang never raided a chicken-roost again. It was against the law,and he had learned it. Then the master took him into the chicken-yards.White Fang's natural impulse, when he saw the live food fluttering abouthim and under his very nose, was to spring upon it. He obeyed theimpulse, but was checked by the master's voice. They continued in theyards for half an hour. Time and again the impulse surged over WhiteFang, and each time, as he yielded to it, he was checked by the master'svoice. Thus it was he learned the law, and ere he left the domain of thechickens, he had learned to ignore their existence.

"You can never cure a chicken-killer." Judge Scott shook his head sadlyat luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson he had given WhiteFang. "Once they've got the habit and the taste of blood . . ." Againhe shook his head sadly.

But Weedon Scott did not agree with his father. "I'll tell you what I'lldo," he challenged finally. "I'll lock White Fang in with the chickensall afternoon."

"But think of the chickens," objected the judge.

"And furthermore," the son went on, "for every chicken he kills, I'll payyou one dollar gold coin of the realm."

"But you should penalise father, too," interpose Beth.

Her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around thetable. Judge Scott nodded his head in agreement.

"All right." Weedon Scott pondered for a moment. "And if, at the end ofthe afternoon White Fang hasn't harmed a chicken, for every ten minutesof the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say to him,gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were sitting on the benchand solemnly passing judgment, 'White Fang, you are smarter than Ithought.'"

From hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. But itwas a fizzle. Locked in the yard and there deserted by the master, WhiteFang lay down and went to sleep. Once he got up and walked over to thetrough for a drink of water. The chickens he calmly ignored. So far ashe was concerned they did not exist. At four o'clock he executed arunning jump, gained the roof of the chicken-house and leaped to theground outside, whence he sauntered gravely to the house. He had learnedthe law. And on the porch, before the delighted family, Judge Scott,face to face with White Fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times,"White Fang, you are smarter than I thought."

But it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled White Fang and oftenbrought him into disgrace. He had to learn that he must not touch thechickens that belonged to other gods. Then there were cats, and rabbits,and turkeys; all these he must let alone. In fact, when he had butpartly learned the law, his impression was that he must leave all livethings alone. Out in the back-pasture, a quail could flutter up underhis nose unharmed. All tense and trembling with eagerness and desire, hemastered his instinct and stood still. He was obeying the will of thegods.

And then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw Dick start ajackrabbit and run it. The master himself was looking on and did notinterfere. Nay, he encouraged White Fang to join in the chase. And thushe learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. In the end he workedout the complete law. Between him and all domestic animals there must beno hostilities. If not amity, at least neutrality must obtain. But theother animals--the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creaturesof the Wild who had never yielded allegiance to man. They were thelawful prey of any dog. It was only the tame that the gods protected,and between the tame deadly strife was not permitted. The gods held thepower of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous oftheir power.

Life was complex in the Santa Clara Valley after the simplicities of theNorthland. And the chief thing demanded by these intricacies ofcivilisation was control, restraint--a poise of self that was as delicateas the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time as rigid assteel. Life had a thousand faces, and White Fang found he must meet themall--thus, when he went to town, in to San Jose, running behind thecarriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage stopped. Lifeflowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually impinging upon hissenses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments andcorrespondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress hisnatural impulses.

There were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. This meat he mustnot touch. There were cats at the houses the master visited that must belet alone. And there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and thathe must not attack. And then, on the crowded sidewalks there werepersons innumerable whose attention he attracted. They would stop andlook at him, point him out to one another, examine him, talk of him, and,worst of all, pat him. And these perilous contacts from all thesestrange hands he must endure. Yet this endurance he achieved.Furthermore, he got over being awkward and self-conscious. In a loftyway he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods. Withcondescension he accepted their condescension. On the other hand, therewas something about him that prevented great familiarity. They pattedhim on the head and passed on, contented and pleased with their owndaring.

But it was not all easy for White Fang. Running behind the carriage inthe outskirts of San Jose, he encountered certain small boys who made apractice of flinging stones at him. Yet he knew that it was notpermitted him to pursue and drag them down. Here he was compelled toviolate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate it he did, for hewas becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation.

Nevertheless, White Fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. Hehad no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. But there is acertain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense inhim that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defenceagainst the stone-throwers. He forgot that in the covenant entered intobetween him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and defendhim. But one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip in hand, andgave the stone-throwers a thrashing. After that they threw stones nomore, and White Fang understood and was satisfied.

One other experience of similar nature was his. On the way to town,hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that made apractice of rushing out upon him when he went by. Knowing his deadlymethod of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing upon WhiteFang the law that he must not fight. As a result, having learned thelesson well, White Fang was hard put whenever he passed the cross-roadssaloon. After the first rush, each time, his snarl kept the three dogsat a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping and bickering andinsulting him. This endured for some time. The men at the saloon evenurged the dogs on to attack White Fang. One day they openly sicked thedogs on him. The master stopped the carriage.

"Go to it," he said to White Fang.

But White Fang could not believe. He looked at the master, and he lookedat the dogs. Then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at themaster.

The master nodded his head. "Go to them, old fellow. Eat them up."

White Fang no longer hesitated. He turned and leaped silently among hisenemies. All three faced him. There was a great snarling and growling,a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. The dust of the road arosein a cloud and screened the battle. But at the end of several minutestwo dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third was in full flight. Heleaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, and fled across a field. WhiteFang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolfspeed, swiftly and without noise, and in the centre of the field hedragged down and slew the dog.

With this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. The wordwent up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs did notmolest the Fighting Wolf.