Kitabı oku: «The Call of the Wild / Зов предков», sayfa 4

Buck was truly a devil, hair bristling, mouth foaming,⁷ a mad glitter in his blood-shot eyes. When out from the cage, straight at the man he rushed his one hundred and forty pounds of fury. In mid air, just as his teeth were ready to close on the man, he received a blow and fell on the ground on his back and side. He had never been struck by a club in his life, and did not understand. With a snarl he was again on his feet and jumped into the air. And again he was brought to the ground. This time he was aware that it was the club, but his madness knew no caution. Many times he tried, and each time the club smashed him down. Finally, the man gave him a frightful blow on the nose. In agony of pain, covered with blood, Buck roared lion-like and tried to spring at him. But the man coolly caught him by the under jaw. Buck described a complete circle in the air, and half of another, then crashed to the ground on his head and chest. For last time he rushed – and, having received the final blow, went down, totally senseless.

After a while, Buck’s senses came back to him, but not his strength. He lay where he had fallen, and from there he watched the man in the red sweater.

“‘Answers to the name of Buck,’” the man read, quoting from the saloon-keeper’s letter which had described the cage and contents. “Well, Buck, my boy,” he went on in a kind voice, “You’ve learnt your place, and I know mine. Be a good dog and all will go well. Be a bad dog, and I’ll crash you. Understand?”

As he spoke he fearlessly touched the head he had hit, and though Buck’s hair involuntarily bristled under his hand, he did not protest. When the man brought him water he drank eagerly, and later ate a portion of raw meat from the man’s hand.

He was beaten (he knew that); but he was not broken. He saw that he stood no chance against⁸ a man with a club. He had learnt the lesson, and he never forgot it. That club was a revelation. It was his introduction to the primitive law, and he understood it quickly. As the days went by, other dogs came, in cages and at the ends of ropes, some calmly, and some raging as he had come; and he watched them pass under the reign of the man in the red sweater. The lesson was simple: a man with a club was a master to be obeyed, though not necessarily tolerated. This last Buck never did, though he saw beaten dogs that wagged their tails,⁹ and licked his hand. Also he saw one dog, that neither tolerated nor obeyed, finally killed in the fight for mastery.