Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

Chapter I. Into the Primitive

“Old longings nomadic leap, Chafing at custom’s chain (old wandering desires jump up, rubbing angrily against the chain of settled habit); Again from its brumal sleep Wakens the ferine strain (and once again the wild animal streak wakes out of its winter sleep).”

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing (trouble was building up), not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair (for every dog living near the coast with strong muscles and warm long hair), from Puget Sound to San Diego (from Puget Sound in the far north-west to San Diego in the far south, meaning the whole American west coast). Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal (men feeling their way about in the darkness of the far north had found gold), and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find (steamship and transport companies were loudly advertising the discovery), thousands of men were rushing into the Northland (thousands of men were pouring into the far north). These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil (strong muscles to work hard with), and furry coats to protect them from the frost.

Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley (the sunlit Santa Clara Valley in California). Judge Miller’s place, it was called. It stood back from the road, half hidden among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides (the wide cool covered porch that ran round all four sides of it). The house was approached by gravelled driveways (you came to the house along drives laid with small stones) which wound about through wide-spreading lawns and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars (under the crossed branches of tall poplar trees). At the rear things were on even a more spacious scale than at the front (everything was on an even bigger scale than at the front). There were great stables, where a dozen grooms and boys held forth (where a dozen horse keepers and stable boys were in charge), rows of vine-clad servants’ cottages (rows of small servants' houses covered in climbing plants), an endless and orderly array of outhouses (an endless, neatly arranged set of outbuildings), long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches (long shaded walks under grape vines, green grazing fields, fruit-tree gardens and berry beds). Then there was the pumping plant for the artesian well (the pumping machinery for the deep bored well), and the big cement tank where Judge Miller’s boys took their morning plunge (where Judge Miller's sons jumped in for their morning swim) and kept cool in the hot afternoon.

And over this great demesne Buck ruled (and Buck ruled over the whole of this great estate). Here he was born, and here he had lived the four years of his life. It was true, there were other dogs. There could not but be other dogs on so vast a place (there had to be other dogs on so huge a place), but they did not count. They came and went, resided in the populous kennels (lived in the crowded dog houses), or lived obscurely in the recesses of the house (or lived out of sight in the back corners of the house) after the fashion of Toots, the Japanese pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless (in the manner of Toots, the small flat-faced Japanese dog, and Ysabel, the Mexican dog with no hair),—strange creatures that rarely put nose out of doors (strange animals that hardly ever poked a nose outside) or set foot to ground. On the other hand, there were the fox terriers, a score of them at least (there were the fox terriers, at least twenty of them), who yelped fearful promises at Toots and Ysabel (who barked sharp, terrible threats at Toots and Ysabel) looking out of the windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops (guarded by an army of house servants carrying brooms and mops).

But Buck was neither house-dog nor kennel-dog (but Buck was neither an indoor dog nor a dog kept in the outside pens). The whole realm was his (the whole kingdom belonged to him). He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge’s sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles (he went along with Mollie and Alice, the Judge's daughters, on long walks at dusk or early in the morning); on wintry nights he lay at the Judge’s feet before the roaring library fire; he carried the Judge’s grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard (and watched over every step they took on wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard), and even beyond, where the paddocks were (and even past that, where the small horse fields were), and the berry patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously (he walked among the terriers like an emperor), and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king,—king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller’s place (king over every creeping, crawling and flying thing on Judge Miller's land), humans included.

His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard (his father, Elmo, a huge St Bernard), had been the Judge’s inseparable companion (a huge St Bernard, a very large mountain rescue breed, had never left the Judge's side), and Buck bid fair to follow in the way of his father (and Buck looked likely to follow his father's path). He was not so large,—he weighed only one hundred and forty pounds,—for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotch shepherd dog (his mother, Shep, had been a Scottish sheep dog). Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes of good living and universal respect (the grand bearing that comes of a comfortable life and being respected by everyone), enabled him to carry himself in right royal fashion (let him hold himself like a proper king). During the four years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of a sated aristocrat (he had lived the life of a nobleman who has had his fill of everything); he had a fine pride in himself, was even a trifle egotistical (was even a little too fond of himself), as country gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation (as country gentlemen sometimes do, from living cut off on their own land). But he had saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house-dog (but he had saved himself by not turning into a spoiled indoor pet). Hunting and kindred outdoor delights had kept down the fat (hunting and similar outdoor pleasures had kept the fat off him) and hardened his muscles; and to him, as to the cold-tubbing races, the love of water had been a tonic and a health preserver (as with the peoples who bathe in cold water, loving water had kept him fresh and well).

And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the fall of 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from all the world into the frozen North (when the discovery of gold in the Klondike, in north-western Canada, pulled men from everywhere into the frozen north). But Buck did not read the newspapers, and he did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was an undesirable acquaintance (was a man it was not good to know). Manuel had one besetting sin (Manuel had one weakness that never left him). He loved to play Chinese lottery (he loved to play the Chinese numbers game). Also, in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness—faith in a system (in his gambling he had one constant weakness, a belief that he had a winning method); and this made his damnation certain (and this made his ruin certain). For to play a system requires money, while the wages of a gardener’s helper do not lap over the needs of a wife and numerous progeny (and a gardener's assistant's pay does not stretch past the needs of a wife and a great many children).

The Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers’ Association (at a meeting of the association of men who grow dried grapes), and the boys were busy organizing an athletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel’s treachery (on the night Manuel betrayed them, which nobody would forget). No one saw him and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck imagined was merely a stroll (what Buck took for nothing more than a walk). And with the exception of a solitary man, no one saw them arrive at the little flag station known as College Park (the small railway halt called College Park, where trains only stop if signalled). This man talked with Manuel, and money chinked between them (coins rang as they changed hands).

“You might wrap up the goods before you deliver ’m (you had better wrap the goods up before you hand them over),” the stranger said gruffly (the stranger said in a rough voice), and Manuel doubled a piece of stout rope around Buck’s neck under the collar (Manuel wound a piece of thick rope twice round Buck's neck under his collar).

“Twist it, an’ you’ll choke ’m plentee (twist it and you will choke him well enough),” said Manuel, and the stranger grunted a ready affirmative (the stranger made a low sound of agreement).

Buck had accepted the rope with quiet dignity. To be sure, it was an unwonted performance (it was something that had never happened before): but he had learned to trust in men he knew, and to give them credit for a wisdom that outreached his own (and to allow that they knew more than he did). But when the ends of the rope were placed in the stranger’s hands, he growled menacingly (he made a low threatening noise). He had merely intimated his displeasure (he had only hinted that he was displeased), in his pride believing that to intimate was to command (believing in his pride that a hint from him was an order). But to his surprise the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off his breath. In quick rage he sprang at the man, who met him halfway, grappled him close by the throat (he leapt at the man, who came to meet him, seized him by the throat), and with a deft twist threw him over on his back (and with one skilful twist threw him onto his back). Then the rope tightened mercilessly (then the rope pulled tight without any mercy), while Buck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of his mouth (his tongue hanging loose out of his mouth) and his great chest panting futilely (his great chest working for air and getting none). Never in all his life had he been so vilely treated (never in his whole life had he been treated so foully), and never in all his life had he been so angry. But his strength ebbed, his eyes glazed (but his strength drained away and his eyes went dull), and he knew nothing when the train was flagged (when the train was signalled to stop) and the two men threw him into the baggage car.

The next he knew (the next thing he knew), he was dimly aware that his tongue was hurting (he was faintly aware that his tongue hurt) and that he was being jolted along in some kind of a conveyance (and that he was being bumped along in some kind of vehicle). The hoarse shriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing (the rough scream of a train engine whistling at a level crossing) told him where he was. He had travelled too often with the Judge not to know the sensation of riding in a baggage car (he had travelled with the Judge too often not to know the feeling of riding in a luggage wagon). He opened his eyes (he opened his eyes), and into them came the unbridled anger of a kidnapped king (and into them came the unchecked rage of a stolen king). The man sprang for his throat (the man leapt at his throat), but Buck was too quick for him (but Buck was too fast for him). His jaws closed on the hand (his jaws shut on the hand), nor did they relax till his senses were choked out of him once more (and they did not let go until he was choked out of his senses again).

“Yep, has fits,” the man said, hiding his mangled hand from the baggageman (hiding his torn-up hand from the luggage clerk), who had been attracted by the sounds of struggle. “I’m takin’ ’m up for the boss to ’Frisco (I am taking him up to San Francisco for my employer). A crack dog-doctor there thinks that he can cure ’m (a first-rate dog doctor there thinks he can cure him).”

Concerning that night’s ride, the man spoke most eloquently for himself (the man spoke very finely on his own behalf), in a little shed back of a saloon on the San Francisco water front (in a small shed behind a drinking bar on the San Francisco waterfront).

“All I get is fifty for it,” he grumbled (he complained); “an’ I wouldn’t do it over for a thousand, cold cash (and I would not do it again for a thousand in hard cash).”

His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief (his hand was wrapped in a bloodstained cloth), and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to ankle (the right trouser leg was torn open from knee to ankle).

“How much did the other mug get? (how much did the other fellow get?)” the saloon-keeper demanded (the bar owner demanded).

“A hundred,” was the reply. “Wouldn’t take a sou less, so help me (would not take one penny less, so help me).”

“That makes a hundred and fifty,” the saloon-keeper calculated (the bar owner worked out); “and he’s worth it, or I’m a squarehead (he is worth it, or I am a blockhead).”

The kidnapper undid the bloody wrappings and looked at his lacerated hand (unwrapped the bloody cloth and looked at his torn hand). “If I don’t get the hydrophoby (if I do not catch rabies, the disease dogs give with a bite)—”

“It’ll be because you was born to hang (it will be because you were born to be hanged instead),” laughed the saloon-keeper (laughed the man who kept the bar). “Here, lend me a hand before you pull your freight (give me a hand before you clear off),” he added.

Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat and tongue (in pain past bearing from his throat and tongue), with the life half throttled out of him (with half the life choked out of him), Buck attempted to face his tormentors (Buck tried to face the men hurting him). But he was thrown down and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded in filing the heavy brass collar from off his neck (until they managed to cut the heavy brass collar off his neck with a file). Then the rope was removed, and he was flung into a cagelike crate (he was thrown into a wooden box like a cage).

There he lay for the remainder of the weary night (there he lay for the rest of that long tiring night), nursing his wrath and wounded pride (holding onto his rage and his hurt pride). He could not understand what it all meant (he could not make out what any of it meant). What did they want with him, these strange men? (what did these strange men want with him?) Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate? (why were they keeping him shut up in this narrow box?) He did not know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense of impending calamity (he felt weighed down by a dim feeling that a disaster was coming). Several times during the night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open (he jumped up when the shed door rattled open), expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at least (expecting the Judge, or at least the boys). But each time it was the bulging face of the saloon-keeper that peered in at him (it was the bar owner's swollen face that looked in at him) by the sickly light of a tallow candle (by the weak light of a candle made of animal fat). And each time the joyful bark that trembled in Buck’s throat (the glad bark shaking in Buck's throat) was twisted into a savage growl (turned into a wild, low, angry sound).

But the saloon-keeper let him alone (but the bar owner left him alone), and in the morning four men entered and picked up the crate. More tormentors, Buck decided (four men came in and picked up the box; more men come to hurt him, Buck decided), for they were evil-looking creatures, ragged and unkempt (they were nasty-looking men, in rags and unwashed); and he stormed and raged at them through the bars (he raged and stormed at them through the bars). They only laughed and poked sticks at him, which he promptly assailed with his teeth (which he attacked at once with his teeth) till he realized that that was what they wanted. Whereupon he lay down sullenly (at which he lay down, bad-tempered and silent) and allowed the crate to be lifted into a wagon (and let the box be lifted into a cart). Then he, and the crate in which he was imprisoned (and the box he was shut inside), began a passage through many hands (began a journey through many pairs of hands). Clerks in the express office took charge of him (office workers at the fast-delivery depot took charge of him); he was carted about in another wagon; a truck carried him, with an assortment of boxes and parcels (with a mixed collection of boxes and parcels), upon a ferry steamer (onto a steam ferry boat); he was trucked off the steamer into a great railway depot (he was carted off the boat into a huge railway station), and finally he was deposited in an express car (and at last he was put down in a fast goods wagon).

For two days and nights this express car was dragged along at the tail of shrieking locomotives (that goods wagon was hauled along behind screaming train engines); and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nor drank. In his anger he had met the first advances of the express messengers with growls (he had answered the first friendly moves of the delivery men with angry noises), and they had retaliated by teasing him (and they had paid him back by tormenting him). When he flung himself against the bars, quivering and frothing (when he threw himself at the bars, shaking and with foam at his mouth), they laughed at him and taunted him (they laughed at him and mocked him to make it worse). They growled and barked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flapped their arms and crowed (they growled and barked like hateful dogs, made cat noises, flapped their arms and crowed like cocks). It was all very silly, he knew; but therefore the more outrage to his dignity (and for that very reason it insulted his dignity all the more), and his anger waxed and waxed (and his anger grew and grew). He did not mind the hunger so much, but the lack of water caused him severe suffering and fanned his wrath to fever-pitch (and blew his rage up to a burning heat). For that matter, high-strung and finely sensitive (being highly strung and finely made), the ill treatment had flung him into a fever, which was fed by the inflammation of his parched and swollen throat and tongue (which was fed by the burning of his dried-out, swollen throat and tongue).

He was glad for one thing (he was glad about one thing): the rope was off his neck. That had given them an unfair advantage (that had given them an unfair edge); but now that it was off, he would show them (but now it was off he would show them). They would never get another rope around his neck (they would never get another rope round his neck). Upon that he was resolved (on that he had made up his mind). For two days and nights he neither ate nor drank, and during those two days and nights of torment (in those two days and nights of suffering), he accumulated a fund of wrath that boded ill for whoever first fell foul of him (he built up a store of rage that meant trouble for the first man who crossed him). His eyes turned blood-shot (his eyes turned red with blood), and he was metamorphosed into a raging fiend (he was changed into a raging devil). So changed was he that the Judge himself would not have recognized him (he was so changed that the Judge himself would not have known him); and the express messengers breathed with relief when they bundled him off the train at Seattle (the delivery men breathed out in relief when they pushed him off the train at Seattle).

Four men gingerly carried the crate (four men carried the box very carefully) from the wagon into a small, high-walled back yard. A stout man, with a red sweater that sagged generously at the neck (a heavy man in a red knitted top that hung loose and low at the neck), came out and signed the book for the driver (signed the delivery book for the driver). That was the man, Buck divined, the next tormentor (that was the man, Buck guessed, the next one to hurt him), and he hurled himself savagely against the bars (he threw himself wildly against the bars). The man smiled grimly, and brought a hatchet and a club (the man smiled without warmth and fetched a small axe and a heavy stick).

“You ain’t going to take him out now?” the driver asked.

“Sure,” the man replied, driving the hatchet into the crate for a pry (driving the axe into the box to lever it open).

There was an instantaneous scattering of the four men (the four men scattered instantly) who had carried it in, and from safe perches on top the wall they prepared to watch the performance (and from safe seats on top of the wall they settled down to watch the show).

Buck rushed at the splintering wood (Buck flew at the wood as it broke into sharp pieces), sinking his teeth into it, surging and wrestling with it (heaving at it and fighting it). Wherever the hatchet fell on the outside (wherever the small axe struck on the outside), he was there on the inside, snarling and growling (he was there on the inside, showing his teeth and growling), as furiously anxious to get out as the man in the red sweater was calmly intent on getting him out (as wildly desperate to get out as the man in the red top was calmly determined to get him out).

“Now, you red-eyed devil,” he said, when he had made an opening sufficient for the passage of Buck’s body (when he had made a hole big enough for Buck's body to pass through). At the same time he dropped the hatchet (he dropped the axe) and shifted the club to his right hand (moved the heavy stick into his right hand).

And Buck was truly a red-eyed devil, as he drew himself together for the spring (as he gathered himself to leap), hair bristling, mouth foaming, a mad glitter in his blood-shot eyes (his hair standing up, his mouth foaming, a mad shine in his red-veined eyes). Straight at the man he launched his one hundred and forty pounds of fury, surcharged with the pent passion of two days and nights (loaded to bursting with two days and nights of feeling shut in). In mid air, just as his jaws were about to close on the man, he received a shock that checked his body (a blow struck him that stopped his body dead) and brought his teeth together with an agonizing clip (and snapped his teeth shut with a jarring pain). He whirled over, fetching the ground on his back and side (he spun over and hit 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 that was part bark and more scream (with a snarl that was part bark and more of a scream) he was again on his feet and launched into the air. And again the shock came and he was brought crushingly to the ground. This time he was aware that it was the club, but his madness knew no caution (but his madness took no care). A dozen times he charged, and as often the club broke the charge and smashed him down (and just as many times the stick stopped the charge and smashed him down).

After a particularly fierce blow, he crawled to his feet, too dazed to rush (after one especially savage blow he crawled up onto his feet, too stunned to charge). He staggered limply about (he moved about unsteadily, with no strength in him), the blood flowing from nose and mouth and ears, his beautiful coat sprayed and flecked with bloody slaver (his beautiful fur splashed and spotted with bloody spit). Then the man advanced and deliberately dealt him a frightful blow on the nose (and on purpose struck him a terrible blow on the nose). All the pain he had endured was as nothing compared with the exquisite agony of this (was nothing beside the sharp perfection of this pain). With a roar that was almost lionlike in its ferocity (with a roar almost like a lion's for savagery), he again hurled himself at the man (he threw himself at the man again). But the man, shifting the club from right to left, coolly caught him by the under jaw (calmly caught him by the lower jaw), at the same time wrenching downward and backward (twisting hard downward and backward at the same time). Buck described a complete circle in the air, and half of another (Buck turned a full circle in the air, and half of another), then crashed to the ground on his head and chest.

For the last time he rushed. The man struck the shrewd blow he had purposely withheld for so long (the man landed the well-judged blow he had held back on purpose all this time), and Buck crumpled up and went down, knocked utterly senseless (Buck folded up and went down, knocked completely unconscious).

“He’s no slouch at dog-breakin’ (he is no fool at breaking dogs in), that’s wot I say (that is what I say),” one of the men on the wall cried enthusiastically.

“Druther break cayuses any day, and twice on Sundays (I would rather break in wild ponies any day, and twice on Sundays),” was the reply of the driver, as he climbed on the wagon and started the horses (was the driver's answer, as he climbed onto the cart and set the horses going).

Buck’s senses came back to him, but not his strength (Buck's senses came back but his strength did not). He lay where he had fallen (he lay where he had fallen), and from there he watched the man in the red sweater (and from there he watched the man in the red top).

“‘Answers to the name of Buck,’” the man soliloquized, quoting from the saloon-keeper’s letter (the man said to himself, reading from the bar owner's letter) which had announced the consignment of the crate and contents (which had told him the box and what was in it were being sent). “Well, Buck, my boy,” he went on in a genial voice (he went on in a warm, friendly voice), “we’ve had our little ruction (we have had our little quarrel), and the best thing we can do is to let it go at that. You’ve learned your place, and I know mine. Be a good dog and all ’ll go well and the goose hang high (all will go well and life will be good). Be a bad dog, and I’ll whale the stuffin’ outa you (I shall beat the insides out of you). Understand?”

As he spoke he fearlessly patted the head he had so mercilessly pounded (he patted, without fear, the head he had beaten without any mercy), and though Buck’s hair involuntarily bristled at touch of the hand (and though Buck's hair rose by itself at the touch of the hand), he endured it without protest (he put up with it without objecting). When the man brought him water he drank eagerly, and later bolted a generous meal of raw meat (and later swallowed a big meal of raw meat fast), chunk by chunk, from the man’s hand.

He was beaten (he knew that); but he was not broken (his spirit was not broken). He saw, once for all, that he stood no chance against a man with a club. He had learned the lesson, and in all his after life he never forgot it. That club was a revelation (that heavy stick opened his eyes). It was his introduction to the reign of primitive law (it was how he was let into the rule of the oldest, rawest law), and he met the introduction halfway (and he met that lesson halfway). The facts of life took on a fiercer aspect (the facts of life took on a harsher look); and while he faced that aspect uncowed (and while he faced it unfrightened), he faced it with all the latent cunning of his nature aroused (he faced it with all the hidden cleverness in him woken up). As the days went by, other dogs came, in crates and at the ends of ropes, some docilely, and some raging and roaring as he had come (some quiet and obedient, some raging and roaring as he had); and, one and all, he watched them pass under the dominion of the man in the red sweater (he watched every one of them come under the rule of the man in the red top). Again and again, as he looked at each brutal performance, the lesson was driven home to Buck: a man with a club was a lawgiver, a master to be obeyed, though not necessarily conciliated (a man with a heavy stick was a maker of laws, a master to be obeyed, though not necessarily made friends with). Of this last Buck was never guilty (Buck was never guilty of that last thing), though he did see beaten dogs that fawned upon the man (beaten dogs that crawled and flattered the man), and wagged their tails, and licked his hand (swung their tails and licked his hand). Also he saw one dog, that would neither conciliate nor obey, finally killed in the struggle for mastery (one dog which would neither make friends nor obey, and was killed in the end in the fight over who was master).

Now and again men came, strangers (now and then men came, strangers), who talked excitedly, wheedlingly, and in all kinds of fashions (who talked excitedly, and sweetly to win him round, and in every other manner) to the man in the red sweater. And at such times that money passed between them (and whenever money changed hands between them) the strangers took one or more of the dogs away with them (the strangers took one or more of the dogs away). Buck wondered where they went, for they never came back (Buck wondered where they went, because they never came back); but the fear of the future was strong upon him (fear of what was to come lay heavy on him), and he was glad each time when he was not selected (and each time he was glad not to be picked).

Yet his time came, in the end, in the form of a little weazened man (in the shape of a small dried-up man) who spat broken English and many strange and uncouth exclamations (who spat out broken English and many strange, rough cries) which Buck could not understand.

“Sacredam!” he cried, when his eyes lit upon Buck. “Dat one dam bully dog! Eh? How moch? (that is one damned fine dog, eh? How much?)”

“Three hundred, and a present at that (three hundred, and that is giving him away),” was the prompt reply of the man in the red sweater. “And seem’ it’s government money, you ain’t got no kick coming (seeing it is the government's money, you have nothing to complain about), eh, Perrault?”

Perrault grinned. Considering that the price of dogs had been boomed skyward (Perrault smiled wide; seeing that the price of dogs had been pushed sky-high) by the unwonted demand (seeing that the price of dogs had been pushed sky-high by a demand nobody had seen before), it was not an unfair sum for so fine an animal (it was not an unfair price for so fine an animal). The Canadian Government would be no loser, nor would its despatches travel the slower (the Canadian government would lose nothing by it, and its official messages would travel no slower). Perrault knew dogs (Perrault understood dogs), and when he looked at Buck he knew that he was one in a thousand (and when he looked at Buck he knew he was one in a thousand)—“One in ten t’ousand,” he commented mentally (he remarked to himself) (one in ten thousand, he said inside his head, in his French accent).

Buck saw money pass between them, and was not surprised when Curly, a good-natured Newfoundland (Curly, a good-tempered Newfoundland, a big black water dog), and he were led away by the little weazened man (led off by the small dried-up man). That was the last he saw of the man in the red sweater, and as Curly and he looked at receding Seattle from the deck of the Narwhal (as he and Curly watched Seattle shrink behind them from the deck of the Narwhal), it was the last he saw of the warm Southland (it was the last he saw of the warm south). Curly and he were taken below by Perrault and turned over to a black-faced giant called François (and handed over to a dark-faced giant called Francois). Perrault was a French-Canadian, and swarthy (Perrault was a French Canadian, and dark-skinned); but François was a French-Canadian half-breed, and twice as swarthy (Francois was a French Canadian of mixed parents, and twice as dark). They were a new kind of men to Buck (of which he was destined to see many more (and he was bound to see many more of them)), and while he developed no affection for them (and though he never grew fond of them), he none the less grew honestly to respect them. He speedily learned that Perrault and François were fair men (he quickly learned that Perrault and Francois were fair men), calm and impartial in administering justice (calm and even-handed in giving out punishment), and too wise in the way of dogs to be fooled by dogs (and too knowing about dogs to be fooled by one).

In the ’tween-decks of the Narwhal (in the space between decks on the Narwhal), Buck and Curly joined two other dogs. One of them was a big, snow-white fellow from Spitzbergen (a big snow-white one from Spitzbergen, a group of islands in the Arctic) who had been brought away by a whaling captain, and who had later accompanied a Geological Survey into the Barrens (and had later gone with a rock-surveying party into the empty northern lands). He was friendly, in a treacherous sort of way (he was friendly, in a way you could not trust), smiling into one’s face the while he meditated some underhand trick (smiling into your face while he planned some sly trick), as, for instance, when he stole from Buck’s food at the first meal. As Buck sprang to punish him (as Buck leapt to punish him), the lash of François’s whip sang through the air, reaching the culprit first (the end of Francois's whip sang through the air and got to the guilty one first); and nothing remained to Buck but to recover the bone. That was fair of François, he decided, and the half-breed began his rise in Buck’s estimation (and the man began to go up in Buck's opinion).

The other dog made no advances, nor received any (the other dog made no friendly moves and got none); also, he did not attempt to steal from the newcomers (and he made no attempt to steal from the new arrivals). He was a gloomy, morose fellow (he was a dark, sour-tempered animal), and he showed Curly plainly that all he desired was to be left alone (he showed Curly clearly that all he wanted was to be left alone), and further, that there would be trouble if he were not left alone (and further, that there would be trouble if he was not). “Dave” he was called, and he ate and slept, or yawned between times (Dave he was called, and he ate and slept, or opened his mouth wide with boredom in between), and took interest in nothing (took an interest in nothing), not even when the Narwhal crossed Queen Charlotte Sound (when the Narwhal crossed Queen Charlotte Sound, a stretch of rough water off western Canada) and rolled and pitched and bucked like a thing possessed (rolled and tipped and jumped like something with a devil in it). When Buck and Curly grew excited, half wild with fear (when Buck and Curly got worked up, half mad with fear), he raised his head as though annoyed (he lifted his head as if irritated), favored them with an incurious glance (gave them one uninterested look), yawned, and went to sleep again (stretched his mouth open in boredom, and went back to sleep).

Day and night the ship throbbed to the tireless pulse of the propeller (the ship beat with the never-tiring pulse of the screw that drove it), and though one day was very like another (although one day was much like another), it was apparent to Buck that the weather was steadily growing colder (it was plain to Buck that the weather kept getting colder). At last, one morning, the propeller was quiet (at last, one morning, the screw that drove the ship went silent), and the Narwhal was pervaded with an atmosphere of excitement (the whole Narwhal was filled with a feeling of excitement). He felt it, as did the other dogs, and knew that a change was at hand (and knew a change was close). François leashed them and brought them on deck (Francois put them on ropes and brought them up on deck). At the first step upon the cold surface (at his first step onto that cold surface), Buck’s feet sank into a white mushy something very like mud (a soft white something very like mud). He sprang back with a snort (he jumped back, blowing air out of his nose). More of this white stuff was falling through the air (more of this white stuff was coming down through the air). He shook himself, but more of it fell upon him (he shook himself, and more of it fell on him). He sniffed it curiously, then licked some up on his tongue (he smelled at it, curious, then licked some up onto his tongue). It bit like fire, and the next instant was gone (it bit like fire, and the next moment it was gone). This puzzled him. He tried it again, with the same result (this puzzled him; he tried again with the same result). The onlookers laughed uproariously (the people watching roared with laughter), and he felt ashamed, he knew not why (he felt ashamed, though he did not know why), for it was his first snow.