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he cried, when he saw Buck. “That one bully dog! Eh? How much?”

      “Three hundred,” answered the man in the red sweater. “And as it’s government money, you can spend it safely, eh, Perrault?”

      Perrault smiled. Considering that the price of dogs had been raised high by the demand, it was not an unfair sum for so fine an animal. The Canadian Government would be no loser. Perrault knew dogs, and when he looked at Buck he knew that he was one in ten thousands.

      Buck saw money pass between them, and was not surprised when Curly, a good-natured Newfoundland,[10] and he were led away by the little wizened man. That was the last he saw of[11] the man in the red sweater. And as Curly and he looked at Seattle from the deck of the ship, it was the last he saw of the warm Southland. Curly and he were taken below by Perrault and given to a black-faced giant called Francois. Perrault was a French-Canadian, and swarthy; but Francois was a French-Canadian half-breed, and twice as swarthy. They were a new kind of men to Buck, and, though he had no affection for them, he honestly respected them. He quickly learnt that Perrault and Francois were fair men, calm and objective, and too wise to be fooled by dogs.

      On the ship, Buck and Curly joined two other dogs. One of them was a big, snow-white fellow from Spitzbergen who had been brought away by a whaling captain,[12] and who had later accompanied a Geological Survey into the Barrens. He was friendly, in a treacherous sort of way, smiling into one’s face the while he planned some trick. The other dog showed plainly that all he desired was to be left alone,[13] and further, that there would be trouble if he were not left alone. “Dave” he was called, and he ate and slept, and took interest in nothing, not even when the ship was caught in a storm. When Buck and Curly were half wild with fear, he raised his head as though annoyed, looked at them, yawned, and went to sleep again.

      Though one day was very like another, it was clear that the weather was slowly becoming colder. At last, one morning, there was the atmosphere of excitement on the ship. Francois brought them on deck. At the first step upon the cold surface, Buck’s feet sank into a white something very like mud. He sprang back with a snort. More of this white thing was falling through the air. He shook himself, but more of it fell upon him. He sniffed it curiously, then licked it with his tongue. It bit like fire, and the next instant was gone. This puzzled him. He tried it again, with the same result. Those who looked laughed loudly, and he felt ashamed, he knew not why, for it was his first snow.

      Chapter II. The Law of Club and Fang

      Buck’s first day on the Dyea beach was like a nightmare. Every hour was filled with shock. He had been suddenly taken from the heart of civilization and thrown into the heart of primordial things. Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment’s safety, for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men. They were cruel, all of them, and knew no law but the law of club and fang.

      He had never seen dogs fight as these wolfish creatures fought, and his first experience taught him an unforgettable lesson. It was not he but Curly who was the victim. She, in her friendly way, approached a husky dog, big, though not half so large as she. There was no warning, only a leap, a metallic clip of teeth, and Curly’s face was ripped open[14] from eye to jaw.

      It was the wolf manner of fighting, to strike and leap away. Thirty or forty huskies surrounded the fighters. Buck did not understand that, nor the eager way with which they were licking their chops.[15] Curly rushed at her antagonist, who struck again and leaped aside. He met her next rush with his chest, which threw her off her feet. She never stood up again. This was what the huskies had waited for. They closed in upon her,[16] snarling and yelping, and she was buried, screaming with agony, beneath the mass of bodies.

      Buck was shocked. He saw Spitz run out his scarlet tongue as if laughing; and he saw Francois, with an axe, spring into the mess of dogs. Three men with clubs were helping him. Two minutes from the time Curly went down, all dogs were clubbed off. But she lay there lifeless in the bloody snow, practically torn to pieces, the swarthy half-breed standing over her and cursing horribly. The scene often came back to Buck to trouble him in his sleep. So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you. Well, he would see to it[17] that he never went down. Spitz ran out his tongue and laughed again, and from that moment Buck hated him.

      Before he had recovered from the shock, he received another one. Francois fastened upon him a harness, such as he had seen people put on the horses at home. So he was set to work. He was hurt by being made a draught animal,[18] but he was too wise to protest. He did his best, though it was all new and strange. Francois demanded instant obedience – and with his whip received instant obedience. Buck learnt easily, and under the combined tuition of Dave and Spitz – experienced sled-dogs and cruel teachers – and Francois made remarkable progress. Soon he knew enough to stop at “ho,” to go ahead at “mush,” to turn and to keep clear when the sled went downhill.

      By afternoon, Perrault, who was in a hurry to be on the trail with his despatches, returned with two more dogs. “Billee” and “Joe” he called them, two brothers, and true huskies both. But they were as different as day and night. Billee’s one fault was his good nature, while Joe was the very opposite. Buck met them in friendly fashion, Dave ignored them, while Spitz fought with both of them.

      By evening Perrault brought another dog, an old husky, long and thin, with scars on his face and a single eye. He was called Solleks, which means the Angry One. Like Dave, he asked nothing, gave nothing, expected nothing; and even Spitz left him alone. He did not like to be approached on his blind side. When it happened, Solleks rushed upon Buck and slashed his shoulder to the bone. Forever after Buck avoided his blind side, and to the last of their comradeship had no more trouble. His only seeming ambition, like Dave’s, was to be left alone; though, as Buck was later to learn, each of them had one other and more vital ambition.

      That night Buck faced the great problem of sleeping. When he, naturally, entered the tent, Perrault and Francois threw him out. A chill wind was blowing outside. He lay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, but it was too cold. Miserable, he walked about among the tents. Here and there dogs rushed upon him, but he bristled his neck-hair and snarled (for he was learning fast), and they let him go his way.

      Finally an idea came to him. He would return and see how his own team-mates were doing it. To his astonishment, they had disappeared. If they were not in the tent, where could they possibly be? Suddenly the snow sank beneath his legs. Something moved there. He sprang back, bristling and snarling, fearful of the unseen and unknown. But a friendly little yelp came to him, and he went back. A portion of warm air got to his nose, and there, curled up under the snow, lay Billee. He whined in a friendly way and even dared to lick Buck’s face with his warm wet tongue.

      Another lesson. So that was the way they did it? Buck chose a place, and with much waste effort dug a hole for himself. The heat from his body filled the space under the snow, and he fell asleep. The day had been long and nervous, and he slept soundly, though he growled and barked and had bad dreams.

      In the morning, at first he did not know where he was. It had snowed during the night and he was completely buried. He felt the fear of the wild animal for the trap. It was a sign that he was going back to the lives of his ancestors; for he was a civilized dog, and of his own experience knew no trap and so could not himself fear it. His muscles worked spasmodically and instinctively, and with a awful snarl he jumped straight up. Before he landed on his feet, he saw the camp before him and knew where he was and remembered everything from the time he went for a walk with Manuel to the hole he had dug for himself the night before.

      A shout from Francois greeted his appearance. “What I say? That Buck learns quickly.”

      Perrault nodded. As a courier for the Canadian Government, bearing important despatches, he was anxious to have the best dogs, and he was

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