Белый клык / White Fang

“One Ear, the damned dog! Just because he couldn’t free himself, he freed Spanker.”

“Well, Spanker’s troubles are over anyway; I guess he’s digested by this time,” was Henry’s epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. “Have some coffee, Bill.”

“No. I said I wouldn’t drink it if any dog is missing, and I won’t.”

And he ate a dry breakfast with curses at One Ear for the trick he had played.

“I’ll tie them up out of reach of each other tonight,” Bill said, as they started off again.

They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, who was in front, picked up something from the ground.

“Maybe you’ll need that,” he said.

It was all that was left of Spanker – the stick with which he had been tied.

“They ate him all,” Bill announced. “They’re damn hungry, Henry. I’m not feeling special enthusiastic.”

“You’re unwell, that’s what’s the matter with you,” Henry dogmatised.

Bill disagreed with the diagnosis, and didn’t say anything.

The day was like all the days. It was just after the sun’s attempt to appear, that Bill took the rifle and said:

“You go on, Henry, but I’m going to see what I can see.”

“You’d better go after the sled. You’ve only got three cartridges, and nobody knows what might happen.”

“Who’s croaking now?”[8 - Who’s croaking now? – Расквакался!]

Henry said nothing, and toiled on alone, though often he looked back.

“I’ve seen some of them. They’re very thin. They hadn’t had food for weeks, I think, save the meat of Fatty and Frog and Spanker. They’ll be going mad, yet, and then watch out.”

A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, gave a warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then stopped the dogs.

“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill said.

The animal trotted forward a few steps, and then, after a pause, a few more steps, and then a few more. It looked at them in a strangely wistful way, like a dog; but there was none of the dog’s affection. It was hungry and cruel.

It was large for a wolf and had a true wolf-coat.