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1There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living,
2this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy,
3this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the
4soldier, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old
5wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight. He was
6sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of
7Time. He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle,
8joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in
9movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move. But Spitz, cold and
10calculating even in his supreme moods, left the pack and cut across a narrow neck of land where the creek made a long
11bend around. Buck did not know of this, and as he rounded the bend, the frost wraith of a rabbit still flitting before
12him, he saw another and larger frost wraith leap from the overhanging bank into the immediate path of the rabbit. It was
13Spitz. The rabbit could not turn, and as the white teeth broke its back in mid air it shrieked as loudly as a stricken
14man may shriek. At sound of this, the cry of Life plunging down from Life's apex in the grip of Death, the full pack at
15Buck's heels raised a hell's chorus of delight. Buck did not cry out. He did not check himself, but drove in upon Spitz,
16shoulder to shoulder, so hard that he missed the throat. They rolled over and over in the powdery snow. Spitz gained his
17feet almost as though he had not been overthrown, slashing Buck down the shoulder and leaping clear. Twice his teeth
18clipped together, like the steel jaws of a trap, as he backed away for better footing, with lean and lifting lips that
19writhed and snarled. In a flash Buck knew it. The time had come. It was to the death. As they circled about, snarling,
20ears laid back, keenly watchful for the advantage, the scene came to Buck with a sense of familiarity. He seemed to
21remember it all,--the white woods, and earth, and moonlight, and the thrill of battle. Over the whiteness and silence
22brooded a ghostly calm. There was not the faintest whisper of air--nothing moved, not a leaf quivered, the visible
23breaths of the dogs rising slowly and lingering in the frosty air. They had made short work of the snowshoe rabbit,
24these dogs that were ill-tamed wolves; and they were now drawn up in an expectant circle. They, too, were silent, their
25eyes only gleaming and their breaths drifting slowly upward. To Buck it was nothing new or strange, this scene of old
26time. It was as though it had always been, the wonted way of things. Spitz was a practised fighter. From Spitzbergen
27through the Arctic, and across Canada and the Barrens, he had held his own with all manner of dogs and achieved to
28mastery over them. Bitter rage was his, but never blind rage. In passion to rend and destroy, he never forgot that his
29enemy was in like passion to rend and destroy. He never rushed till he was prepared to receive a rush; never attacked
30till he had first defended that attack. In vain Buck strove to sink his teeth in the neck of the big white dog. Wherever
31his fangs struck for the softer flesh, they were countered by the fangs of Spitz. Fang clashed fang, and lips were cut
32and bleeding, but Buck could not penetrate his enemy's guard. Then he warmed up and enveloped Spitz in a whirlwind of
33rushes. Time and time again he tried for the snow-white throat, where life bubbled near to the surface, and each time
34and every time Spitz slashed him and got away. Then Buck took to rushing, as though for the throat, when, suddenly
35drawing back his head and curving in from the side, he would drive his shoulder at the shoulder of Spitz, as a ram by
36which to overthrow him. But instead, Buck's shoulder was slashed down each time as Spitz leaped lightly away. Spitz was
37untouched, while Buck was streaming with blood and panting hard. The fight was growing desperate. And all the while the
38silent and wolfish circle waited to finish off whichever dog went down. As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and
39he kept him staggering for footing. Once Buck went over, and the whole circle of sixty dogs started up; but he recovered
40himself, almost in mid air, and the circle sank down again and waited. But Buck possessed a quality that made for
41greatness--imagination. He fought by instinct, but he could fight by head as well. He rushed, as though attempting the
42old shoulder trick, but at the last instant swept low to the snow and in. His teeth closed on Spitz's left fore leg.
43There was a crunch of breaking bone, and the white dog faced him on three legs. Thrice he tried to knock him over, then
44repeated the trick and broke the right fore leg. Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggled madly to keep up. He
45saw the silent circle, with gleaming eyes, lolling tongues, and silvery breaths drifting upward, closing in upon him as
46he had seen similar circles close in upon beaten antagonists in the past. Only this time he was the one who was beaten.
47There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable. Mercy was a thing reserved for gentler climes. He manœuvred for the
48final rush. The circle had tightened till he could feel the breaths of the huskies on his flanks. He could see them,
49beyond Spitz and to either side, half crouching for the spring, their eyes fixed upon him. A pause seemed to fall. Every
50animal was motionless as though turned to stone. Only Spitz quivered and bristled as he staggered back and forth,
51snarling with horrible menace, as though to frighten off impending death. Then Buck sprang in and out; but while he was
52in, shoulder had at last squarely met shoulder. The dark circle became a dot on the moon-flooded snow as Spitz
53disappeared from view. Buck stood and looked on, the successful champion, the dominant primordial beast who had made his
54kill and found it good. Chapter IV. Who Has Won to Mastership "Eh? Wot I say? I spik true w'en I say dat Buck two
55devils." This was François's speech next morning when he discovered Spitz missing and Buck covered with wounds. He drew
56him to the fire and by its light pointed them out. "Dat Spitz fight lak hell," said Perrault, as he surveyed the gaping
57rips and cuts. "An' dat Buck fight lak two hells," was François's answer. "An' now we make good time. No more Spitz, no
58more trouble, sure." While Perrault packed the camp outfit and loaded the sled, the dog-driver proceeded to harness the
59dogs. Buck trotted up to the place Spitz would have occupied as leader; but François, not noticing him, brought Sol-leks
60to the coveted position. In his judgment, Sol-leks was the best lead-dog left. Buck sprang upon Sol-leks in a fury,
61driving him back and standing in his place. "Eh? eh?" François cried, slapping his thighs gleefully. "Look at dat Buck.
62Heem keel dat Spitz, heem t'ink to take de job." "Go 'way, Chook!" he cried, but Buck refused to budge. He took Buck by
63the scruff of the neck, and though the dog growled threateningly, dragged him to one side and replaced Sol-leks. The old
64dog did not like it, and showed plainly that he was afraid of Buck. François was obdurate, but when he turned his back
65Buck again displaced Sol-leks, who was not at all unwilling to go. François was angry. "Now, by Gar, I feex you!" he
66cried, coming back with a heavy club in his hand.
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