"Won't he run away?" his new owner asked.
Matt shrugged his shoulders. "Got to take a gamble. Only way to findout is to find out.""Poor devil," Scott murmured pityingly. "What he needs is some showof human kindness," he added, turning and going into the cabin.
He came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to White Fang. Hesprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously.
"Hi-yu, Major!" Matt shouted warningly, but too late.
Major had made a spring for the meat. At the instant his jaws closed onit, White Fang struck him. He was overthrown. Matt rushed in, but quickerthan he was White Fang. Major staggered to his feet, but the bloodspouting from his throat reddened the snow in a widening path.
"It's too bad, but it served him right," Scott said hastily.
But Matt's foot had already started on its way to kick White Fang.
There was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. White Fang,snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, while Mattstooped and investigated his leg.
"He got me all right," he announced, pointing to the torn trousers andundercloths, and the growing stain of red.
"I told you it was hopeless, Matt," Scott said in a discouraged voice.
"I've thought about it off and on, while not wanting to think of it. Butwe've come to it now. It's the only thing to do."As he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threwopen the cylinder, and assured himself of its 2010 Wedding Dresses.
"Look here, Mr. Scott," Matt objected; "that dog's ben through hell.
You can't expect 'm to come out a white an' shinin' angel. Give 'm time.""Look at Major," the other rejoined.
The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. He had sunk down on thesnow in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp.
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