He wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfactionthe various gods he had known before the long journey. Then there werethe dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that did notlook so large and formidable as the memory pictures he retained of them.
Also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, stalking among themwith a certain careless ease that was as new to him as it was enjoyable.
There was Baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days hadbut to uncover his fangs to send White Fang cringing and crouching to theright about. From him White Fang had learned much of his owninsignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change anddevelopment that had taken place in himself. While Baseek had beengrowing weaker with age, White Fang had been growing stronger withyouth.
It was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that White Fanglearned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog- world. Hehad got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which quite a bit ofmeat was attached. Withdrawn from the immediate scramble of the otherdogs - in fact out of sight behind a thicket - he was devouring his prize,when Baseek rushed in upon him. Before he knew what he was doing, hehad slashed the intruder twice and sprung clear. Baseek was surprised bythe other's temerity and swiftness of attack. He stood, gazing stupidlyacross at White Fang, the raw, red shin-bone between them.
Baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasingvalour of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. Bitter experiences these,which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to cope withthem. In the old days he would have sprung upon White Fang in a fury ofrighteous wrath. But now his waning powers would not permit such acourse. He bristled fiercely and looked ominously across the shin-bone atWhite Fang. And White Fang, resurrecting quite a deal of the old awe,seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself and grow small, as he castabout in his mind for a way to beat a retreat not too inglorious.
And right here Baseek erred. Had he contented himself with lookingfierce and ominous, all would have been well. White Fang, on the verge ofretreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. But Baseek did notwait. He considered the victory already his and stepped forward to themeat. As he bent his head carelessly to smell it, White Fang bristledslightly. Even then it was not too late for Baseek to retrieve the situation.
Had he merely stood over the meat, head up and glowering, White Fangwould ultimately have slunk away. But the fresh meat was strong inBaseek's nostrils, and greed urged him to take a bite of it.
This was too much for White Fang. Fresh upon his months of masteryover his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand idly bywhile another devoured the meat that belonged to him. He struck, after his sweetheart wedding dresses, without warning. With the first slash, Baseek's right ear wasripped into ribbons. He was astounded at the suddenness of it. But morethings, and most grievous ones, were happening with equal suddenness.