For the Love of a ManWhen John Thornton froze his feet in the previous December hispartners had made him comfortable and left him to get well, going onthemselves up the river to get out a raft of saw-logs for Dawson. Hewas still limping slightly at the time he rescued Buck, but with thecontinued warm weather even the slight limp left him. And here, lyingby the river bank through the long spring days, watching the runningwater, listening lazily to the songs of birds and the hum of nature, Buckslowly won back his strength.
A rest comes very good after one has travelled three thousand miles,and it must be confessed that Buck waxed lazy as his wounds healed, hismuscles swelled out, and the flesh came back to cover his bones. Forthat matter, they were all loafing,--Buck, John Thornton, and Skeet andNig,--waiting for the raft to come that was to carry them down toDawson. Skeet was a little Irish setter who early made friends withBuck, who, in a dying condition, was unable to resent her first advances.
She had the doctor trait which some dogs possess; and as a mother catwashes her kittens, so she washed and cleansed Buck's wounds.
Regularly, each morning after he had finished his breakfast, sheperformed her self- appointed task, till he came to look for herministrations as much as he did for Thornton's. Nig, equally friendly,though less demonstrative, was a huge black dog, half bloodhound andhalf deerhound, with eyes that laughed and a boundless good nature.
To Buck's surprise these dogs manifested no jealousy toward him.
They seemed to share the kindliness and largeness of John Thornton.
As Buck grew stronger they enticed him into all sorts of ridiculousgames, in which Thornton himself could not forbear to join; and in thisfashion Buck romped through his convalescence and into a newexistence. Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time.
This he had never experienced at Judge Miller's down in the sun-kissedSanta Clara Valley. With the Judge's sons, hunting and tramping, it hadbeen a working partnership; with the Judge's grandsons, a sort ofpompous guardianship; and with the Judge himself, a stately anddignified friendship. But love that was feverish and burning, that wasadoration, that was madness, it had taken John Thornton to arouse.
This man had saved his life, which was something; but, further, hewas the ideal master. Other men saw to the welfare of their dogs froma sense of duty and business expediency; he saw to the welfare of his asif they were his own children, because he could not help it. And he sawfurther. He never forgot a kindly greeting or a cheering word, and to sitdown for a long talk with them ("gas" he called it) was as much hisdelight as theirs. He had a way of taking Buck's head roughly betweenhis hands, and resting his own head upon Buck's, of shaking him backand forth, the while calling him ill names that to Buck were love names.
Buck knew no greater joy than that rough embrace and the sound ofmurmured oaths, and at each jerk back and forth it seemed that his heartwould be shaken out of his body so great was its ecstasy. And when,released, he sprang to his feet, his mouth laughing, his eyes eloquent, histhroat vibrant with unuttered sound, and in that fashion remainedwithout movement, John Thornton would reverently exclaim, "God! you can all but speak!"Buck had a trick of love expression that was akin to hurt. He wouldoften seize Thornton's hand in his mouth and close so fiercely that theflesh bore the impress of his teeth for some time afterward. And asBuck understood the oaths to be love words, so the man understood thisfeigned bite for a caress.
For the most part, however, Buck's love was expressed in adoration.
While he went wild with happiness when Thornton touched him orspoke to him, he did not seek these tokens. Unlike Skeet, who waswont to shove her nose under Thornton's hand and nudge and nudge tillpetted, or Nig, who would stalk up and rest his great head on Thornton'sknee, Buck was content to adore at a distance. He would lie by thehour, eager, alert, at Thornton's feet, looking up into his face, dwellingupon it, studying it, following with keenest interest each fleetingexpression, every movement or change of feature. Or, as chance mighthave it, he would lie farther away, to the side or rear, watching theoutlines of the man and the occasional movements of his body. Andoften, such was the communion in which they lived, the strength ofBuck's gaze would draw John Thornton's head around, and he wouldreturn the gaze, without speech, his heart shining out of his eyes asBuck's heart shone out.
For a long time after his rescue, Buck did not like Thornton to getout of his sight. From the moment he left the tent to when he entered itagain, Buck would follow at his heels. His transient masters since he hadcome into the Northland had bred in him a fear that no master could bepermanent. He was afraid that Thornton would pass out of his life asPerrault and Francois and the Scotch half-breed had passed out. Evenin the night, in his dreams, he was haunted by this fear. At such timeshe would shake off sleep and creep through the chill to the flap of thetent, where he would stand and listen to the sound of his master's breathing.
But in spite of this great love he bore John Thornton, which seemedto bespeak the soft civilizing influence, the strain of the primitive, whichthe Northland had aroused in him, remained alive and active.
Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof, were his; yet heretained his wildness and wiliness. He was a thing of the wild, come infrom the wild to sit by John Thornton's fire, rather than a dog of the softSouthland stamped with the marks of generations of civilization.
Because of his very great love, he could not steal from this man, butfrom any other man, in any other camp, he did not hesitate an instant;while the cunning with which he stole enabled him to escape detection.
His face and body were scored by the teeth of many dogs, and hefought as fiercely as ever and more shrewdly. Skeet and Nig were toogood-natured for quarrelling,--besides, they belonged to John Thornton;but the strange dog, no matter what the breed or valor, swiftlyacknowledged Buck's supremacy or found himself struggling for lifewith a terrible antagonist. And Buck was merciless. He had learnedwell the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage ordrew back from a foe he had started on the way to Death. He hadlessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police andmail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or bemastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. Mercy did not exist inthe primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and suchmisunderstandings made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten,was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time, he obeyed.
He was older than the days he had seen and the breaths he had drawn.
He linked the past with the present, and the eternity behind him throbbedthrough him in a mighty rhythm to which he swayed as the tides andseasons swayed. He sat by John Thornton's fire, a broad-breasted dog,white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him were the shades of allmanner of dogs, half-wolves and wild wolves, urgent and prompting,tasting the savor of the meat he ate, thirsting for the water he drank,scenting the wind with him, listening with him and telling him thesounds made by the wild life in the forest, dictating his moods, directinghis actions, lying down to sleep with him when he lay down, anddreaming with him and beyond him and becoming themselves the stuffof his dreams.
So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankindand the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest acall was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriouslythrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire andthe beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on,he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the callsounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained thesoft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for John Thorntondrew him back to the fire again.
Thornton alone held him. The rest of mankind was as nothing.
Chance travellers might praise or pet him; but he was cold under it all,and from a too demonstrative man he would get up and walk away.
When Thornton's partners, Hans and Pete, arrived on the long-expectedraft, Buck refused to notice them till he learned they were close toThornton; after that he tolerated them in a passive sort of way, acceptingfavors from them as though he favored them by accepting. They wereof the same large type as Thornton, living close to the earth, thinkingsimply and seeing clearly; and ere they swung the raft into the big eddyby the saw- mill at Dawson, they understood Buck and his ways, and didnot insist upon an intimacy such as obtained with Skeet and Nig.
For Thornton, however, his love seemed to grow and grow. He,alone among men, could put a pack upon Buck's back in the summertravelling. Nothing was too great for Buck to do, when Thorntoncommanded. One day (they had grub-staked themselves from theproceeds of the raft and left Dawson for the head-waters of the Tanana)the men and dogs were sitting on the crest of a cliff which fell away,straight down, to naked bed-rock three hundred feet below. JohnThornton was sitting near the edge, Buck at his shoulder. A thoughtlesswhim seized Thornton, and he drew the attention of Hans and Pete to theexperiment he had in mind. "Jump, Buck!" he commanded, sweepinghis arm out and over the chasm. The next instant he was grapplingwith Buck on the extreme edge, while Hans and Pete were draggingthem back into safety.
"It's uncanny," Pete said, after it was over and they had caught their speech.
Thornton shook his head. "No, it is splendid, and it is terrible, too.
Do you know, it sometimes makes me afraid.""I'm not hankering to be the man that lays hands on you while he'saround," Pete announced conclusively, nodding his head toward Buck.
"Py Jingo!" was Hans's contribution. "Not mineself either."It was at Circle City, ere the year was out, that Pete's apprehensionswere realized. "Black" Burton, a man evil-tempered and malicious,had been picking a quarrel with a tenderfoot at the bar, when Thorntonstepped good-naturedly between. Buck, as was his custom, was lyingin a corner, head on paws, watching his master's every action. Burtonstruck out, without warning, straight from the shoulder. Thornton wassent spinning, and saved himself from falling only by clutching the railof the bar.
Those who were looking on heard what was neither bark nor yelp,but a something which is best described as a roar, and they saw Buck'sbody rise up in the air as he left the floor for Burton's throat. The mansaved his life by instinctively throwing out his arm, but was hurledbackward to the floor with Buck on top of him. Buck loosed his teethfrom the flesh of the arm and drove in again for the throat. This timethe man succeeded only in partly blocking, and his throat was torn open.
Then the crowd was upon Buck, and he was driven off; but while asurgeon checked the bleeding, he prowled up and down, growlingfuriously, attempting to rush in, and being forced back by an array ofhostile clubs. A "miners' meeting," called on the spot, decided that thedog had sufficient provocation, and Buck was discharged. But hisreputation was made, and from that day his name spread through everycamp in Alaska.
Later on, in the fall of the year, he saved John Thornton's life in quiteanother fashion. The three partners were lining a long and narrowpoling-boat down a bad stretch of rapids on the Forty- Mile Creek. Hansand Pete moved along the bank, snubbing with a thin Manila rope fromtree to tree, while Thornton remained in the boat, helping its descent bymeans of a pole, and shouting directions to the shore. Buck, on thebank, worried and anxious, kept abreast of the boat, his eyes never offhis master.
At a particularly bad spot, where a ledge of barely submerged rocksjutted out into the river, Hans cast off the rope, and, while Thorntonpoled the boat out into the stream, ran down the bank with the end in hishand to snub the boat when it had cleared the ledge. This it did, andwas flying down-stream in a current as swift as a mill-race, when Hanschecked it with the rope and checked too suddenly. The boat flirtedover and snubbed in to the bank bottom up, while Thornton, flung sheerout of it, was carried down-stream toward the worst part of the rapids, astretch of wild water in which no swimmer could live.
Buck had sprung in on the instant; and at the end of three hundredyards, amid a mad swirl of water, he overhauled Thornton. When hefelt him grasp his tail, Buck headed for the bank, swimming with all hissplendid strength. But the progress shoreward was slow; the progressdown-stream amazingly rapid. From below came the fatal roaringwhere the wild current went wilder and was rent in shreds and spray bythe rocks which thrust through like the teeth of an enormous comb.
The suck of the water as it took the beginning of the last steep pitch wasfrightful, and Thornton knew that the shore was impossible. Hescraped furiously over a rock, bruised across a second, and struck a thirdwith crushing force. He clutched its slippery top with both hands,releasing Buck, and above the roar of the churning water shouted: "Go, Buck! Go!"Buck could not hold his own, and swept on down-stream, strugglingdesperately, but unable to win back. When he heard Thornton'scommand repeated, he partly reared out of the water, throwing his headhigh, as though for a last look, then turned obediently toward the bank.
He swam powerfully and was dragged ashore by Pete and Hans at thevery point where swimming ceased to be possible and destruction began.
They knew that the time a man could cling to a slippery rock in theface of that driving current was a matter of minutes, and they ran as fastas they could up the bank to a point far above where Thornton washanging on. They attached the line with which they had been snubbingthe boat to Buck's neck and shoulders, being careful that it shouldneither strangle him nor impede his swimming, and launched him intothe stream. He struck out boldly, but not straight enough into thestream. He discovered the mistake too late, when Thornton was abreastof him and a bare half-dozen strokes away while he was being carriedhelplessly past.
Hans promptly snubbed with the rope, as though Buck were a boat.
The rope thus tightening on him in the sweep of the current, he wasjerked under the surface, and under the surface he remained till his bodystruck against the bank and he was hauled out. He was half drowned,and Hans and Pete threw themselves upon him, pounding the breath intohim and the water out of him. He staggered to his feet and fell down.
The faint sound of Thornton's voice came to them, and though theycould not make out the words of it, they knew that he was in hisextremity. His master's voice acted on Buck like an electric shock, Hesprang to his feet and ran up the bank ahead of the men to the point ofhis previous departure.
Again the rope was attached and he was launched, and again hestruck out, but this time straight into the stream. He had miscalculatedonce, but he would not be guilty of it a second time. Hans paid out therope, permitting no slack, while Pete kept it clear of coils. Buck heldon till he was on a line straight above Thornton; then he turned, and withthe speed of an express train headed down upon him. Thornton sawhim coming, and, as Buck struck him like a battering ram, with thewhole force of the current behind him, he reached up and closed withboth arms around the shaggy neck. Hans snubbed the rope around thetree, and Buck and Thornton were jerked under the water. Strangling,suffocating, sometimes one uppermost and sometimes the other,dragging over the jagged bottom, smashing against rocks and snags, theyveered in to the bank.
Thornton came to, belly downward and being violently propelledback and forth across a drift log by Hans and Pete. His first glance wasfor Buck, over whose limp and apparently lifeless body Nig was settingup a howl, while Skeet was licking the wet face and closed eyes.
Thornton was himself bruised and battered, and he went carefully overBuck's body, when he had been brought around, finding three broken ribs.
"That settles it," he announced. "We camp right here." And campthey did, till Buck's ribs knitted and he was able to travel.
That winter, at Dawson, Buck performed another exploit, not soheroic, perhaps, but one that put his name many notches higher on thetotem-pole of Alaskan fame. This exploit was particularly gratifying tothe three men; for they stood in need of the outfit which it furnished, andwere enabled to make a long-desired trip into the virgin East, whereminers had not yet appeared. It was brought about by a conversation inthe Eldorado Saloon, in which men waxed boastful of their favorite dogs.
Buck, because of his record, was the target for these men, and Thorntonwas driven stoutly to defend him. At the end of half an hour one manstated that his dog could start a sled with five hundred pounds and walkoff with it; a second bragged six hundred for his dog; and a third, seven hundred.
"Pooh! pooh!" said John Thornton; "Buck can start a thousand pounds.""And break it out? and walk off with it for a hundred yards?"demanded Matthewson, a Bonanza King, he of the seven hundred vaunt.
"And break it out, and walk off with it for a hundred yards," JohnThornton said coolly.
"Well," Matthewson said, slowly and deliberately, so that all couldhear, "I've got a thousand dollars that says he can't. And there it is." Sosaying, he slammed a sack of gold dust of the size of a bologna sausagedown upon the bar.
Nobody spoke. Thornton's bluff, if bluff it was, had been called.
He could feel a flush of warm blood creeping up his face. His tonguehad tricked him. He did not know whether Buck could start a thousandpounds. Half a ton! The enormousness of it appalled him. He hadgreat faith in Buck's strength and had often thought him capable ofstarting such a load; but never, as now, had he faced the possibility of it,the eyes of a dozen men fixed upon him, silent and waiting. Further, hehad no thousand dollars; nor had Hans or Pete.
"I've got a sled standing outside now, with twenty fiftypound sacksof flour on it," Matthewson went on with brutal directness; "so don't letthat hinder you."Thornton did not reply. He did not know what to say. He glancedfrom face to face in the absent way of a man who has lost the power ofthought and is seeking somewhere to find the thing that will start itgoing again. The face of Jim O'Brien, a Mastodon King and old-timecomrade, caught his eyes. It was as a cue to him, seeming to rouse himto do what he would never have dreamed of doing.
"Can you lend me a thousand?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"Sure," answered O'Brien, thumping down a plethoric sack by theside of Matthewson's. "Though it's little faith I'm having, John, that thebeast can do the trick."The Eldorado emptied its occupants into the street to see the test.
The tables were deserted, and the dealers and gamekeepers came forth tosee the outcome of the wager and to lay odds. Several hundred men,furred and mittened, banked around the sled within easy distance.
Matthewson's sled, loaded with a thousand pounds of flour, had beenstanding for a couple of hours, and in the intense cold (it was sixtybelow zero) the runners had frozen fast to the hard-packed snow. Menoffered odds of two to one that Buck could not budge the sled. Aquibble arose concerning the phrase "break out." O'Brien contended itwas Thornton's privilege to knock the runners loose, leaving Buck to"break it out" from a dead standstill. Matthewson insisted that thephrase included breaking the runners from the frozen grip of the snow.
A majority of the men who had witnessed the making of the bet decidedin his favor, whereat the odds went up to three to one against Buck.
There were no takers. Not a man believed him capable of the feat.
Thornton had been hurried into the wager, heavy with doubt; and nowthat he looked at the sled itself, the concrete fact, with the regular teamof ten dogs curled up in the snow before it, the more impossible the taskappeared. Matthewson waxed jubilant.
"Three to one!" he proclaimed. "I'll lay you another thousand atthat figure, Thornton. What d'ye say?"Thornton's doubt was strong in his face, but his fighting spirit wasaroused--the fighting spirit that soars above odds, fails to recognize theimpossible, and is deaf to all save the clamor for battle. He called Hansand Pete to him. Their sacks were slim, and with his own the threepartners could rake together only two hundred dollars. In the ebb oftheir fortunes, this sum was their total capital; yet they laid itunhesitatingly against Matthewson's six hundred.
The team of ten dogs was unhitched, and Buck, with his own harness,was put into the sled. He had caught the contagion of the excitement,and he felt that in some way he must do a great thing for John Thornton.
Murmurs of admiration at his splendid appearance went up. He was inperfect condition, without an ounce of superfluous flesh, and the onehundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were so many pounds of gritand virility. His furry coat shone with the sheen of silk. Down theneck and across the shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was, half bristledand seemed to lift with every movement, as though excess of vigor madeeach particular hair alive and active. The great breast and heavy forelegs were no more than in proportion with the rest of the body, where themuscles showed in tight rolls underneath the skin. Men felt thesemuscles and proclaimed them hard as iron, and the odds went down totwo to one.
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" stuttered a member of the latest dynasty, a kingof the Skookum Benches. "I offer you eight hundred for him, sir,before the test, sir; eight hundred just as he stands."Thornton shook his head and stepped to Buck's side.
"You must stand off from him," Matthewson protested. "Free playand plenty of room."The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of the gamblersvainly offering two to one. Everybody acknowledged Buck amagnificent animal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked toolarge in their eyes for them to loosen their pouch-strings.
Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head in his twohands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, aswas his wont, or murmur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear.
"As you love me, Buck. As you love me," was what he whispered.
Buck whined with suppressed eagerness.
The crowd was watching curiously. The affair was growingmysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton got to his feet,Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing in with histeeth and releasing slowly, half-reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms,not of speech, but of love. Thornton stepped well back.
"Now, Buck," he said.
Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a matter of severalinches. It was the way he had learned.
"Gee!" Thornton's voice rang out, sharp in the tense silence.
Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in a plunge that tookup the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his one hundred and fiftypounds. The load quivered, and from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.
"Haw!" Thornton commanded.
Buck duplicated the manoeuvre, this time to the left. The cracklingturned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the runners slipping andgrating several inches to the side. The sled was broken out. Menwere holding their breaths, intensely unconscious of the fact.
"Now, MUSH!"Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol-shot. Buck threwhimself forward, tightening the traces with a jarring lunge. His wholebody was gathered compactly together in the tremendous effort, themuscles writhing and knotting like live things under the silky fur. Hisgreat chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down, while hisfeet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the hard-packed snow inparallel grooves. The sled swayed and trembled, half-started forward.
One of his feet slipped, and one man groaned aloud. Then the sledlurched ahead in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though itnever really came to a dead stop again ...half an inch...an inch . . . twoinches. . . The jerks perceptibly diminished; as the sled gainedmomentum, he caught them up, till it was moving steadily along.
Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that for a momentthey had ceased to breathe. Thornton was running behind, encouragingBuck with short, cheery words. The distance had been measured off,and as he neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of thehundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which burst into a roaras he passed the firewood and halted at command. Every man wastearing himself loose, even Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flyingin the air. Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom, andbubbling over in a general incoherent babel.
But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head was against head,and he was shaking him back and forth. Those who hurried up heardhim cursing Buck, and he cursed him long and fervently, and softly and lovingly.
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" spluttered the Skookum Bench king. "I'll giveyou a thousand for him, sir, a thousand, sir--twelve hundred, sir."Thornton rose to his feet. His eyes were wet. The tears werestreaming frankly down his cheeks. "Sir," he said to the SkookumBench king, "no, sir. You can go to hell, sir. It's the best I can do foryou, sir."Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. Thornton shook him backand forth. As though animated by a common impulse, the onlookersdrew back to a respectful distance; nor were they again indiscreetenough to interrupt.
