5. CHAPTER V - THE INDOMITABLE
"It's hopeless," Weedon Scott confessed.
He sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who
responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless.
Together they looked at White Fang at the end of his stretched
chain, bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the
sled-dogs. Having received sundry lessons from Matt, said lessons
being imparted by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to
leave White Fang alone; and even then they were lying down at a
distance, apparently oblivious of his existence.
"It's a wolf and there's no taming it," Weedon Scott announced.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Matt objected. "Might be a lot of
dog in 'm, for all you can tell. But there's one thing I know
sure, an' that there's no gettin' away from."
The dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at
"Well, don't be a miser with what you know," Scott said sharply,
after waiting a suitable length of time. "Spit it out. What is
The dog-musher indicated White Fang with a backward thrust of his
"Wolf or dog, it's all the same - he's ben tamed 'ready."
"I tell you yes, an' broke to harness. Look close there. D'ye see
them marks across the chest?"
"You're right, Matt. He was a sled-dog before Beauty Smith got
hold of him."
"And there's not much reason against his bein' a sled-dog again."
"What d'ye think?" Scott queried eagerly. Then the hope died down
as he added, shaking his head, "We've had him two weeks now, and if
anything he's wilder than ever at the present moment."