To be sure, White Fang only felt these things.He was not conscious of them.Yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that animals act; and every act White Fang now performed was based upon the feeling that the white men were the superior gods.In the first place he was very suspicious of them.There was no telling what unknown terrors were theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer.He was curious to observe them, fearful of being noticed by them.For the first few hours he was content with slinking around and watching them from a safe distance.Then he saw that no harm befell the dogs that were near to them, and he came in closer.
In turn, he was an object of great curiosity to them.His wolfish appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one another.This act of pointing put White Fang on his guard, and when they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away.Not one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they did not.
White Fang soon learned that very few of these gods -- not more than a dozen -- lived at this place.Every two or three days a steamer (another and colossal manifestation of power) came in to the bank and stopped for several hours.The white men came from off these steamers and went away on them again.There seemed untold numbers of these white men.In the first day or so, he saw more of them than he had seen Indians in all his life;and as the days went by they continued to come up the river, stop, and then go on up the river and out of sight.
But if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount to much.This White Fang quickly discovered by mixing with those that came ashore with their masters.They were of irregular shapes and sizes.Some were short-legged -- too short; others were long-legged -- too long.They had hair instead of fur, and a few had very little hair at that.And none of them knew how to fight.
As an enemy of his kind, it was in White Fang's province to fight with them.This he did, and he quickly achieved for them a mighty contempt.
They were soft and helpless, made much noise, and floundered around clumsily, trying to accomplish by main strength what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning.They rushed bellowing at him.He sprang to the side.They did not know what had become of him; and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder, rolling them off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat.
Sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in the dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of Indian dogs that waited.White Fang was wise.He had long since learned that the gods were made angry when their dogs were killed.The white men were no exception to this.So he was content, when he had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, to drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work.It was then that the white men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily on the pack, while White Fang went free.He would stand off at a little distance and look on, while stones, clubs, axes, and all sorts of weapons fell upon his fellows.White Fang was very wise.
