第5章 The Dominant Primordial Beast 争夺霸权

The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck, and under the fierce conditions of trail life it grew and grew. Yet it was a secret growth. His newborn cunning gave him poise and control. He was too busy adjusting himself to the new life to feel at ease, and not only did he not pick fights, but he avoided them whenever possible. A certain deliberateness characterized his attitude. He was not prone to rashness and precipitate action; and in the bitter hatred between him and Spitz he betrayed no impatience, shunned all offensive acts.

On the other hand, possibly because he divined in Buck a dangerous rival, Spitz never lost an opportunity of showing his teeth. He even went out of his way to bully Buck, striving constantly to start the fight which could end only in the death of one or the other.

Early in the trip this might have taken place had it not been for an unwonted accident. At the end of this day they made a bleak and miserable camp on the shore of Lake Le Barge. Driving snow, a wind that cut like a white-hot knife, and darkness, had forced them to grope for a camping place. They could hardly have fared worse. At their backs rose a perpendicular wall of rock, and Perrault and Francois were compelled to make their fire and spread their sleeping robes on the ice of the lake itself. The tent they had discarded at Yea in order to travel light. A few sticks of driftwood furnished them with a fire that thawed down through the ice and left them to eat supper in the dark.

Close in under the sheltering rock Buck made his nest. So snug and warm was it, that he was loath to leave it when Francois distributed the fish which he had first thawed over the fire. But when Buck finished his ration and returned, he found his nest occupied. A warning snarl told him that the trespasser was Spitz. Till now Buck had avoided trouble with his enemy, but this was too much. The beast in him roared. He sprang upon Spitz with a fury which surprised them both, and Spitz particularly, for his whole experience with Buck had gone to teach him that his rival was an unusually timid dog, who managed to hold his own only because of his great weight and size.

Francois was surprised, too, when they shot out in a tangle from the disrupted nest and he divined the cause of the trouble.“A-a-ah!”he cried to Buck.“Give it to him by Gar! Give it to him, the dirty thief!”

Spitz was equally willing. He was crying with sheer rage and eagerness as he circled back and forth for a chance to spring in. Buck was no less eager, and no less cautious, as he likewise circled back and forth for the advantage. But it was then that the unexpected happened, the thing which projected their struggle for supremacy far into the future, past many a weary mile of trail and toil.

An oath from Perrault, the resounding impact of a club upon a bony frame, and a shrill yelp of pain, heralded the breaking forth of pandemonium. the camp was suddenly discovered to be alive with skulking furry forms-starving huskies, four or five score of them, who had scented the camp from some Indian village. They had crept in while Buck and Spitz were fighting, and when the two men sprang among them with stout clubs they showed their teeth and fought back. They were crazed by the smell of the food. Perrault found one with head buried in the grub-box. His club landed heavily on the gaunt ribs, and the grub-box was capsized on the ground. On the instant a score of the famished brutes were scrambling for the bread and bacon. The clubs fell upon them unheeded. They yelped and howled under the rain of blows, but struggled none the less madly till the last crumb had been devoured.

In the meantime the astonished team-dogs had burst out of their nests only to be set upon by the fierce invaders. Never had Buck seen such dogs. It seemed as though their bones would burst through their skins. They were mere skeletons, draped loosely in draggled hides, with blazing eyes and slavered fangs. But the hunger-madness made them terrifying, irresistible. There was no opposing them. The team-dogs were swept back against the cliff at the first onset. Buck was beset by three huskies, and in a trice his head and shoulders were ripped and slashed. The din was frightful. Billee was crying as usual. Dave and Sol-leks, dripping blood from a score of wounds, were fighting bravely side by side. Joe was snapping like a demon. Once his teeth closed on the fore leg of a husky, and he crunched down through the bone. Pike, the malingerer, leaped upon the crippled animal, breaking its neck with a quick flash of teeth and a jerk. Buck got a frothing adversary by the throat, and was sprayed with blood when his teeth sank through the jugular. The warm taste of it in his mouth goaded him to greater fierceness. He flung himself upon another, and at the same time felt teeth sink into his own throat. It was Spitz, treacherously attacking from the side.

Perrault and Francois, having cleaned out their part of the camp, hurried to save their sled-dogs. The wild wave of famished beasts rolled back before them, and Buck shook himself free. But is was only for a moment. The two men were compelled to run back to save the grub; upon which the huskies returned to the attack on the team. Billee, terrified into bravery, sprang through the savage circle and fled away over the ice. Pike and Dub followed on his heels, with the rest of the team behind. As Buck drew himself together to spring after them, out of the tail of his eye he saw Spitz rush upon him with the evident intention of overthrowing him. Once off his feet and under that mass of huskies, there was no hope for him. But he braced himself to the shock of Spitz's charge, then joined the flight out on the lake.

Later, the nine team-dogs gathered together and sought shelter in the forest. Though unpursued, they were in a sorry plight. There was not one who was not wounded in four or five places, while some were wounded grievously. Dub was badly injured in a hind leg; Dolly, the last husky added to the team at Yea, had a badly torn throat; Joe had lost an eye; while Billee, the good-natured, with an ear chewed and rent to ribbons, cried and whimpered throughout the night. At daybreak they limped warily back to camp, to find the marauders gone and the two men in bad tempers. Fully half their grub supply was gone. The huskies had chewed through the sled lashings and canvas coverings. In fact, nothing, no matter how remotely eatable, had escaped them. They had eaten a pair of Perrault's moose-hide moccasins, chunks out of the leather traces, and even two feet of lash from the end of Francois's whip. He broke from a mournful contemplation of it to look over his wounded dogs.

“Ah, my friends,”he said softly,“mebbe it make you mad dog, those many bites. Mebbe all mad dog, sacredam! What you think, eh, Perrault?”

The courier shook his head dubiously. With four hundred miles of trail still between him and Dawson, he could ill afford to have madness break out among his dogs. Two hours of cursing and exertion got the harnesses into shape, and the wound-stiffened team was under way, struggling painfully over the hardest part of the trail they had yet encountered, and for that matter, the hardest between them and Dawson.

The Thirty Mile River was wide open. Its wild water defied the frost, and it was in the eddies only and in the quiet places that the ice held at all. Six days of exhausting toil were required to cover those thirty terrible miles. And terrible they were, for every foot of them was accomplished at the risk of life to dog and man. A dozen times, Perrault, nosing the way, broke through the ice bridges, being saved by the long pole he carried, which he so held that it fell each time across the hole made by his body. But a cold snap was on, the thermometer registering fifty below zero, and each time he broke through he was compelled for very life to build a fire and dry his garments.

Nothing daunted him. It was because nothing daunted him that he had been chosen for government courier. He took all manner of risks, resolutely thrusting his little weazened face into the frost and struggling on from dim dawn to dark. He skirted the frowning shores on rim ice that bent and crackled under foot and upon which they dared not halt. Once, the sled broke through, with Dave and Buck, and they were half-frozen and all but drowned by the time they were dragged out. The usual fire was necessary to save them. They were coated solidly with ice, and the two men kept them on the run around the fire, sweating and thawing, so close that they were singed by the flames.

At another time Spitz went through, dragging the whole team after him up to Buck, who strained backward with all his strength, his fore paws on the slippery edge and the ice quivering and snapping all around. But behind him was Dave, likewise straining backward, and behind the sled was Francois, pulling till his tendons cracked.

Again, the rim ice broke away before and behind, and there was no escape except up the cliff. Perrault scaled it by a miracle, while Francois prayed for just that miracle; and with every thong and sled lashing and the last bit of harness rove into a long rope, the dogs were hoisted, one by one, to the cliff crest. Francois came up last, after the sled and load. Then came the search for a place to descend, which descent was ultimately made by the aid of the rope, and night found them back on the river with a quarter of a mile to the day's credit.

By the time they made the Hootalinqua and good ice, Buck was played out. The rest of the dogs were in like condition; but Perrault, to make up lost time, pushed them late and early. The first day they covered thirty-five miles to the Big Salmon; the next day thirty-five more to the Little Salmon; the third day forty miles, which brought them well up toward the Five Fingers.

Buck's feet were not so compact and hard as the feet of the huskies. His had softened during the many generations since the day his last wild ancestor was tamed by a cave dweller or river man. All day long he limped in agony, and camp once made, lay down like a dead dog. Hungry as he was, he would not move to receive his ration of fish, which Francois had to bring to him. Also, the dog-driver rubbed Buck's feet for half an hour each night after supper, and sacrificed the tops of his own moccasins to make four moccasins for Buck. This was a great relief, and Buck caused even the weazened face of Perrault to twist itself into a grin one morning, when Francois forgot the moccasins and Buck lay on his back, his four feet waving appealingly in the air, and refused to budge without them. later his feet grew hard to the trail, and the worn-out footgear was thrown away.

At the Pelly one morning, as they were harnessing up, dolly, who had never been conspicuous for anything, went suddenly mad. She announced her condition by a long, heart-breaking wolf howl that sent every dog bristling with fear, then sprang straight for Buck. He had never seen a dog go mad, nor did he have any reason to fear madness; yet he knew that here was horror, and fled away from it in a panic. Straight away he raced, with Dolly, panting and frothing, one leap behind; nor could she gain on him, so great was his terror, nor could he leave her, so great was her madness. He plunged through the wooded breast of the island, flew down to the lower end, crossed a back channel filled with rough ice to another island, gained a third island, curved back to the main river, and in desperation started to cross it. And all the time, though he did not look, he could hear her snarling just one leap behind. Francois called to him a quarter of a mile away and he doubled back, still one leap ahead, gasping painfully for air and putting all his faith in that Francois would save him. the dog-driver held the axe poised in his hand, and as Buck shot past him the axe crashed down upon mad Dolly's head.

Buck staggered over against the sled, exhausted, sobbing for breath, helpless. This was Spitz's opportunity. He sprang upon Buck, and twice his teeth sank into his unresisting foe and ripped and tore the flesh to the bone. Then Francois’lash descended, and Buck had the satisfaction of watching Spitz receive the worst whipping as yet administered to any of the team.

“One devil, dat Spitz,”remarked Perrault.“Some dam day him kill dat Buck.”

“Dat Buck two devils,”was Francois's rejoinder.“All de time I watch dat Buck I know for sure. Lissen: some dam fine day him get mad like hell and den him chew dat Spitz all up and spit him out on de snow. Sure, I know.”

From then on it was war between them. Spitz, as lead-dog and acknowledged master of the team, felt his supremacy threatened by this strange Southland dog.F And strange Buck was to him, for of the many Southland dogs he had known, not one had shown up worthily in camp and on trail. They were all too soft, dying under the toil, the frost, and starvation. Buck was the exception. He alone endured and prospered, matching the husky in strength, savagery, and cunning. Then he was a masterful dog, and what made him dangerous was the fact that the club of the man in the red sweater had knocked all blind pluck and rashness out of his desire for mastery. He was preeminently cunning, and could bide his time with a patience that was nothing less than primitive.

It was inevitable that the clash for leadership should come. Buck wanted it. He wanted it because it was his nature, because he had been gripped tight by that nameless, incomprehensible pride of the trail and trace-that pride which holds dogs in the toil to the last gasp, which lures them to die joyfully in the harness, and breaks their hearts if they are cut out of the harness. This was the pride of Dave as wheel-dog, of Sol-leks as he pulled with all his strength; the pride that laid hold of them at break of camp, transforming them from sour and sullen brutes into straining, eager, ambitious creatures; the pride that spurred them on all day and dropped them at pitch of camp at night, letting them fall back into gloomy unrest and discontent. This was the pride that bore up Spitz and made him thrash the sled-dogs who blundered and shirked in the traces or hid away at harness-up time in the morning. Likewise it was this pride that made him fear Buck as a possible lead-dog. And this was Buck's pride, too.

He openly threatened the other's leadership. He came between him and the shirks he should have punished. And he did it deliberately. One night there was a heavy snowfall, and in the morning Pike, the malingerer, did not appear. He was securely hidden in his nest under a foot of snow. Francois called him and sought him in vain. Spitz was wild with wrath. He raged through the camp, smelling and digging in every likely place, snarling so frightfully that Pike heard and shivered in his hiding-place.

But when he was at last unearthed, and Spitz flew at him to punish him, Buck flew with equal rage, in between. So unexpected was it, and so shrewdly managed, that Spitz was hurled backward and off his feet. Pike, who had been trembling abjectly, took heart at this open mutiny, and sprang upon his overthrown leader. Buck, to whom fair play was a forgotten code, likewise sprang upon Spitz. But Francois, chuckling at the incident while unswerving in the administration of justice, brought his lash down upon Buck with all his might. This failed to drive Buck from his prostrate rival, and the butt of the whip was brought into play. Half-stunned by the blow, Buck was knocked backward and the lash laid upon him again and again, while Spitz soundly punished the many times offending Pike.

In the days that followed, as Dawson grew closer and closer, Buck still continued to interfere between Spitz and the culprits; but he did it craftily, when Francois was not around. With the covert mutiny of Buck, a general insubordination sprang up and increased. Dave and Sol-leks were unaffected, but the rest of the team went from bad to worse. Things no longer went right. There was continual bickering and jangling. Trouble was always afoot, and at the bottom of it was Buck. He kept Francois busy, for the dog-driver was in constant apprehension of the life-and-death struggle between the two which he knew must take place sooner or later; and on more than one night the sounds of quarreling and strife among the other dogs turned him out of his sleeping robe, fearful that Buck and Spitz were at it.

But the opportunity did not present itself, and they pulled into Dawson one dreary afternoon with the great fight still to come. Here were many men, and countless dogs, and Buck found them all at work. It seemed the ordained order of things that dogs should work. All day they swung up and down the main street in long teams, and in the night their jingling bells still went by. They hauled cabin logs and firewood, freighted up to the mines, and did all manner of work that horses did in the Santa Clara Valley. Here and there Buck met Southland dogs, but in the main they were the wild wolf husky breed. Every night, regularly, at nine, at twelve, and three, they lifted a nocturnal song, a weird and eerie chant, in which it was Buck's delight to join.

With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence. It was an old song, old as the breed itself-one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad. It was invested with the woe of unnumbered generations, this plaint by which Buck was so strangely stirred. When he moaned and sobbed, it was with the pain of living that was of old the pain of his wild fathers, and the fear and mystery of the cold and dark that was to them fear and mystery. And that he should be stirred by it marked the completeness with which he harked back through the ages of fire and roof to the raw beginnings of life in the howling ages.

Seven days from the time they pulled into Dawson, they dropped down the steep bank by the Barracks to the Yukon Trail, and pulled for Yea and Salt Water. Perrault was carrying dispatches if anything more urgent than those he had brought in; also, the travel pride had gripped him, and he purposed to make the record trip of the year. Several things favored him in this. The week's rest had recuperated the dogs and put them in thorough trim. The trail they had broken into the country was packed hard by later journeyers. And further, the police had arranged in two or three places deposits of grub for dog and man, and he was traveling light.

They made Sixty Mile, which is a fifty-mile run, on the first day; and the second day saw them booming up the Yukon well on their way to Pelly. But such splendid running was achieved not without great trouble and vexation on the part of Francois. The insidious revolt led by Buck had destroyed the solidarity of the team. It no longer was as one dog leaping in the traces. The encouragement Buck gave the rebels led them into all kinds of petty misdemeanors. No more was Spitz a leader greatly to be feared. The old awe departed, and they grew equal to challenging his authority. Pike robbed him of half a fish one night, and gulped it down under the protection of Buck. Another night Dub and Joe fought Spitz and made him forego the punishment they deserved. And even Billee, the good-natured, was less good-natured, and whined not half so placatingly as in former days. Buck never came near Spitz without snarling and bristling menacingly. In fact, his conduct approached that of a bully, and he was given to swaggering up and down before Spitz's very nose.

The breaking down of discipline likewise affected the dogs in their relations with one another. They quarreled and bickered more than ever among themselves, till at times the camp was a howling bedlam. Dave and Sol-leks alone were unaltered, though they were made irritable by the unending squabbling. Francois swore strange barbarous oaths, and stamped the snow in futile rage, and tore his hair. His lash was always singing among the dogs, but it was of small avail. Directly his back was turned they were at it again. He backed up Spitz with his whip, while Buck backed up the remainder of the team. Francois knew he was behind all the trouble, and Buck knew he knew; but Buck was too clever ever again to be caught red-handed. He worked faithfully in the harness, for the toil had become a delight to him; yet it was a greater delight slyly to precipitate a fight amongst his mates and tangle the traces.

At the mouth of the Tahkeena, one night after supper, Dub turned up a snowshoe rabbit, blundered it, and missed. In a second the whole team was in full cry. A hundred yards away was a camp of the Northwest Police, with fifty dogs, huskies all, who joined the chase. The rabbit sped down the river, turned off into a small creek, up the frozen bed of which it held steadily. It ran lightly on the surface of the snow, while the dogs plowed through by main strength. Buck led the pack, sixty strong, around bend after bend, but he could not gain. He lay down low to the race, whining eagerly, his splendid body flashing forward, leap by leap, in the wan white moonlight. And leap by leap, like some pale frost wraith, the snowshoe rabbit flashed on ahead.

All that stirring of old instincts which at stated periods drives men out from the sounding cities to forest and plain to kill things by chemically propelled leaden pellets, the bloodlust, the joy to kill-all this was Buck's, only it was infinitely more intimate. He was ranging at the head of the pack, running the wild thing down, the living meat, to kill with his own teeth and wash his muzzle to the eyes in warm blood.

There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight. He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time. He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move.

But Spitz, cold and calculating even in his supreme moods, left the pack and cut across a narrow neck of land where the creek made a long bend around. Buck did not know of this, and as he rounded the bend, the frost wraith of a rabbit still flitting before him, he saw another and larger frost wraith leap from the overhanging bank into the immediate path of the rabbit. It was Spitz. The rabbit could not turn, and as the white teeth broke its back in mid air it shrieked as loudly as a stricken man may shriek. At sound of this, the cry of Life plunging down from Life's apex in the grip of Death, the full pack at Buck's heels raised a hell's chorus of delight.

Buck did not cry out. He did not check himself, but drove in upon Spitz, shoulder to shoulder, so hard that he missed the throat. They rolled over and over in the powdery snow. Spitz gained his feet almost as though he had not been overthrown, slashing Buck down the shoulder and leaping clear. Twice his teeth clipped together, like the steel jaws of a trap, as he backed away for better footing, with lean and lifting lips that writhed and snarled.

In a flash Buck knew it. The time had come. It was to the death. As they circled about, snarling, ears laid back, keenly watchful for the advantage, the scene came to Buck with a sense of familiarity. He seemed to remember it all-the white woods, and earth, and moonlight, and the thrill of battle. Over the whiteness and silence brooded a ghostly calm. There was not the faintest whisper of air-nothing moved, not a leaf quivered, the visible breaths of the dogs rising slowly and lingering in the frosty air. They had made short work of the snowshoe rabbit, these dogs that were ill-tamed wolves; and they were now drawn up in an expectant circle. They, too, were silent, their eyes only gleaming and their breaths drifting slowly upward. To Buck it was nothing new or strange, this scene of old time. It was as though it had always been, the wonted way of things.

Spitz was a practiced fighter. From Spitzbergen through the Arctic, and across Canada and the Barrens, he had held his own with all manner of dogs and achieved to mastery over them. Bitter rage was his, but never blind rage. In passion to rend and destroy, he never forgot that his enemy was in like passion to rend and destroy. He never rushed till he was prepared to receive a rush; never attacked till he had first defended that attack.

In vain Buck strove to sink his teeth in the neck of the big white dog. Wherever his fangs struck for the softer flesh, they were countered by the fangs of Spitz. Fang clashed fang, and lips were cut and bleeding, but Buck could not penetrate his enemy's guard. Then he warmed up and enveloped Spitz in a whirlwind of rushes. Time and time again he tried for the snow-white throat, where life bubbled near to the surface, and each time and every time Spitz slashed him and got away. Then Buck took to rushing, as though for the throat, when, suddenly drawing back his head and curving in from the side, he would drive his shoulder at the shoulder of Spitz, as a ram by which to overthrow him. But instead, Buck's shoulder was slashed down each time as Spitz leaped lightly away.

Spitz was untouched, while Buck was streaming with blood and panting hard. The fight was growing desperate. And all the while the silent and wolfish circle waited to finish off whichever dog went down. As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and he kept him staggering for footing. Once Buck went over, and the whole circle of sixty dogs started up;but he recovered himself, almost in mid air, and the circle sank down again and waited.

But Buck possessed a quality that made for greatness-imagination. He fought by instinct, but he could fight by head as well he rushed, as though attempting the old shoulder trick, but at the last instant swept low to the snow and in. His teeth closed on Spitz's left fore leg. There was a crunch of breaking bone, and the white dog faced him on three legs. Thrice he tried to knock him over, then repeated the trick and broke the right fore leg. Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggled madly to keep up. He saw the silent circle, with gleaming eyes, lolling tongues, and silvery breaths drifting upward, closing in upon him as he had seen similar circles close in upon beaten antagonists in the past. Only this time he was the one who was beaten.

There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable. Mercy was a thing reserved for gentler climes. He maneuvered for the final rush. The circle had tightened till he could feel the breaths of the huskies on his flanks. He could see them, beyond Spitz and to either side, half-crouching for the spring, their eyes fixed upon him. A pause seemed to fall. Every animal was motionless as though turned to stone. Only Spitz quivered and bristled as he staggered back and forth, snarling with horrible menace, as though to frighten off impending death. Then Buck sprang in and out; but while he was in, shoulder had at last squarely met shoulder. The dark circle became a dot on the moon flooded snow as Spitz disappeared from view. Buck stood and looked on, the successful champion, the dominant primordial beast who had made his kill and found it good.

争夺霸权的原始兽性在巴克的身上非常强烈，而且这种兽性在拉车生活的极端环境下越来越强。然而，这是一种隐秘的变化。刚产生的狡黠使它镇静克制。它对新的生活并不感到轻松，正忙着让自己适应，所以它不仅不挑战，而且尽可能避开。从容不迫是它的处事特点。它不轻举妄动，尽管它和斯皮茨之间有着深仇大恨，但它从不露出急躁的情绪，避开一切攻击性的举动。

另一方面，可能是因为斯皮茨猜想到巴克是一个危险的对手，所以它不失时机露出牙齿。它甚至故意欺负巴克，不断想挑起一场只能最后是你死我活的战斗。

要不是因为一个非同寻常的意外事件，这可能早在途中就发生了。这一天结束时，他们在荒凉糟糕的勒·巴格湖岸上扎营。大雪纷飞，寒风像白热的刀子一样刺骨，黑暗迫使他们摸索着寻找营地。几乎没有比这更糟的情况了。他们身后耸立着一道垂直的石壁，佩罗和弗朗索瓦只好在结冰的湖面上生火，铺开睡毯。为了轻装前进，他们把帐篷都抛在了狄亚。他们用几根漂木的枯枝生起的一堆火，在冰化后就熄灭了，因此，只好摸黑吃晚饭。

巴克在紧靠挡风岩石下面搭了一个窝。那个窝非常舒适和温暖，甚至当弗朗索瓦最初把鱼在火上烤化分发时，它都不愿离开。但当吃完自己那份返回时，巴克发现它的窝被占了。一声表示警告的吼叫告诉它，非法入侵者是斯皮茨。直到现在，巴克都避开与仇敌发生纠纷，但斯皮茨这样做太过分了。它身上的野性发出了咆哮。它狂怒地扑到斯皮茨的身上。这使它们俩都吃了一惊，尤其是斯皮茨，因为它和巴克交往的整个经验已经告诉它，它的对手是一条格外胆小的狗，它之所以未被打败，只是因为它庞大的身躯。

当它们扭成一团从遭到毁坏的窝里蹿出来时，弗朗索瓦也吃了一惊，猜到了纠纷的原因。“啊——!”他对巴克喊道，“天哪，给它吧！给它吧，那个卑鄙的小偷！”

斯皮茨同样反应迅速。它一边急切怒吼，一边来回兜圈寻找机会跃入。巴克同样急切和谨慎，因为它同样在来回兜圈寻找有利战机。但正在这时，意外之事发生了，这件事把它们争夺霸权的斗争推到了许多疲惫旅途和艰难跋涉后的遥远未来。

佩罗的一声咒骂，一棍砸在骨架上的回响声，以及痛苦的尖叫声，都预示着一场大混乱的爆发。一群鬼鬼祟祟、毛皮覆盖的家伙——饿得要死的爱斯基摩狗——突然出现，挤满了营地。这些狗有百十来条。它们从某个印第安村闻到营地的气味后赶来，趁巴克和斯皮茨打架时溜进了营地，而且当那两个人挥舞大棒冲进它们当中时，它们龇牙咧嘴进行反扑。食物的气味让它们发疯。佩罗发现其中一条狗把头埋进了食物箱。他的棍子重重地落在一根根瘦骨嶙峋的肋骨上，食物箱被打翻在地。二三十条饥肠辘辘的饿兽马上争夺起面包和咸肉。棍子落在身上，它们都没有理睬。它们在雨点般的棍棒下吠叫哀号，但仍然发疯似的抢食，直到吞下最后一片碎屑。

与此同时，受惊的雪橇狗从窝里冲出来，却遭到了凶猛入侵者的攻击。巴克从来没有见过这样的狗。看起来它们的骨头好像要拱破皮肤似的。它们纯粹是皮包骨头，脏兮兮的皮松垮地遮在外面，眼睛发光，犬牙上淌着口水。但是，饥饿的疯狂使它们变得可怕，势不可挡。谁也抗不住它们。雪橇狗在第一轮进攻中被逼退到了悬崖边。巴克被三条爱斯基摩狗团团包围。转眼间，它的头和肩膀就被撕咬开了几个大口子。喧嚣声令人恐慌。比勒像往常一样在哭叫。戴夫和索尔雷克斯勇敢地并肩作战，二十处伤口滴着鲜血。乔像魔鬼一样猛咬。有一次，它咬住了一条爱斯基摩狗的前腿，咬断了骨头。装病的派克扑到那条瘸狗的身上，飞快地咬了一口，又猛地一拽，咬断了它的脖子。巴克咬住一个口吐白沫的仇敌的喉咙，当它把牙齿咬进最致命的部位时，鲜血喷溅而来。它嘴里那股热血的味道刺激它更加凶猛。它扑向另一个敌人，同时感到有牙齿咬进了自己的喉咙。原来是斯皮茨奸诈地从侧面袭击了它。

佩罗和弗朗索瓦打扫干净他们自己的那部分营地后，赶来援救它们的雪橇狗。那群饿兽在它们面前像狂潮一样退去，巴克才得以脱身。不过，只是一会儿。那两个人就不得不跑回去抢救食物，而那群爱斯基摩狗则返回去袭击那队雪橇狗。比勒被吓得胆量陡生，冲破那群狗的凶猛包围，越过冰面逃走了。派克和达布紧随其后，其他拉橇狗都跟着跑了。巴克纵身跃去追它们时，从眼角瞥见斯皮茨向它扑来，显然想扑倒它。一旦不能控制自己，落在这群爱斯基摩狗蹄下，它就没有生还希望了。但是，它振作起来，顶住了斯皮茨的冲击，之后随着大家向湖上逃去。

后来，九条雪橇狗集合在一起，躲进了森林。尽管没有受到追击，但它们处境可怜。它们每个身上都有四五处伤口，有几条狗伤得极其严重。达布的一条后腿受了重伤，在狄亚最后入队的爱斯基摩狗多莉颈前部被严重撕裂了，乔失去了一只眼睛。脾气温和的比勒的一只耳朵被撕咬成了碎片，哭叫了整整一夜。拂晓，它们一瘸一拐小心翼翼地回到了营地，发现抢匪们已经走了，那两个人正在生气。他们足有一半的食物没了。那群爱斯基摩狗嚼烂了雪橇上的绑绳和篷布。事实上，无论能不能吃，什么都没有漏掉。它们吃掉了佩罗的一双鹿皮靴和大截大截的皮缰绳，甚至把弗朗索瓦的鞭子吃掉了一半。弗朗索瓦中断悲哀的沉思，检查那些受伤的狗。

“啊，我的朋友们，”他柔声说道，“挨了这么多咬，说不定会使你们变成疯狗，说不定会都成疯狗，天哪！你说呢，佩罗？”

信使半信半疑地摇了摇头。他离道森还有四百英里路程，狗队要是突发狂犬病，他可经受不起。他们骂骂咧咧努力了两个小时才把挽具收拾停当，随后伤痕累累的狗队又上路了。它们痛苦挣扎着走上了它们经历过的最艰难的旅程，就此而言，也是它们到达道森之前最艰难的旅程。

这条“三十里河”非常开阔，湍急的河水足以抵挡霜冻。只有涡流处和静水处才结了冰。需要六个让人疲惫不堪的日子才能走完那可怕的三十英里路。之所以可怕，是因为每走一步，狗和人都会有生命危险。佩罗在前面探路，十几次踏破冰桥，多亏他携带的一根长杆才保住性命，因为每当它掉进自己踩出的冰窟窿，那根长杆就会横架在冰窟窿上。但是，寒流袭来，气温下降到了零下五十度，所以每次踏进冰窟窿，为了活命，都不得不生起一堆火，烤干衣服。

什么都难不倒他。正是因为什么也难不住他，他才被选中充当政府信使。他冒着各种各样的危险，毅然投身于冰霜之中，从早到晚奋力赶路。他顺着弯弯曲曲的河岸，在河边的冰上行走，冰在他脚下嘎吱作响下陷，所以他们不敢停留。有一次，雪橇带着戴夫和巴克掉进了冰窟窿，等到他们被拽出来时，已被冻得半僵，差点儿淹死。必须生起火，才能救他们的命。他们的身上冻了厚厚的一层冰。于是，那两个人让它们绕着火堆跑，一直跑到出汗、冰化，结果他们离火堆太近，火焰都燎到了毛。

还有一次，斯皮茨掉了进去，把它后面的整个狗队都拖了进去，巴克用尽全力向后拽，前爪踩在滑溜溜的冰窟边上，四周的冰在噼啪颤动。但是，戴夫在它身后，和它一样绷紧身体向后撑。雪橇后面的是弗朗索瓦，他也在拖拽，直到肌腱裂开。

前后的边冰又一次碎了，除非爬上悬崖，否则没有逃路。佩罗奇迹般爬了上去，弗朗索瓦祈求的正是这种奇迹。他把所有的鞭子、绑绳和缰绳凑在一起，结成了一根长绳，把狗一个接一个都吊到了悬崖顶上。雪橇和货物都吊上去后，弗朗索瓦最后才上来。接下来就是寻找可以下去的地方，最后借助绳子才从悬崖上下来。天黑后，他们又回到了河边上，这一天才前进了四分之一英里。

等他们到达豪塔林卡，走上好冰时，巴克已是筋疲力尽。其他狗的情况也一样；但是，为了弥补耽误的时间，佩罗逼迫大家起早贪黑赶路。第一天，他们走了三十五英里，来到了大鲑河；第二天走了三十五英里多，来到了小鲑河；第三天走了四十英里，快到了五指山。

巴克的蹄子没有爱斯基摩狗的蹄子那样结实坚硬。自从它的野狗祖先被穴居人或河居人驯养以来，经过许多代，它的蹄子已经变得柔软了。它整天在痛苦中一瘸一拐，一到营地，就像死狗一样躺下来。尽管它饥肠辘辘，但它连动都不想动一下去接受自己那份鱼，弗朗索瓦只好给它送过来。同时，每天晚饭后，赶狗人还会给巴克的蹄子揉搓半小时，并献出自己的鹿皮靴筒，为巴克做了四只靴子。这大大减缓了它的痛苦。一天早晨，弗朗索瓦忘了给巴克穿靴子，巴克躺在地上，四蹄朝天晃着要穿靴子，没有靴子，它就不动，这使佩罗的瘦脸也挤出了一丝笑容。后来，它的蹄子在旅途中变得越来越结实，这才把磨破的靴子扔掉了。

一天早晨，在贝利河口，他们正在套挽具，从不显山露水的多莉突然发起疯来。它发作时发出一声令人心碎的长嗥，把所有的狗都吓得毛发倒竖，接着它向巴克直扑过来。巴克从没有见过狗发疯，也没有任何理由害怕疯狗，然而，它知道这眼前的恐怖，就惊慌失措地逃走了。它径直飞奔而去，多莉气喘吁吁，口吐白沫，在后面只有一跃之距。多莉追不上它，巴克惊恐万状，也甩不掉多莉，多莉疯狂极了。巴克一头钻进岛上的树丛腹地，飞跑着冲到低地，越过一个布满冰碴的僻静河道，奔向另一座岛，跑过了第三座岛后，又绕回到主河道，开始拼命穿过去。尽管巴克没有看，但它也能听到多莉就在它身后一跃之距的地方狂吠着。弗朗索瓦在不远处冲它叫喊，它又折了回来，仍以一跃之距跑在多莉前面。它痛苦地喘着粗气，信心十足地认为弗朗索瓦会救它。赶狗人手拿斧子，泰然自若，当巴克从它的身边飞跑过时，他一斧砍在了发疯的多莉的头上。

巴克踉踉跄跄靠在雪橇上，疲惫不堪，气喘吁吁，有气无力。这是斯皮茨的大好时机。它扑到巴克的身上，两次把牙齿咬进无力抵抗的仇家的肉里，撕得皮开肉绽，露出了骨头。随后，弗朗索瓦的鞭子落了下来，巴克满意地看着斯皮茨受到了最狠的一顿鞭打，狗队里至今还没有谁这样挨过打。

“那个斯皮茨是魔鬼，”佩罗说，“总有一天它会咬死那个巴克。”

“那个巴克是双料魔鬼，”弗朗索瓦反驳道，“我一直看着那个巴克，肯定知道。听着：总有一天，它会该死地发疯，到时候会把那个斯皮茨撕碎，吐在雪地上。真的，我知道。”

从那时起，它们之间总是战争。作为领头狗和公认的队长，斯皮茨感到自己的霸权受到了这条陌生的南方狗的威胁。它之所以对巴克感到陌生，是因为在它了解的许多南方狗中，没有一条在营地中和雪道上表现出色过。它们实在太软弱了，常常在跋涉、严寒和饥饿下死去。巴克例外。只有它挺了过来，取得了成功，在力量、凶猛和狡猾方面跟爱斯基摩狗势均力敌。于是，巴克成了一条好支配的狗。使它变得危险的事实，是那个穿红毛衣的人拿的那根棍子打掉了它渴望称王称霸的一切蛮勇和轻率。它狡猾过人，能耐心等待时机，这完全是一种原始的基本属性。

争夺领导权的冲突必然会到来。巴克希望它到来。它之所以希望到来，是因为这是它的天性，是因为它为雪道拉橇而自豪，这种难以名状、不可思议的自豪紧紧抓住了它——这种自豪感控制着跋涉中的狗到最后一息。这种自豪感诱使它们快乐地死于套下，要是卸下挽具，它们就会伤心。戴夫驾橇，索尔雷克斯全力拉套，就是这种自豪感。这种自豪感从拔营时起就左右着它们，把它们从郁郁不乐的野兽变成了紧张急切、雄心勃勃的生灵。这种自豪鞭策它们整天赶路，直到夜里扎营时才消失，让它们又陷入忧郁的不安和不满之中。支撑斯皮茨的正是这种自豪，使它痛打那些在拉橇时出错逃避或早晨套缰绳时躲起来的雪橇狗。同样，这种自豪也使它害怕巴克可能会成为领头狗。而这也是巴克的自豪。

它公然威胁到了别人的领导地位。它在别人和本来要惩罚的偷懒者之间作梗。而且它是故意这样做的。一天夜里下了一场大雪，第二天早晨装病的派克没有出现。它安稳地躲在窝里，上面是30厘米厚的雪。弗朗索瓦喊它、找它，都无济于事。斯皮茨气得发狂，怒气冲冲地跑遍了营地，嗅着、刨着每个可能的地方，吼叫声非常可怕，派克听到后在它的藏身处浑身颤抖。

但当它终于被挖出，斯皮茨飞扑上去要惩罚它时，巴克同样怒气冲冲，飞扑在它们中间。这非常出乎意料，而且做得十分奇妙，斯皮茨被撞了回去，倒在地上。派克一直在可怜巴巴地浑身颤抖，看到这次公开造反，就振作了起来，纵身扑到被掀翻在地的首领的身上。巴克忘记了公开较量这个法则，同样扑在斯皮茨的身上。但是，弗朗索瓦一边对这个事件暗自发笑，一边铁面无私、公正执法，用尽全力抽打巴克。这并没有将巴克从倒在地上的对手身上赶走。于是，连鞭柄都派上了用场。巴克被打得半晕，向后倒去，鞭子雨点般抽打在它的身上，而斯皮茨狠狠惩罚了那个屡次犯错的派克一顿。

在后来的日子里，随着道森越来越近，巴克仍在斯皮茨和肇事者中间搅和，但是，它都做得非常巧妙，每次弗朗索瓦都不在旁边。因为巴克暗地造反，所以普遍不服的现象常常出现，越来越多。戴夫和索尔雷克斯不为所动，但队里别的狗越来越不像话。事情不再顺利了。吵吵闹闹的事儿不断出现。总是有麻烦发生，根源都是巴克。它让弗朗索瓦忙得团团转，因为赶狗人总是担心这两条狗之间出现生死搏斗。他知道这迟早会发生。不止一个晚上，听到其他狗的吵闹声后，他钻出睡毯，担心巴克和斯皮茨打起来。

但是，这样的机会并没有出现。一个阴沉的下午，他们进入了道森，那场大战还没有到来。这里有很多人，还有数不清的狗，巴克发现它们全都在干活。好像狗干活就应该是命中注定的事儿。它们组成了长长的狗队，整天在大街上跑来跑去，夜里也可以听到它们经过时发出的叮当声。它们拖运木屋原木和柴火，给矿上送货，干着各种各样的活，这些活在圣克拉拉山谷全是马干的。巴克到处都能碰见一些南方狗，但它们大多数都是野狼似的爱斯基摩狗。每天夜里九点、十二点、三点，它们定期唱起一首夜曲，是一首古怪神秘的圣歌，巴克很高兴跟它们一起唱。

头上发出冷冷的北极光，点点繁星在冰舞中跳跃，冰雪覆盖的大地麻木僵硬，爱斯基摩狗的这首歌可能是对生命的挑战，不过用的是小调，拖着如泣如诉的长腔，更像是在哀求生命，清晰表达了生活的艰辛。这是一首古老的歌，像这个品种本身一样古老——是较早时期世界唱的最早的一首歌，当时的歌都是如泣如诉。无数代狗的悲哀与不幸都在这歌声里，这首悲歌莫名地感动了巴克。巴克呻吟呜咽时，怀着生活的痛苦，这种痛苦是很久以前它那些野生祖先们的痛苦。它对寒冷和黑暗的恐惧和神秘也是祖先们的恐惧和神秘。这首歌打动了它，表明它已经彻底蜕变了，穿越世世代代苦难与愤怒的生活，返回到哀号时代的原始生活的开始。

进入道森的第七天，它们又沿着巴勒克斯河陡峭的河岸走到了育空雪道，向狄亚和盐水湖进发。佩罗带走的公文比它送来的更紧急，同时，他为旅行感到自豪，所以它打算创造今年的旅行记录。好几件事对它创造纪录都有利。一周休息后，狗队已经恢复了元气，整装待发。它们开辟的雪道也被后来的旅行者踩瓷实了。此外，警方还在两三个地方为人和狗安排了给养站，这样他们就可以轻装上阵。

第一天，它们到达“六十英里”处，实际上只有五十英里。第二天，它们沿着育空河[6]飞奔，上了通向贝利的雪道。不过，旅途之所以一帆风顺，是因为弗朗索瓦煞费苦心。巴克领导的阴谋叛乱破坏了全队的团结。狗队不再齐心协力拉橇了。巴克对那些造反者的怂恿，使它们的各种小错不断发生。对斯皮茨这位首领也不再心惊胆战了。过去的敬畏都纷纷消失了，它们渐渐都平起平坐了，并向斯皮茨的权威提出了挑战。一天夜里，派克抢走了它半条鱼，并在巴克的保护下把鱼吞进了肚子。又一天夜里，达布和乔跟斯皮茨打了起来，迫使它放弃了它们应该受到的惩罚。甚至连脾气温和的比勒也不再温和，它息事宁人的哀鸣也不再像以前那样了。巴克一走近斯皮茨，就会凶相毕露，毛发倒竖，狂吠起来。事实上，它的行为接近横行霸道，而且它喜欢在斯皮茨的眼皮底下大摇大摆，走来走去。

纪律涣散同样影响了狗与狗之间的关系。它们吵来吵去，比以往都厉害，有时营地会变成一座鬼哭狼嚎的疯狗院。只有戴夫和索尔雷克斯没有改变，尽管它们被这种没完没了的吵闹弄得心烦意乱。弗朗索瓦骂着古怪的脏话，气得在雪地里跺脚，揪自己的头发，但都无济于事。他的鞭子总在那些狗中间抽响，效果却不大。他一转身，它们就又吵了起来。他用鞭子为斯皮茨撑腰，而巴克则支持队里剩下的狗。弗朗索瓦知道这一切都是巴克在背后捣乱，巴克也清楚弗朗索瓦心知肚明。不过，巴克非常聪明，再也没有被当场抓住。它忠心耿耿地拉着雪橇，因为跋涉对它来说已经变成了一种乐趣，而暗地挑起同伴们争斗，搅乱缰绳，则是它更大的乐趣。

在塔基纳河口，饭后的一天夜里，达布挖出了一只雪兔，笨拙地扑去，没有逮住。整个狗队都拼命一起追赶。一百码开外是西北警察局的一个营地，那里有五十条狗，全都是爱斯基摩狗，它们也加入了追猎的队伍。兔子沿河飞奔，拐进了一条小溪，蹿上结冰的河床，跑得很稳。兔子在雪地上跑得非常轻快，而那些狗全靠力气才能破雪前进。巴克率领多达六十条狗的队伍拐了一个又一个弯，但就是追不上。它一边急切地呜呜叫，一边压低身体追赶，强壮的身体一跃接一跃，在苍白的月光下飞闪向前。而那只雪兔也是一跃接一跃，像一个苍白的雪地幽灵飞闪向前。

人原有的本能在一定时期会骚动起来，驱使人们离开喧嚣的城市，来到森林和平原，用化学方法制造火药推进的铅弹杀生，这是嗜血欲，是杀戮的快感——这一切都是巴克的本能，只是这种本能隐秘得多。它跑在狗群的前头，追逐猎物那堆活生生的肉，用自己的牙齿咬死，把鼻、口泡在温热的鲜血里，就露出两只眼睛。

这是标志生命顶峰的一种狂喜，这个顶峰生命无法超越。这就是生活的矛盾之处，最有活力时就会出现这种狂喜，完全忘记自己还活着时也会出现这种狂喜。这种狂喜，这种对生活的健忘常常在艺术家的身上出现，迷失在一片烈焰之中，忘却了自己；这种狂喜常常出现在士兵的身上，在战场上成为战争狂，拒绝宽恕；这种狂喜出现在巴克的身上，它率领狗群，发出古老的狼嚎，奋力追赶在月光下飞快逃跑的活生生的猎物。它发出的声音来自它本性的深处，来自它本性中比它自身更深的那些地方，正在返回孕育生命的初期。生命的真正冲击，生命的浪潮涌动，每一块肌肉、每一处关节和筋腱都快乐起来，这一切超越死亡，它炽热狂暴，以运动表现自己，欢欣鼓舞地在星光下飞奔，越过一动不动的死亡物体的表面。

但是，即使是在情绪最极端时，斯皮茨也沉着冷静、攻于心计。它离开狗群，在小溪一处长长转弯的地方，抄近路通过一个狭窄地带。巴克不知道这一点。所以，当它转过弯时，那只幽灵般的雪兔还在它面前飞掠。这时，它又看到一条个头更大的雪地幽灵从悬垂的岸上飞身跃下，直接挡住了兔子的去路。那是斯皮茨。兔子转不过头了，当雪白的牙齿在空中咬碎它的脊骨时，它发出了人遭到袭击时发出的那种尖叫声。这是生命从生命的顶峰落入死亡的魔掌时发出的叫声。听到这个声音，巴克身后的整个狗群不约而同发出了一阵地狱般的欢叫。

巴克没有大声叫喊。它也没有阻拦自己，而是纵身扑向斯皮茨，冲得太猛，跟斯皮茨擦肩而过，没有咬住对方的喉咙。它们在粉末状的雪里滚来滚去。斯皮茨好像没有被撞倒过似的站起来，顺着巴克的肩膀咬了一口，纵身跳开。当它向后退想站得更稳时，两次紧咬牙关，就像陷阱里的钢夹一样，瘦薄的嘴唇抬起，愤怒地吼叫。

巴克立刻明白了。时机已经到来。到了生死攸关的时刻。当它们来回转圈，咆哮着，耳朵贴后，机警地寻找着有利战机时，巴克感受到了非常熟悉的场景。它仿佛都记起来了——白树林、大地、月光，还有战斗的刺激紧张。洁白寂静的世界笼罩在一片幽灵般的宁静之中。没有一丝风声——什么都一动不动，没有一片叶子颤动，只看到群狗呼出的气息慢慢升起，在寒冷的空气中逗留。它们很快就吃掉了雪兔。这群狗都是没有驯化好的狼。它们现在围成一个圆圈，在期待什么。它们也一声不吭，只看到它们闪闪发亮的眼睛和慢慢飘升的气息。对巴克来说，这时的场景既不新鲜也不陌生，好像一向如此，是司空见惯的事儿。

斯皮茨是一个老练的战士。它从斯皮茨卑尔根群岛出发，穿过北冰洋，越过加拿大和不毛之地，面对形形色色的狗，都立于不败之地，并制服了它们。它怒火中烧，但绝不盲目发火。它永远不会忘记，在它处于撕咬和毁灭的激情之中时，对手也同样处于撕咬和毁灭的激情之中。不准备好迎接敌人的猛攻它绝不猛攻；不先防止好袭击它绝不袭击。

巴克努力去咬那条大白狗的脖子，但都失败了。无论它的犬牙咬向哪处比较柔软的部位，都被斯皮茨的犬牙给挡回来。犬牙撞击犬牙，嘴唇破裂流血，但巴克无法穿透敌人的防守。于是，它激动起来，旋风般围着斯皮茨连续猛扑。它一次又一次地设法咬那雪白的喉咙，生命从那里汩汩冒出，接近体表。斯皮茨每次都反咬它一口，逃脱开来。接着，巴克又开始进攻，好像扑向喉咙，但突然缩回脑袋，绕到对方的一侧，要用肩膀去撞斯皮茨的肩膀，想把对方撞翻。但相反，每次斯皮茨都轻松地跳到一边，巴克的肩膀却被咬破了。

巴克鲜血直流，气喘吁吁，斯皮茨却毫发无损。战斗渐渐到了你死我活的地步。那圈像狼一样的狗始终在默默等待，无论哪个倒下来，都会被干掉。巴克渐渐地上气不接下气，斯皮茨开始还击，让巴克摇摇晃晃，站不稳当。有一次，巴克翻了个跟头，整个一圈的六十条狗都突然站起。但是，巴克几乎还在空中就站了起来。于是，那群狗便又卧下来等待。

然而，巴克具有一种成就伟大的品质——想象力。它凭本能作战，但它也能用头脑作战。它扑上去，好像是在故技重演，撞对方的肩膀，但最后时刻，它匍匐在地，趴在雪里，咬住了斯皮茨的左前腿。只听到腿骨断裂的咔嚓声，大白狗三条腿站立面对巴克。巴克第三次试图撞倒对方，接着又故技重演，咬断了斯皮茨的右前腿。尽管疼痛无助，但斯皮茨还是拼命挣扎，想站起来。它看到那群悄无声息、眼睛发亮、舌头耷拉、银白色气息飘升的狗把它团团围住，这和过去它见过的逼近失败对手的那些圈子相似。只有这一次是它被打败了。

它没有希望了。巴克残酷无情。怜悯应该用在更温和的地方。它设法调整，准备最后一扑。圈子收紧，直至它能感觉到那些爱斯基摩狗的呼吸喷到了它的腰窝。它可以看到，它们围在斯皮茨身后和两侧，眼睛盯着它，半蹲着准备跃起。一切似乎都停顿了下来。每只动物都像变成了石头一般一动不动。只有斯皮茨一瘸一拐来回走着，微微颤抖，毛发倒竖，发出可怕威胁的吼叫声，好像要吓跑即将到来的死神。随后，巴克跳来跳去，但当它跳来时，最后肩膀与肩膀正面相撞。在洒满月光的雪地上，那个黑圈变成了一个点，斯皮茨从视野里消失了。巴克站在那里旁观，只见这个成功的战士，这个争夺霸权的原始野兽，完成了搏杀，感觉很好。