第8章 For the Love of a Man 义犬救主

When John Thornton froze his feet in the previous December, his partners had made him comfortable and left him to get well, going on themselves up the river to get out a raft of saw-logs for Dawson. He was still limping slightly at the time he rescued Buck, but with the continued warm weather even the slight limp left him. And here, lying by the river bank through the long spring days, watching the running water, listening lazily to the songs of birds and the hum of nature, Buck slowly won back his strength.

A rest comes very good after one has traveled three thousand miles, and it must be confessed that Buck waxed lazy as his wounds healed, his muscles swelled out, and the flesh came back to cover his bones. For that matter, they were all loafing, -Buck, John Thornton, and Skeet and Nig-waiting for the raft to come that was to carry them down to Dawson. Skeet was a little Irish setter who early made friends with Buck, 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 cat washes her kittens, so she washed and cleansed Buck's wounds. Regularly, each morning after he had finished his breakfast, she performed her self-appointed task, till he came to look for her ministrations as much as he did for Thornton's. Nig, equally friendly though less demonstrative, was a huge black dog, half-bloodhound and half-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 ridiculous games, in which Thornton himself could not forbear to join; and in this fashion Buck romped through his convalescence and into a new existence. Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time. This he had never experienced at Judge Miller's down in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. With the Judge's sons, hunting and tramping, it had been a working partnership; with the Judge's grandsons, a sort of pompous guardianship; and with the Judge himself, a stately and dignified friendship. But love that was feverish and burning, that was adoration, that was madness, it had taken John Thornton to arouse.

This man had saved his life, which was something; but, further, he was the ideal master. Other men saw to the welfare of their dogs from a sense of duty and business expediency;he saw to the welfare of his as if they were his own children, because he could not help it. And he saw further. He never forgot a kindly greeting or a cheering word, and to sit down for a long talk with them-“gas”he called it-was as much his delight as theirs. He had a way of taking Buck's head roughly between his hands, and resting his own head upon Buck's, of shaking him back and 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 of murmured oaths, and at each jerk back and forth it seemed that his heart would 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, his throat vibrant with unuttered sound, and in that fashion remained without 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 would often seize Thornton's hand in his mouth and close so fiercely that the flesh bore the impress of his teeth for some time afterward. And as Buck understood the oaths to be love words, so the man understood this feigned 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 or spoke to him, he did not seek these tokens. Unlike Skeet, who was wont to shove her nose under Thornton's hand and nudge and nudge till petted, or Nig, who would stalk up and rest his great head on Thornton's knee, Buck was content to adore at a distance. He would lie by the hour, eager, alert, at Thornton's feet, looking up into his face, dwelling upon it, studying it, following with keenest interest each fleeting expression, every movement or change of feature. Or, as chance might have it, he would lie farther away, to the side or rear, watching the outlines of the man and the occasional movements of his body. And often, such was the communion in which they lived, the strength of Buck's gaze would draw John Thornton's head around, and he would return the gaze, without speech, his heart shining out of his eyes as Buck's heart shone out.

For a long time after his rescue, Buck did not like Thornton to get out of his sight. From the moment he left the tent to when he entered it again, Buck would follow at his heels. His transient masters since he had come into the Northland had bred in him a fear that no master could be permanent. He was afraid that Thornton would pass out of his life as Perrault and Francois and the Scotch half-breed had passed out. Even in the night, in his dreams, he was haunted by this fear. At such times he would shake off sleep and creep through the chill to the flap of the tent, 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 seemed to bespeak the soft civilizing influence, the strain of the primitive, which the Northland had aroused in him, remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof, were his; yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. He was a thing of the wild, come in from the wild to sit by John Thornton's fire, rather than a dog of the soft Southland stamped with the marks of generations of civilization. Because of his very great love, he could not steal from this man, but from 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 he fought as fiercely as ever and more shrewdly. Skeet and Nig were too good-natured for quarreling-besides, they belonged to John Thornton; but the strange dog, no matter what the breed or valor, swiftly acknowledged Buck's supremacy or found himself struggling for life with a terrible antagonist. And Buck was merciless. He had learned well the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage or drew back from a foe he had started on the way to death. He had lessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. Mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings 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 throbbed through him in a mighty rhythm to which he swayed as the tides and seasons swayed. He sat by John Thornton's fire, a broad-breasted dog, white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him were the shades of all manner 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 the sounds made by the wild life in the forest; dictating his moods, directing his actions, lying down to sleep with him when he lay down, and dreaming with him and beyond him and becoming themselves the stuff of his dreams.

So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankind and the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the 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 call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for John Thornton drew him back to the fire again.

Thornton alone held him. The rest of mankind was as nothing. Chance travelers 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-expected raft, Buck refused to notice them till he learned they were close to Thornton;after that he tolerated them in a passive sort of way, accepting favors from them as though he favored them by accepting. They were of the same large type as Thornton, living close to the earth, thinking simply and seeing clearly; and ere they swung the raft into the big eddy by the saw-mill at Dawson, they understood Buck and his ways, and did not 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 summer traveling. Nothing was too great for Buck to do, when Thornton commanded. One day (they had grub-staked themselves from the proceeds 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 bedrock three hundred feet below. John Thornton was sitting near the edge, Buck at his shoulder. A thoughtless whim seized Thornton, and he drew the attention of Hans and Pete to the experiment he had in mind.“Jump, Buck!”he commanded, sweeping his arm out and over the chasm. The next instant he was grappling with Buck on the extreme edge, while Hans and Pete were dragging them 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's around,”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 apprehensions were realized.“Black”Burton, a man evil tempered and malicious, had been picking a quarrel with a tenderfoot at the bar, when Thornton stepped good naturedly between. Buck, as was his custom, was lying in a corner, head on paws, watching his master's every action. Burton struck out, without warning, straight from the shoulder. Thornton was sent spinning, and saved himself from falling only by clutching the rail of 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's body rise up in the air as he left the floor for Burton's throat. The man saved his life by instinctively throwing out his arm, but was hurled backward to the floor with Buck on top of him. Buck loosed his teeth from the flesh of the arm and drove in again for the throat. This time the 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 a surgeon checked the bleeding, he prowled up and down, growling furiously, attempting to rush in, and being forced back by an array of hostile clubs. A“miners’meeting”called on the spot, decided that the dog had sufficient provocation, and Buck was discharged. But his reputation was made, and from that day his name spread through every camp in Alaska.

Later on, in the fall of the year, he saved John Thornton's life in quite another fashion. The three partners were lining a long and narrow poling boat down a bad stretch of rapids on the Forty Mile Creek. Hans and Pete moved along the bank, snubbing with a thin Manila rope from tree to tree, while Thornton remained in the boat, helping its descent by means of a pole, and shouting directions to the shore. Buck, on the bank, worried and anxious, kept abreast of the boat, his eyes never off his master.

At a particularly bad spot, where a ledge of barely submerged rocks jutted out into the river, Hans cast off the rope, and, while Thornton poled the boat out into the stream, ran down the bank with the end in his hand to snub the boat when it had cleared the ledge. This it did, and was flying down-stream in a current as swift as a mill-race, when Hans checked it with the rope and checked too suddenly. The boat flirted over and snubbed in to the bank bottom up, while Thornton, flung sheer out of it, was carried down-stream toward the worst part of the rapids, a stretch of wild water in which no swimmer could live.

Buck had sprung in on the instant; and at the end of three hundred yards, amid a mad swirl of water, he over-hauled Thornton. When he felt him grasp his tail, Buck headed for the bank, swimming with all his splendid strength. But the progress shoreward was slow;the progress down-stream amazingly rapid. From below came the fatal roaring where the wild current went wilder and was rent in shreds and spray by the 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 was frightful, and Thornton knew that the shore was impossible. He scraped furiously over a rock, bruised across a second, and struck a third with 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 downstream, struggling desperately, but unable to win back. When he heard Thornton's command repeated, he partly reared out of the water, throwing his head high, as though for a last look, then turned obediently toward the bank. He swam powerfully and was dragged ashore by Pete and Hans at the very point where swimming ceased to be possible and destruction began.

They knew that the time a man could cling to a slippery rock in the face of that driving current was a matter of minutes, and they ran as fast as they could up the bank to a point far above where Thornton was hanging on. They attached the line with which they had been snubbing the boat to Buck's neck and shoulders, being careful that it should neither strangle him nor impede his swimming, and launched him into the stream. He struck out boldly, but not straight enough into the stream. He discovered the mistake too late, when Thornton was abreast of him and a bare half-dozen strokes away while he was being carried helplessly 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 was jerked under the surface, and under the surface he remained till his body struck against the bank and he was hauled out. He was half drowned, and Hans and Pete threw themselves upon him, pounding the breath into him 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 they could not make out the words of it, they knew that he was in his extremity. His master's voice acted on Buck like an electric shock. He sprang to his feet and ran up the bank ahead of the men to the point of his previous departure.

Again the rope was attached and he was launched, and again he struck out, but this time straight into the stream. He had miscalculated once, but he would not be guilty of it a second time. Hans paid out the rope, permitting no slack, while Pete kept it clear of coils. Buck held on till he was on a line straight above Thornton; then he turned, and with the speed of an express train headed down upon him. Thornton saw him coming, and, as Buck struck him like a battering ram, with the whole force of the current behind him, he reached up and closed with both arms around the shaggy neck. Hans snubbed the rope around the tree, 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, they veered in to the bank.

Thornton came to, belly downward and being violently propelled back and forth across a drift log by Hans and Pete. His first glance was for Buck, over whose limp and apparently lifeless body Nig was setting up a howl, while Skeet was licking the wet face and closed eyes. Thornton was himself bruised and battered, and he went carefully over Buck's body, when he had been brought around, finding three broken ribs.

“That settles it,”he announced.“We camp right here.”And camp they did, till Buck's ribs knitted and he was able to travel.

That winter, at Dawson, Buck performed another exploit, not so heroic perhaps, but one that puts his name many notches higher on the totem pole of Alaskan fame. This exploit was particularly gratifying to the three men; for they stood in need of the outfit which it furnished, and were enabled to make a long-desired trip into the virgin East, where miners had not yet appeared. It was brought about by a conversation in the Eldorado Saloon, in which men waxed boastful of their favorite dogs. Buck, because of his record, was the target for these men, and Thornton was driven stoutly to defend him. At the end of half an hour one man stated that his dog could start a sled with five hundred pounds and walk off 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,”John Thornton said cooly.

“Well,”Matthewson said, slowly and deliberately, so that all could hear,“I've got a thousand dollars that says he can't. And there it is.”So saying, he slammed a sack of gold dust of the size of a bologna sausage down 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 tongue had tricked him. He did not know whether Buck could start a thousand pounds. Half a ton! The enormousness of it appalled him. He had great faith in Buck's strength and had often thought him capable of starting 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, he had no thousand dollars; nor had Hans and Pete.

“I've got a sled standing outside now, with twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour on it,”Matthewson went on with brutal directness;“so don't let that hinder you.”

Thornton did not reply. He did not know what to say. He glanced from face to face in the absent way of a man who has lost the power of thought and is seeking somewhere to find the thing that will start it going again. The face of Jim O'Brien, a Mastodon king and old-time comrade, caught his eyes. It was a cue to him, seeming to rouse him to 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 the side of Matthewson's.“Though it's little faith I'm having, John, that the beast 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 to see 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 been standing for a couple of hours, and in the intense cold-it was sixty below zero-the runners had frozen fast to the hard-packed snow. Men offered odds of two to one that Buck could not budge the sled. A quibble arose concerning the phrase“break out.”O'Brien contended it was Thornton's privilege to knock the runners loose, leaving Buck to“break it out”from a dead standstill. Matthewson insisted that the phrase included breaking the runners from the frozen grip of the snow. A majority of the men who had witnessed the making of the bet decided in 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 now that he looked at the sled itself, the concrete fact, with the regular team of ten dogs curled up in the snow before it, the more impossible the task appeared. Matthewson waxed jubilant.

“Three to one!”he proclaimed.“I'll lay you another thousand at that figure, Thornton, what do you say?”

Thornton's doubt was strong in his face, but his fighting spirit was aroused-the fighting spirit that soars above odds, fails to recognize the impossible, and is deaf to all save the clamor for battle. He called Hans and Pete to him. Their sacks were slim, and with his own the three partners could rake together only two hundred dollars. In the ebb of their fortunes, this sum was their total capital; yet they laid it unhesitatingly 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 in perfect condition, without an ounce of superfluous flesh, and the one hundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were so many pounds of grit and virility. His furry coat shone with the sheen of silk. Down the neck and across the shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was, half bristled and seemed to lift with every movement, as though excess of vigor made each particular hair alive and active. The great breast and heavy fore legs were no more than in proportion with the rest of his body, where the muscles showed in tight rolls underneath the skin. Men felt these muscles and proclaimed them hard as iron, and the odds went down to two to one.

“Gad, sir! Gad, sir!”stuttered a member of the latest dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches.“I offer you eight hundred for him, sir, before the test; eight hundred just as he stands.”

Thornton shook his head and stepped over to Buck's side.

“You must stand off from him,”Matthewson protested.“Free play and plenty of room.”

The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of the gamblers vainly offering two to one. Everybody acknowledged Buck a magnificent animal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked too large in their eyes for them to loosen their pouch strings.

Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head in his hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, as was 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 growing mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing in with his teeth 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 several inches. 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 took up the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his one hundred and fifty pounds. The load quivered, and from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.

“Haw!”Thornton commanded.

Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left. The crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the runners slipping and grating several inches to the side. The sled was broken out. Men were holding their breaths, intensely unconscious of the fact.

“Now, MUSH!”

Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol shot. Buck threw himself forward, tightening the traces with a jarring lunge. His whole body was gathered compactly together in the tremendous effort, the muscles writhing and knotting like live things under the silky fur. His great chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down, while his feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the hard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sled swayed and trembled, half-started forward. One of his feet slipped, and one man groaned aloud. The sled lurched ahead in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though it never really came to a dead stop again … half an inch…an inch…two inches…The jerks perceptibly diminished; as the sled gained momentum, he caught them up, till it was moving steadily along.

Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that for a moment they had ceased to breathe. Thornton was running behind, encouraging Buck with short, cheery words. The distance had been measured off, and as he neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of the hundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which burst into a roar as he passed the firewood and halted at command. Every man was tearing himself loose, even Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flying in the air. Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom, and bubbling 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 heard him cursing Buck, and he cursed him long and fervently, and softly and lovingly.

“Gad, sir! Gad, sir!”sputtered the Skookum Bench king.“I'll give you a thousand for him, sir, a thousand, sir-twelve hundred, sir.”

Thornton rose to his feet. His eyes were wet. The tears were streaming frankly down his cheeks.“Sir,”he said to the Skookum Bench king,“no, sir. You can go to hell, sir. It's the best I can do for you, sir.”

Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. Thornton shook him back and forth. As though animated by a common impulse, the onlookers drew back to a respectful distance;nor were they again indiscreet enough to interrupt.

去年十二月，约翰·桑顿冻伤脚后，伙伴们安顿好他留下养伤，他们自己继续逆流而上，锯木造筏，赶往道森。他救下巴克时，脚还稍微有点瘸，但随着天气持续暖和，竟一点也不瘸了。在这里，在长长的春日里，巴克卧在河岸边，望着流水，懒洋洋地听着小鸟歌唱和大自然的嗡嗡声，慢慢地恢复了体力。

跋涉了三千英里后，休息一下很好，但必须承认，随着巴克伤口愈合，肌肉增长，骨头上重新长出一层新肉，它越来越懒。说到懒，他们——巴克、约翰·桑顿，还有斯基特和尼格——都在消磨时光，等着木筏过来，把他们带往道森。斯基特是一条小爱尔兰猎犬，早就和巴克交上了朋友，因为巴克奄奄一息，无法不让她主动接近。斯基特具有某些狗具有的那种医生天分，像母猫舔小猫那样为巴克舔净伤口。每天早晨，巴克吃完早饭后，斯基特常常来完成这项自己喜欢做的任务，后来巴克就像期待桑顿的照顾一样期待它的照顾。尽管不太外露，但尼格同样友好，是一条大黑狗，一半是大警犬，一半是猎鹿犬，眼睛会笑，脾气好得不能再好了。

让巴克惊讶的是，这两条狗没有对它露出任何的嫉妒。它们好像分享了约翰·桑顿的仁慈和博大。随着巴克一天天强壮，它们引诱它玩各种滑稽可笑的游戏，桑顿本人也忍不住参加。就这样，巴克在游戏中轻松康复，获得了新生。它第一次有了爱，充满激情的真爱。这是它在阳光照耀的圣克拉拉山谷米勒法官家从来没有体验过的爱。跟法官的儿子们打猎和闲逛，那是工作上的伙伴关系；跟法官的孙子们在一起，那是一种华而不实的监护关系；跟法官本人在一起，那是一种崇高尊贵的友谊。但是，约翰·桑顿唤起的是一种狂热燃烧的爱，是倾慕，是狂热。

这个人救过它的命，这很重要，但此外，他还是理想的主人。其他人是出于责任感和业务利益才关心狗的健康，他关心狗的健康，就像它们是他的亲生子女一般，因为他情不自禁这样做。而且他关心得更进一步。他从不忘记亲切地打个招呼或说句开心话，还坐下来和它们长谈（他把这称为“侃”），他像它们一样高兴。桑顿习惯粗鲁地两手抱头，把自己的头靠在巴克的头上，来回摇晃它，骂得非常难听，在巴克听来，那是爱的名字。巴克没有经历过比这粗鲁的拥抱和低声的谩骂更开心的事儿，每次摇来晃去时，它的心就像要跳出来似的，这让它心醉神迷。当他放开它时，它一跃而起，张嘴大笑，眉飞色舞，喉咙发出无声的震颤，站在那里一动不动。约翰·桑顿肃然起敬地惊叫：“上帝啊！除了不会说话，你无所不能啊！”

巴克表达爱的方式类似于伤人。它经常会把桑顿的手衔在嘴里狠狠地咬，所以过后一段时间桑顿的手上还留有它的牙印。就像巴克明白那些咒骂是爱的语言一样，桑顿也明白这种假咬是一种爱抚。

然而，在极大程度上，巴克的爱是以爱慕来表达的。尽管桑顿碰碰它或对它说说话它就欣喜若狂，但它并不去寻求这些东西。斯基特喜欢把鼻子钻到桑顿的手下面，拱来拱去，直至受到爱抚；尼格常常悄悄走上前，把大脑袋靠在桑顿的膝盖上；巴克不像它们这样，它满足于在远处表达爱慕。它常常会长久卧在桑顿的脚边，热切而机警地望着他的脸，凝视着，端详着，兴致勃勃地追踪每个转瞬即逝的表情、面部的每个动作或变化。或者，碰巧它会卧得较远，卧在一边或身后，这时它会注视着桑顿的轮廓和他身体偶然的动作。约翰·桑顿心领神会，常常转过身，回应巴克的凝视，一言不发地凝视着巴克，他和巴克的眼睛都闪射出心灵的光芒。

巴克获救后很长时间都不希望让桑顿走出自己的视野。从他离开帐篷那个时刻到他又走进去，巴克常常紧跟在他身后。自从进入北方以来，它的主人跟走马灯似的，使它担心自己不可能有长久的主人。它害怕桑顿会像佩罗、弗朗索瓦和那个苏格兰混血儿那样从它的生活中消失。这种恐惧，即使在夜里、在梦中，也挥之不去。每当此时，它就摆脱睡意，冒着风寒悄悄来到帐篷的门帘前，站在那里倾听主人的呼吸声。

巴克对约翰·桑顿怀有大爱，这种爱似乎体现了温柔的文明熏陶，尽管如此，但北方在它内心唤起的原始本性仍然存在，充满活力。它具有源自火与屋檐的忠实与虔诚，然而，它还保留着野性和狡猾。它属于荒野，从荒野走来，坐在约翰·桑顿的火边，而不是带着许多代文明标记的温和的南方狗。正是因为它的这种大爱，所以它不能偷这个人的东西，但它偷别人的、别的营地的东西却毫不犹豫，同时它偷得非常狡猾，能让人察觉不到。

它的脸上和身上被许多狗的牙齿咬伤过，但它仍然战斗勇猛，越发机灵。斯基特和尼格脾气温和，吵不起架来——此外，它们都属于约翰·桑顿，而陌生狗，无论是什么品种，无论是不是勇猛，很快就公认了巴克至高无上的地位，要么就会发现自己是跟一个可怕的对手在搏命。而且巴克残酷无情。它已经熟悉棍棒和犬牙的法则，所以在对敌人展开生死决战时，它绝不会放弃有利时机，也绝不会半路退却。它从斯皮茨的身上，从警察局和邮局几条主要的战斗狗的身上得到过教训，明白了根本没有中间道路。它要么征服别人，要么被征服，表示怜悯是一种软弱。在原始生活中，怜悯是不存在的。它会被误解为害怕，而这种误解会导致死亡。杀或被杀，吃或被吃，这是法则。它服从了这条从时间的幽深处传下来的指令。

它比它自从看到这个世界、开始呼吸以来的年岁还大。它连接起了过去和现在，身后的永恒以一种有力的节奏悸动着穿过它的全身，它随着潮起潮落和四季轮回的变化而变化。它伏卧在约翰·桑顿的火边，是一条胸脯宽阔、牙齿雪白的长毛狗，但是，它身后却是形形色色的狗，有的是半狼半狗，还有的是野狼，它们催促激励，品尝它吃的肉的滋味，渴望它喝的水，跟它一起嗅风，跟它一起倾听，告诉它森林中野生动植物发出的声音，支配它的情绪，指导它的行动，跟它一起躺下睡觉，跟它一起做梦，而且超越它，自动成为它梦中的内容。

这些影子如此专横地呼唤它，所以人类和人类的要求每天离它越来越远。森林深处回响着一声呼唤，它常常听到这声呼唤。这声呼唤神秘莫测，心潮澎湃，充满诱惑。它不由自主地转过身，离开火堆和周围踏平的土地，扑进森林，向前跑啊跑，不知道要去哪里、为什么要去，它也不想知道去哪里、为什么要去，那声呼唤急切地回响在森林深处。但是，它走到这没有践踏的柔软土地，看到绿荫，但它对约翰·桑顿的爱又会常常把它拉回到火边。

只有桑顿能留住它。其他人不足挂齿。偶尔经过的旅行者可能会夸奖它或爱抚它，但它都反应冷淡，要是有人感情过分外露，它就会起身走开。当桑顿的伙伴汉斯和皮特乘着那个盼望已久的木筏到来时，巴克拒绝理睬他们，后来它才明白他们和桑顿关系密切，此后，它才以一种默许的态度容忍了他们，接受他们的好意，好像是因为喜欢他们才接受的。他们跟桑顿一样身材高大，脚踏实地，思想单纯，目光敏锐，在木筏划到位于道森的锯木厂旁边的大漩涡里之前，他们就了解了巴克和它的习惯，所以没有强求巴克像他们从斯基特和尼格那里得到的那种亲热。

然而，它对桑顿的爱似乎与日俱增。在夏季旅行中，人群中只有他一个人能把背包放在巴克的背上。只要桑顿下令，没有什么巴克做不了的大事。有一天（他们以木筏的收益为抵押贷到了一笔款子，离开道森，前往塔纳纳河上游），人和狗都坐在一个悬崖峭壁的顶上，垂直而下三百英尺就是裸露的基岩。约翰·桑顿坐在悬崖峭壁边不远处，巴克在他的肩侧。桑顿突然产生了一个轻率的怪念头，想做一个实验，引起汉斯和皮特的注意。“跳，巴克！”他挥手指向深谷，命令道。说时迟那时快，桑顿在悬崖峭壁边上抓住了巴克，汉斯和皮特一把将他们拽回了安全地带。

“太不可思议了。”事后，等他们回过神时，皮特说。

桑顿摇了摇头。“不，好极了，也真可怕。你们知道吗？这有时让我担心。”

“它在旁边时，我可不想碰你。”皮特向巴克点点头，最后说道。

“老天作证！”汉斯随声附和说，“我自己也不想。”

年底前，桑顿的担心在环城成为现实。有一个叫伯顿的人脾气暴躁、心狠手辣，一直找茬，跟酒吧一个新来的人吵架，这时桑顿好心上前劝解。巴克像往常一样卧在一个角落，头伏在爪子上，观察主人的每个动作。伯顿猛不防就是一拳，打得桑顿晕头转向，后来抓住吧台的栏杆才没有跌倒。

那些旁观的人听到一个声音，既不是狂吠也不是尖叫，最好的描述就是一声怒吼，随后，他们看到巴克的身体腾空而起，扑向伯顿的咽喉。那家伙本能地伸出胳膊，才保住了性命，但还是被扑倒在地，巴克骑在了他的身上。巴克松开咬住胳膊的牙齿，又向他的咽喉咬去。这一次，那家伙只挡住了一部分，他的喉咙被撕开了。接着，人群扑上前，赶走了巴克，但当医生过来止血时，巴克走来走去，发出怒吼，企图冲进去，后来被一排充满敌意的棍子逼退。当场召开了一次“矿工会议”，会议认定，巴克受到了足够刺激，被判无罪。不过，它名声大振，从那天起，它的名字传遍了阿拉斯加的每个营地。

后来，那年秋天，巴克又以截然不同的方式救了约翰·桑顿一命。在四十英里河一个水流湍急的险要地段，三个伙伴正在放一条又长又窄的撑篙船。汉斯和皮特沿岸移动，用一条细麻绳一棵树一棵树挽住船，桑顿留在船上一边撑篙帮助下坡，一边向岸上大声发出指令。巴克焦虑不安，跟船并排，眼睛始终不离开主人。

在一个特别凶险的地方，一块几乎被淹没的礁石从岸边伸进河里。汉斯放出绳子，桑顿把船撑到河中时，手里抓着绳子跑下河岸，让船绕过那块礁石。船绕过去后，飞流而下，这时汉斯用绳子拦住，拦得太猛，船翻倒，底朝天冲到了岸边。桑顿完全被抛入水中，被卷到了水流最危险的地方，那段水域狂狼滔天，就是游泳健将也难以生还。

巴克立马跳进去，游了三百码后，在一个汹涌澎湃的漩涡中追上了桑顿。当它感觉到桑顿抓住它的尾巴时，就竭尽全力向岸边游去。但是，靠岸的进度缓慢，顺流而下的进度快得惊人。下游传来了极其危险的咆哮声，那里的狂流更加狂暴，岩石像一把巨梳齿一样伸进河里，把狂流劈成了一股股飞溅的浪花。河流在最后一道陡坡的起点产生了一股可怕的引力，桑顿知道不可能上岸了。他从第一块岩石上面飞速擦过，冲过第二块岩石时擦伤，重重地撞在第三块岩石上。他双手抓住岩石滑溜溜的顶部，放开巴克，在惊涛骇浪中大声喊道：“走，巴克！快走！”

巴克身不由己，被冲向下游，拼命挣扎，却游不回去。当听到桑顿又一次下令时，它将身体部分伸出水面，高扬着头，好像是看最后一眼，然后才顺从地转身，向岸边游去。它用力游着，快到游不动，快要淹死时，皮特和汉斯把它拽上了岸。

他们知道，面对这种汹涌的激流，抓着一块滑溜溜的岩石，一个人只能坚持大约几分钟。于是，他们尽可能快地沿着河岸跑向上游，远离桑顿正抓着的地方。他们把那根用来挽船的绳子绑在巴克的脖子和肩上，小心翼翼，不让绳子勒住巴克，也不让阻碍它游水，然后把它放入水流。巴克勇敢地出发了，但不足以直达河心。当它发现这个错误时，为时已晚，这时桑顿和它处在平行的位置，再划几下就到了，但最后还是被无助地冲了下去。

汉斯迅速用绳子挽住，就像挽船一样挽住巴克。在汹涌的急流中，绳子这样束紧它，就把它拽到了水下，而且一直留在水下，直到它的身体撞在岸边，被拖上来。它被淹得半死，汉斯和皮特扑在它的身上，给它呼气压水。它摇摇晃晃站起身，又倒了下去。桑顿微弱的喊声传到了他们这里，尽管他们听不清他喊什么，但他们知道他身处绝境。主人的喊声像电击一样在巴克的身上产生了作用。它一跃而起，沿着河岸跑在那两个人前面，来到了它先前离开的那个地点。

它又被绑上绳子放进河里，再次向前游去，而这次直接游向河心。它已经误算过了一次，但不能再犯了。汉斯放出绳子，不让绳子松弛。皮特则不让绳子盘绕。巴克继续前进，成一条直线，游到了桑顿的正上方。这时它转过身，然后以特别快的速度冲向桑顿。桑顿看到巴克冲过来，当巴克像攻城槌一样随着身后急流的全部冲力冲到他的身上时，他伸出胳膊，抱住了巴克毛茸茸的脖子。汉斯把绳子挽到树上，巴克和桑顿被拖到了水下。绳子勒得很紧，憋得喘不过气，时而这个在上，时而那个在上，他们拖过凹凸不平的河底，撞在礁石和暗桩上，转向河边。

桑顿醒来，趴在一根漂木上，汉斯和皮特正在来回猛烈推拉。他一睁眼就去找巴克。巴克身体瘫痪，显然毫无生气，尼格正站在它的身边发出哀号，斯基特舔着巴克湿漉漉的脸和紧闭的眼睛。桑顿自己也遍体鳞伤。他仔细检查了巴克的身体，发现它断了三根肋骨，这时巴克已经醒转过来。

“就这样定了，”他宣布说，“我们就在这里扎营。”于是，他们就扎下营，直到巴克的肋骨愈合，能够走路，他们才又出发。

那年冬天，巴克在道森又立了一功，也许不是英雄壮举，但这次功绩却使它在阿拉斯加声望的图腾柱上节节高升。这次功绩尤其让他们三人满意，因为这次功绩提供了他们正需要的装备，成全了他们盼望已久的首次东部之行，因为矿工还没有出现在那里。这是由黄金国酒吧的一次谈话引起的，男人们在那里对自己的爱犬吹起了牛。巴克因自己创下的纪录而成为这些人谈论的对象，桑顿也被迫坚决维护巴克。半小时后，有个人说他的狗能启动一辆载重五百磅的雪橇，并能把它拉走，第二个吹牛说六百磅，第三个人说七百磅。

“呸！呸！”约翰·桑顿说，“巴克能启动一千磅。”

“能拉动？还能拉着走一百码？”淘金大王马修森追问，就是他吹到了七百磅。

“能拉动，还能拉着走一百码。”约翰·桑顿沉着地回答。

“那好，”马修森故意慢条斯理地说，好让大家都能听见，“我说它拉不动，愿打一千块赌。给。”这样说着，他把一袋大红肠大小的沙金咚地放在了吧台上。

没有人说话。桑顿的虚张声势，要是真是虚张声势的话，就要一见高低了。他感觉到一股热血涌上了脸。舌头蒙骗了他。他不知道巴克能不能拉动一千磅的雪橇。半吨啊！这么大的重量，把他吓了一大跳。他对巴克的力气有极大的自信，常常认为巴克有能力拉动这个重量，但是，他从来没有像现在这样面对可不可能这种场面。十几个人的眼睛定定地看着他，默默等待着。此外，他根本没有一千块，汉斯和皮特也都没有。

“我有一辆雪橇，现在停在外面，上面放着二十袋五十磅装的面粉，”马修森粗鲁而直率地接着说道，“所以这就不用你操心了。”

桑顿没有回答。他不知道该说什么，心不在焉地看看这个人的脸，又瞧瞧那个人的脸。一个人失去思考能力，寻找能够重新启动大脑的东西时就是这样。此时“马斯托顿淘金大王”吉姆·奥布赖恩的脸引起了他的注意。这对他是一种暗示，好像激发他去做自己从来没想过要做的事儿。

“你能借给我一千块钱吗？”他问，几乎是在耳语。

“当然能，”奥布赖恩一边回答，一边把一只鼓鼓囊囊的袋子咚地放在马修森的袋子旁边。“不过，约翰，我不大相信这条狗能成功。”

黄金国酒吧里的人都涌到街上观看这场测试。桌子空了，经销商和猎场看守人都纷纷去看测试的结果，并打起了赌。好几百穿皮袄、戴手套的人悠闲地围站在雪橇四周。马修森装着一千磅面粉的雪橇一直在那里停了两个小时。在极度严寒中（天气零下六十度），滑板紧紧地冻在了踩实的雪地上。人们提议二比一赌注的比率，赌巴克拉不动雪橇。“启动”这个短语引起了异议。奥布赖恩主张，桑顿有权先撬松滑板，让巴克从完全静止状态“启动”，马修森坚持认为，这个短语包括把滑板从冰雪冻结状态中启动。目睹过打赌过程的大多数人赞成马修森的决定。于是，赌注的比率成了三比一，都赌巴克拉不动。

没有人接受挑战。谁也不相信巴克有能力取得这个功绩。桑顿只是匆匆打了这个赌，疑虑重重。现在看着这辆雪橇，看着这具体的事实，还有十条狗组成的常规狗队蜷伏在橇前的雪地里，那个任务显得越发不可能。马修森越发欢欣鼓舞。

“三比一！”他宣布说，“桑顿，我要按照这个比例再加一千块。你说怎么样？”

尽管桑顿满脸疑云，但他的斗志被唤醒了——这种斗志超越了赌注的比率，没有认识到不可能，只听到战斗的喊杀声。他把汉斯和皮特叫到身边。他们也囊中羞涩，加上他自己的钱，三个人只凑了二百块。他们的钱越来越少了，这二百块是他们的全部资本，然而，他们都毫不犹豫地押上这笔钱，去赌马修森的六百块。

那十条狗被解了下来，巴克带着自己的挽具被套上了雪橇。它已经受到了这种激动场面的感染，感觉它必须以某种方式为约翰·桑顿做一件大事。巴克出色的外表引起了人们的啧啧称赞。它处在理想状态，没有一块赘肉，体重一百五十磅，好多磅都展现出了坚毅和刚强。它的皮毛闪射出丝绸般的光泽，顺着脖子向下，横过肩膀，事实上毛发静止不动，现在半竖起来，好像随着每个动作耸起，好像过剩的精力使每根毛发都充满生机和活力。宽大的胸脯和粗壮的前腿与身体的其他部位比例匀称，皮下肌肉紧绷滚圆。人们摸着这些肌肉说，坚硬如铁。于是，赌注的比例降到了二比一。

“上帝啊！上帝啊！”最近暴富王朝中的一员——一位坐头把交椅的贩狗大王——结结巴巴地说，“先生，先生，在测试之前，我出八百块买你的狗，就它现在这个样子，我出八百块。”

桑顿摇了摇头，走到巴克的身边。

“你必须远离它，”马修森反对说，“自由游戏，要离远点。”

人群静了下来，只能听到赌徒们自负地出价二比一赌注的声音。人人都承认巴克是一条出色的狗，但二十个五十磅装的面粉袋在他们眼里太大了，所以不敢打开自己的钱袋。

桑顿在巴克的身边跪下来，双手抱住巴克的头，脸颊贴着它的脸颊。他没有像往常那样戏谑地摇晃它，也没有温柔爱恋地轻声骂，而是对它耳语。他轻声说的是：“因为你爱我，巴克。因为你爱我。”巴克忍住渴望之情，哀叫着。

人群好奇地看着。事儿变得越发神秘，好像在施魔法。当桑顿站起来时，巴克叼住了他戴手套的那只手，用牙咬了咬，又不太情愿地慢慢松开。这就是回答，用的字眼不是语言，而是爱。桑顿退了好几步。

“好了，巴克。”他说。

巴克绷紧缰绳，然后又放松了大约几英寸。这是它曾经学过的方法。

“右转！”桑顿的声音在紧张的寂静中刺耳地响起。

巴克转向右侧，猛地一冲，最后绷紧了松弛的缰绳，突然拉了一下，拽住了它一百五十磅重的身体。雪橇颤动，滑板下面发出了清脆的爆裂声。

“左转！”桑顿命令道。

巴克重复刚才的动作，这次是向左。爆裂声变成了噼啪声，雪橇转向左面，滑板滑动，向一侧嘎吱嘎吱滑了几英寸。雪橇挣脱。人们屏住呼吸，甚至紧张得忘了呼吸。

“好，走！”

桑顿的命令像枪响一样。巴克挺身向前，一个冲刺绷紧了缰绳，整个身体紧紧收拢，用尽全力，肌肉在丝绸般光滑的皮毛下像活物一样翻腾扭动，宽阔的胸脯俯向地面，头向前压着，同时蹄子疯狂地疾速移动，爪子在踩实的雪地上刨出了两道平行的深沟。雪橇晃动颤抖，算是启动，开始向前移。巴克的一只蹄子打滑，有个人大声叹了口气。接着，雪橇在连续飞快地颠簸中突然前进，但的确再也没有停下来……半英寸……一英寸……两英寸……抖动明显减弱，随着雪橇动力增加，它赶上节奏，雪橇平稳向前移动。

人们喘了口气，又开始呼吸起来，不知道自己曾经停止过一阵呼吸。桑顿跑在雪橇后面，用简短愉快的话语鼓励着巴克。距离已经量好了。当巴克接近那堆标志一百码终点的柴火时，欢呼声越来越大，当它通过柴火堆，听到命令停下时，欢呼声顿时变成了吼叫声。每个人，甚至马修森，都狂放不羁。帽子和手套在空中乱飞。人们互相握手，不管是谁，见人就握，大家激动得语无伦次。

但是，桑顿在巴克的身边跪下来，头靠着头，把它晃来晃去。那些匆匆赶过来的人听到桑顿在骂巴克，骂得长久热烈，温柔亲切。

“天哪，先生！天哪，先生！”头把交椅贩狗大王语无伦次地说，“先生，我出一千块买你的狗，一千块，先生——一千二百块，先生。”

桑顿站起身，眼睛潮湿，泪水顺着脸颊滚滚而下。“先生，”他对头把交椅贩狗大王说，“不，先生。你见鬼去吧，先生。这是我能为你做的最好的事儿，先生。”

巴克用牙齿叼住桑顿的手。桑顿来回摇晃着巴克，好像受到共同本能的鼓舞，那些旁观者都纷纷恭敬地后退了一段距离，也不再轻率打扰他们了。