Білий ікол

           WeedonScottdidnothear. Hewassquattingdownonhisheels,facetofacewithWhiteFangandpettinghim—rubbingattherootsoftheears,makinglongcaressingstrokesdownthenecktotheshoulders,tappingthespinegentlywiththeballsofhisfingers. AndWhiteFangwasgrowlingresponsively,thecrooningnoteofthegrowlmorepronouncedthanever. 

           Butthatwasnotall. Whatofhisjoy,thegreatloveinhim,eversurgingandstrugglingtoexpressitself,succeedinginfindinganewmodeofexpression. Hesuddenlythrusthisheadforwardandnudgedhiswayinbetweenthemaster’sarmandbody. Andhere,confined,hiddenfromviewallexcepthisears,nolongergrowling,hecontinuedtonudgeandsnuggle. 

           Thetwomenlookedateachother. Scott’seyeswereshining. 

           "Gosh!"saidMattinanawe-strickenvoice. 

           Amomentlater,whenhehadrecoveredhimself,hesaid,"Ialwaysinsistedthatwolfwasadog. Lookat‘m!" 

           Withthereturnofthelove-master,WhiteFang’srecoverywasrapid. Twonightsandadayhespentinthecabin.Thenhesalliedforth. Thesled-dogshadforgottenhisprowess.Theyrememberedonlythelatest,whichwashisweaknessandsickness. Atthesightofhimashecameoutofthecabin,theyspranguponhim. 

           "Talkaboutyourrough-houses,"Mattmurmuredgleefully,standinginthedoorwayandlookingon. 

           "Give‘mhell,youwolf! Give‘mhell! —an’thensome!"