CHAPTER ONE

An Introduction to the Primitive

Buck did not read newspapers. If he did, he would have known that soon there would be trouble not only for himself, but also for every able and good dog from Puget Sound to San Diego. Men, exploring in the Artic lands, had discovered gold up in the North. Boat and train companies were taking thousands of men to the Northland. Dogs were needed for transportation, especially big dogs with heavy coats to protect them from the cold.

Buck lived at a big house called Judge Miller's place in the sunny valley of Santa Clara. The house was far away from the road, hidden by trees. The path to the house ran through large trees and grassy areas. The back area of the house was even larger. There were big stables for horses, servants' house, and even some fruit trees. There was also a swimming pool that Judge Miller's boys often visited to cool off from the afternoon heat.

It was over this huge area that Buck ruled. He was born here and had already lived here for four years. True, there were other dogs, but they did not count, often coming and going, or barely going outside of the house. Buck was not house dog, or a racing dog. He joined the boys in their swimming and went hunting with them. Often he looked after the Judge's two daughters, Mollie and Alice, when they went out for nightly walks. On winter nights, he would lie at the Judge's feet beside a warm fire. He also carried the Judge's grandsons on his back, guarding their every footstep. He totally ignored the other dogs, especially Toots and Ysabel, two small foreign-looking dogs that only stayed inside. Yes, Buck was King and he ruled over all the land and creatures of Judge Miller's place.

His father, Elmo, was a huge dog, and he had been Judge Miller's constant companion. Buck wasn't as large. His mother, Sleep, was a smaller type of dog from Scotland, so his weight was only one hundred and forty pounds. Nevertheless, his weight gave him an air like a king, and he had developed a lot of pride in himself, much like a country gentleman does with a life of respect and good living. Luckily, he did not grow lazy and become a house dog; rather, his love of hunting and outdoor fun hardened his muscles and stopped him frown becoming fat. Such was the manner of dog Buck in the fall of 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from over the world to the frozen North. But newspaper and the way of the world were unknown to Buck.

Judge Miller had a helper in their garden by the name of Manuel had a certain weakness for a gambling game called lottery. Unfortunately, he was always losing, and because he didn't earn a lot of money as a helper, he was often in debt. One night, while the Judge was away at a meeting and the boys away at an athletic club, Manuel took Buck to the fruit garden. Buck didn't know why he was out with Manuel, and only imagined it was for a walk. Only one man saw them arrive at a little station known as College Park. This man talked with Manuel, and money was exchanged between them.

"You might have tied up his mouth before you delivered him," complained the stranger. This made Manuel tie another piece of rope around Buck's neck.

"Twist this and he won't be able to breathe," said Manuel.

Buck had accepted Manuel's rope around his neck, but when the stranger grabbed hold of it, he started to growl. To his surprise, the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off his breath. In quick anger, Buck jumped at the man. But the man closed his hands around Buck's neck and threw him over on his back. Then the rope tightened again, and Buck, in his anger, could hardly breathe. He had never been so badly treated, not had he ever been so angry. Although he struggled against the man, he soon lost his strength and did not remember being thrown into the luggage car of the train.

The next thing Buck knew, he was inside a luggage car of a train. He had heard the high sound of the train's whistle and had been on enough train rides with the Judge to know where he was. He opened his eyes and looked about with great anger, like a king who has been kidnapped. The man beside him tried to grab the rope around his throat again, but Buck was too fast. He bit the man on the hand and he did not let go until he had his senses choked out of him again.

"Yes, this one has fits of anger at times," the man said, hiding his bloody hand away from a train clerk who had arrived to see about the sounds of fighting in the car. Trying to sound calm, he said, "I'm taking this dog up to San Francisco on the boss' orders. He says there's a man there who can train and cure this dog."

He led Buck to the back of a bar that was near the San Francisco water front. In a small room, he complained to the bar keeper. "All I get is fifty dollars for this, and I wouldn't do it again if you paid me a thousand," he said. His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and his right pant leg was ripped from knee to ankle.

"How much did the other fellow get?" the bar keeper demanded.

"A hundred," was the reply. "I wouldn't do it for a cent less."

"That makes one hundred and fifty," calculated the bar keeper. "He'd better be worth it, or I'm a fool."

The kidnapper undid his bandages and looked at his wounded hand, "I hope I don't get a disease from this," he added.

"If you do, it'll be because you deserve it," laughed the bar keeper. "Here, give me a hand with him.

Buck tried to face his kidnappers but he was suffering from too much pain. His throat and tongue hurt terribly, and he felt that half of his life had been choked out of him. He was repeatedly choked and thrown down while they cut off his heavy metal collar from home. Then his rope was removed and they pushed him into a large wooden cage.

He spent the rest of the long night trying to make better his anger and wounded pride. He could not understand all that had happened to him. What did these strange men want with him? Why did they keep him locked up in such a small box? Many times during the night he had jumped to his feet when he heard the door open, hoping that he would be greeted by Judge Miller and the boys. But each time it was the ugly face of the bar keeper. Each time the joyful bark that was in his throat turned into a wild growl.

The bar keeper left him alone, and in the morning four men entered and picked up his cage. Buck decided they were bad men; their appearance was not clean and they had mean expressions on their faces. He barked and growled at them through the bars of his cage. The four men only laughed and teased him with sticks, which he quickly bit with his teeth until he realized that this was what they wanted. He decided to lay down, in a bad mood, and was lifted onto a truck. Thus he began his journey through many hands. He went through offices; he was carried aboard another truck with other boxes; finally he was put aboard another train car at a huge train station.

For two days and nights he sat aboard this train; and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nor drank. He did not mind being hungry, but the lack of water caused him terrible suffering and made his anger even stronger. On top of this, his earlier ill treatment had given him a fever, and his tongue and throat ached unbearably.

He was glad for one thing: the rope was off his neck. That had given his enemies an advantage, but now that it was off, Buck decided that he would show them some temper. He decided he would never allow another rope to be put around his neck. The two days of hunger and thirst had turned his eyes blood-red, and he was so angry that whoever was to deal next with him was in a dangerous position. He had changed into a devil. So changed he was that the Judge himself would not have even recognized him. The four men who had ridden with him breathed relied when they were finally able to take him off the train in Seattle.

They carried his cage to a high-walled back yard. A short man, in a red sweater, came out and signed for their delivery. Buck knew that this man would be his next enemy, and he ran wildly against the bars, trying to bite him. The man smiled ha an evil manner and went back to fetch an axe and a club.

"You're not going to take him out now, are you?" one of the men asked in surprise.

"Sure," replied the short man, bringing the axe down upon Buck's wooden cage.

The four men instantly reacted by jumping on top of the high walls, readying themselves for a show.

Buck rushed at the broken wood, shaking his teeth into it, shaking it. Every time the axe fell, he was growling and barking, waiting for a chance to get out.

"Now, you red-eyed devil," said the man, when he had made an opening large enough for Buck to get out. At the same time, he dropped the axe and picked up the club with his right hand.

Buck was truly a red-eyed devil as he made ready to leap out of the box toward the man. He was one hundred and forty pounds of pure rage mixed with two days anger of being captured in a cage. Just as his teeth were ready to close on the man, he received a shock that ran through his body and caused him to close his jaws had pain. He turned around in mid-air, and fell on his back. Jumping quickly to his feet, he growled in anger and confusion. He had never been hit with a club before, and did not understand. With a bark that was also a scream, he jumped again at his attacker, and again he was sent on his back to the ground. He realized it was the club that caused this, but it didn't matter. All his anger and hurt made him charge the man at least a dozen times, and each time he was beat and smashed to the ground.

After one very strong blow (that might have killed a lesser dog), Buck crawled to his feet. But he was too hurt to charge toward the man anymore. Blood flowed from his ears, nose, and mouth, spraying his beautiful fur. Then the man came toward him and gave him a frightful strike on the nose. All the pain that Buck had gone through before was nothing compared to this. With a roar that sounded almost like a lion's, Buck again threw himself at the man. But the man, moving the club from his right to left hand, struck Buck under his jaw, sending him to the ground on his head and chest.

Buck gathered himself again, and the man struck a final blow that he had been holding back until the right moment. This one knocked all sense out of Buck, and he lay motionless on the ground.

"He's a good one at dog-breaking, that's true," said one of the men on the wall.

"That man breaks two dogs a day and one on Sundays," said the driver, as he climbed on the wagon and started the horses.

Meanwhile, Buck's senses had returned to him, but he was too weak to move. He lay on the ground, watching the man in the red sweater.

"So you answer to the name of Buck," said the man, reading the bar keeper's letter. "Well, Buck, my boy," he continued in a gentler voice, "we've had our little fight, and the best thing we can do is to let it go at that. You've learned your place, mad I know mine. Be a good dog and all will go well. Be a bad dog and I'll beat the senses out of you again. Understand?"

As he spoke, he fearlessly patted Buck's head, the same head he had so badly smashed earlier. Buck's head shook from the man's touch, but there was little he could do but put up with it. When the man brought him water he drank it quickly, and later he ate a generous amount of raw meat, bit by bit, from the man's hand.

He was beaten (he knew that); but not broken. He now understood that he could never beat a man with a club. He had learned a lesson, and he would never forget it his whole life. That club was his introduction into an early and primitive law. As the days passed on, he watched other dogs arriving by cage, some peacefully and some growling and barking as Buck had done. He watched every dog go through the same treatment with the dub that he had experienced. Again and again, these events became a lesson driven into Buck's mind: a man with a club was a law-giver, a master to be obeyed.

Now and again men came, strangers, who talked excitedly to the man in the red sweater. Some times money passed between them and the strangers took one or more of the dogs away with them. Buck wondered where they went, for they never returned. A fear of the future came over him, and he was glad each time he was not chosen.

Yet his time came, in the end, in the form of a little man with dark, tough skin who spoke broken English and said many strange exclamations that Buck could not understand.

"My Lord!" he cried, when he saw Buck. "That's one big dog! Eh, how much?"

"Three hundred, and that's a deal even at that price," was the man's quick reply. "And seeing how you're spending government money, you can't complain."

Perrault smiled. He knew that it was not an unfair price for such a fine animal. The Canadian government would not be losing anything. Perrault knew dogs, and when he looked at Buck, he knew he was one in a thousand—even one in ten thousand, he thought to himself.

Money passed between the two men, and Buck was led away, along with a well-behaved dog named Curly. That was the last time that Buck saw the man with the red sweater, and the last time that he saw the warm Southland. Curly and he were taken aboard a ship and given to a black faced man called Francois. Perrault was French-Canadian, but Francois was half French-Canadian, and stronger. They were a new kind of men to Buck, and while he had no feelings for them, he grew to honestly respect them. He quickly learned that they were fair men, calm and too wise in the way of dogs to be fooled by dogs.

On the deck of the ship, Buck and Curly joined two other dogs. One of them was a big, snow-white dog named Spitz. He was friendly but too clever to be trusted. He smiled at Buck but later stole his food during their first meal. Buck jumped up to punish him, but Francois snapped his whip, and all that was left was a bone for him.

The other dog did not approach the three, but stayed alone. "Dave" was his name, and he clearly showed that he did not want to join the others. Even when the other dogs grew excited, Dave would only raise his head and yawn.

Day and night passed aboard the ship, but Buck knew that it was getting colder. At last, one morning, the ship was quiet, and the dogs knew that a change was coming soon. Francois tied them together and brought them on deck. Buck's feet stepped on the cold deck and his feet sank into something like white mud. More of this white stuff was falling through the air. He shook himself, and licked some with his tongue. It bit like fire, and this puzzled Buck. He tried to bite the white stuff as it fell through the air, causing the men to laugh. He felt ashamed, but did not know why, for it was his first snow.

(end of section)