is god's possessions
was a step, and this step he made. What was his god's was to be defended
against all the world--even to the extent of biting other gods. Not only
was such an act sacrilegious in its nature, but it was fraught with
peril. The gods were all-powerful, and a dog was no match against them;
yet White Fang learned to face them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid.
Duty rose above fear, and thieving gods learned to leave Grey Beaver's
property alone.

One thing, in this connection, White Fang quickly learnt, and that was
that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run away at
the sounding of the alarm. Also, he learned that but brief time elapsed
between his sounding of the alarm and Grey Beaver coming to his aid. He
came to know that it was not fear of him that drove the thief away, but
fear of Grey Beaver. White Fang did not give the alarm by barking. He
never barked. His method was to drive straight at the intruder, and to
sink his teeth in if he could. Because he was morose and solitary,
having nothing to do with the other dogs, he was unusually fitted to
guard his master's property; and in this he was encouraged and trained by
Grey Beaver. One result of this was to make White Fang more ferocious
and indomitable, and more solitary.

The months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant between
dog and man. This was the ancient covenant that the first wolf that came
in from the Wild entered into with man. And, like all succeeding wolves
and wild dogs that had done likewise, White Fang worked the covenant out
for himself. The terms were simple. For the possession of a flesh-and-
blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. Food and fire, protection and
companionship, were some of the things he received from the god. In
return, he guarded the god's property, defended his body, worked for him,
and obeyed him.

The possession of a god implies service. White Fang's was a service of
duty and awe, but not of love. He did not know what love was. He had no
experience of love. Kiche was a remote memory. Besides, not only had he
abandoned the Wild and his kind when he gave himself up to man, but the
terms of the covenant were such that if ever he met Kiche again he would
not desert his god to go with her. His allegiance to man seemed somehow
a law of his being greater than the love of liberty, of kind and kin.

CHAPTER VI--THE FAMINE

The spring of the year was at