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Time
and
again
White
Fang
had
attempted
to
knock
Cherokee
off
his
feet
;
but
the
difference
in
their
height
was
too
great
.
Cherokee
was
too
squat
,
too
close
to
the
ground
.
White
Fang
tried
the
trick
once
too
often
.
The
chance
came
in
one
of
his
quick
doublings
and
counter-circlings
.
He
caught
Cherokee
with
head
turned
away
as
he
whirled
more
slowly
.
His
shoulder
was
exposed
.
White
Fang
drove
in
upon
it
:
but
his
own
shoulder
was
high
above
,
while
he
struck
with
such
force
that
his
momentum
carried
him
on
across
over
the
other
's
body
.
For
the
first
time
in
his
fighting
history
,
men
saw
White
Fang
lose
his
footing
.
His
body
turned
a
half-somersault
in
the
air
,
and
he
would
have
landed
on
his
back
had
he
not
twisted
,
catlike
,
still
in
the
air
,
in
the
effort
to
bring
his
feet
to
the
earth
.
As
it
was
,
he
struck
heavily
on
his
side
.
The
next
instant
he
was
on
his
feet
,
but
in
that
instant
Cherokee
's
teeth
closed
on
his
throat
.
It
was
not
a
good
grip
,
being
too
low
down
toward
the
chest
;
but
Cherokee
held
on
.
White
Fang
sprang
to
his
feet
and
tore
wildly
around
,
trying
to
shake
off
the
bull-dog
's
body
.
It
made
him
frantic
,
this
clinging
,
dragging
weight
.
It
bound
his
movements
,
restricted
his
freedom
.
It
was
like
the
trap
,
and
all
his
instinct
resented
it
and
revolted
against
it
.
It
was
a
mad
revolt
.
For
several
minutes
he
was
to
all
intents
insane
.
The
basic
life
that
was
in
him
took
charge
of
him
.
The
will
to
exist
of
his
body
surged
over
him
.
He
was
dominated
by
this
mere
flesh-love
of
life
.
All
intelligence
was
gone
.
It
was
as
though
he
had
no
brain
.
His
reason
was
unseated
by
the
blind
yearning
of
the
flesh
to
exist
and
move
,
at
all
hazards
to
move
,
to
continue
to
move
,
for
movement
was
the
expression
of
its
existence
.
Round
and
round
he
went
,
whirling
and
turning
and
reversing
,
trying
to
shake
off
the
fifty-pound
weight
that
dragged
at
his
throat
.
The
bull-dog
did
little
but
keep
his
grip
.
Sometimes
,
and
rarely
,
he
managed
to
get
his
feet
to
the
earth
and
for
a
moment
to
brace
himself
against
White
Fang
.
But
the
next
moment
his
footing
would
be
lost
and
he
would
be
dragging
around
in
the
whirl
of
one
of
White
Fang
's
mad
gyrations
.
Cherokee
identified
himself
with
his
instinct
.
He
knew
that
he
was
doing
the
right
thing
by
holding
on
,
and
there
came
to
him
certain
blissful
thrills
of
satisfaction
.
At
such
moments
he
even
closed
his
eyes
and
allowed
his
body
to
be
hurled
hither
and
thither
,
willy-nilly
,
careless
of
any
hurt
that
might
thereby
come
to
it
.
That
did
not
count
.
The
grip
was
the
thing
,
and
the
grip
he
kept
.
White
Fang
ceased
only
when
he
had
tired
himself
out
.
He
could
do
nothing
,
and
he
could
not
understand
.
Never
,
in
all
his
fighting
,
had
this
thing
happened
.
The
dogs
he
had
fought
with
did
not
fight
that
way
.
With
them
it
was
snap
and
slash
and
get
away
,
snap
and
slash
and
get
away
.
He
lay
partly
on
his
side
,
panting
for
breath
.
Cherokee
still
holding
his
grip
,
urged
against
him
,
trying
to
get
him
over
entirely
on
his
side
.
White
Fang
resisted
,
and
he
could
feel
the
jaws
shifting
their
grip
,
slightly
relaxing
and
coming
together
again
in
a
chewing
movement
.
Each
shift
brought
the
grip
closer
to
his
throat
.
The
bull-dog
's
method
was
to
hold
what
he
had
,
and
when
opportunity
favoured
to
work
in
for
more
.
Opportunity
favoured
when
White
Fang
remained
quiet
.
When
White
Fang
struggled
,
Cherokee
was
content
merely
to
hold
on
.
The
bulging
back
of
Cherokee
's
neck
was
the
only
portion
of
his
body
that
White
Fang
's
teeth
could
reach
.
He
got
hold
toward
the
base
where
the
neck
comes
out
from
the
shoulders
;
but
he
did
not
know
the
chewing
method
of
fighting
,
nor
were
his
jaws
adapted
to
it
.
He
spasmodically
ripped
and
tore
with
his
fangs
for
a
space
.
Then
a
change
in
their
position
diverted
him
.
The
bull-dog
had
managed
to
roll
him
over
on
his
back
,
and
still
hanging
on
to
his
throat
,
was
on
top
of
him
.
Like
a
cat
,
White
Fang
bowed
his
hind-quarters
in
,
and
,
with
the
feet
digging
into
his
enemy
's
abdomen
above
him
,
he
began
to
claw
with
long
tearing-strokes
.
Cherokee
might
well
have
been
disembowelled
had
he
not
quickly
pivoted
on
his
grip
and
got
his
body
off
of
White
Fang
's
and
at
right
angles
to
it
.
There
was
no
escaping
that
grip
.
It
was
like
Fate
itself
,
and
as
inexorable
.
Slowly
it
shifted
up
along
the
jugular
.
All
that
saved
White
Fang
from
death
was
the
loose
skin
of
his
neck
and
the
thick
fur
that
covered
it
.
This
served
to
form
a
large
roll
in
Cherokee
's
mouth
,
the
fur
of
which
well-nigh
defied
his
teeth
.
But
bit
by
bit
,
whenever
the
chance
offered
,
he
was
getting
more
of
the
loose
skin
and
fur
in
his
mouth
.
The
result
was
that
he
was
slowly
throttling
White
Fang
.
The
latter
's
breath
was
drawn
with
greater
and
greater
difficulty
as
the
moments
went
by
.
It
began
to
look
as
though
the
battle
were
over
.
The
backers
of
Cherokee
waxed
jubilant
and
offered
ridiculous
odds
.
White
Fang
's
backers
were
correspondingly
depressed
,
and
refused
bets
of
ten
to
one
and
twenty
to
one
,
though
one
man
was
rash
enough
to
close
a
wager
of
fifty
to
one
.
This
man
was
Beauty
Smith
.
He
took
a
step
into
the
ring
and
pointed
his
finger
at
White
Fang
.
Then
he
began
to
laugh
derisively
and
scornfully
.
This
produced
the
desired
effect
.
White
Fang
went
wild
with
rage
.
He
called
up
his
reserves
of
strength
,
and
gained
his
feet
.
As
he
struggled
around
the
ring
,
the
fifty
pounds
of
his
foe
ever
dragging
on
his
throat
,
his
anger
passed
on
into
panic
.
The
basic
life
of
him
dominated
him
again
,
and
his
intelligence
fled
before
the
will
of
his
flesh
to
live
.
Round
and
round
and
back
again
,
stumbling
and
falling
and
rising
,
even
uprearing
at
times
on
his
hind-legs
and
lifting
his
foe
clear
of
the
earth
,
he
struggled
vainly
to
shake
off
the
clinging
death
.
At
last
he
fell
,
toppling
backward
,
exhausted
;
and
the
bull-dog
promptly
shifted
his
grip
,
getting
in
closer
,
mangling
more
and
more
of
the
fur-folded
flesh
,
throttling
White
Fang
more
severely
than
ever
.
Shouts
of
applause
went
up
for
the
victor
,
and
there
were
many
cries
of
"
Cherokee
!
"
"
Cherokee
!
"
To
this
Cherokee
responded
by
vigorous
wagging
of
the
stump
of
his
tail
.
But
the
clamour
of
approval
did
not
distract
him
.
There
was
no
sympathetic
relation
between
his
tail
and
his
massive
jaws
.
The
one
might
wag
,
but
the
others
held
their
terrible
grip
on
White
Fang
's
throat
.
