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The
dog-musher
swore
softly
,
in
awe-stricken
accents
.
Scott
could
only
look
in
wonder
.
"
Did
you
lock
the
front
door
?
"
Matt
demanded
.
The
other
nodded
,
and
asked
,
"
How
about
the
back
?
"
"
You
just
bet
I
did
,
"
was
the
fervent
reply
.
White
Fang
flattened
his
ears
ingratiatingly
,
but
remained
where
he
was
,
making
no
attempt
to
approach
.
"
I
'll
have
to
take
'
m
ashore
with
me
.
"
Matt
made
a
couple
of
steps
toward
White
Fang
,
but
the
latter
slid
away
from
him
.
The
dog-musher
made
a
rush
of
it
,
and
White
Fang
dodged
between
the
legs
of
a
group
of
men
.
Ducking
,
turning
,
doubling
,
he
slid
about
the
deck
,
eluding
the
other
's
efforts
to
capture
him
.
But
when
the
love-master
spoke
,
White
Fang
came
to
him
with
prompt
obedience
.
"
Wo
n't
come
to
the
hand
that
's
fed
'
m
all
these
months
,
"
the
dog-musher
muttered
resentfully
.
"
And
you
--
you
ai
n't
never
fed
'
m
after
them
first
days
of
gettin
'
acquainted
.
I
'm
blamed
if
I
can
see
how
he
works
it
out
that
you
're
the
boss
.
"
Scott
,
who
had
been
patting
White
Fang
,
suddenly
bent
closer
and
pointed
out
fresh-made
cuts
on
his
muzzle
,
and
a
gash
between
the
eyes
.
Matt
bent
over
and
passed
his
hand
along
White
Fang
's
belly
.
