You can't expect 'm to come out a white an' shinin' angel.Give 'm time.""Look at Major," the other rejoined.
The dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog.He had sunk down on the snow in the circle of his blood, and was plainly in the last gasp.
"Served 'm right.You said so yourself, Mr.Scott.He tried to take White Fang's meat, an' he's dead-O.That was to be expected.wouldn't give two whoops in hell for a dog that wouldn't fight for his own meat.""But look at yourself, Matt.It's all right about the dogs, but we must draw the line somewhere.""Served me right," Matt argued stubbornly."What 'd I want to kick 'm for? You said yourself he'd done right.Then I had no right to kick 'm.""It would be a mercy to kill him," Scott insisted."He's untamable.""Now look here, Mr.Scott, give the poor devil a fightin' chance.He ain't had no chance yet.He's just come through hell, an' this is the first time he's ben loose.Give 'm a fair chance, an' if he don't deliver the goods, I'll kill 'm myself.There!""God knows I don't want to kill him or have him killed," Scott answered, putting away the revolver."We'll let him run loose and see what kindness can do for him.And here's a try at it."He walked over to White Fang and began talking to him gently and soothingly.
"Better have a club handy," Matt warned.
Scott shook his head and went on trying to win White Fang's confidence.
White Fang was suspicious.Something was impending.He had killed this god's dog, bitten his companion god, and what else was to be expected than some terrible punishment? But in the face of it he was indomitable.He bristled and showed his teeth, his eyes vigilant, his whole body wary and prepared for anything.The god had no club, so he suffered him to approach quite near.The god's hand had come out and was descending upon his head.