There was something calling him to out there in the open. His mother heard it too. But she heard also that other and louder call, the call of the fire and of man.
He sat there and lifted his nose to the moon and gave a long deep cry of telling all his sorrows, of being alone, his grief for the loss his mother, all his past sorrow and his fear of suffering and dangers to come.
After a long time he came out from the bush: he had learnt his lesson: "Living things are meat, and large living things can hurt. And large living things kill smaller living things. Eat or be eaten! "
And so it came that White Fang learned that the right to punish was something the gods reserved for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under them.
On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over- a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again
On the other hand, despite all their anger and effort, they were attracting something to White Fang. White Fang was faster, stronger, and smarter than all of them. Those who wanted to snatch production challenged their enemies and never let them smash them. No dog had ever knocked him down before. Just as he clings to life with great determination and stubbornness, his feet were stuck to the ground. Therefore, in these endless fights with visits, keeping one foot firmly on the ground meant surviving. He had it engraved very well on it.