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The Call of the Wild | Jack London | |
For the Love of a Man |
Page 8 of 9 |
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" stuttered a member of the latest dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches. "I offer you eight hundred for him, sir, before the test, sir; eight hundred just as he stands." Thornton shook his head and stepped to Buck's side. "You must stand off from him," Matthewson protested. "Free play and plenty of room." The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of the gamblers vainly offering two to one. Everybody acknowledged Buck a magnificent animal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked too large in their eyes for them to loosen their pouch-strings. Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head in his two hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, as was his wont, or murmur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear. "As you love me, Buck. As you love me," was what he whispered. Buck whined with suppressed eagerness. The crowd was watching curiously. The affair was growing mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing in with his teeth and releasing slowly, half-reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms, not of speech, but of love. Thornton stepped well back. "Now, Buck," he said. Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a matter of several inches. It was the way he had learned. "Gee!" Thornton's voice rang out, sharp in the tense silence. |
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The Call of the Wild Jack London |
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