The beating that had gone before was nothing compared with the beating he now received. Grey Beaver’s wrath was terrible; likewise was White Fang’s fright. Not only the hand, but the hard wooden paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore in all his small body. Again, and this time with purpose, did Grey Beaver kick him. White Fang did not repeat his attack on the foot. He had learned another lesson of his bondage. Never must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body of the lord and master was sacred.
On the bank Lip-lip tried to use the opportunity and revenge White Fang, but Grey Beaver’s foot lifted Lip-lip into the air, so that he fell down to earth a dozen feet away. This was the man-animal’s justice. At Grey Beaver’s heels White Fang went obediently through the village to the tepee.
That night, when all was still, White Fang remembered his mother and sorrowed for her. He sorrowed too loudly and woke up Grey Beaver, who beat him. After that he sorrowed silently when the gods were around. But sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods by himself, he gave outlet to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings and wailings.
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