HOW BUCK WON THE BET
By Jack London
Buck was a cross between St. Bernard and Scotch shepherd bloods, and a wonderful dog he was. He made a name for himself in Alaska, during the Klondike gold rush, and his owner, Thornton, was envied by all the miners in that land where dogs take the place of horses. Thornton once boasted that Buck could pull a thousand pounds on a sled—break it out and "mush," or draw, it a hundred yards. Matthewson bet a thousand dollars that he could not.
Matthewson's sled, loaded with a thousand pounds
of flour, had been standing for a couple of hours, and
in the intense cold (it was sixty below zero) the runners had
frozen fast to the hard-packed snow. Men offered odds of
two to one that Buck could not budge the sled. A quibble 5
arose concerning the phrase "break out." O'Brien contended
it was Thornton's privilege to knock the runners loose,
leaving Buck to "break it out" from a dead standstill.
Matthewson insisted that the phrase included breaking the
runners from the frozen grip of the snow. A majority of the 10
men who had witnessed the making of the bet decided in his
favor, whereat the odds went up to three to one against Buck.
There were no takers. Not a man believed him capable
of the feat. Thornton had been hurried into the wager,
heavy with doubt; and now that he looked at the sled 15
itself, the concrete fact, with the regular team of ten dogs
curled up in the snow before it, the more impossible the task
appeared. Matthewson waxed jubilant.
"Three to one!" he proclaimed. "I'll lay you another
thousand at that figure, Thornton. What d'ye say?"
Thornton's doubt was strong in his face, but his fighting
spirit was aroused—the fighting spirit that soars above
odds, fails to recognize the impossible, and is deaf to all save 5
the clamor for battle. He called Hans and Pete to him.
Their sacks were slim, and with his own the three partners
could rake together only two hundred dollars. In the
ebb of their fortunes, this sum was their total capital;
yet they laid it unhesitatingly against Matthewson's six 10
hundred.
The team of ten dogs was unhitched, and Buck, with his
own harness, was put into the sled. He had caught the
contagion of the excitement, and he felt that in some way
he must do a great thing for John Thornton. Murmurs of 15
admiration at his splendid appearance went up. He was in
perfect condition, without an ounce of superfluous flesh,
and the one hundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were
so many pounds of grit and virility. His furry coat shone
with the sheen of silk. Down the neck and across the 20
shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was, half bristled
and seemed to lift with every movement, as though excess
of vigor made each particular hair alive and active. The
great breast and heavy fore legs were no more than in
proportion with the rest of the body, where the muscles 25
showed in tight rolls underneath the skin. Men felt these
muscles and proclaimed them hard as iron, and the odds
went down to two to one.
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" stuttered a member of the
latest dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches. "I offer 30
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 5
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 10
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 15
mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton
got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between
his jaws, pressing it with his teeth and releasing it slowly,
half reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms not of speech
but of love. Thornton stepped well back. 20
"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. 25
Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in a plunge
that took up the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his
one hundred and fifty pounds. The load quivered, and
from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.
"Haw!" Thornton commanded. 30
Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left. The
crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the
runners slipping and grating several inches to the side.
The sled was broken out. Men were holding their breaths,
intensely unconscious of the fact.
"Now, mush!"
Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol shot. 5
Buck threw himself forward, tightening the traces with a
jarring lunge. His whole body was gathered compactly
together in the tremendous effort, the muscles writhing and
knotting like live things under the silky fur. His great
chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down, 10
while his feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the
hard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sled swayed
and trembled, half started forward. One of his feet slipped,
and one man groaned aloud. Then the sled lurched ahead
in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though it never 15
really came to a dead stop again—half an inch—an
inch—two inches. The jerks perceptibly diminished; as
the sled gained momentum he caught them up till it was
moving steadily along.
Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that 20
for a moment they had ceased to breathe. Thornton was
running behind, encouraging Buck with short, cheery
words. The distance had been measured off, and as he
neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of the
hundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which 25
burst into a roar as he passed the firewood and halted at
command. Every man was tearing himself loose, even
Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flying in the air.
Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom,
and bubbling over in a general incoherent babel. 30
But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head was
against head, and he was shaking him back and forth.
Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. As though
animated by a common impulse, the onlookers drew back
to a respectful distance.
—The Call of the Wild.
(From The Call of the Wild, by Jack London, used by permission of The Macmillan Company, Publishers, and by arrangement with Mrs. Charmian K. London.)
1. Jack London (1867-1916) was a Californian by birth. He early began roving, and his voyages and tramps took him all over the world. He was a keen observer and a virile writer. The Call of the Wild is perhaps the best known of his many tales. You observe from the extract that his stories are full of action. They are moving pictures in words.
2. What was the situation that led up to the bet? Where is this event supposed to have taken place? Read the lines that show the men are miners.
3. How much was staked against Buck? Who was for the dog? Against him? How did he respond? How did the men who bet against Buck show they were good losers?
THE LOSS OF THE DRAKE
By Charlotte M. Yonge
The Newfoundland coast is a peculiarly dangerous one,
from the dense fogs that are caused by the warm
waters of the Gulf Stream. These waters rushing up from
the equator here come in contact with the cold currents from
the pole. As they meet, they send up such heavy vapor 5
that day can sometimes scarcely be discerned from night;
even at little more than arm's length objects cannot be distinguished,
while from without, the mist looks like a thick,
sheer precipice of snow.
In such a fearful fog, on the morning of the 20th of June, 10
1822, the small schooner Drake struck suddenly upon a
rock and almost immediately fell over on her side, the waves
breaking over her. Her commander, Captain Baker,
ordered her masts to be cut away, in hopes of lightening
her so that she might right herself, but in vain. One boat
was washed away, another upset as soon as she was
launched, and there remained only the small boat called
the captain's gig. 5
The ship was fast breaking up; the only hope was that
the crew might reach a small rock, the point of which could
be seen above the waves at a distance that the fog made
difficult to calculate, but that, it was hoped, might not be
too great. A man named Leonard seized a rope and sprang 10
into the sea, but the current was too strong for him; he
was carried away in an opposite direction and was obliged
to be dragged on board again.
Then the boatswain, whose name was Turner, volunteered
to make the attempt in the gig, taking a rope fastened 15
round his body. The crew cheered him after the
gallant fashion of British seamen, though they were all
hanging on by the ropes to the ship, with the sea breaking
over them and threatening every moment to dash the vessel
to pieces. Anxiously they watched Turner in his boat, as 20
he made his way to within a few feet of the rock. There
the boat was lifted high and higher by a huge wave, then
hurled down on the rock and shattered to pieces; but the
brave boatswain was safe, and contrived to keep his hold
of the rope and to scramble up on the stone. 25
Another great wave, almost immediately after, heaved
up the remains of the ship and dashed her down close to
this rock of safety. Captain Baker, giving up the hope of
saving her, commanded the crew to leave her and make
their way to the rock. For the first time he met with 30
disobedience. With one voice they refused to leave the
wreck unless they saw him before them in safety. Calmly
he renewed his orders, saying that his life was the last and
least consideration, and they were obliged to obey, leaving
the ship in as orderly a manner as if they were going ashore
in harbor. But they were so benumbed with cold that
many were unable to climb the rock and were swept off by 5
the waves; among these was the lieutenant.
Captain Baker last of all joined his crew. It was then
discovered that they were at no great distance from the
land, but that the tide was rising and that the rock on which
they stood would assuredly be covered at high water. The 10
heavy mist and lonely coast gave scarcely a hope that help
would come ere the slowly rising waters must devour them.
Still there was no murmur. Again the gallant boatswain,
who still held the rope, volunteered to make an effort to
save his comrades. With a few words of earnest prayer, 15
he secured the rope round his waist, struggled hard with the
waves, and reached the shore, whence he sent back the news
of his safety by a loud cheer to his comrades.
There was now a line of rope between the shore and the
rock, just long enough to reach from one to the other when 20
held by a man at each end. The only hope of safety lay
in working a desperate passage along this rope to the land.
The spray was already beating over those who were
crouched on the rock, but not a man moved till called by
name by Captain Baker, and then it is recorded that not 25
one, so summoned, stirred till he had used his best entreaties
to the captain to take his place; but the captain
had but one reply: "I will never leave the rock until every
soul is safe."
Forty-four stout sailors had made their perilous way to 30
shore. The forty-fifth looked round and saw a poor woman
lying helpless, almost lifeless, on the rock, unable to move.
He took her in one arm, and with the other clung to the
rope. Alas! the double weight was more than the much-tried
rope could bear; it broke halfway, and the poor
woman and the sailor were both swallowed in the eddy.
Captain Baker and three seamen remained, utterly cut 5
off from hope of help. The men in best condition hurried
off in search of help, found a farmhouse, obtained a rope,
and hastened back; but long ere their arrival the waters
had flowed above the head of the brave and faithful captain.
All the crew could do was, with full hearts, to write 10
a most touching letter to an officer who had once sailed
with them in the Drake, entreating him to represent their
captain's conduct to the Lords of the Admiralty.
"In fact," said the letter, "during the whole business
he proved himself a man whose name and last conduct 15
ought ever to be held in the highest estimation by a crew
who feel it their duty to ask, from the Lords Commissioners
of the Admiralty, that which they otherwise have not the
means of obtaining; that is, a public and lasting record
of the lion-hearted, generous, and the very unexampled 20
way in which our late noble commander sacrificed his
life in the evening of the 20th of June."
This letter was signed by the whole surviving crew of the
Drake, and in consequence, a tablet in the dockyard chapel
at Portsmouth commemorates the heroism of Captain 25
Charles Baker.
—A Book of Golden Deeds.
1. Retell the main events of this story as briefly as you can. You can do this best by making a careful outline of the points set forth. Hand your topics to your teacher.
2. What is the rule aboard ship in case of abandoning the vessel? What accidents at sea do you know about?