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The Son of the Wolf by Jack London
page 15 of 178 (08%)
the bright White Silence, clear and cold, under steely skies, is
pitiless.

An hour passed--two hours--but the man would not die. At high
noon the sun, without raising its rim above the southern horizon,
threw a suggestion of fire athwart the heavens, then quickly drew
it back. Malemute Kid roused and dragged himself to his comrade's
side. He cast one glance about him. The White Silence seemed to
sneer, and a great fear came upon him. There was a sharp report;
Mason swung into his aerial sepulcher, and Malemute Kid lashed
the dogs into a wild gallop as he fled across the snow.



The Son of the Wolf

Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least
not until deprived of them. He has no conception of the subtle
atmosphere exhaled by the sex feminine, so long as he bathes in
it; but let it be withdrawn, and an ever-growing void begins to
manifest itself in his existence, and he becomes hungry, in a
vague sort of way, for a something so indefinite that he cannot
characterize it. If his comrades have no more experience than
himself, they will shake their heads dubiously and dose him with
strong physic. But the hunger will continue and become stronger;
he will lose interest in the things of his everyday life and wax
morbid; and one day, when the emptiness has become unbearable, a
revelation will dawn upon him.

In the Yukon country, when this comes to pass, the man usually
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