Zhao Xin | Short Story Series VII: Jack London (11) "The Call of the Wilderness"

Zhao Xin | Short Story Series VII:

Jack London (11) The Call of the Wild

Section 1 Entering the Original

Buck didn't read the newspaper, or he would have known he was in trouble; not only himself, but every strong, warm, long-haired dog on the seashore, from the Strait of Pigitte to San Diego, was going to suffer. It's all because people have found a yellow metal in the darkness of the Arctic, because ships and transport companies are trumpeting the discovery. Thousands of men are rushing north. These people need dogs, they want big dogs with strong muscles that can sell coolies and have dense furs to ward off the wind and cold. "--"Dogs don't read newspapers" ~ Painting style is strange~

"Buck lived in a large mansion in the sunny Santa Clara Valley, which people called Judge Miller's house." - "The sun is shining" and the wind and snow behind the severe cold contrast, the status represented by "judge" is contrasted with the wasteland below.

"In this vast expanse of land, Buck has the final say. Four-year-old Buck was born here and grew up here. Yes, there are other dogs here. It is impossible for such a large area to be without other dogs, but none of them can use it. Buck is not a house dog or a kennel dog. This territory is at his disposal... For he is king. In Judge Miller's realm, whether it is flying in the sky or climbing on the ground, everything is under his control, even people are no exception. "------------------------------------

"His father, Elmo, was a St. Bernard breeding dog who had never been away from the judge. Buck was destined to follow the glory of his father.com. He wasn't too big—he weighed no more than one hundred and forty pounds—only because his mother, Shep, was a Scottish Shepherd. Nevertheless, a weight of one hundred and forty pounds, combined with the majesty of pampering, was enough to make him show him the dignity of a king. From childhood to adulthood, he lived a prosperous aristocratic life. Although he was a bit arrogant, even self-absorbed, like a squire sitting in a well and watching the sky, he was not reduced to a house dog who knew how to eat. Outdoor sports such as hunting have made him rich and strong; "The love of water has also become a good medicine for his tonic fitness, which is tried and tested in all species that are keen on cold water baths." --further shows his extraordinary.

Buck didn't read the newspaper, nor did he know that Manuel, the gardener's assistant, was a beast-faced fellow. Manuel had a hopeless hobby of playing Chinese gambling, and there was a problem with gambling that could not be changed: a road to black; which made him unable to avoid falling behind. It takes a lot of money to go all the way to the black, but with the income of a gardener's assistant, it is not easy to make a wife and a group of children subsistence. The dog king's fate was changed by a vile gambler.

"Buck can't forget the night Manuel became a traitor." I can deliver it without a package. The stranger was rude. Manuel wrapped a double-stranded thick rope around Buck's neck under the collar. As soon as he tightened, he couldn't catch his breath. The stranger grunted and accepted.

Buck acquiesced to the rope with dignity. It was a little unusual; but he had learned to trust his acquaintances because they trusted them beyond his own wisdom. Of course, he still screamed menacingly when the rope was handed to the stranger, which only implied that he was not very happy, and he was confident that the hint worked. Who would have thought, that rope tightened his neck and made him unable to breathe. He was furious and was about to pounce, but the man grabbed him by the neck and skillfully threw him to the ground, tightening the rope mercilessly. Buck struggled furiously, gasping helplessly, his tongue hunched down. Growing up so big, no one had ever inflicted such a poisonous hand on him, and he had never fired such a big fire. He gradually lost his strength, and his eyes turned black. When the two men got him on the train and threw him into the Lee carriage, he was already unconscious. "—Alas, the process~

When he woke up again, he felt like he was in a rickety car, and his tongue hurt. Hearing the piercing whistle of the locomotive as it crossed the fork in the road, he understood where he was. He often went out with the judge, but he never tasted the squat luggage cart. He opened his eyes and spewed out two uncontrollable bursts of anger, like a kidnapped monarch. The man jumped over to pinch him by the neck, but he took the lead. He took the man's hand and didn't let go until he was strangled again. "---- heroic.

Buck's self-esteem was hurt, and he was furious and stuck in the box until dawn. He didn't understand what was going on... But he vaguely felt that a catastrophe was coming, and his heart felt suffocated. That night, as soon as the door of the hut creaked, he stood up, ... Each time Buck's shout of joy had not yet exited, it turned into a furious roar. --Describe the state.

"Since then, he and this cage have been constantly turning their hands back... Finally, a fast train was sent. The locomotive whimpered and dragged the express train for two days and two nights; for two days and two nights Buck Water Rice did not stick teeth... One moment they learned to be a dog, the next they meowed to pretend to be a cat, and the next they flapped their arms to learn how to bark. Buck knew it was disgusting, and it hurt his self-esteem more and more, and his anger grew louder than it did. A furious rage stirred up in his heart. This abuse tightened Buck's extremely sensitive nerves, and he was hot and dry, his mouth was dry and his tongue was scorched, and the swelling and pain were unbearable. "------------------------------------

"There was only one thing that pleased him: the rope was no longer around his neck... They couldn't tie another rope anymore. He had already made up his mind... He turned into a red-eyed demon, and even if the judge saw him, I am afraid it would be difficult to recognize him. But what awaits him is not so simple...

The man smiled coldly and brought an axe and a big stick. The four people who came in with the box immediately scattered, each finding a place to live on the wall, waiting to see the bustle. Buck was ramming and tearing and biting in the box that was about to fall apart. Wherever the axe outside slashed, he pounced. He roared, snorted, and couldn't wait to rush out of the cage, while the man in red was silent, moving firmly to release Buck from the cage. 'Well, you red-eyed ghost.' The man said. He cut a large slit in the box for Buck to drill out, then dropped his axe and exchanged the stick for his right hand. Buck was really red-eyed at this time. His mane was upside down, his mouth was full of white foam, his eyes were red, and he was shining with fierce light, and he used all his strength to jump up with the anger of two days and two nights of captivity, and pounced on the man. Before he could bite, Buck struck in mid-air, and this moment broke his attack; he had to hit his teeth in pain, rolled, and fell to the ground with his back to the ground. Growing up so big, Buck had never been hit by a stick, and he didn't know what it tasted like. The bark he had just exited turned into a scream, and he stood firm and jumped up again, only to be knocked to the ground again. This time he knew how powerful the stick was, but he hadn't been frustrated yet. He rushed up again and again, and was beaten back again and again, and was hit by more than a dozen sticks in a row. "--Will it be broken..."

Later, a heavy blow made him dizzy, and although he struggled to get up, he could no longer move. He was dangling, bleeding profusely, and his beautiful fur was splashed with blood, making it everywhere. At this moment, the man stepped forward and struck him in the face. Buck was beaten countless times, not once. He roared like a lion and pounced on it again. The man switched the stick to his left hand, freed his right hand and unhurriedly choked Buck's chin, twisting it down and back. Buck was twisted in a circle and a half in the air, and fell to the ground. He pounced one last time. The man unleashed a hidden blow and knocked Buck to the ground curled up and unconscious. "—You have to see these things with your own eyes before you can write them.

Buck had consciousness, but he had no strength. He was lying on his stomach where he had been knocked down, watching the man in red... Well, Brother Buck," he said pleasantly, 'we just had a little conflict, and it's better not to take revenge.' You and I each have several sets of skills, and we have already understood. Be a good dog, a good dog has a good reward. If you don't have a good dog, I'll knock you out of the water. Got it? —Buck can understand?

He patted Buck's head, which he had just beaten, not at all afraid. The man touched it, and Buck's hair involuntarily rose, but he did not resist. The man brought water, and Buck drank it without a life; the man brought raw meat, and Buck took his hand and devoured it piece by piece. "A dozen and a coax, so tamed?"

Buck knew he had been beaten, but he wasn't depressed. This time he understood everything: in the face of the man with the stick in his hand, you have no way to do anything. He learned the lesson, a lesson that will be unforgettable in the years to come. The big stick enlightened him, and made him understand the truth that the strong are kings, and he accepted half of this truth. The reality of life reveals a cruel side, and he does not flinch to this cruel reality, while at the same time coping with all the shrewdness awakened by instinct. --Clever.

"As the days went by, one dog after another was brought in. There were cages locked, tied with ropes; some were obedient, and some were as violent as he had been; Buck watched as they were obediently ruled by the men in red. Watch the cruel performances, and the lessons will go deep into Buck's heart little by little. Every word and deed of a man with a stick in his hand is law, and such a master must be obeyed, but not necessarily flattered. He had seen many beaten dogs licking the man's hand and wagging his tail and begging for mercy, but Buck himself was not ashamed of this. He had also seen a dog that neither flattered nor obeyed, and lost its life in the struggle to decide the right to rule. It's a metaphor.

"From time to time strangers come, and they look different, talking to the man in red with a rhetorical tongue and a blushing neck. After the money passed, the stranger led one or more dogs away. Buck wondered where the dogs who had never returned had gone, and was more worried about his future; he felt comfortable every time he lost the election. Finally it was Buck's turn. --Mentality.

"'Obedient!' He saw Buck, his eyes lit up, and he cried out, 'This dog is so fucking awesome!' yes? How much does it cost? ’······ Perlau knew how to do it, and at a glance he could see that Buck was the dog of a thousand miles— 'It's a one-of-a-kind.' He pondered. - Profile Buck's Excellence.

Buck and Curly watched Seattle drift away from deck on the Nahua, their last gaze left in the warm South... Perlau was a dark-skinned French-Canadian; Franços was a mixed-race French-Canadian with darker skin... Gradually, Although Buck did not like them, he sincerely respected them. He soon saw that perau and Fransos were upright and calm and fair; they were deeply dog-like, and dogs wanted to fool them. --A complete twist of fate.

"In the navoie, Buck and Corrie saw two other dogs. One was the snow-white Spitsbergen dog, who was first taken out by a whaling captain and later to no man's land with a geological expedition. He saw three points of treacherous laughter, but in fact, he hid a knife in his laughter. For example, he stole Buck's rations at the first meal. Buck was about to rush over to him to settle the account when Franços's whip shook, and a whip struck the perpetrator; but all Buck could retrieve was the bones. Buck believed that Franços was fair, and his status in Buck's mind rose from then on. "---- write about dogs in the way they write about people, and the line between dogs and people is blurred.

"The other dog doesn't get close, doesn't answer people, and doesn't steal things from new dogs." He was a reclusive fellow, and he clearly signaled to Corrie that he wanted to stay by himself, and if he wasn't allowed to stay by himself, don't blame him for being rude. His name was 'Dave', and Dave ate and slept, ate, yawned the rest of the time, and was not interested in anything else. As the Nava crossed the Strait of Queen Charlotte, it was thrown up and down like a demon, and circled around, when Buck and Corly were so excited that they were half mad and half stupid; Dave was still indifferent, and he looked up in disgust, gave them a once-sea look, yawned and fell asleep. Dogs have different personalities and are well written.

One morning, the paddles finally quieted down, and there was a restless breath on the Nava. Buck and the other dogs knew something was going to happen. Franços led them up to the deck. As soon as he stepped onto the cold deck, Buck's claws sank into something soft, mud-like white. He snorted and jumped away. More white things were still falling in mid-air. He shook a little, but there was a lot of stain on his body. He sniffed curiously and stuck out his tongue again and licked it. This thing burned like fire, and as soon as it was introduced, it was gone. He was a little puzzled, tried again, and it was still the same. The man next to him laughed, embarrassed and not knowing what was going on, because it was the first time he had seen snow. "——Write about the first time I saw snow, very textured.

Supplementary note: When reading the novel, I did not know, and when I read it and then learned about it, I found that Jack London was extremely unfriendly to the mainland and the people of the mainland, and the inhumane words published such as "Yellow Peril" and "Unprecedented Invasion" made an unforgivable mistake to us - because he died of drug overdose at the age of forty, he had no chance to solemnly apologize to us. The public remarks of such a great writer have undoubtedly caused a huge impact and brought us immeasurable losses, even if we solemnly apologize, it is irreparable! For whether to post this series of feelings about him after reading, I have also been entangled for a long time. If a stick is killed, it is too absolute and too unashamed. Good works still need to be studied, but evil and cruel remarks must be resolutely and severely opposed! Therefore, at the end of each post-reading feeling, this supplementary note is added, hoping that the reader can distinguish between right and wrong and grasp it comprehensively.