McGraw©Hill/Focus/The Call Of The Wild p. 372////R7N23/ ***** When Jack London got gold fever in 1987 and headed for the

Klondike in Alaska, he did not strike it rich as he hoped he

would. He did not store up any gold dust during his year spent

in the north. However, he was collecting something that was to

prove even more valuable to him later on. He was collecting

knowledge, stories, and impressions of this savage north, where

the influence of civilization was like a thin coat of paint that

wore off quickly in the struggle to survive. Back in California in 1903, he put thes knowledge to use

when he wrote the story of a never©to©be©forgotten dog, Buck, who

overcame seemingly impossible odds to stay alive in the primitive

land of ice and snow. When the novel was published, it brought

London bath fame and considerable wealth. In all the stories you ever will read, you may never find a

more savage and brutal illustration of fighting against odds the

is to be found in Chapter 1 of: The Call Of The Wild©©when Buck

learns a bitter lesson from the man in the red sweater.Chapter 1Into the Primitive Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known

that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every

tidewater dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from

Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic

darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and

transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men

were rushing into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the

dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to

toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost. Buck lived at a big house in the sunkissed Santa Clara

Valley. Judge Miller's place, it was called. And over this

great domain Buck ruled. The whole realm was his. He plunged

into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge's sons; he

escorted the judge's daughters on long twilight or early morning

rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the judge's feet before the

roaring library fire; he carried the judge's grandsons on his

back, or rolled them in the grass. Buck's father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been the

judge's inseparable companion, and Buck bid fair to follow in the

way of his father. He eas not so large©©he weighed only one

hundred and forty pounds©©for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotch

shepard dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to

which was added the dignity that comes of good living andÜj��Ü
universal respect, enable him to carry himself in right royal

fashion.