描述
开 本: 32开纸 张: 纯质纸包 装: 精装是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787544783989丛书名: 有声双语经典
★译林“有声双语经典”原版引进美国教育专家特为学生编写的英语名著，精选贴近中国学生英语习得水平的著作，选目涵盖各国经典文学作品，让孩子在阅读中提高文学鉴赏能力。
★甄选优质中文译本，配以导读、作家作品简介和插图。著名儿童文学作家黄蓓佳长文导读推荐。
★聘请资深高考听力卷主播朗读英语有声书。有声书播放平台操作便捷，只需扫描书中二维码，即可收听英文音频，让孩子一边阅读一边提高英语听读能力。
★《野性的呼唤》自出版以来被翻译成47种语言，很多国家的中小学将其列入学生推荐阅读图书。
★被世界各国多次改编为影视、动画作品，主角巴克的形象风靡全球。
巴克是米勒法官家的一只爱犬，被贩卖到美国北部寒冷偏远、盛产黄金的阿拉斯加，成了一只雪橇犬。为了生存，巴克逐渐适应恶劣的自然环境和各色贪婪的主人。在经历了生死打斗、恩人遇害等一系列事件后，巴克zui终响应内心的召唤，走向荒野，回归自然，成为群狼之王。美国小说家杰克·伦敦向我们展示了一个广袤的蛮荒世界，在揭示野性力量与生存勇气的同时，表达了对文明的失望和对人性的思考。
目 录
第1章 遭遇绑架
第2章 吸取教训
第3章 野蛮法则
第4章 入侵者
第5章 战斗到底
第6章 新头领
第7章 新主人
第8章 约翰·桑顿
第9章 忠诚老友
第10章 惊人之举
第11章 狼兄弟
第12章 巴克回归旷野
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 Kidnapped
CHAPTER 2 Lesson Learned
CHAPTER 3 The Law of Club and Fang
CHAPTER 4 The Invaders
CHAPTER 5 A Fight to the End
CHAPTER 6 A New Leader
CHAPTER 7 New Masters
CHAPTER 8 John Thornton
CHAPTER 9 Devoted Friends
CHAPTER 10 An Amazing Feat
CHAPTER 11 A Wolf Brother
CHAPTER 12 Buck Answers the Call of the Wild
每一个灯光漫溢的夜晚
黄蓓佳
去年开始，京东图书商城的运营者们在网上做了一档很不错的栏目，叫作“大咖书单”，我记得是在第四期时，我为这份书单推荐了两本书，《杀死一只知更鸟》和《奇风岁月》，到第七期又推荐了两本，《老师，水缸破了》和《天虹战队小学》。回过头一想，赫然惊觉，两次推荐的四本书，居然都是出自译林出版社。潜意识里我对这家出版社是有多偏爱啊，我那么自觉自愿地、一往无前地做了译林社的一名“吹鼓手”。
没有办法，喜欢就是喜欢，没有道理可讲。
喜欢译林出版社的书，其实是因为我喜欢外国文学作品。细究起来，我对外国文学的热爱，源自童年那个无书可读的时代。我在扬子江边一个小小的县城长大，我父母工作的学校是当地*好的县中，县中图书馆多少有一些藏书，“文革”开始的那一年，书籍和老师们一同被揪出来示众，之后老师们游街，图书拉到操场一把火烧毁。图书馆主任“火中抢栗”，偷出一纸箱运回家中。主任的儿子跟我小学同班，因此我沾了他的光，把他父亲秘藏的小说书一本一本地搬运出来，在一双双黝黑的小手中辗转一圈之后，再神不知鬼不觉地偷放回去。那位图书馆主任可能比较“崇洋媚外”，弄回家的小说大都是世界名著，我对于外国文学的兴趣，便是从那时开始的。
那时年幼，读书不求甚解，又因为是背着大人们的“偷阅”，读书过程基本是囫囵吞枣。很多书传到我手里的时候缺头少尾，只剩下中间三分之二的篇幅，精彩之处戛然而止，急得我抓耳挠腮。页码齐全的书，抓到手里翻开就读，书名是什么，作者何人，很奇怪地忽略不计，一点儿不想知道。及至十年之后我上了大学，外国文学开禁，我在北大图书馆发疯一样地狂读名著时，时不时会在心里惊叫一声：这本书不是我小时候读过的吗？于是，嗅着书中陈年纸张散发的潮湿气味，心里涌出一种老朋友失而复得的狂喜。也有一些书，童年时候莫名其妙地读过了，却是踏破铁鞋无觅处。它们就这样永远地从我的生活中消失了，像无数消失在我生命旅途的朋友和家人。
高二那年，妹妹的同学借了我一套肖洛霍夫的《静静的顿河》。在我的生命中，那是一次飞跃，此后的这么多年我以文学为生，应该与那一次的阅读震撼有关。书中的那个哥萨克人格利高里，很长时间中成为我欣赏男性的标准。书中描写的顿河风光，至今都在我的脑子里鲜活和闪亮。
十九岁，我在农场插队。一个飘雪的冬夜，农场宣传队在场部排练节目时，电突然停了，礼堂里一片漆黑。一个只读了三年小学的农场工人对我们说：“我来讲个故事吧。”他讲的那个故事叫《茶花女》。一直到今天我都觉得那个晚上的情景像梦。在那个不准读书的年代，那个没有文化的乡村，初小没有毕业的农民居然讲出法国作家小仲马的名著。那个漆黑凄美的冬夜，从此也深深刻印到我的记忆之中。那是我第yi次领略悲剧作品的魅力。几年之后，时代剧变，我买到了《茶花女》的小说，听过了《茶花女》的歌剧，看过了同名电影，我从一切形式的《茶花女》中寻找那个雪夜的感觉，然而再不可能，*好的都是唯yi的。
一九七八年初春进入北大，那一年外国文学还没有开禁，北大图书馆里辟出很小的一个房间作为“外国文学阅览室”，每星期三的下午，允许中文系文学专业的学生，凭学生证进入阅读。我的印象中，那间阅览室只能容纳十几二十几个学生，每次开放，排在前面的同学才有机会被老师放进门去。于是那一年的“星期三”成了我们的排队日，匆忙吃过午饭，碗都来不及洗，拔脚往图书馆飞奔，一行人安静地在阅览室门外排队，等待两点钟开门放人。除却寒暑假、节日、有课的日子、有重要活动的日子，剩下的“星期三”并不是很多，所以每一次的阅读时间弥足珍贵。一书在手，全身心地扑上去吞食，每每到五点钟闭馆交书，站起身来，头晕目眩，虚脱的感觉。那种阅读，耗出去的不仅仅是脑力，还有巨大的体力。
一九七八年，人民文学出版社开始重印外国文学名著。刚开始的时候人多书少，全班同学轮流着到海淀新华书店通宵排队购书。那时年轻，通宵不眠为了买一本书，丝毫不觉辛苦。慢慢地书越出越多，时常到书店转悠，冷不丁地就碰上新书上架。排长队是不必了，痛切的感觉是口袋里钱太少。那时发下的心愿是哪一天发了财，可以把书店里的新书都掳回来。转眼三十年过去，谈不上发大财，买书是可以不计价钱了，可是看着书店里铺天盖地的图书，想到书架上还有很多书不及阅读，解囊的兴致少了许多，挑挑拣拣，带个一两本回家，心中并没有太多欣喜。人生的悲哀真正是无处不在。
还是回到一九七九年。印象之中，《世界文学》《外国文艺》《译林》这些杂志都是在那时候陆续复刊和创刊的。这些刊物着重介绍外国现当代文学，并且以中短篇幅的为主，对于习惯了阅读古典长篇的我们，眼前似乎又打开了另外一个世界。我非常清楚地记得，同班同学陈建功有一次读到格雷厄姆·.格林的短篇《永远占有》，佩服得五体投地，双眼发光地跑来跟我们说：“我真想跪在格林面前向他致敬！”
童年的阅读实在重要，它奠定了一个人终生的阅读口味。检点我书架上的书籍，百分之八十是外国文学作品。我曾经订阅过的刊物，有《世界文学》《外国文艺》《译林》《译文》《世界电影》……统统跟外国文学有关。几十年中，每一个灯光漫溢的夜晚，阅读这些缤纷华彩的文字，感觉世界离我很近。文字中写到的每一个角落，都是我心灵去过的地方。我占有了这些作品，我就占有了这个世界。
在我的印象中，译林社出的每一本书，无论是社科类的，还是人文类的，都值得读者收藏。而在译林社所出的文学类图书中，外国儿童文学作品又属精品中的精品，比之国内大多数专业少儿社所出的图书，译林社的视野更宽，选择标准更高，口味也更纯粹。很敬佩译林社的众多编辑们，他们敬业而又专业，总是能从全世界浩如烟海的各类书籍中挑选出*值得国人阅读的那一部分，延请*好的翻译家、*好的画家和设计师，做出一本又一本端庄而精致的图书，送到读者的面前。每次徜徉在灯光明亮的书店，或者打开手机上网搜索，译林社的新书总是我*中意的目标，我信赖译林社的出品，而且基本上不会失望。
翻开这套“有声双语经典”的书目，里面的作家和作品都是我熟悉的名字。有些书是在童年和少年时代各种侥幸落入我的手中的，有些是读大学时列入必读书单需要细读的，还有一些，比如《小王子》，比如《绿山墙的安妮》，少年和青年时代居然都错失了它们，是我在人到中年之后才补读完成。更有一部分，年轻时读过，花甲之年又重新捧起，是为了重温之后可以为我的小外孙女们详细讲解。在此我愿意把这些书目推荐给小读者们，是因为这样的一套书当之无愧地应该成为你们*好的朋友，会帮助你们更加优雅地长大。
杰克·伦敦一直是我喜欢的作家。 ——村上春树
这不是一个好听的故事，而是一个震撼的故事。——《大西洋月刊》
小说让读者对结果感到满意，这个真诚的故事讲得很好。——多克特罗
第1章 遭遇绑架
巴克从不读报纸，否则他就会知道从普吉特海湾到圣迭戈一带，对于每一只肌肉强壮、长有温暖长毛的大狗来说，正危机四伏。
人们在北极圈里发现了价值连城的黄金，数以千计的人乘船蜂拥到北部地区。
这些人都需要狗。肌肉强壮的大狗可以帮他们干活儿，温暖的皮毛可以供他们抵御严寒。
巴克住在加利福尼亚州阳光明媚的圣克拉拉谷的一所大房子中。大家都称之为米勒法官的房子，它远离公路，掩映在树丛中。如果近看，你能瞥见它四边都有门廊，周围到处是大树和草坪。房子的后院甚至比前边还要大。
房子旁边有几个大马厩、几排爬满了藤蔓的仆人房和一排库房，长长的葡萄架、绿色的牧场、果园和浆果地点 缀其间。井边矗立着一个泵站和一个大水泥槽。米勒先生家的男孩们早上跳进这个水泥槽里游泳，炎热的下午在这里保持凉爽。
巴克是这里的首领，掌管着一切。他出生在这儿，已经在这里度过了四年的光阴。当然，这儿还有其他狗，但他们都无足轻重，来了又走。有的挤在狗窝里，还有的，例如日本哈巴狗图茨，还有那条没毛的墨西哥犬伊莎贝尔，他们整天窝在家里，很少去外面。
另外，还有几十条猎狐 。每当图茨和伊莎贝尔在窗户边探出头，他们都要冲这两只狗狂吠。那两只看门狗有手拿扫帚和拖把的女佣保护。
可是巴克既不是看门狗也不是犬舍犬，他是这里的头儿。他和法官的儿子们一起在水泥槽中戏水游泳；陪法官的女儿莫莉和爱丽丝散步，给她们当保镖；在寒冷的冬日，他趴在法官的脚下，享受熊熊燃烧的炉火；他把法官的孙子驮在背上，跟他们在草地上打滚，或者陪他们徒步冒险到喷泉和浆果地。
巴克在狗群中总是向大家发号施令。他从来不把图茨和伊莎贝尔放在眼里，在米勒法官的宅邸，他才是国王，是所有地上爬的、天上飞的，甚至是人类的大王。
他的父亲埃尔默是一条圣伯纳犬，曾经是大法官形影不离的好伙伴，巴克本打算追随父亲的脚步。虽然他比父亲个头小很多——因为他母亲是一只苏牧，所以他体重只有140 磅。无论如何，他的个头已经不算小了。
巴克生活优渥，也许正因如此，他颇为自命不凡。幸好，狩猎和户外活动锻炼了他的肌肉，使得他免于沦为娇生惯养的看门狗。
巴克在1897年过的就是这样的日子。就在那一年，克朗代克的新发现让世界各地的人蜂拥到天寒地冻的北方。 然而，巴克不读报纸。
巴克同样不明白的是，园丁的助手曼纽尔是个坏家伙。他爱赌博，因此需要钱，曼纽尔可没多少钱，除去养活老婆孩子的，他手里就没几个子儿了。
一天晚上，法官到葡萄种植家协会开会去了，男孩子们正参加体育运动。偏偏就是在这个晚上，曼纽尔对巴克下了毒手。
曼纽尔和巴克穿过果园走了出去，没有一个人看见。巴克以为这只是再平常不过的散步。除了一个人，没有人看见曼纽尔把巴克带到名为学院公园的小火车站。那个人和曼纽尔说了几句话，一手交钱，一手交货。
“你应该包装完了再交货。”陌生人没好气地说。 曼纽尔把一条绳子对折，套在巴克的项圈下面，说：
“只要一拧绳子，就能勒得他够呛。”
巴克居然彬彬有礼地接受了绳子，虽然他不喜欢被套上绳索，但他已经习惯了信任熟悉的人。然而，当绳索 被交到陌生人手里时，他发出了一声低沉的怒吼。出乎意料的是，那绳子紧紧地勒住了他的脖子，勒得他都喘不上气了。
巴克勃然大怒，向那个人扑过去。那人一把抓住他，把他摔翻在地。绳索毫不留情地勒得更紧，巴克上气不接下气地挣扎着。他每喘一口气，胸口都上下起伏。他从未被人如此虐待，从未如此愤怒！但当那两个人把他扔进行李车厢时，他浑身无力。
巴克和法官出过很多次门，他知道自己在一辆行驶的火车上。他睁开眼睛，怒目圆睁，盯着绑架他的人。那个人跳过来抓他的喉咙，巴克动作比他快多了，一口咬住那个人的手不松，直到他被勒得再次昏过去。
“他有癫痫病。”那人说。行李员被打斗的动静吸引过来，查看发生了什么，那人把受伤的手臂藏起来，不让行李员看见。“我带他去旧金山，那里的医生说可以治好他。” 火车停站的时候，那人把巴克带下火车。他们来到旧金山海滨一家酒馆后的棚屋里。 “我一共只得了五十元，”他抱怨道，“下次给我一千块都不干了。”他的手被咬得血肉模糊，左裤管从膝盖直撕到脚踝。
“那家伙得了多少？”酒馆老板问。“一百，”他答道，“一分都不肯让。”“那就是一百五了，”酒馆老板说，“这狗值这么多。” 巴克忍着痛苦听他们的对话。他本打算面对他们，却被扔在地上，一再被勒得喘不上气，直到他们从他脖子上锉下了那个沉重的青铜项圈。
他们从他脖子上取下绳索后，把他扔进一个看起来像 笼子一样的箱子里。那个晚上余下的时光他只好躺在那里平息胸中的怒火，抚慰受伤的自尊。这些陌生人究竟为什么要抓他呢？
CHAPTER 1 Kidnapped
Buck did not read the newspapers. If he did, he would have known that trouble was brewing from Puget Sound to San Diego. Not only for himself, but for every dog that was strong of muscle with warm, long hair.
Men in the Arctic had found a yellow metal that was worth a lot of money. They had found gold. Steamships rushed thousands of men into the Northland.
These men wanted dogs—heavy dogs with strong muscles to work. They needed dogs with furry coats to protect them from the frost.
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley in California. Judge Miller’s place, as it was called, stood back from the road. It was half hidden among the trees. If you looked closely, you could catch a glimpse of the porch that ran around its four sides. It sat upon wide-spreading lawns adorned with tall trees. The back of the property was even bigger than the front.
There were great stables, rows of vine-covered servants’ cottages, and an array of outhouses. Long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches dotted the land. There was a pumping plant for the well and a big cement tank. It was in this tank that the Miller boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.
Buck ruled over all of it. He had been born here, and he had lived here for all four years of his life. There were other dogs, of course. But they didn’t count. They came and went. Some lived in the kennels and others, like Toots, the Japanese pug, and Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, stayed indoors. They rarely put a paw down on the ground.
On the other hand, there were scores of fox terriers who yelped at Toots and Ysabel whenever they poked their eyes up at the window. The house dogs were protected by the housemaids, who were armed with brooms and mops.
But Buck was neither a house dog nor a kennel dog. The whole land was his. He plunged into the swimming tank with the Judge’s sons. He escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s daughters, on walks. On wintry days, he’d lay at the Judge’s feet before the roaring fire. He’d carry the Judge’s grandsons on his back or roll them in the grass. He guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain and berry patches.
Among the terriers, Buck talked in a bossy manner. He ignored Toots and Ysabel, for he was king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller’s place. Humans included.
His father, Elmo, was a St. Bernard and had been the Judge’s constant companion. Buck planned to follow in his footsteps. He wasn’t as large as his father. He only weighed 140 pounds thanks to his mother. She had been a Scotch Shepherd dog.
Nevertheless, his size was great enough.
Buck lived the life of a noble beast and felt, perhaps, too much pride in himself. But he saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house dog. Hunting and outdoor life had kept him trim with hardened muscles.
This was the way in which Buck lived in 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from all over the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers.
Buck also did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was a bad man. Manuel had a love for gambling. But gambling requires money. Money is not something Manuel had a lot of. After supporting his wife and children, there was none left for him. One night, the Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers’ Association. On this same evening, the boys were busy with their sporting games. As luck would have it, this also happened to be the night of Manuel’s betrayal.
No one saw Manuel and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck thought was just a stroll. With the exception of a man, no one saw them arrive at the little train station known as College Park. This man talked with Manuel and money exchanged hands.
“You may want to wrap up the goods before you deliver him,” said the stranger.
Manuel doubled a piece of rope around Buck’s neck under his collar. “Twist it and you’ll choke him plenty.”
Buck accepted the rope with dignity. He didn’t want it around his neck but he had learned to trust men that he knew. But when the rope was placed in the stranger’s hand, he growled. To his surprise, the rope tightened around his neck and shut off his breath.
In a quick rage, Buck ran at the man. The man grabbed him and threw him over on his back. The rope tightened mercilessly and Buck struggled to breathe. His chest heaved with each breath. He had never been treated so poorly! He had never felt such anger. But his strength dimmed as the two men threw him into the baggage car.
Buck had traveled enough with the Judge to know he was on a moving train. He opened his eyes and saw a fury of anger as he stared at his kidnapper. The man sprang for his throat but Buck was too quick for him. His jaws closed on the man’s hand, and he didn’t release it until his breath was choked out of him once again.
“He has fits,” said the man, hiding his mangled hand from the baggage man who came to see about the noise. “I’m taking him to San Francisco. A doctor there thinks he can cure him.”
When the train stopped, the man took Buck off the train. They went to a little shed in the back of a saloon on the San Francisco waterfront.
“All I get is fifty for it,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t do it again for a thousand cash.” His hand was mangled and his left pant leg was ripped from knee to ankle.
“How much did the other guy get?” the saloon keeper asked.
“A hundred,” was the reply. “Wouldn’t take a penny less to help me.”
“That makes $150,” said the saloon keeper. “He’s worth it.”
Buck listened to all this while suffering. He attempted to face them but was thrown down and choked repeatedly until they filed the heavy brass collar off his neck.
After the rope was removed, Buck was flung into a crate that looked like a cage. He lay there for the rest of the night nursing his anger and wounded pride. Why did these strange men want him?
第1章 遭遇绑架
巴克从不读报纸，否则他就会知道从普吉特海湾到圣迭戈一带，对于每一只肌肉强壮、长有温暖长毛的大狗来说，正危机四伏。
人们在北极圈里发现了价值连城的黄金，数以千计的人乘船蜂拥到北部地区。
这些人都需要狗。肌肉强壮的大狗可以帮他们干活儿，温暖的皮毛可以供他们抵御严寒。
巴克住在加利福尼亚州阳光明媚的圣克拉拉谷的一所大房子中。大家都称之为米勒法官的房子，它远离公路，掩映在树丛中。如果近看，你能瞥见它四边都有门廊，周围到处是大树和草坪。房子的后院甚至比前边还要大。
房子旁边有几个大马厩、几排爬满了藤蔓的仆人房和一排库房，长长的葡萄架、绿色的牧场、果园和浆果地点 缀其间。井边矗立着一个泵站和一个大水泥槽。米勒先生家的男孩们早上跳进这个水泥槽里游泳，炎热的下午在这里保持凉爽。
巴克是这里的首领，掌管着一切。他出生在这儿，已经在这里度过了四年的光阴。当然，这儿还有其他狗，但他们都无足轻重，来了又走。有的挤在狗窝里，还有的，例如日本哈巴狗图茨，还有那条没毛的墨西哥犬伊莎贝尔，他们整天窝在家里，很少去外面。
另外，还有几十条猎狐 。每当图茨和伊莎贝尔在窗户边探出头，他们都要冲这两只狗狂吠。那两只看门狗有手拿扫帚和拖把的女佣保护。
可是巴克既不是看门狗也不是犬舍犬，他是这里的头儿。他和法官的儿子们一起在水泥槽中戏水游泳；陪法官的女儿莫莉和爱丽丝散步，给她们当保镖；在寒冷的冬日，他趴在法官的脚下，享受熊熊燃烧的炉火；他把法官的孙子驮在背上，跟他们在草地上打滚，或者陪他们徒步冒险到喷泉和浆果地。
巴克在狗群中总是向大家发号施令。他从来不把图茨和伊莎贝尔放在眼里，在米勒法官的宅邸，他才是国王，是所有地上爬的、天上飞的，甚至是人类的大王。
他的父亲埃尔默是一条圣伯纳犬，曾经是大法官形影不离的好伙伴，巴克本打算追随父亲的脚步。虽然他比父亲个头小很多——因为他母亲是一只苏牧，所以他体重只有140 磅。无论如何，他的个头已经不算小了。
巴克生活优渥，也许正因如此，他颇为自命不凡。幸好，狩猎和户外活动锻炼了他的肌肉，使得他免于沦为娇生惯养的看门狗。
巴克在1897年过的就是这样的日子。就在那一年，克朗代克的新发现让世界各地的人蜂拥到天寒地冻的北方。 然而，巴克不读报纸。
巴克同样不明白的是，园丁的助手曼纽尔是个坏家伙。他爱赌博，因此需要钱，曼纽尔可没多少钱，除去养活老婆孩子的，他手里就没几个子儿了。
一天晚上，法官到葡萄种植家协会开会去了，男孩子们正参加体育运动。偏偏就是在这个晚上，曼纽尔对巴克下了毒手。
曼纽尔和巴克穿过果园走了出去，没有一个人看见。巴克以为这只是再平常不过的散步。除了一个人，没有人看见曼纽尔把巴克带到名为学院公园的小火车站。那个人和曼纽尔说了几句话，一手交钱，一手交货。
“你应该包装完了再交货。”陌生人没好气地说。 曼纽尔把一条绳子对折，套在巴克的项圈下面，说：
“只要一拧绳子，就能勒得他够呛。”
巴克居然彬彬有礼地接受了绳子，虽然他不喜欢被套上绳索，但他已经习惯了信任熟悉的人。然而，当绳索 被交到陌生人手里时，他发出了一声低沉的怒吼。出乎意料的是，那绳子紧紧地勒住了他的脖子，勒得他都喘不上气了。
巴克勃然大怒，向那个人扑过去。那人一把抓住他，把他摔翻在地。绳索毫不留情地勒得更紧，巴克上气不接下气地挣扎着。他每喘一口气，胸口都上下起伏。他从未被人如此虐待，从未如此愤怒！但当那两个人把他扔进行李车厢时，他浑身无力。
巴克和法官出过很多次门，他知道自己在一辆行驶的火车上。他睁开眼睛，怒目圆睁，盯着绑架他的人。那个人跳过来抓他的喉咙，巴克动作比他快多了，一口咬住那个人的手不松，直到他被勒得再次昏过去。
“他有癫痫病。”那人说。行李员被打斗的动静吸引过来，查看发生了什么，那人把受伤的手臂藏起来，不让行李员看见。“我带他去旧金山，那里的医生说可以治好他。” 火车停站的时候，那人把巴克带下火车。他们来到旧金山海滨一家酒馆后的棚屋里。 “我一共只得了五十元，”他抱怨道，“下次给我一千块都不干了。”他的手被咬得血肉模糊，左裤管从膝盖直撕到脚踝。
“那家伙得了多少？”酒馆老板问。“一百，”他答道，“一分都不肯让。”“那就是一百五了，”酒馆老板说，“这狗值这么多。” 巴克忍着痛苦听他们的对话。他本打算面对他们，却被扔在地上，一再被勒得喘不上气，直到他们从他脖子上锉下了那个沉重的青铜项圈。
他们从他脖子上取下绳索后，把他扔进一个看起来像 笼子一样的箱子里。那个晚上余下的时光他只好躺在那里平息胸中的怒火，抚慰受伤的自尊。这些陌生人究竟为什么要抓他呢？
CHAPTER 1 Kidnapped
Buck did not read the newspapers. If he did, he would have known that trouble was brewing from Puget Sound to San Diego. Not only for himself, but for every dog that was strong of muscle with warm, long hair.
Men in the Arctic had found a yellow metal that was worth a lot of money. They had found gold. Steamships rushed thousands of men into the Northland.
These men wanted dogs—heavy dogs with strong muscles to work. They needed dogs with furry coats to protect them from the frost.
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley in California. Judge Miller’s place, as it was called, stood back from the road. It was half hidden among the trees. If you looked closely, you could catch a glimpse of the porch that ran around its four sides. It sat upon wide-spreading lawns adorned with tall trees. The back of the property was even bigger than the front.
There were great stables, rows of vine-covered servants’ cottages, and an array of outhouses. Long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches dotted the land. There was a pumping plant for the well and a big cement tank. It was in this tank that the Miller boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.
Buck ruled over all of it. He had been born here, and he had lived here for all four years of his life. There were other dogs, of course. But they didn’t count. They came and went. Some lived in the kennels and others, like Toots, the Japanese pug, and Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, stayed indoors. They rarely put a paw down on the ground.
On the other hand, there were scores of fox terriers who yelped at Toots and Ysabel whenever they poked their eyes up at the window. The house dogs were protected by the housemaids, who were armed with brooms and mops.
But Buck was neither a house dog nor a kennel dog. The whole land was his. He plunged into the swimming tank with the Judge’s sons. He escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s daughters, on walks. On wintry days, he’d lay at the Judge’s feet before the roaring fire. He’d carry the Judge’s grandsons on his back or roll them in the grass. He guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain and berry patches.
Among the terriers, Buck talked in a bossy manner. He ignored Toots and Ysabel, for he was king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller’s place. Humans included.
His father, Elmo, was a St. Bernard and had been the Judge’s constant companion. Buck planned to follow in his footsteps. He wasn’t as large as his father. He only weighed 140 pounds thanks to his mother. She had been a Scotch Shepherd dog.
Nevertheless, his size was great enough.
Buck lived the life of a noble beast and felt, perhaps, too much pride in himself. But he saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house dog. Hunting and outdoor life had kept him trim with hardened muscles.
This was the way in which Buck lived in 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from all over the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers.
Buck also did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was a bad man. Manuel had a love for gambling. But gambling requires money. Money is not something Manuel had a lot of. After supporting his wife and children, there was none left for him. One night, the Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers’ Association. On this same evening, the boys were busy with their sporting games. As luck would have it, this also happened to be the night of Manuel’s betrayal.
No one saw Manuel and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck thought was just a stroll. With the exception of a man, no one saw them arrive at the little train station known as College Park. This man talked with Manuel and money exchanged hands.
“You may want to wrap up the goods before you deliver him,” said the stranger.
Manuel doubled a piece of rope around Buck’s neck under his collar. “Twist it and you’ll choke him plenty.”
Buck accepted the rope with dignity. He didn’t want it around his neck but he had learned to trust men that he knew. But when the rope was placed in the stranger’s hand, he growled. To his surprise, the rope tightened around his neck and shut off his breath.
In a quick rage, Buck ran at the man. The man grabbed him and threw him over on his back. The rope tightened mercilessly and Buck struggled to breathe. His chest heaved with each breath. He had never been treated so poorly! He had never felt such anger. But his strength dimmed as the two men threw him into the baggage car.
Buck had traveled enough with the Judge to know he was on a moving train. He opened his eyes and saw a fury of anger as he stared at his kidnapper. The man sprang for his throat but Buck was too quick for him. His jaws closed on the man’s hand, and he didn’t release it until his breath was choked out of him once again.
“He has fits,” said the man, hiding his mangled hand from the baggage man who came to see about the noise. “I’m taking him to San Francisco. A doctor there thinks he can cure him.”
When the train stopped, the man took Buck off the train. They went to a little shed in the back of a saloon on the San Francisco waterfront.
“All I get is fifty for it,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t do it again for a thousand cash.” His hand was mangled and his left pant leg was ripped from knee to ankle.
“How much did the other guy get?” the saloon keeper asked.
“A hundred,” was the reply. “Wouldn’t take a penny less to help me.”
“That makes $150,” said the saloon keeper. “He’s worth it.”
Buck listened to all this while suffering. He attempted to face them but was thrown down and choked repeatedly until they filed the heavy brass collar off his neck.
After the rope was removed, Buck was flung into a crate that looked like a cage. He lay there for the rest of the night nursing his anger and wounded pride. Why did these strange men want him?
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