Original subtitles

♪

(man) Come, Buck!

(narrator) Buck lived at a big house

in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley.

Judge Miller's Place, it was called.

The house was approached by graveled driveways

which wound about through wide-spreading lawns

and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars.

And over this great domain, Buck ruled.

Here he was born, and here he had lived

the four years of his life.

(shovel digging)

Good afternoon, Manuel.

(Manuel mutters)

(narrator) Buck didn't read the newspapers,

or he would have known that trouble was brewing,

not alone for himself, but of 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 steam ship and transportation companies

were booming the find,

thousands of men were rushing into the Northland.

These men wanted dogs. Come on!

And the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs,

with strong muscles by which to toil

and furry coats to protect them from the frost.

(steam hisses)

Buck accepted the rope with quiet dignity.

He had learned to trust in men he knew

and to give them credit for a wisdom

that outreached his own.

But when the rope was placed in the stranger's hands...

(Buck growling)

(train chugging)

(whistle blows)

(dogs barking)

For two days and nights, he neither ate nor drank.

And in those two days of torment,

he accumulated a fund of wrath that boded ill

for whoever first fell foul of him.

(dogs barking)

Get in there!

(snarling and barking)

Let him out.

(snarling, thud)

(dog whimpering)

(dog whimpering)

(whimpering)

You stay good, and it'll be fine.

You be a bad dog,

and I'll wail the stuffin' out ya.

(narrator) Buck was beaten,

but he was not broken.

He saw that he stood no chance against a man with a club.

That club was a revelation.

It was his introduction to the reign of primitive law.

Now, this is the one you need.

Big, strappin' brute name of Buck.

Heh. He's big enough, all right.

Why isn't he eating?

Ah, he's sulkin'.

Got a temper for a big dog.

Had to show him his place.

This is my best dog, Perrault.

He'll pull your mail sled

all the way to Dawson by himself, mark my word.

(dogs barking)

300.

300?

That's my price.

He's worth more.

That's a lot of money.

He's a lot of dog.

(dogs barking)

I'll give you 300 for him...

and for that frisky one over there.

Curly?

Deal.

(narrator) The next morning,

Buck and Curly were loaded onto the "Narwhal."

The vessel sailed north from Seattle,

quickly crossing the Canadian border.

The journey continued, pressing on

through Queen Charlotte Sound,

past Juneau, into Lynn Canal,

and finally up towards Dyea Beach.

At last, one morning, the propeller was quiet.

Buck knew a change was at hand.

(dogs barking)

(sniffing)

(man chuckling)

(retches)

(dog whimpering)

This is Buck.

(chuckling)

And Curly.

Take them over to the camp.

I'll go get the mail.

(whimpering)

Hey!

Hey, off! Cut it out!

(dogs barking and growling)

Here, Billee. Here, Buck.

Spitz.

There you go, Dave. And Curly.

(barking)

No, Spitz!

(barking continues)

(whimpers)

(narrator) That was fair, Buck decided.

This was a new kind of man, a man too wise

in the way of dogs to be fooled by dogs.

(wind hissing)

As a courier for the Canadian government

bearing important dispatches,

Perrault was anxious to secure the best dogs.

How ya doin'?

And he was particularly gladdened

by the possession of Buck.

There you go, sir.

Thanks a lot.

Hello, John. How are you this morning?

Fine, Perrault. And you?

All right.

I have plenty of mail for Dawson this time.

So I see.

So, what's the weather like on the trail these days?

Oh, it's pretty bad.

Especially around Lake Bennett.

Yeah?

(hawk screeching)

(barking)

(barking continues)

(barking)

(barking and whimpering)

(dogs growling)

Hey!

Hey, ho!

Come on, Francois, do something!

Get out! Get them out of here!

Yah! Get out! Get out of here!

(overlapping shouting)

(barking) Go on, get! Go on!

(narrator) So that was the way.

No fair play.

Once down, that was the end of you.

Well...

Buck would see to it that he never went down.

♪

Spitz looked at Curly, unmoved,

and that moment Buck hated him

with a bitter and deathless hatred.

(wind howling)

(Buck whimpering)

♪

Get out, Buck! Get out!

Out!

♪

(Buck grunts)

(distant barking)

Francois.

This is Solecks.

(Perrault) What's the problem?

Well, he's old.

And half blind.

He knows how to pull a sled,

that's all I care about.

Okay, Solecks.

(sighs)

(distant dog barking)

No more fancy collars for you, my friend.

Come on, Buck.

Come on, Buck.

Good dog, yeah.

Let's get moving, Francois,

or we'll never make it through the canyon.

Mush! Mush!

(narrator) Though Buck's dignity was sorely hurt

by being harnessed like a horse,

he was too wise to rebel.

He buckled down with a will and did his best,

though it was all new and strange.

He was glad to be gone.

He was surprised at the eagerness

which animated the whole team,

and which was communicated to him.

The toil of the traces

seemed the supreme expression of their being,

and all that they lived for

and the only thing in which they took delight.

There you go, Dave.

Here, Spitz.

Come on, Buck.

(Curly barking)

(Buck barking)

(barking)

(munching)

(munching)

Thieves!

What happened?

One of 'em stole my bacon.

Where'd you leave it?

Doesn't matter where I left it.

They had no business stealing it.

No... Buck wouldn't have stolen it.

It was you, wasn't it?

If I ever catch you,

you'll wish you'd never been born.

(narrator) This first theft marked Buck

as fit to survive in the hostile Northland environment.

(harmonica playing)

It marked his adaptability, his capacity to adjust himself

to changing conditions,

the lack of which would have meant

swift and terrible death.

It was all well enough in the Southland

under the law of love and fellowship

to respect private property and personal feelings,

but in the Northland,

under the law of club and fang,

whoso took such things into account was a fool.

And insofar as he observed them, he would fail to prosper.

Come on, Buck.

You built yourself a nest. Go back to it.

(owl hooting)

(barking)

(all barking)

Hey, hey! All right. Hold it, Buck, hold it.

Get out of there, Spitz! Go! Go!

(wind whipping, distant barking)

♪

(narrator) The next day they made 40 miles,

the trail being packed.

But the next day, and for many days to follow,

they broke their own trail,

worked harder and made poorer time.

It was a hard day's run up canyon,

through snowdrifts hundreds of feet deep.

And over the great Chilkoot divide,

which stand between the ocean and the Yukon River

and guards forbiddingly the sad and lonely north.

Ho! Ho!

(dog whimpering)

(mutters in French)

We camp here.

All right.

You're gonna like this.

Trust me.

(fabric ripping)

Hurry up.

The weather's getting worse.

Come on, come walk.

Come. Come on, Buck.

Don't worry, you'll get used to them.

That's it, Buck.

Come on.

That's it, Buck.

(chuckling)

You'll get used to it.

(chuckling)

(Perrault chuckling)

I've seen it all now, Francois.

Boots for a damn dog.

(both chuckling)

♪

How's the ice?

Pretty bad.

Could lose half a day,

so keep your wits about you.

(ice crunching underfoot)

Mush! Mush!

(chains jingling)

♪

(distant barking)

(indistinct crowd chatter)

(chains jingling)

(dogs barking and whimpering)

(narrator) Here in Dawson

were other Southland dogs,

and every night, regularly,

at 9:00, at 12:00, at 3:00,

they lifted a nocturnal song,

a weird and eerie chant

in which it was Buck's delight to join.

(dogs howling)

♪

(bell jingles)

(man) Mush!

(man) Mush!

Mush!

(narrator) Seven days from the time they pulled into Dawson,

they dropped down to the Yukon trail.

Perrault was carrying dispatches more urgent

than those he had brought in.

Also, the pride had gripped him...

Ho! Ho! ...and he proposed to make

the record trip of the year.

Whoa!

The week's rest had recuperated the dogs

and put them in thorough trim.

Good day's run, Francois.

(whimpering)

(barking)

All right.

Go on.

Ah, damn.

What are you doing?

They must be tired of salmon.

A little rabbit might taste good, eh?

(barking continues)

And you two...

(barking)

(growling)

(dog yipping)

(barking)

(baying)

(fire crackling)

I hear them.

(Francois) Leave them be.

It's nice to have some quietness here.

(growling and barking)

♪

(snarling and barking)

(barking and whimpering)

♪

(narrator) There had been no hope for Spitz.

Mercy was a thing reserved for gentler climes.

(wind blowing)

(narrator) Instincts long dead

became alive again in Buck.

The domesticated generations were falling from him.

(Buck panting)

Looks like he put up a hell of a fight.

Damn it.

It's tough enough on the trail.

Now this.

I'm glad it's finally over.

You're glad we lost a dog?

Buck's worth two dogs.

We're gonna make better time.

No more Spitz.

No more trouble.

Hope you're right.

(dog barking)

Come on, Solecks. Come on!

Got a new job for you.

Come on, Solecks.

(barking)

Buck, go away!

So, you think you should take Spitz place, eh?

Go away. Go!

Solecks will lead.

(Buck whimpering)

Stay!

♪

I've had enough.

By God, Buck, I'm gonna teach you your place.

♪

Damn you, Buck!

Buck...

(speaks French)

So... what do we do?

I say give Buck a chance.

He fought for it.

(sighs)

All right, Monsieur Perrault. maybe you're right.

(grunts)

(fastening latch)

♪

(barks)

(wind whipping)

(narrator) It was a hard trip with the trail behind them,

and the heavy work wore them down.

Since the beginning of winter,

they had traveled 1,800 miles,

dragging sleds the whole weary distance.

Buck stood it, keeping his mates up to their work

and maintaining discipline,

though he, too, was very tired.

(panting)

Monsieur Perrault.

No broken bones.

Put him back in the traces.

No, he's too weak to pull.

Then you know what we have to do.

He might recover.

We'll make him run behind.

Come on. All right.

Let's get going.

(wind whipping)

Come on, Dave.

Mush!

Come on, Dave, you can do it.

Wait!

(Perrault) Ho!

(Buck panting)

I'll do it.

Pull the dogs ahead.

Mush! Mush!

(gunshot)

(Buck grunts)

(narrator) Buck knew, and every dog knew,

what had taken place behind that belt of river trees,

and they knew that this thing was very close to them.

(crow cawing)

30 days from the time it left Dawson,

the mail with Buck and his mates at the fore

arrived back in a wretched state,

worn out and worn down.

(Perrault sighs)

(Perrault) Dyea.

Thank God.

(sighs)

(man) Sounds like you're both lucky to be alive.

Too bad you're gonna have to go back to Dawson.

What?

Urgent mail for the Northwest Police.

No way we can make it to Dawson right now.

The dogs are exhausted.

They need a week to rest up.

Sorry, you're the only messengers in town.

(dogs barking outside)

Silas O'Neill's got got some fresh dogs

you can buy.

Yeah, but what am I gonna do with my dogs?

Sell 'em.

Dyea's crawling with Southerners,

half of them looking for dogs.

(sighs)

350. Mm-hmm.

And 400.

That right?

Yes, it is, Evans.

Hmm.

And give the dogs a good rest.

They need it.

Hmm.

Where are the dogs?

Come this way.

Good-bye, my friends.

You're a good dog, Buck.

Au revoir, mon ami.

(Buck whimpers softly)

Ah.

(narrator) Buck listened to his new masters apprehensively

as they proceeded to load the sled.

There was a great deal of effort about their manner,

but no businesslike method.

And we're done.

No, that one should go on top, please.

All right. Yes, dear.

There. Okay.

I-I wouldn't tote that tent along, if I were you.

(laughing) Undreamed of.

How in the world would we manage without a tent?

It's almost spring.

You can get along without it.

That's for the advice, mister.

Think it'll ride?

And why not?

Well, it seems a might top-heavy, that's all.

Oh.

Ah! Well then.

All right, listen up, you mutts.

I'm your new master.

And I demand obedience.

Stand.

Stand, I say!

I-I said stand up.

Oh, you lazy brute.

No, Hal, no. You mustn't.

No, you mustn't be so harsh with him,

or we won't move a step.

You have to whip the dogs

if you want anything out of them.

Ask any one of those men, go ahead!

They're weak as water, friend.

They just got off the trail. They need a rest.

Well, just look at them.

Well, it's the-- it's the big one here.

He's... he's lazy.

What's his name?

Uh, Buck.

Okay, Buck... up!

(laughing) You're crazy, mister!

Don't you talk to my brother in that tone of voice, sir.

Now, you do what you think is necessary.

Why don't you get up and pull on the sled?

What a good boy.

(Hal) Back away, Mercedes.

We need to get going!

Come on! Let's go! Come on, doggie!

Hello, Yukon! Hah!

(whip cracks) Hyah! Hyah!

Hyah! Giddap!

Hyah!

(Mercedes shrieks)

Hal?

Are you all right?

Here, let me... oh.

(barking)

Whew.

(gasping)

(muttering)

Uh...

Whew. (panting)

Well, we'll just have to...

take a few things off.

(dog howling)

(growling)

Well, now... feeling better?

No, how can I feel better leaving all my things behind?

Oh, but sweet beet,

with all the gold we're going to find,

I'll buy you every new dress in Dawson City.

Well, everyone just relax.

With seven dogs, we're really gonna fly.

This is a lot harder than you told me, Charles.

Well, you didn't think getting rich

would be easy, did you, dear?

(chuckling) All right?

All aboard The Gold Express!

We're all set.

(clears throat)

Ready? Yes.

All right, you mangy mutts.

Mush!

(whip cracks) Uhh!

Mush!

(dog yipping)

What... Uh...

What now?

Well, perhaps I should walk for a while, eh?

All right, here we go.

Mush! Mush on!

(chuckling) There we go.

Hurrah for the Klondike!

(dogs yipping)

(Mercedes) If this is spring, I'm glad we missed winter.

(Hal) Eat heartily, lads.

You've earned it.

(Mercedes) But, Hal...

we didn't get very far today.

(Hal) It's not bad for a first day,

especially considering Cleopatra

sat on the barge the entire way.

A woman can only walk so far in one day.

(Charles) Now, sweetheart, don't be like that.

Perhaps we should shore them up.

(Hal) She's your wife.

(Mercedes) I can hear you, Hal!

(Charles) What's wrong?

Ah, we got a problem.

See, I thought we had passed Lake Bennett yesterday.

No, no, that was Lake Harris.

Oh, you poor doggies. You look so tired.

(Hal) Well, what if we went this way?

If we meet up with the White Pass Trail, here...

...we'd cut our distance by a third.

But... but in Dyea they said

that trail was dangerous this time of year.

(dog barking)

No, dear! Don't do that!

You mustn't overfeed the dogs.

Oh, no, no. Don't be so cruel, Charles.

They need their sustenance.

But we'll run out of food halfway to Dawson.

No, we're taking the White Pass Trail,

and we're cutting the dog's rations.

(dog barking)

(narrator) Buck felt vaguely that there was no depending upon

these two men and the woman.

They didn't know how to do anything.

And as the days went by, it became apparent

that they couldn't learn.

This way! Come on!

Let's go. This way. Mush!

Up here, Buck! No, go up! Go up!

♪

Mush! Mush!

Mush!

Mush!

(whip cracking)

(Hal) Hyah! Mush, dog!

(hawk screeching)

(Charles panting)

(whip cracking)

Uhh!

Help me!

Hal! Help me!

Freezing!

(grunting)

(Mercedes) How could you leave me back there? I almost died!

Why aren't you wearing your snow shoes?

They're back there.

Why don't you go back there and find them

if they're so precious?!

Charles, would you please inform my sister

that this is not Milwaukee.

That this is, in fact, the middle of the damn Yukon!

Why don't you tell my foul-mouthed brother...

that I am trying my best...

but I just can't walk anymore.

I just can't!

(narrator) By this time, all the amenities

and gentlenesses of the Southland

fell away from the three people.

Shorn of its glamour and romance,

arctic travel became to them a reality too harsh for them.

(dogs panting)

(Hal) Hah! Mush on!

(Mercedes) I think this trail is slower than the other ones.

(wind whipping)

(Hal) Hyah! Agh.

(grunting) Come on.

Hyah! Mush!

(narrator) And through it all,

Buck staggered along at the head of the team

as in a nightmare.

(Hal grunting)

(wind whipping)

Stop!

(Hal) Whoa!

Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Ho, ho!

What?!

Look!

(Mercedes) Oh, Lord.

How are we going to get across?!

Just don't panic. Just...

We'll follow the river upstream till it's frozen.

(Hal) Come on, let's go!

(dogs barking)

Stop! Stop!

Stop, stop! Oh, God, look he's-- look!

Whoa! Whoa!

Don't! For God's sake!

He's dead.

(panting)

Let's just keep moving!

(whimpers faintly)

Hyah! Mush!

Hah, mush!

(whimpering)

(Mercedes) What does he want?

I think he's trying to tell you something, dear.

He wants you off the sled.

But I'm freezing.

Get off!

Or we're not going anywhere.

I didn't want to come on this trip, you know.

I didn't want to look for gold.

I only came because I wanted to be near you, because I love you.

And now everything is ruined!

(barking)

Ahh.

Hyah! Mush!

Hyah!

♪

(narrator) It was spring,

but neither dogs nor humans were aware of it.

From every hill came the trickle of running water.

All things were thawing.

The Yukon was straining to break loose the ice

that bound it down.

Thin sections of ice fell through bodily into the river.

And amid all this throbbing of awakening life,

through the rushing of the swollen river,

like wayfarers to death,

the two men, the woman, and the dogs

staggered into John Thornton's camp

at the mouth of White River.

(river rushing)

(chain jingling)

(Mercedes panting)

Thank God.

We're traveling upstream,

looking for some ice to cross.

Well, there's lots of ice.

But it's about to break. I wouldn't call it safe.

We made it this far.

We'll find a way across.

Could be.

You look frozen stiff.

(Hal) No, we...

we're j-just fine.

(river rushing, wind blowing)

Come on.

Up.

Up!

Come on, Buck, let's get up.

We gotta keep going now.

Come on, let's-- Come on, Buck! Up.

Come on, let's...

Come on, Buck!

Look at me, I said stand.

Up. Up!

Buck, I said up!

You listen to me, Buck.

When I say up...

Come on, when I say up...

(narrator) Like his mates, Buck was barely able to get up.

But unlike them,

he had made up his mind not to get up.

He sensed disaster close at hand

out there ahead on the ice,

where his master was trying to drive him.

This dog's finished.

(panting)

Give me the gun, Charles.

(Charles) No, Hal!

Give me the damn gun! No!

Uhh!

(cocks trigger)

You finish the dog, I'll finish you.

Got that?

He's my dog.

You mind your own business.

(gasps and grunts)

Come on, come on.

(cocks rifle)

Well, take him! He's nearly dead anyway.

Let's go.

Come on.

♪

Let's go, come on.

(geese honking)

Let's take a look at you.

(narrator) By the time John Thornton's search

had disclosed nothing more than many bruises

and as state of terrible starvation,

the sled was a quarter of a mile away.

A bunch of idiots.

Wanna try this?

(distant cracking sound)

Come on.

(Mercedes shrieking in distance)

(distant cries for help)

Help! (sputtering)

(man grunts)

(grunts)

(fire crackling)

(clears throat)

(humming softly)

(Buck panting)

(slurping)

♪

(bird tweeting)

(narrator) When John Thornton froze his feet in the previous December,

his partners, Hans and Pete,

had made him comfortable and left him to get well,

going on themselves up the river with a boat of skins for Dawson.

He was still weak at the time he rescued Buck,

but with the continued warm weather,

the weakness had left him.

(river running)

And here beside the riverbank,

through the long days of approaching spring,

listening lazily to the songs of birds

and the hum of nature,

Buck slowly won back his strength.

And then, one day,

decided he might trust John Thornton.

(sighs)

(panting)

Hi. How are ya?

(barking)

What?

Hey...

Yeah...

(narrator) Buck romped through his convalescence

and into a new existence: love.

Genuine, passionate love was his for the first time.

This he had never experienced down at Judge Miller's.

Theirs had been a stately and dignified friendship,

but love that was feverish and burning--

that was adoration, that was madness--

it had taken John Thornton to arouse.

This man had saved his life.

For a long time after his rescue,

Buck didn't let Thornton out of his sight.

Since he had come into the Northland

he had feared that no master could be permanent.

He was afraid that Thornton would pass out of his life, too.

(muttering)

(narrator) But in spite of this great love Buck bore John Thornton,

the strain of the primitive

which the Northland had aroused in him

remained alive and active.

Each day, mankind and the claims of mankind

slipped farther from him.

Deep in the forest, a call was sounding.

(distant wolf howl)

And as often as Buck heard the call,

mysteriously thrilling and luring,

he felt compelled to turn his back upon the campsite

and the beaten earth around it

and to plunge into the forest...

and on and on.

He knew not where or why.

But as often as he gained the soft, unbroken earth

and the dark forest shade,

the love for John Thornton drew him back again.

Thornton alone held him.

The rest of mankind was as nothing.

(river rushing)

Convalescence was over.

Along a bad stretch of rapids on the Forty-Mile Creek,

Thornton's two partners, Hans and Pete,

were moving along the bank with ropes.

They were getting ready to guide Thornton in the boat,

which was loaded with the skins they would sell in Dawson.

(barking)

(Thornton shouts)

Pete! Pete!

Come on, Hans!

Agh!

(Thornton sputtering)

(man) Hold on!

(grunts)

Come here, Buck. Come here.

Come on!

Hang on, John!

Go get him, Buck.

(grunting)

(grunting) Okay, pull!

(grunting)

Agh! Gah!

John... John...

You're all right. It's me, Hans!

John...

Hold on. He's all right.

You okay?

I could use a whisky right now.

(men laughing)

(horse whinnies)

(indistinct chatter)

Charlie, don't you be cheatin' again.

(patrons chattering)

(groans)

Don't say hello, John.

All right.

How are things with you?

You strike it rich yet?

No.

I just look that way.

(panting)

Who's your friend?

My partner.

That's a pretty fine-lookin' dog, mister.

(man) Hey, John... over here.

Excuse us.

That looks pretty strong.

You know, I got a dog can break out a sled

with 500 pounds and walk right off with it.

(laughing)

Oh, yeah?

Well, my boy Duggan can do the same...

with 600 pounds.

Well, my boy Buck can do 800 pounds.

(laughter)

800 pounds?

And walk with it for 100 feet?

And walk off with it...

for 100 feet.

You know, I'd like to see that.

I got $1,000 worth of gold dust

that says that he can't.

Stay.

(man) That dog? Yeah, I'll put one down.

I got 100 bucks says he can't.

(low tones) I have a-- a bet that I wanna make.

(continues indistinctly)

I got a sled waitin' right outside.

Okay.

Done!

(laughing)

(horses whinnying)

(indistinct chatter)

Two-to-one Thornton's dog can't meet the challenge.

In this deep mud? (grunts)

I say it ought to be three-to-one.

I'll take those three-to-one odds.

And I'll lay you another 1,000!

At those odds, any takers? Come on!

You got any more money?

All we got.

Ah, Buck'll triple it for us anyway.

John...

I'll put my money on you.

(dog barking)

(kiss, crowd "oohing")

200 more.

(man chuckling)

Against my 600. Done.

Do this for me. Don't let me down.

(growls and barks)

(barking)

Okay.

Come on.

Hey! Hey. Ho!

(barking) Come on!

Come on...

Come on.

(Buck whimpering)

You can do it. Come on! Come on.

Come on, come on. Hey! Hey! Ho!

You can do it, come on!

(whimpering)

(clapping hands) Come on!

Come on! Pull!

Yeah! Come on!

There, there. Come on.

(Buck whimpering)

Go! Go!

Come on! Pull!

(crowd cheering)

(Buck barking)

Come on. Yeah! Yeah, come on.

(crowd cheering)

(all cheering)

Sir! I'll give you $1,000 for your dog!

1,200!

He's not for sale.

♪

(water sloshing)

(sighs)

Your share.

And... 150.

Thanks for the support.

(distant thunder)

(grunts) When are you gonna leave?

Pretty soon.

Listen, why don't, uh...

you just think about it, huh?

And sleep on it.

Maggie...

Hmm?

Why do you have to give me such a hard time?

(chuckling)

(indistinct conversation)

(distant thunder)

(Buck whimpers softly)

(narrator) When Buck earned $1,600

in five minutes for John Thornton,

he made it possible for his master

to pay off certain debts

and to journey into the east after a fabled lost mine,

the history of which was as old as the history of the country.

Many men had sought it, few had found it,

and more than a few there were

who had never returned from the quest.

(horse whinnies)

Good-bye.

Good luck.

(narrator) From the beginning, there had been

an ancient and ramshackle cabin.

Dying men had sworn to it and to the mine which it marked,

clinching their testimony with nuggets

that were unlike any known grade of gold in the Northland.

John Thornton asked little of man or nature.

He was unafraid of the wild,

with a handful of salt and a rifle,

he could plunge into the wilderness

and fare wherever he pleased and as long as he pleased.

This was Indian country,

and, being in no haste, Indian fashion,

he hunted and fished for his dinner

in the course of the day's travel.

Lying next to Thornton,

dozing lazily in the heat of the day,

irresistible impulses were beginning to seize Buck.

(muttering) Let's see.

Let's see here.

Mm-hmm.

(river rushing)

Whoa.

(narrator) The months came and went,

and at the end of all their wandering,

they found not the lost cabin,

but a shallow mine in a broad valley.

They sought no further.

(sighs)

(birds tweeting)

(grunting softly)

(muttering) Let's see.

(distant wolf howl)

(narrator) The call was still sounding

in the depths of the forest.

It filled Buck with a great unrest

and strange desires,

and he was aware of wild yearnings and stirrings

for he knew not what.

He pursued the call into the forest,

running in the dim twilight,

seeking for the mysterious something

that called for him to come.

(Thornton grunting softly)

(whistles)

(Buck barking)

Oh, there you are.

I guess now it's time for breakfast, huh?

(barking)

(distant wolf howling)

(barking)

From the forest came the call.

Distinct and definite as never before.

A long-drawn howl like, yet unlike,

any noise made by a dog.

And he knew it in the old familiar way

as a sound heard before.

(wolf howling)

(panting)

(snarling)

(barking)

(howling)

♪

(narrator) Buck was wildly glad.

He knew he was at last answering the call,

running by the side of his wood brother

toward the place from where the call surely came.

He had done this thing before,

somewhere in that dimly-remembered world,

and he was doing it again now.

(howling)

(Buck panting)

Then... Buck remembered John Thornton.

(fire crackling, wind whipping)

(distant wolf howling)

(howling continues)

(owl hooting)

(licking)

♪

(groans softly)

(whimpers)

(scoffs)

If you think you're gonna sleep here,

you got another thing coming.

(sniffing)

Get out.

(birds tweeting)

(narrator) Buck never left camp,

never let Thornton out of his sight.

But after a while, his restlessness came back on him.

He was a thing of the wild,

come in from the wild to sit by John Thornton's fire,

and he was haunted by recollections

of the wild brother.

Once again, he took to wandering in the woods,

but the wild brother came no more.

(whimpers)

(birds tweeting)

(shovel clatters)

(clattering)

There's no gold here.

We go home tomorrow.

(river rushing)

Let's call it a day.

(whistles)

(horse nickering)

(creature growling)

(growling continues)

(growling)

(Buck barking)

(distant growling)

(growling)

(puffing and grunting)

(bear snorts and grunts)

(barking)

(both growling)

(barking)

(narrator) Buck had lessoned well.

He must be master or be mastered,

while to show mercy was a weakness.

Mercy did not exist in primordial life.

It was misunderstood for fear,

and such misunderstandings made for death.

Kill or be killed,

eat or be eaten was the law.

(river rushing)

Whoa.

(whistles)

(gasps)

Buck!

Whoo hoo hoo! Hoo hoo.

Yeah!

We're gonna be...

We're gonna be pretty rich.

Huh? Let's see...

Here.

Buck!

(grunting)

(groaning)

Gah! (panting)

Uhh! Ohh...

Gah!

(shouting)

(horse whinnying)

(Buck growling)

(shouting)

(snarling)

(Thornton, weakly) Buck?

(Buck whimpering)

(narrator) All day, Buck brooded by Thornton's body.

Death, as a cessation of movement,

as a passing out and away

from the lives of the living, he knew...

and he knew John Thornton was dead.

It left a great void in him, somewhat akin to hunger,

but a void which ached and ached

and which food could not fill.

And with the coming of night,

brooding and mourning by the river,

buck became alive to a stirring of the new life in the forest.

It was the call...

sounding more luring and compelling than ever before.

And, as never before, he was ready to obey.

John Thornton was dead.

The last tie was broken.

Man and the claims of man no longer bound him.

(distant wolf howl)

(wolf howling)

♪

(indistinct chatter in native language)

(narrator) And here may well end the story of Buck.

The years were not many when the Yeehat Indians

noted a change in the breed of timber wolves,

for some were seen with splashes of brown on head and muzzle

and with a rift of gold centering down the chest.

But more remarkable than this,

the Yeehats tell of a ghost dog

that runs with the pack.

They are afraid of this ghost dog,

for it has cunning greater than they,

stealing from their camps in fierce winters,

robbing their traps, slaying their dogs,

defying their bravest hunters,

and there is a certain valley which they never enter.

When the long winter nights come on,

and the wolves follow their meat,

he may be seen running at the head of the pack

through the pale moonlight,

leaping gigantic above his fellows,

his great throat a-bellow

as he sings a song of the younger world,

which is the song of the pack.

(howling)

(wind whipping)

♪