Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, In the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without move-ment, So lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness - a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. it was the masterful and incommuni-cable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life And The effort of life. it was the Wild, The savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. Excerpted from White Fang by Jack London All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
