At Fort Yukon, a small group of experienced frontiersmen known as "Sour-doughs" lived with a sense of immense pride. They felt nothing but contempt for the newcomers—the chechaquos—who arrived on the steamships from the south. The Sour-doughs particularly enjoyed watching the havoc White Fang worked among the newcomers' dogs. They anticipated these fights with the same savage delight as the Indian dogs themselves, admiring the wolf-cub's lethal efficiency.
One man, however, enjoyed the spectacle more than anyone else. At the first sound of a steamboat’s whistle, he would rush to the bank. When a soft, Southland dog was torn to pieces by the pack, this man would jump into the air, shouting with joy. He always watched White Fang with a sharp, covetous eye.
The other men called him "Beauty" Smith, though the name was a cruel joke. He was, in fact, a monstrosity. He was a small man with a tiny, pointed head that slanted down toward a wide, low forehead. His features seemed lazily scattered across a face that was far too large for his body. His massive jaw protruded outward, resting almost on his chest as if his slender neck were too weak to support it. Despite his fierce appearance, Beauty Smith was known far and wide as a snivelling coward. His eyes were a muddy yellow, and his sparse, dirty hair grew in irregular tufts.
Nature had dealt him a bad hand, and as a result, his character was twisted. He worked as a cook and a drudge for the other men. While they tolerated his presence, they also feared him, knowing that his cowardly rages could lead to a shot in the back or poison in their coffee.
From the beginning, Beauty Smith made overtures to White Fang, but the dog sensed the evil within him. To a creature of the Wild, "good" and "bad" are simple concepts: "good" brings comfort, while "bad" brings pain and menace. White Fang felt a dark, ominous aura surrounding Beauty Smith. Consequently, whenever the man approached with soft words or an extended hand, White Fang would bristle, bare his fangs, and retreat.
Beauty Smith eventually visited Grey Beaver’s camp. White Fang sensed his arrival long before he appeared and slunk away to the edge of the woods. Grey Beaver initially refused to sell the animal; White Fang was his best leader and the strongest sled-dog on the river. However, Beauty Smith understood the weaknesses of men. He began to visit the camp frequently, always hiding a bottle of whiskey under his coat.
Grey Beaver soon developed a devastating thirst. The scorching fluid clouded his judgment and consumed his wealth. As his money disappeared, his addiction grew. Finally, when Grey Beaver had nothing left but his desperate craving, Beauty Smith offered him a trade: White Fang for a few more bottles of whiskey. Grey Beaver agreed. "If you can catch him, you can take him," he muttered.
One evening, White Fang returned to camp and was surprised when Grey Beaver tied a leather thong around his neck. Shortly after, Beauty Smith arrived. As the "mad god" reached down to seize him, White Fang snapped, his fangs clicking together inches from the man's hand. Terrified and furious, Beauty Smith returned with a heavy club. When White Fang tried to resist being led away, the stranger smashed the club down, knocking him to the ground. Dizzily, White Fang realized that this new master knew how to enforce his will.
At the fort, White Fang was tied up, but he wasted no time. Within seconds, his sharp teeth had sliced through the leather thong. He immediately trotted back to Grey Beaver’s camp. He felt no loyalty to the strange white god; his heart still belonged to the master he had served for years.
But the betrayal was repeated. Grey Beaver tied him up again and returned him to Beauty Smith. This time, the punishment was unprecedented. Beauty Smith, who was a coward among men, delighted in exerting power over a helpless creature. He beat White Fang brutally with both a whip and a club, gloating as the animal cried out in pain.
White Fang understood why he was being punished. He had disobeyed the will of his gods. Despite Grey Beaver's betrayal, White Fang remained instinctively faithful to him. This fidelity was a fundamental quality of his species—the very trait that allowed the wolf to become the companion of man. It was not a matter of choice, but of nature.
White Fang escaped a second time, gnawing through a seasoned wooden stick that held him captive. Yet again, his misplaced loyalty drove him back to Grey Beaver, only to be betrayed a third time. The final beating was so severe that White Fang was left blind and reeling. He was eventually chained to a post with a metal link that defied his teeth.
A few days later, bankrupt and broken, Grey Beaver departed for the Mackenzie River. White Fang remained on the Yukon, the property of a man who was more brute than human. To White Fang, Beauty Smith was a "mad god"—a terrifying master whose every whim had to be obeyed.