Literary Devices

The toil of the traces seemed the supreme expression of their being

He was a gloomy, morose fellow,

Buck made his hole in the snow and slept the sleep of the exhausted just.

it was his ancestors, dead and dust,

They were a new kind of men to Buck (of which he was destined to see many more)

In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors.

instincts long dead became alive again

This first theft marked Buck as fit to survive in the hostile Northland environment.

Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is,

no matter how loathsome or indigestible;

Day and night the ship throbbed to the tireless pulse of the propeller,

and his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe

Curly rushed her antagonist, who struck again and leaped aside.

Buck's first day on the Dyea beach was like a nightmare

he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf-like,

the cadences which voiced their woe