White Fang
| dc.contributor | Library, of America |
| dc.contributor.author | London, Jack |
| dc.coverage.placeName | New York |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2022-08-19T14:50:50Z |
| dc.date.available | 2022-08-19T14:50:50Z |
| dc.date.created | 1906 |
| dc.date.issued | 1993-06-08 |
| dc.identifier | ota:1612 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/1612 |
| dc.description.abstract | SGML-tagged version |
| dc.format.extent | Text data A unspecified offline |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Core Collection |
| dc.rights | Although this resource has been deposited with us, it is not currently available for re-use by others. |
| dc.rights.uri | https://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/licence-ota |
| dc.rights.label | ACA |
| dc.title | White Fang |
| dc.type | Text |
| hidden | hidden |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 423952 |
| files.count | 1 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1900-1999 |
Files for this item
- Name
- lonfang-1612.txt
- Size
- 414.02 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
<Text id=LonFang> <Author>London, Jack</Author> <Title>White Fang</Title> <Edition>[Selections. 1982]. Library of America. New York: Literary Classics of the U.S., 1982</Edition> <Date>1906</Date> <body> <loc><locdoc>LonFang91</locdoc><milestone n=91> <div0 type=part n=1><div1 type=chapter n=1> <p> PART ONE <p> The Wild <p> I <i>The Trail of the Meat</i> <p>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 toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, 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 . . .
