Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is, the ancient song surged through him and he came into his own again;
(they had grub-staked themselves from the proceeds of the raft and left Dawson for the head-waters of the Tanana)
Thornton knelt down by Buck’s side. He took his head in his two hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, as was his wont, or murmur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear. “As you love me, Buck. As you love me,” was what he whispered. Buck whined with suppressed eagerness.
As Thornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing in with his teeth and releasing slowly, half-reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms, not of speech, but of love.