Classic Jack London - Brown Wolf was first published in Everybody&#39;s Magazine then later released in this collection by editors who felt a great demand for London&#39;s American-pioneer writing style.<br /><br />Also included are; That Spot, Trust, All Gold Canyon, The Story of Keesh, Nam-Bok the Unveracious, Yellow Handkerchief, Make Westing, The Heathen, The Hobo and the Fairy, Just Meat, and A Nose for the King.<br /><br /><b>BROWN WOLF </b>(excerpt)<br />She had delayed, because of the dew-wet grass, in order to put on her overshoes, and when she emerged from the house found her waiting husband absorbed in the wonder of a bursting almond-bud. She sent a questing glance across the tall grass and in and out among the orchard trees.<br /><br />&quot;Where&#39;s Wolf?&quot; she asked.<br /><br />&quot;He was here a moment ago.&quot; Walt Irvine drew himself away with a jerk from the metaphysics and poetry of the organic miracle of blossom, and surveyed the landscape. &quot;He was running a rabbit the last I saw of him.&quot;<br /><br />&quot;Wolf! Wolf! Here, Wolf!&quot; she called, as they left the clearing and took the trail that led down through the waxen-belled manzanita jungle to the county road.<br /><br />Irvine thrust between his lips the little finger of each hand and lent to her efforts a shrill whistling.<br /><br />She covered her ears hastily and made a wry grimace.<br /><br />&quot;My! for a poet, delicately attuned and all the rest of it, you can make unlovely noises. My eardrums are pierced. You outwhistle----&quot;<br /><br />&quot;Orpheus.&quot;<br /><br />&quot;I was about to say a street-arab,&quot; she concluded severely.<br /><br />&quot;Poesy does not prevent one from being practical--at least it doesn&#39;t prevent me. Mine is no futility of genius that can&#39;t sell gems to the magazines.&quot;<br /><br />He assumed a mock extravagance, and went on:<br /><br />&quot;I am no attic singer, no ballroom warbler. And why? Because I am practical. Mine is no squalor of song that cannot transmute itself, with proper exchange value, into a flower-crowned cottage, a sweet mountain-meadow, a grove of redwoods, an orchard of thirty-seven trees, one long row of blackberries and two short rows of strawberries, to say nothing of a quarter of a mile of gurgling brook.&quot;<br /><br />&quot;Oh, that all your song-transmutations were as successful!&quot; she laughed.<br /><br />&quot;Name one that wasn&#39;t.&quot;<br /><br />&quot;Those two beautiful sonnets that you transmuted into the cow that was accounted the worst milker in the township.&quot;<br /><br />&quot;She was beautiful----&quot; he began.<br /><br />&quot;But she didn&#39;t give milk,&quot; Madge interrupted.<br /><br />&quot;But she was beautiful, now, wasn&#39;t she?&quot; he insisted.<br /><br />&quot;And here&#39;s where beauty and utility fall out,&quot; was her reply. &quot;And there&#39;s the Wolf!&quot;...<br /><br /><b>About Jack London:</b><br /><br />Jack London (1876-1916), was an American author and a pioneer in the then-burgeoning world of commercial magazine fiction. He was one of the first Americans to make a lucrative career exclusively from writing. London was self-educated. He taught himself in the public library, mainly just by reading books. In 1898, he began struggling seriously to break into print, a struggle memorably described in his novel, Martin Eden (1909). Jack London was fortunate in the timing of his writing career. He started just as new printing technologies enabled lower-cost production of magazines. This resulted in a boom in popular magazines aimed at a wide public, and a strong market for short fiction. In 1900, he made $2,500 in writing, the equivalent of about $75,000 today. His career was well under way.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp;