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The Abysmal Brute

Jack London, 1911. A chapter a page, in reading order.

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In his time having received a razor-strop made from the skin of a lynched Negro, and a finger, withered and sun-dried, cut from the body of a white man found in Death Valley, he was of the opinion that never again would the postman bring him anything that could startle him. But this morning he opene
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Oh, yes, Pat Glendon lived out beyond. You took the stage at Alpine, which was forty miles and which was a logging camp. From Alpine, on horseback, you rode up Antelope Valley and crossed the divide to Bear Creek. Pat Glendon lived somewhere beyond that.
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Also, he was secretly appalled by the city, though he trod its roaring streets imperturbable as a red Indian. "I came down here to fight," he announced, at the end of the first week. "Where's Jim Hanford?" Stubener whistled. "A big champion like him wouldn't look at you," was his answer.
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Neither rushed. Nor did they strike a blow. They felt around each other, their arms bent, their gloves so close together that they almost touched. This lasted for perhaps five seconds.
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Sometimes I think I ought to go to night school." "But great Scott, man!" exclaimed the horrified manager. "you're on with the Flying Dutchman to-night." "I know it. But I won't enter the ring a moment before half past nine or quarter to ten. The lecture will be over at nine fifteen.
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The Sangsters were a notoriously wealthy family. The founder, old Jacob Sangster, had packed his blankets and worked as a farm-hand in the West. He had discovered an inexhaustible borax deposit in Nevada, and, from hauling it out by mule-teams, had built a railroad to do the freighting. Following th
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Under the protection of the editor, she occupied a ring-side seat. Her hair and most of her face were hidden under a slouch hat, while she wore a man's long overcoat that fell to her heels. Entering in the thick of the crowd, she was not noticed; nor did the newspaper men, in the press seats against
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It was Glendon's. "Tell him I can't be seen," she told the boy. In a minute he was back. "He says he's coming in anyway, but he'd rather have permission." "Did you tell him I was busy?" she asked.
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Towering hundreds of feet into the air, they ran from eight to ten and twelve feet in diameter. Many were much larger. All morning they had toiled up the divide through this unbroken forest, and this peak of rock had been the first spot where they could get out of the forest in order to see the fore
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Young Pat had done the expected, swallowed the inevitable crookedness of the ring, and come back into it again. The Golden Gate Arena was new. This was its first fight, and it was the biggest building of the kind San Francisco had ever erected. It seated twenty-five thousand, and every seat was occu

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