When the team arrived at Dawson town, François  and Perrault  dropped off their mail and
government
message, picked up letters from the
miners, and then they set out again, heading back down south to the town of Skaguay.
Buck never came near
Spitz without
growling or
snarling.
François and
Perrault knew that it wouldn’t be long before the two dogs had their final battle.
“That Spitz is a devil,” said Perrault. “Someday, he’s going to kill that Buck.”
“Buck is two devils,” said François. “You just watch. Some day he’s going to get mad as hell, and then he’s going to chew up Spitz and spit him out in the snow.”
One night, when they were camped at the mouth of the Tahkeena River, Dub just missed catching a snowshoe rabbit. In a second, the whole team was running after the rabbit, and before long they were joined by other dog teams that were camped nearby. Now there were about sixty dogs in all, and Buck was running at the head of the pack.
Spitz wanted the rabbit for himself, but he knew that he could never outrun Buck. None of the dogs noticed as Spitz left the pack and ran across the creek to take a shortcut.
As Buck rounded the bend, he saw the rabbit hopping ahead of him, like a pale and frosty ghost. But then Buck saw a larger ghost leap from the bank of the creek right into the path of the rabbit. It was Spitz. The rabbit screamed as it was caught in mid air. There was a
crunching sound as Spitz’s teeth broke the rabbit’s back. At the sound of this, the pack at Buck’s heels howled with delight like a
chorus of demons in hell.
But Buck did not howl. Instead, he
snarled and
sprang upon Spitz,
knocking him on the ground. The two dogs began to fight,
following over and over in the snow.
The time had come. This fight would be to the
death, and all of the dogs knew it. They
gathered round to watch as Buck and Spitz got up from the snow and began to
circle about with their ears laid back, watching for the right moment to strike.
It was Buck who made the first move. He dove forward, trying to sink his teeth into Spitz’s neck, but instead, his jaw
clashed into Spitz’s teeth.  Buck tried again, but Spitz was too fast for him. Spitz
slashed Buck and got away. Again and again, Buck crashed into Spitz, their jaws met, and blood dripped from both dogs’ mouths.
Now Buck rushed at Spitz from all sides, as fast and as
furious as a
whirlwind, but every time, Spitz slashed back at him and got away. Buck tried another
approach. He ran at Spitz,
pretending to go for the
throat. Then, at the last minute, Buck drew back his head, ramming Spitz with his
shoulder. Still
everytime, Spitz managed to slash Buck’s shoulder and get away.
Still Spitz was nearly
untouched, while Buck was
streaming with
blood and
panting hard. The fight was growing
desperate. All the while, the
silent circle of dogs
watched, panting, waiting to finish off whichever dog went down.
Now that Buck was tired, Spitz started hurling himself at Buck, trying to
knock him down. Once Buck fell on his side, and the sixty dogs started toward him, but Buck managed to get back up, and the circle sank back again and waited. 
Now Buck saw that he couldn’t win this fight with his
strength alone. Spitz was
clearly stronger. Buck had one
quality that Spitz didn’t have. Buck had
imagination. And his imagination told him how to win.
Buck rushed at Spitz, as if he were trying the old shoulder
trick again, but at the last moment he lunged
downward and his teeth closed on Spitz’s
left front leg. There was a
crunch as Spitz’s leg bones broke, and now Spitz had to face Buck on three legs. Then Buck
repeated the trick on Spitz’s
right
front leg.
Spitz
struggled
madly as he tried to stay
standing on his two
broken legs, but it was no use. He saw the silent circle of dogs with their
eyes
gleaming and their
tongues hanging out. He knew they were getting ready to
rush in upon the
loser. Spitz had seen this same
scene many times, only this time, he was the one who was
beaten.
There was no
hope for Spitz.  The circle of dogs was now so
close that Buck could feel their
breath on his sides as he was
prepared to rush at Spitz one
final time. Time seemed to stand still as the dogs
crouched, waiting for Buck to make the final move. Spitz
staggered
back and
forth,
snarling, as if he were trying to
frighten them away. But there was no hope of that.
Buck
sprang at Spitz, ramming him with his shoulder, and Spitz went down for the last time. 
As the pack closed in upon Spitz, Buck stood back and watched. He had made his kill and it was good.
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