hindermost fawn, he and his little band swerved to one side and burst
into the big tent.’”]
“Oh, a herder’s tent!” cried White Sox.
“No, indeed!” said Mother Reindeer. “There were no herders in those
days, my son. It was the tent of a hunter. White Feet didn’t know which
was the more to be feared, a wolf or a hunter. Both were the enemies of
the caribou. And the little band of fawns were depending on him to lead
them to safety.”
“I understand,” said White Sox. “A leader must decide things for
himself, and do it quickly. He can’t ask his mother every time he faces
a duty.”
“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “and the three gray wolves forced White
Feet to decide quickly this time. They were coming down the slope
behind the fawns. White Feet knew that the wolves were gaining on
them, but as he looked ahead, he saw that the tent flap was open. He
felt quite sure that his little band could not reach the bay, and he
had been told that wolves would avoid a hunter’s tent in daylight. But
these beasts thought they were surely going to have a big feed of fawn
meat.
“White Feet shouted to his followers to turn and dash into the tent.
Then, just as the first wolf was about to seize the hindermost fawn, he
and his little band swerved to one side and burst into the big tent.
“Whiz! whiz! whiz!
“The native hunter, all unknown to the fawns and wolves, had been
watching the race from behind the tent. Three gray wolves now lay on
the ground outside, pinned fast by the hunter’s terrible arrows.”
“Oh, mother, mother!” cried White Sox, who was trembling with
excitement. “Did the hunter kill White Feet and his six fawns?”
Mother Reindeer looked at her son for a moment in silence and then
continued her story.
[Illustration: “‘A woman and her three children squatted near the
fire.’”]
VIII
THE FIRST HUMAN FRIEND
“Inside the big tent,” Mother Reindeer went on, “a woman and her three
children squatted near the fire. They were eating a freshly cooked
duck. They were so taken by surprise when the little band of caribou
fawns dashed in through their open tent flap that at first they could
not speak or move. Then the mother sprang up and fastened the tent flap
tight.
“White Feet and his followers had come to a stop at the farther side of
the tent. They stood bunched together, with heads erect. All but White
Feet were shaking with fear. They had seen the woman close the tent
flap. They knew that they were prisoners now, and they thought that
they had escaped one death only to meet another. Then they saw the tent
flap open a little way. The hunter peeped in; then he opened it wider,
slipped inside the tent, and closed the flap quickly.
“White Feet noticed that the hunter carried his big bow in his hand. He
noticed also that he and his family all wore clothes made of caribou
skins. They spoke to each other in strange sounds such as the fawns
had never before heard. They all appeared to be very much excited and
pleased. They looked at the fawns, and the fawns looked at them.
“Suddenly the bigger boy gave a loud cry and pointed at White Feet. The
hunter and the others looked at White Feet, too. Then they talked in
excited tones.
“White Feet, of course, didn’t know what they were saying, but he felt
quite sure that they were talking about his white markings. Oh, how he
wished his mother had been with him! Then he remembered that a leader
must not think of himself when others depend on him. Here were the six
poor little fawns scared half to death, and he had promised to take
care of them. What should he do?
“He looked at the bigger boy, and the bigger boy looked at him. There
was something in the boy’s eyes that gave White Feet courage. He didn’t
seem like an enemy. He stood near his father, but his head came only
as high as the hunter’s elbow.
“White Feet made up his mind to trust this boy. Then he did the boldest
thing ever done by a caribou. He walked across the tent to where the
bigger boy stood and rubbed his head against the boy’s arm.”
“Oh!” gasped White Sox. “How brave he was!”
“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “that little caribou fawn was the first of
his kind to try to make friends with an enemy. Of course the boy was
surprised. He touched White Feet on the head. He spoke kindly to him
and patted his shoulder. All the others stopped talking and watched
them.
“The bigger boy stooped down and stroked White Feet’s beautiful
stockings. White Feet rubbed his head against the boy’s arm again and
tried to tell him how much he wanted him for a friend.
“The boy’s young sister wanted to touch the fawn’s pretty stockings.
She was a little bit afraid. She moved close beside the bigger boy, put
out her hand very carefully, and just touched the top of the nearest
white stocking. Then she laughed, and the two boys laughed, and their
mother laughed. And what do you think White Feet did?
“_He kissed that little girl._ Yes, he did—right on the cheek. He
licked her cheek with his warm tongue.
“The little girl wasn’t a bit afraid of him after that. She stroked his
white stockings, talked baby talk to him, and then she put her arms
about his neck and loved him.
“White Feet felt pretty sure that the children would not let the hunter
kill him—just then. But he had to think for Blackie—the other male fawn
of his little band—and the five does. He told Blackie and the doe fawns
to make friends with the other boy and his mother. At first they were
too scared to move, but at last poor Blackie got courage enough to walk
up to the younger boy and rub his head against his arm. This seemed to
please the younger boy very much. Before long all the doe fawns had
followed his example, and the human beings were laughing and talking
kindly to them.
“The hunter had been shaking his head, but now he nodded it upward and
downward. White Feet felt sure that he was saying ‘yes’ to what the
children had been asking, and that none of the little band would be
killed at once. White Feet watched the hunter very carefully, but he
kept close to the bigger boy because the boy was his first friend.
“After a little while the hunter made two small halters of sealskin
rope. He put one over White Feet’s head and the other over Blackie’s.
Then the bigger boy led White Feet out of the tent and on to the narrow
spit. The younger boy led Blackie. The five doe fawns followed them,
and so did the little girl and her mother and father.
[Illustration: “‘Dainten and White Feet loved each other.’”]
“When they were all far out on the spit, the hunter stretched his fish
net across the narrow neck of ground. White Feet and his band were now
prisoners on the spit. They were very glad to be alive and safe from
the wolves. They didn’t know how long the hunter would let them live,
and oh! how they did want their mothers! But they were very hungry too,
and when White Feet saw some nice grass and scrubby willows, you may be
quite sure that the little band forgot their troubles and ate a good
supper.
“Afterward White Feet examined the long, narrow spit. It was low and
rolling, and most of it was covered with moss and grass. There were
dwarf willows too, and along its western shore, under a long bluff,
was a level drift of old winter snow. The place looked mighty good to
White Feet, especially when he found that the children were going to
live on the sand spit with them. That very night the hunter and his
family moved their tent inside the fish-net corral. The little band of
fawns had a long sleep in perfect safety.
“Next day the hunter and his wife stood and watched the fawns play with
the children. The hunter seemed to be most interested in White Feet.
When he spoke to him, White Feet would go right up to the hunter and
rub his head against the man’s arm or leg. You see, White Feet had
thought it all out and decided that the band must have the hunter for a
friend; then their lives would be safe. But of course the hunter didn’t
know that. He was very much puzzled. He stared at White Feet and talked
to him as if the fawn with the unheard-of markings were the returned
spirit of his dead father, who had been a chief and a mighty hunter.
After a few days the hunter went away.
“The captive fawns soon forgot their sorrow and fear. The spit was a
safe home. They had a variety of forage and plenty of it. They had
loving companions. They could sleep soundly without fear of enemies. It
was a new life to them and they liked it.
“The bigger boy’s name was Dainten. White Feet soon discovered that.
The two were together nearly all the time. They loved each other.
“But White Feet always remembered that the hunter and his family
dressed in caribou skins. This made him very thoughtful. He felt quite
sure that if all his followers were allowed to live and grow up, they
must find a way to be of use to the hunter.”
[Illustration: “White Feet smelled at them, but he couldn’t make out
what Dainten intended to do.”]
IX
WHITE FEET FINDS A WAY OF SERVING MAN
“One day,” continued Mother Reindeer, “some driftwood was washed up by
the sea. Dainten pulled the pieces up on the beach. He found two that
were crooked near the end. These pieces were of the same length, and
the crooked ends were bent in about the same way.
“White Feet smelled at them, but he couldn’t make out what Dainten
intended to do as he watched him place the two pieces side by side,
a short distance apart. Dainten then took some shorter pieces of
driftwood, placed them crosswise on the others, and lashed them fast
with sealskin thongs. It was a strange-looking thing he had made. The
crooked ends bent upward. To the crosspiece nearest these he fastened
a stout rope of sealskin thongs. He then placed his little sister and
brother on the thing and pulled them over the snow.”
“I know!” exclaimed White Sox, quickly. “That was a sled.”
“It was,” said Mother Reindeer. “White Feet stood and watched them use
the sled. He was doing some hard thinking. He wanted to do everything
he saw Dainten do. When the bigger boy had given his little brother and
sister one ride, White Feet asked Dainten to let him draw the sled. Of
course Dainten didn’t know what White Feet was saying; but when White
Feet put his neck under the rope and tried to take his place in front
of the sled, Dainten began to understand.
“He laughed and patted White Feet. He put the rope around his neck and
tied it so it would not slip and choke him. Then he tied a small piece
of rope to the right side of the halter band that White Feet was still
wearing, and another piece to the left side. It was the hour after
sunset. The snow, which had been soft and mushy at noon, was now hard
and crusted.
[Illustration: “‘To prevent its running against his heels, he swerved
to the left, giving the riders a great spill.’”]
“Dainten took his place on the front end of the sled and held the lines
in his hands. His sister and brother sat behind him. When all was
ready, he gave a slap of the lines on the fawn’s sides. White Feet
understood. He started very slowly and carefully, but he found that the
loaded sled was easy to draw over the trail of hard snow. When Dainten
urged him to go faster, he broke into a trot. All the other fawns
joined the party. It was wonderful fun.
“On their return to the starting place, Dainten thought he would see
how fast they could go. He gave a harder slap of the lines. Away they
went down the gentle slope. The snow from the hind hoofs of White Feet
hit their faces and made the children laugh. How glad they were, and
how happy! And how proud White Feet was to be of service to them!
“They were going so fast as they neared the bottom of the slope that
White Feet could not keep ahead of the sled. To prevent its running
against his heels, he swerved to the left, giving the riders a great
spill.”
“Mother, that’s a wonderful story!” cried White Sox. “That was the
first sled reindeer, the first reindeer harness, the first reindeer
ride, and the first spill!”
“Yes, my son,” said Mother Reindeer, “the very first. It was the
beginning of a new kind of service to man. As I told you before, the
hunter was away. He came home while the children were sledding on the
snow. He stepped from his boat and watched them in great surprise. And
oh, how he laughed when the sled upset! He patted White Feet and spoke
kindly to him, and he nodded his head upward and downward several
times. Then he put the harness on Blackie and tied him in front of the
little sled.
“White Feet told Blackie to watch for the signal and go very carefully.
Dainten’s brother drove him. Blackie did good work. You see, he had
watched White Feet and had learned how to do as he did. Dainten’s
brother was very proud of Blackie.
“After a while the hunter went to his boat. All the children and the
fawns followed him to see what he had brought from his hunting trip.
First he took out a lot of ducks, some geese, and a swan. Then he
unloaded a great many brown and white ptarmigan. His wife was much
pleased when she saw that he had brought her two hair seals. She and
the children carried the birds and dragged the seals up to the tent.
But the fawns didn’t follow then. The hunter was pulling some fresh
caribou skins out of his boat.”
“Oh!” cried White Sox, in excitement.
“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “and the very first skin White Feet
smelled at was his own mother’s. The neck and hind legs were all chewed
up by the teeth of wolves. Of course he felt very badly about it. The
world seemed a lonely place to him after losing his mother. But he knew
again that a leader must not think of himself. He smelled at the other
skins. They all showed the teeth marks of wolves, and all of them were
the skins of old mothers.
“White Feet knew that the old mothers were usually the weaklings of the
herd. Their death saved many fawns from being caught. Then it came to
White Feet that the death of these mothers might be the means of saving
his own little band of fawns. The hunter and his family would now have
plenty of caribou skins for the coming winter. They would not need his
and Blackie’s and those of the doe fawns.
“It was while White Feet was smelling at the skins that Dainten
returned from the tent. The boy stood beside White Feet and looked at
him, just for all the world as if he understood that the poor torn skin
had belonged to White Feet’s mother. From that minute Dainten and White
Feet became lifelong friends. Dainten patted the fawn and tried to
comfort him. To White Feet a human being had taken the place of his own
dear old mother.
“Later, the hunter helped the boys make better harness for White Feet
and Blackie. It was the kind now used by our herders. Instead of the
curved piece of wood for each shoulder, he used a strap of sealskin
about as broad as your ear, placing it over the left shoulder and neck
and between the fore legs. The two ends of this band were fastened to
the end of the single trace, back of the right fore leg, where they
passed under the belly band. The trace stretched from the ends of the
collar band to the sled, outside of the right hind leg.
“With these harnesses the hunter trained White Feet and Blackie to
work together. He was well pleased with them and sent his five dogs
to his brother, who lived a day’s journey down the beach. The hunter
knew that it would require much of the dried meat he had put up through
the summer to feed his team dogs through the winter. His new sled deer
didn’t eat meat. That meant less work for the hunter and his wife.
“Of course the hunter was anxious to try out these sled deer with a
heavy load. Luckily for White Feet and Blackie, their muscles were hard
and strong by the time the first new snow came. They had plenty of
back-fat too. All their work had been but play, but now they were to
be of real service to man. The hunter’s supplies, gathered during the
summer, must be moved from the spit to a small grove of alders a day’s
journey inland. This was the hunter’s winter home.”
[Illustration: Reindeer pulling sled]
[Illustration: The first load hauled by White Feet and Blackie.]
X
THE HUNTER BECOMES A HERDER
“The first load hauled by White Feet and Blackie,” continued Mother
Reindeer, “consisted of the tent skins and poles, sleeping skins,
clothing, cooking pots, and part of the stock of dried fish. It was a
big load, but it looked bigger than it really was. The other native
people were very much surprised to see such a load drawn by two
pastured caribou fawns.
“On the following day White Feet and Blackie were so tired and stiff
that Dainten tethered them out in a good moss patch near the winter
camp. His brother and sister kept watch over them. The five doe fawns
stayed near White Feet and Blackie. The hunter made them a small corral
of alders, so that his little herd would be well protected from wolves
in the nighttime.
“This hunter was a wise man. He knew that when wild caribou had been
chased for several days they became very thin and poor. He now found
that moss was not so strengthening to the fawns as meat was to the
dogs. He wished to keep the little herd until they were grown up; so
he took good care of them and allowed them to rest well before he took
them back to the summer camp for another big load. You see, my son,
the fierce hunter was becoming a good herder. The taming of the fawns
had also tamed him and his family. The pastured caribou fawns were now
called reindeer.”
“Did they never see any of the wild caribou again?” White Sox asked.
“No, not to speak to,” Mother Reindeer said, “but they soon became
used to the ways of their human friends and were quite content. Before
the November moon was gone, all the seal oil, dried fish, and meat
had been hauled from the spit to the winter camp. The hunter had more
than enough food stored up for his family; so he gave his attention to
studying the ways and habits of caribou and taking care of his first
little herd of reindeer.
“On clear days, and on nights when the moon was shining, he had the
children take turns at watching the herd while it grazed. He took the
sharp claws of the big Oogarook seals and fastened them to the ends of
pieces of alder, about as big as your hoof. These made fine rakes or
moss scratchers. The children used these scratchers for digging moss,
which they put inside the corral for the fawns to eat on stormy days
and dark nights. The first herder was a thoughtful man; he didn’t want
his herd to grow thin and poor.”
“He was more thoughtful than some of our herders that Uncle Slim tells
about,” said White Sox.
Mother Reindeer nodded her head. “The first herder and his family had
become so fond of their reindeer that they all seemed like one family,”
she said. “The human beings couldn’t understand the caribou language,
but White Feet and his band soon came to understand many native
words. Dainten’s brother was named Tah-ne-na. His sister’s name was
Tah-nes-ka.”
White Sox had listened carefully to every word his mother had said. To
him it was a very wonderful story. The more he thought about it, the
more he wished to be like White Feet in mind as well as in body. After
pondering for a while in silence, he said:
“I can see all the pictures now, mother—the careless caribou herd, the
sneaking wolves, and the little band of fawns on the hill. Always the
weakest of the herd were sacrificed in order that the stronger ones
might escape and live a little while longer. Always danger, unrest,
and fear! I see the other pictures—one brave caribou fawn thinking and
planning for the safety of those who depended on him, and boldly doing
things no other caribou had ever dared to do. I see that first corral
on the narrow spit, the first little sled and harness, the first little
caribou serving man for the love of him. Each needed something the
other had to give. The fawns needed protection. The human beings needed
beasts of burden that would be a source of food, instead of those for
whom food had to be provided.”
[Illustration: “‘Our herders watch us at night only during the season
when the ground is bare and we are inclined to scatter.’”]
White Sox had learned his lesson. Mother Reindeer felt proud of him.
“But listen, son,” she said. “I have not yet finished my story. The
first little herd of reindeer increased in numbers as the years went
by, doubling their number every third spring. The two boys grew to
manhood and married, and had families of their own. The old hunter and
his wife died. There came a time when the herd was too large for the
corrals. Dainten and Tah-ne-na had to take on new herders to help with
the work. They now herded their reindeer in the open, day and night.”
“We are not herded at night, mother,” White Sox said.
“That is true, my son,” said Mother Reindeer. “On this side of the big
waters there are not so many wolves. Our herders watch us at night
only during the season when the ground is bare and we are inclined to
scatter.”
“How did you get across the big waters, mother?”
“That is what I’m going to tell you now,” she said.
[Illustration: “‘My mother was a beautiful spotted reindeer.’”]
XI
HOW MOTHER REINDEER CAME TO ALASKA
“At last the herd became so big that it had to be divided,” said Mother
Reindeer. “Dainten had always claimed White Feet. Tah-ne-na had claimed
Blackie. Now Dainten took all the spotted and white reindeer and moved
toward the rising sun, where his wife’s people lived. Tah-ne-na had
only the dark reindeer for his herd. He moved toward the setting sun,
where his wife’s people had come from. They moved the two herds so far
apart that they could never mingle again. Tah-ne-na’s herd multiplied
and stocked the shores toward the setting sun. Dainten’s herd increased
rapidly and spread along the shores toward the rising sun.”
“You belonged to Dainten, didn’t you, mother?” White Sox asked.
“Dainten and White Feet had been dead for ages and ages before I was
born,” said Mother Reindeer. “I belonged to one of the herds that
descended from White Feet. My mother was a beautiful spotted reindeer,
and my father was a great leader of a band of wild caribou. When I was
a fawn, all the members of our family were roped and hobbled. We were
taken on board a big floating corral and brought across the waters
to a place some thirty days’ journey from here. That floating corral
was a long, narrow, smoky, noisy, quivering thing that moved over the
surface of the waters toward the rising sun. It was a dreadful journey.
Our mothers were too much scared to eat. The fawns were bleating all
the time. For two suns there was no land anywhere in sight—nothing but
water and fog, water and fog. We didn’t know what the herders were
going to do to us. We were all very much afraid.
“At last we came to another shore. The floating corral moved close up
to the land and we were taken off. The place was strange. The people
were strange. We were still very much afraid, but it was better to be
on shore than on the floating corral. After a few days the floating
corral came again and landed more reindeer. We were very glad to see
our old friends, and we grew more contented.
“But in this new land we had strange men for herders, to help our own
herders who came with us on the floating corral. They were too old to
learn how to take care of us. After a while we had more new herders,
men who wore shoes that curved up at the toes, like boat sleds. They
wore high caps stuffed with feathers and spoke a strange language. They
threw the lasso straight, without warning, instead of curling it three
times around overhead before shooting it out. But at last we had some
young men for herders, and they did much better by us. Young people are
like fawns; they learn quickly. It was then that we began to love the
new land and our new herders.”
[Illustration: “‘We were taken on board a big floating corral and
brought across the waters.’”]
“You’ve seen a great deal, mother, but how did you get up here, thirty
days’ journey from the place where you first lived in this new land?”
White Sox asked.
“That’s another story, my son,” Mother Reindeer said. “I will tell you
about it after all your other lessons are learned. This much I will
tell you now. One day some strange men came to our new land and talked
with our herders. In a little while two reindeer herds on this side
of the big waters were put together and driven north. The little bit
of winter daylight had just begun to grow longer as we started. We
didn’t know where we were going, but we thought it must be on a long
trip, because some sleds were loaded with food for the herders who were
driving us.