THE CHOSEN DEER
Tuktu still sat on the back of Whitefoot. As Santa Claus talked, he came
over to Whitefoot and gently stroked his face. Whitefoot stood without
motion. It was the more surprising, because Whitefoot had always been
rather unruly. He never had been one to willingly acknowledge a master.
Only Tuktu had been able to handle him without trouble. Santa looked up
straight into the eyes of Tuktu. “Tell me, my dear,” said he, “how you
came to venture into this valley. Did you not know that only the deer
folk come here?”
“Yes, I knew,” replied Tuktu in a low voice. “I knew, Good Santa, and I
would not have thought of coming myself. It was Whitefoot who brought me
here. He brought me here, and I didn’t know where he was bringing me.”
Then she told how she had been lost in the fog, and how when she had
awakened from her nap in the midst of the great herd, she had discovered
where she was. She told how she would have left, even then, but could
not. And her lips trembled a little as she talked, for she was fearful
that the Good Spirit might think that she had done wrong.
“And why do you think that the deer folk come here every year?” inquired
Santa Claus.
“That the blessed eight may be chosen,” said Tuktu.
“And what, my dear, do you mean by the blessed eight?” Santa Claus
inquired.
Then Tuktu told him of the tales she had heard around the winter
firepots, and how it had been long known that every year eight deer were
chosen from the great herd in the Valley of the Good Spirit; and how the
following year these deer always returned to their owners, and were the
finest sled-deer in all the North, so that the owner of one of these was
considered blessed above his fellows.
Santa Claus sighed. “They ought to be good sled-deer,” said he. “I spend
enough time in training them. For what purpose, my dear, do you think
these deer are chosen each year?”
Tuktu shook her head. “That,” said she, “no one knows. All that is known
is that each year the eight deer are chosen, and the following year they
are returned to bless their owners. That is enough. The Good Spirit has
some wise purpose, or the deer would not be taken and returned.”
“Do you know,” said Santa, “that the reindeer are among the oldest of
all the peoples of the earth? It is so. It has been said that man was
created to look after the reindeer, and the reindeer were created to
look after man. Almost since man was, the reindeer have furnished him
with food and clothing, and have carried him or drawn him wherever he
wished to go. Have you driven deer to the sled? Have you ever sat behind
a running reindeer and felt the rush of the cutting wind? And felt now
and then the sting of the snow thrown from his flying feet?”
Tuktu’s eyes shone and she clapped her hands softly. “Don’t you love
it?” she cried.
Santa Claus nodded, and he chuckled. “That is why the eight deer are
chosen each year,” said he. “When I made my first Christmas journey, it
was a reindeer who drew my sled. My pack was small and my journey was
short, and a single deer was all I needed. But as the Christmas spirit
swept farther and farther throughout the Great World, and more and more
children looked for my coming, my pack became larger and I had to travel
much faster. So then I used two deer; and then three, four, five, until
now eight are needed. Eight of the finest deer to be found in all the
herds.
“They must have speed and strength, for they must take me fast and carry
me far. They must have beauty, with antlers of many points. They must be
stout of heart and full of courage. They must be gentle. So it is that
each year I must get a new team, and so each year the reindeer, the
finest in all the great Northland, feed for a while in Kringle Valley.
Then when the time comes, as it came to-day, they pass before me at
their best, that I may choose those for my next Christmas journey into
the Great World. Those you saw vanish in the colored mist are the eight
who will take me next Christmas to carry joy to little folk. In all
that great herd you saw, there is none other the equal of those chosen.
And all the deer folk know it. Just once will they make that wonderful
journey, for only for that one time will they be at their very best. At
the next Christmas there will be eight others to take their places. But
always the eight bear the same names. Would you like to hear them,
Tuktu?”
Shyly Tuktu nodded. “If you please,” she said.
My, how the eyes of old Santa Claus twinkled! “They are Donder and
Blitzen, Dancer and Prancer, Dasher and Vixen, Comet and Cupid” said he.
“I couldn’t drive deer by any other names. They are magic names. And
those deer will become magic deer when they start on their Christmas
journey. Now, my dear, Whitefoot will take you straight back to the
place from which he brought you. You have seen that which you may never
see again--the choosing of the deer. But always you will remember that
in the Valley of the Good Spirit, love dwells, and that love may be
carried throughout the world, the blessed reindeer are chosen each
year.”