CHAPTER IXTHE CHOSEN DEER

He was short and jolly and round and fat,With a fur trimmed coat and a fur trimmed hat.

He was dressed all in red. His hair was white and he wore a long, white beard. Never had Tuktu seen such a beard before. Eskimos have beards that are straggly and black. His eyes twinkled, like the twinkling of the stars on a frosty night. Around them were many fine wrinkles. They were laugh wrinkles. He was laughing now.

He laughed “Ha! Ha!” and he laughed “Ho! Ho!”“Hello, little girl,” he cried, “Hello!What are you doing alone up here?Have you come in search of your straying deer?”

Poor Tuktu! She couldn’t find her tongue. She knew who this must be. She knew that this must be the Good Spirit—the Good Spirit whom no one had ever seen. She felt that she ought to slip from Whitefoot’s back and bow herself at the Good Spirit’s feet. But she couldn’t move. No, sir, she couldn’t move. When at last she could find her tongue, all she could do was to whisper, “Are you the Good Spirit?”

Those eyes looking at her in such a kindly

Tuktu and Santa Claus

way, twinkled more than ever, and all the little laugh wrinkles around them grew deeper. He began to shake all over. He shook and shook. And he laughed so merrily that presently Tuktu herself began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It was catching. Yes, sir, it was catching.

“Ho! Ho!” said he, “My dear Tuktu,It may be I amthatto you.I hope I am. It seems to meThat nothing could much nicer be.“But elsewhere all the great world ’round,Wherever there are children found,I’m known as Santa Clause, my dear;Or else, perchance, of me you hearAs Old Saint Nick, who once a yearWith pack and sleigh and wondrous deerTo little folk who have been good,And done those things that children should,Brings Christmas Day the books and toysThat always gladden girls and boys.But when the Christmas season endsI hasten here to where my friendsThe Fairies, Elves, and busy GnomesFor countless years have made their homes.Ho! Ho! Ho! You are, my dear,The first who ever ventured here.”

“Ho! Ho!” said he, “My dear Tuktu,It may be I amthatto you.I hope I am. It seems to meThat nothing could much nicer be.

“But elsewhere all the great world ’round,Wherever there are children found,I’m known as Santa Clause, my dear;Or else, perchance, of me you hearAs Old Saint Nick, who once a yearWith pack and sleigh and wondrous deerTo little folk who have been good,And done those things that children should,Brings Christmas Day the books and toysThat always gladden girls and boys.But when the Christmas season endsI hasten here to where my friendsThe Fairies, Elves, and busy GnomesFor countless years have made their homes.Ho! Ho! Ho! You are, my dear,The first who ever ventured here.”

It was such a jolly voice, and those eyes twinkled so, and he shook all over so when helaughed, that Tuktu no longer had the slightest fear. “If you please, Good Santa,” said she, “I have never heard of Christmas. What is Christmas?”

Santa’s face sobered. No longer was the twinkle in his eyes, nor the laugh in the wrinkles around them. All the lines softened from his face and it became very beautiful. Simply, so that Tuktu could fully understand, he explained that Christmas is the season of loving thought. It is the season when self is forgotten and the desire of each is to make others happy.

It was a wonderful story he told her, a wonderful story of how all through the long years he had carried Christmas joy to the boys and girls of all the great world. He told her how all the year through the Fairies and Elves and Trolls and Gnomes were busy down in this valley, hidden by the wondrous many-colored mist, making the things which he was to take on his yearly journey to make glad the hearts of little children. He explained how it grieved him when sometimes he could leave nothing, because a little girl or a little boy had not been good. He told herhow the Spirit of Love was abroad throughout all the Great World in the Christmas season, and how those who do for and give to others are the ones in whom the Christmas spirit lives all the year through, and who thus find the greatest happiness.

“It is not in receiving, my dear,” said he,“But in giving in love you will find to beThat fullness of joy, and that sweet contentFor the beautiful Christmas season meant.”

“And does no one give to you, kind Santa?” Tuktu asked a little breathlessly.

You should have heard Santa Claus laugh then. Indeed, you should have heard him laugh! You should have seen his eyes twinkle. “Every year I receive the greatest gift in all the Great World,” said he.

“And what is that?” whispered Tuktu.

“The love of little children,” replied Santa Claus. “Not in all the Great World is there any gift to compare with the love of little children. And it is mine—all mine—every Christmas.”

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, mydear, 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 eachyear,” 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 tocarry 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.”

“DONDER and Blitzen, Dasher and Vixen, Dancer and Prancer, Comet and Cupid,” repeated Tuktu to herself, and her eyes were like stars. “Do the children out in the Great World love them?”

You should have seen Santa’s eyes twinkle then. And you should have seen all the laugh wrinkles around his eyes. “I suspect they do,” said he. “I suspect they do, for they love me and they must love the ones who bring me to them each year. But they have never seen my reindeer, so I really don’t know.”

And then you should have seen Tuktu’s eyes open. “Do you mean,” she asked, “that they never, never have seen your deer?”

Santa Claus nodded. “That’s what I mean,” said he. “You see, the night before Christmas when I make that magic trip, Imust go so far and I must go so fast that there is no time, not even one wee minute, to waste. And so, no one sees me then. Sometimes little boys and girls hide and watch for me and for my deer. But they never see us. And those little boys and girls do not always find all the things they hoped I would bring them.”

A dreamy look had come into Tuktu’s eyes, a very far-away look. “Do they have as fine deer out there in the Great World as we have here?” she asked.

The laugh wrinkles wrinkled up more than ever, and Santa Claus laughed right out. “They have no deer at all, Little One,” said he. “That is, they have no reindeer. Most of them would not know a reindeer if they saw one.”

“No reindeer!” cried Tuktu, and such a look of astonishment as spread over her face. “How can they live without the wonderful deer? Oh, I am so sorry for those children. I wish—” Tuktu paused.

“What do you wish, Child?” Santa Claus asked in his kindly voice. “Tell me what you wish, for you know it is my business to make the wishes of children come true.”

Tuktu hesitated. She dropped her eyes shyly. “I wish,” she said very softly, “that I could send them some reindeer.”

Santa Claus looked at her sharply. He could read her thoughts and there was not one single little thought of self there. She was thinking of the children who had never seen the reindeer and how wonderful it would be if only they could see the blessed eight. When she looked up and saw Santa’s kindly eyes studying her, she spoke impulsively.

“Kind Santa Claus,” said she, speaking hurriedly, so hurriedly that the words tripped over each other, “couldn’t you go down early some year with your blessed deer so that the children of the Great World might see them? I know they would love them, just as I do.”

Santa Claus sighed. “I am afraid,” said he, “there isn’t time. You know it takes time to train deer, and there are no deer in all the Great Northland so well trained as those which take me out into the Great World every Christmas. You saw the eight chosen to-day. It will take me most of my time from now until Christmas to get them properly trained for that magic journey. If the deer were better trained when I got them, I might be able to do it. You know I do not even have to have reins, they are so perfectly trained. That is why when I am through with them, they are the finest sled-deer in all the world. They are no longer magic deer, but they are wonderful sled-deer. So you think the children of the Great World would like to see the deer? Perhaps they would! Perhaps they would! I shall have to think it over, my dear. I certainly shall have to think it over.”

“Oh, if you only would!” cried Tuktu, her dark eyes shining with excitement “I-I-I wish I could help. I am so sorry for children who have never seen the beautiful deer.”

Down somewhere in the midst of the wonderful mist a silver bell rang. It was so clear, so sweet, that Tuktu turned her head to listen. When she looked back—Santa Claus had disappeared. The bell rang again and from out the curtain of mist came Santa’s voice once more.

“Good-bye, little girl,” said he. “The great herd moves, and you must leave the valley. But remember this, my dear, that whenever you think of others, others will think of you.And to those who love is love given in return. That is why Christmas is. Remember that, my dear, and always your Christmas will be merry. Better than that, it will be happy.”

Abruptly, Whitefoot turned and began to move away.

WITH his long, swinging trot, Whitefoot rapidly made his way out of the Valley of the Good Spirit. Once only did Tuktu look back at the cloud of shimmering, many-colored mist. At one point it glowed a rich deep red, and as she looked, this turned to rose and finally to a faint pink and then vanished. Nowhere was the Good Spirit to be seen.

Out of the valley, over the hill, climbed Whitefoot, and Tuktu turned him in the direction of the camp. There presently she fastened him where Aklak had put him to graze. Her father and brother had not returned. As in a dream, she looked back to the hills around the Valley of the Good Spirit. Could it be that she had been there? Was it not all a dream? But if it were a dream, it had been a wonderful dream—the most beautiful of all dreams. She knew thatKutok and Aklak would not believe the story she had to tell. They would say that she had been asleep and the dream spirits had visited her. She looked across to the distant hills above the valley, and with a suddenness that startled her, she realized that not a deer was to be seen. Of course not. Had she not seen them move out of the upper end of the valley? There was the proof.

With the realization of this, all thought of anything else was driven from the mind of Tuktu—even the wonderful experience she had been through. The great herd was moving and there were no herders! She must get word back to the herders on the coast. She would take the other pack deer, for Whitefoot must be tired. Perhaps she would meet her father and brother on the way. She had just prepared to start when in the distance she saw Kutok and Aklak approaching. When they reached her, they were in high spirits. They had had good hunting and they brought with them plenty to eat.

“They have moved!” cried Tuktu. “The deer have left the Valley of the Good Spirit.” Kutok threw down his load and hurried tothe rise of ground from which he had been accustomed to watch the deer on the distant hills. Long he looked, searching every bit of ground within range of his eyes. Not a deer was to be seen.

“It is so, Little Tuktu,” said he on his return. “The herd has started for the winter grazing grounds. It is time that we also should move. Aklak shall go back to carry word to the herders, while you and I will follow the deer. They will move slowly, so there is no hurry. But it is well that we should catch up with them soon, lest the wolves attack, finding them unguarded.”

So Aklak started back to the summer camp to send up the herders and to help break the camp and move toward the winter home. Tuktu and her father, with a small skin iglu or tent wherein to sleep, and food enough for their immediate needs, started at once to catch up with the great herd. Through years of experience, Kutok knew in what direction the deer would travel and the shortest way to reach them.

They traveled too fast for much talking. Tuktu longed to tell her father what she hadseen in the Valley of the Good Spirit, but somehow she couldn’t. “He will laugh at me,” she thought. “He will not believe, and he will laugh at me; and I do not want to be laughed at.” So she said nothing. But all the time there was a song in her heart.

It was not until Aklak had rejoined them that she told of her adventure in the Valley of the Good Spirit. At first Aklak laughed, as she had known he would. “It was a dream, Tuktu,” he cried. “It was a dream. You must have slept through that fog while Father and I were hunting, and the dream spirits took you with them. No one ever has seen the Good Spirit, and no one ever will.”

But Tuktu stubbornly insisted that it was not a dream, until at last even Aklak began to believe that it might be so. You would have laughed to hear him ply her with questions, all the time pretending that he didn’t believe a word of it. But Tuktu caught him looking at her with a respect in his black eyes which was new in her experience. And she noticed, too, that he no longer teased her, and that now he was never selfish. The biggest share of anything was always hers. Neverhad he been so gentle and thoughtful. Yet never once could she get him to say that he believed her story of the Valley of the Good Spirit.

Now there was one thing that Tuktu did not tell Aklak. It was that the last deer chosen was from their father’s own herd. Never had Kutok had a deer chosen by the Good Spirit from his herd until now. Tuktu had known that it was her father’s deer, because she had been near enough to see the ear-mark. Besides, there was no other deer in the herd to compare with it. Sometimes when Aklak insisted that it was all a dream, she would be almost persuaded that he was right. Then she would remember that it was her father’s finest deer Speedfoot, which had been chosen.

“If,” she would say to herself, “we cannot find Speedfoot in the round up, I shall know for a certainty that I did not dream. It will be the proof.”

Thereafter she spent many hours wandering in and out through the great herd looking for this particular deer and rejoicing that she could not find it.

WINTER had come. The deer were on their winter feeding grounds. Could you have been there, you would, until you had watched them awhile, have wondered where they could find anything to eat. As far as could be seen, and far, far beyond that, there was nothing but snow.

But the deer people minded this not at all. They knew that the snow was but a blanket to protect and keep in splendid condition the food they loved best, the reindeer moss as it is called, which carpeted the ground, the lichens which nature had provided specially for the reindeer and caribou.

Tuktu liked to go out and watch them paw down through the snow. “See, Aklak,” she cried, “they know just where they will find the best food. Do you suppose they never make mistakes?”

“The deer are wise with a wisdom not given us,” replied Aklak. “Perhaps they make mistakes sometimes, but it is not often. I heard such a queer thing the other day. It makes me laugh every time I think of it.”

“Tell me, for I want to laugh too,” cried Tuktu. “What was it, Aklak?”

Aklak chuckled. “You remember the visitors that came in great ships last summer,” said he. Tuktu nodded. “Well, one of them who never had seen reindeer before, asked if the deer used their horns to shovel away the snow in winter. He said that he had been told this, and that many people believed it to be so. It is a lucky thing it isn’t so, or those big, old bucks would go hungry now that they have dropped their horns. But just look at the way they are pawing up that moss over there. I guess it is a good thing they haven’t their horns, or they would be so greedy and selfish that they would get all the best of the food. See, Tuktu! See that young spikehorn over there driving away the old buck from that moss he has uncovered!”

Sure enough, a youngster with only two sharp spikes for horns was butting a big oldbuck who had just pawed away the snow from a bed of reindeer moss. Those spikes were sharp and they made the old buck grunt. Having no horns himself, he could not fight back except by striking with his forefeet, and these the youngster took care to avoid. So finally the old fellow gave up and went to look for a new supply of food while the youngster ate undisturbed.

“I have wondered a great many times,” said Tuktu, “why it is that the old bucks drop their wonderful antlers so long before the mother deer and the young spikehorns do. But I guess I know now. It is because they are the strongest, and so they are made to look after the weaker ones, whether they want to or not.”

Aklak nodded. “That’s it I guess,” said he. “By and by those little spikes will drop. Then the only ones to have horns will be themothers. Theirs will not drop until after the fawns are born. Do you know why the reindeer always face the wind when they are feeding?”

“So that the wind may bring them the scent of any enemies that may be ahead of them,” replied Tuktu promptly.

Aklak nodded. “That is one reason, but it isn’t the only reason,” said he. “The wind keeps their eyes clear of drifting snow. So they always face the wind, no matter how bitter it may be. They are a wise people, the deer people. They know how to take care of themselves. They cannot see as well as some other animals, but they can smell and hear better than most. Their wild cousins, the caribou, are the same way. When we are hunting them we have to take the greatest care that they neither hear nor smell us.”

The children were standing on the outer edge of the herd. As always, Tuktu was watching for a glimpse of Speedfoot, the splendid deer she felt sure the Good Spirit had chosen. Now, for the first time she mentioned it to Aklak. He knew the deer she meant. He had hoped that some day hemight have it for his own. So now when Tuktu told him that she was sure it had been chosen by the Good Spirit, and that she had been unable to find it anywhere in the herd, he straightway began keeping watch himself.

Together they passed back and forth through the grazing herd. They are a gentle people, these reindeer folk. The children could quite safely go about among them as freely as they pleased. There was nothing to fear.

Long they searched, but in the end Aklak had to admit that Speedfoot was missing. “It may be that Amarok, the wolf, has gotten him,” said he. “Or it may be that he has strayed into one of the other herds. We cannot know until the deer are driven into the corrals and counted.”

Tuktu merely smiled. “I know,” said she. “Amarok has never set tooth in him, and he has not strayed to another herd. He is one of the chosen of the Good Spirit. You shall see, Aklak, that I am right when the count comes.”

“But not even the count will tell us if Amarok has killed him,” said he.

There was a faraway look in Tuktu’s eyes and a half-smile hovering around her lips. “You will find him next summer when we move over near the Valley of the Good Spirit,” said she. “Then will you know that I speak truly. He is of the chosen eight, the blessed deer of the Good Spirit.”

OF all the young deer in the great herd,—and there were many,—Little Spot was the most wilful. He was called Little Spot because he was marked exactly like his mother, who was known as Big Spot. Each had a white spot between the eyes. Now, Big Spot was one of the wisest leaders among all the reindeer people. She was wise in the ways of the wolf and the bear, and she was wise in the ways of men. Under her leadership the herd thrived and increased and was seldom troubled.

But with all her wisdom, Big Spot was a poor mother. You see, she was just like a great many other mothers—she spoiled her children. So Little Spot, who was so like his mother, had never been taught to mind. Almost from the day of his birth, which had been in the spring before the snow had melted,he had been headstrong and wilful. He had been a handsome baby, as reindeer babies go, and his mother had been very proud of him. Perhaps that is why she spoiled him. Anyway, he went where he pleased and did what he pleased and was forever in trouble of some sort. When he got his first horns, two sharp spikes, he made such a nuisance of himself that he soon became known as the worst young deer in the whole herd. Other young deer would have nothing to do with him, because he was so overbearing. He was a little bigger and a little stronger than any others of his own age, and this, together with the fact that he had been allowed to have his own way, had quite spoiled him.

“My son,” said his mother, when she found him with a small band of caribou which he had run away to join, “follow me to the top of yonder hill. I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to be talked to,” said Little Spot, with an angry toss of his head. “I know what you want. You want me to go back with the herd. I’m not going. I’m going to stay with my wild cousins, the caribou. I don’t want to go back to the herd. I won’t goback to the herd.” He stamped his feet in the naughtiest way.

“Very well,” said his mother. “You may stay with your cousins, the caribou. But remember that if you need me, you will find me on the top of that hill over there.”

Little Spot tossed his head. He sniffed. You see, he didn’t like it at all that his mother should think that he had any need of her. Had he not horns already? He felt quite equal to taking care of himself. So he tossed his head and sniffed, then went over to join some of the young caribou about his own age.

His mother said nothing more, but slowly walked away in the direction of the hill. When she reached the top, she stood motionless for a long time. Looking up, Little Spot could see her against the sky and, he, being a foolish young deer, became very angry. He felt that she was keeping watch over him. So he pretended not to see her, and, when presently the small band of caribou started to move away briskly, he trotted along with them. They were glad to have him; at least they made no objections. The farther he got from that hill where his mother still stood,the bigger and more important he felt. He was out in the Great World now. He was master of his own movements. There was no one to make him do this or do that. He held his head high and he stepped high. You see, he was trying to look as important as he felt.

Without warning, four great gray wolves swept out from behind some willow trees to cut off the young caribou from the remainder of the band. Such terror as there was then! Each young caribou started in a different direction. It was well for Little Spot that he was swifter of foot than any of the others. At the first glimpse of the dreaded wolves, he had whirled about and started back for that hill where his mother was. They were the first wolves he had ever seen, but he knewwhat they were. Not once did he look behind to see what was happening to the young caribou. Forgotten was all his pride. He wanted his mother, and he wanted her as he had never wanted her before. Was she not the wisest of all the mothers of the big herd? She would know what to do. She would know how to care for him.

He looked over to the top of that little hill. For a moment it seemed as if his heart stopped beating. He could not see Big Spot anywhere. Had she left him after all? Had she started off on that long swift trot of hers to get back to the herd? The mere thought that he might never see her again gave added speed to Little Spot. Never had he run as he was running now. But it was not good running. It was unwise running, for it was taking his wind and his strength. He was panting hard when he came over the top of the hill. There, in a little hollow just beyond, stood his mother.

“What is it, my son?” said she, as little Spot crowded against her, panting as if he could never get his breath again. “What is it, my son? I thought you wanted to go out into the Great World.”

“Wolves!” panted Little Spot, “Wolves! We must run!”

His mother merely walked up to the brow of the hill and looked back. “Truly, my son, they are wolves,” said she, and returned to him as if wolves were the most commonplace things in the world.

“They are wolves.”

LITTLE Spot, the wilful young reindeer, trembled as he crowded up to his mother. He couldn’t get close enough to her. He no longer wanted to be out in the Great World by himself. He wondered that his mother did not run. Every moment or two he looked back to see if those wolves were coming up over the hill. But Big Spot seemed in no hurry at all. You see, she was wise with the wisdom of experience. She didn’t want Little Spot to get over his fright so soon that he would forget the lesson he had learned. Then, too, she wanted him to get rested a little and get his wind back.

At last, she quieted Little Spot’s fears. “Those wolves did not chase you, my son,” said she. “They chased the young caribou, and it is very fortunate for you that they did.”

“I’m sure I could run faster than those wolves,” said Little Spot boastfully.

“Yes, you could,” replied his mother. “You could run faster than they could for a while, but you do not know the patience of wolves, my dear. You would have run so hard and so fast that presently you would have tired yourself out so that the wolves would have had no trouble in catching you. Ever since you were a little fawn I have told you about the wolves, and that they are our worst enemies; but I don’t think you ever have believed it. Now you have seen them and you know what they are like. The wolves are very smart people. They watch for a deer to stray away. Then they get between the herd and that deer. When this happens, that deer will not live long.”

“Have the deer always been afraid of the wolves?” asked Little Spot.

“Ever since the days when the world was young,” replied his mother.

“Tell me about the days when the world was young,” begged Little Spot.

For a few moments his mother said nothing. Gradually, into her big, dark eyes there crepta far-away look. “Once upon a time,” she began at last, “the world was mostly water, like the salt water that you saw in the summer.”

“But where did the deer live then?” interrupted Little Spot.

“There were no deer then,” said his mother. “There were no deer and there were no wolves and there were none of those two-legged creatures called men. You see, Old Mother Nature had not made them yet, for there was no land for them to live on. But by and by there was land and then for a very long time Old Mother Nature was very, very busy making the different kinds of people to live on the land. Some of these people she made to live where it was summer all the year round.”

You should have seen Little Spot’s big ears prick up at that. “Is there such a place?” he cried.

His mother nodded. “Yes,” said she, “I am told there is a land where it is summer all the time. How do you think you would like that?”

Little Spot thought it over for a moment.“I shouldn’t like it,” he decided. “Why, if it is summer all the time, there can be no snow! What a queer land it must be without the beautiful snow. I shouldn’t like it.”

His mother again nodded her head approvingly. “Neither should I, my son,” said she. “But it seems that in those days when the world was young, all the people, big and little, wanted to live where it was summer. So after awhile it became difficult for all the people to get food enough. It was then that the hard times began, and some of the big people began to hunt the little people for food.

“Now, it happened that Mr. and Mrs. Caribou, the first of all the caribou, had wandered beyond the land where it was summer all the time. They had come to the land where it was summer for half the year and winter for the other half. When the winter came, they moved back, because you see they were not fitted to make their living when snow covered the ground, and they were not clothed warmly enough to stand the bitter winds. But they always stayed as long as they could before moving south, for they loved the Northland.Then, too, they felt safer there, for there were fewer to hunt them.

“It was on the edge of the Northland that Old Mother Nature found Mr. and Mrs. Caribou looking longingly at the land they must leave because of the coming of the snow and ice. ‘How would you like to live in the Northland all of the time?’ asked Old Mother Nature.

“Mr. Caribou looked at Mrs. Caribou, and Mrs. Caribou looked at Mr. Caribou, and then both looked at Old Mother Nature. Mr. Caribou spoke rather hesitatingly. ‘We could not eat when all the ground is covered with snow,’ said he.

“‘There is always plenty of food beneath the snow,’ replied Old Mother Nature. ‘You could dig away the snow with your feet and find plenty.’

“‘But we should freeze,’ protested Mrs. Caribou, and shivered; for in those days the coats of the caribou were thin.

“‘But supposing I gave you warm coats and fitted you to live in the Northland; would you do it?’ Old Mother Nature asked.

“Again Mr. Caribou looked at Mrs. Caribou and Mrs. Caribou looked at Mr. Caribou, then both nodded.

“So Mother Nature gave them warm coats. She gave them each a thick mantle of long hair on the neck, so that it hung down and the wind could not get through it. She fashioned their feet so that they were different from the feet of any other of the deer family, and they could walk in snow and on soft ground, where others could not go. Then she sent them into the Northland, and there the caribou have been ever since.”

“But what about the reindeer?” cried Little Spot.

“I am coming to that,” replied his mother.

MR. and Mrs. Caribou were the first of all the caribou to make their home in the Far North, and they loved it. Old Mother Nature had told them truly that they would find plenty of food. So they and their children and their children’s children took possession of all the great land where the snow lay most of the year. “They found the moss, which you like so well, my son,” said his mother. “They found the moss, and they found that it was best in winter. It isn’t true moss you know, but is called reindeer moss by everybody. In the summer they lived on grass and other plants, just as we do. So intime there became very many caribou, and they lived in peace, for it was long before others came to live in the Land of Snow.

“But there came a time when these two-legged creatures called men appeared. They were hunters, and they hunted the caribou. They needed the meat for food and the skins for clothing and to make their tents. So the caribou became necessary to men. Then one day the hunters surrounded a band of caribou and captured alive all the fawns and young caribou. These they kept watch over and protected from the wolves and the bears, which had by this time come to live in the Northland. And because there were no wise old deer to protect these young deer, the young deer did not try to run away. They were content to graze near the homes of the hunters. In time, they grew and had fawns of their own, and these grew, and the herd increased. And these, my son, were the first reindeer. They were necessary to man if he would live in the Far North, and they found that man was necessary to them.

“They furnished man with food and clothing. From their antlers he made tools. Manfurnished them protection and found the best feeding grounds for them, so that they lived better and more contentedly than their cousins, the wild caribou, for the latter had always by day and night to be on the watch for enemies.

“Then one day a boy fastened a halter to a pet deer and fastened him so that he could not stray away. In time that deer became used to the halter and to being fastened. Then the boy built a sled. It wasn’t such a nice sled as the sleds of to-day, because you know this was the first sled of its kind. Then he fastened the deer to the sled and, with a long line fastened to the halter on each side of the deer’s head, so that he might guide him, the boy climbed on the sled. Of course, that deer was frightened and he ran. By and by the sled upset. But the boy still held the reins. That was the first reindeer to be driven by man. The boy’s father had seen all that happened. He built a better sled, and he and the boy trained that deer and other deer. Then with these deer they made long journeys. So it was that the reindeer became of still more use to man.”

“But I don’t want to be harnessed and driven and have to drag a sled,” said Little Spot.

“That shows your lack of wisdom, my son,” replied his mother. “The deer who best draw the sleds are the deer that are cared for best, and will live longest. Other deer are killed for food and for their skins, but not the deer who draw the sleds. Those are the deer that are thought most of, and it is my hope that you will one day be the finest sled-deer in all the herd. Who knows? Perhaps you may be chosen in the Valley of the Good Spirit to be one of the eight deer who once in the early winter of each year carry the Good Spirit on a wonderful journey out into the Great World, that he may spread Love and Happiness. Do you remember, my son, how on the day we left the Valley of the Good Spirit, all we mother deer and all you youngsters stood while the finest bucks in all the herd milled around us? And how every once in a while they stopped?”

Little Spot bobbed his head. “I remember,” said he.

“Each time they stopped,” replied hismother, “the Good Spirit chose one of their number to be added to his team for that wonderful journey out into the Great World. They become magic deer just for a little while, at a time that men folk call Christmas. They become magic deer, and all the children of the Great World love them, though they never have seen them. So, my son, be wise in the wisdom of the deer folk. Be not unruly, should it be that you are chosen to draw the sled of a man, for it is only the best sled-deer that are chosen by the Good Spirit and become the Christmas deer for that magic journey into the Great World. Now, we must be getting back to the herd, or those wolves may get upon our trail.”

Little Spot trotted beside his mother, Big Spot, over the snow-covered prairie, and as he trotted he thought deeply of all his mother had told him. And as he thought, his eyes were opened, so that by the time they reached the big herd, Little Spot was no longer a wilful young deer. He no longer thought that he knew all there was to know, but he did his very best to try to learn all there wasfor a wise deer to know. And you know when one tries to learn, it is surprisingly easy.

So, from being the most wilful and unruly of all the young deer, Little Spot became the most obedient and the best-mannered.

DO you ever have day-dreams? If you do, you know that they are made up partly of wishes, partly of plans and partly of the same sort of stuff that sleep dreams are made of. Tuktu was very busy these winter days. She was very busy indeed, as were all the Eskimo girls and their mothers. What do you think she was doing? You never would guess. She was chewing. Yes, sir, she was chewing. And it wasn’t gum that she was chewing, either, although she dearly loved to chew gum when she got the chance. She was chewing skins.

What’s that? You think I am fooling? I’m not. Tuktu was chewing skins. Tuktu was making boots for her brother and her father. They were made of skin, and Tuktu was chewing this in order to soften it and make it workable.

But as she chewed, and later as she sewed, making the skin clothing for herself and for her brother and father, she did a great deal of dreaming. Perhaps you can guess what she dreamed of. It was Santa Claus. She didn’t call him Santa Claus even to herself. She still called him the Good Spirit. I think myself that is rather a beautiful name for Santa Claus.

And it wasn’t of things that she wanted Santa Claus to bring her that Tuktu dreamed. It was of helping Santa Claus. It seemed to her that nothing in all the Great World would be so good, or make her so happy, as to help the Good Spirit spread the message of love and good cheer and happiness to all the little children less fortunate than she. Now, this is going to surprise you. Tuktu actually thought that she lived in the finest part of all the Great World, and she was sorry for little boys and girls who lived where there were no reindeer and where snow and ice were seldom found. She was sorry for boys and girls who had never ridden behind a fast-trotting deer. Yes, Tuktu thought that she lived in the very best part of all the Great

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