And so, indeed, it was,—a tiny animal made from a bit of bone, with hoofs, head and antlers all perfectly carved.
The child held it out toward Gerda, nodding her head shyly to show that she wished to have her take it. But Gerda hesitated to do so until Erik said, "My father will make her another. You gave her the string of shells, and she will not like it if you refuse her gift."
So Gerda took the little reindeer, and many a time in Stockholm, the next winter, she looked at it and thought of the child who gave it to her, and of the curious day she spent with the Lapps in far away Lapland.
CHAPTER IX
KAREN'S BROTHER
"How would you like to spend a whole summer here in the forest, watching the reindeer?" Lieutenant Ekman asked Gerda, after the milking was over and the Lapp mother had gone back to the tent with her children.
"Not very well, if I had to live in that tent," Gerda answered. Then suddenly something attracted her attention, and she held up her hand, saying, "Listen!"
A faint call sounded in the distance,—a call for help.
"This way," cried Erik, and dashed off down a path which led toward the river.
All the others followed him. "It must be one of the lumbermen," said
Erik's father. "They often get hurt in the log jams."