Then he fell silent, thinking. Art had said they were tame reindeer, accustomed to the presence of man. Yes, but of man clothed and in his natural state. And of Eskimos at that—men dressed a good deal differently from the way in which he ordinarily clothed himself. What would those reindeer think if they saw a naked, white body dash down upon them suddenly?
“I’ll do it,” he said. “That’s the only way. And it will work, too, I’ll bet.”
Drawing his long knife from the sheath, he looked around and selected a tough branch the thickness of his thumb. This he cut off, stripped from it the projecting twigs, and made of it a long, pliant whip.
Whip in one hand, knife in the other, eyes gleaming and determined, Frank made his way to the edge of the trees, and then stole out into the long grass, crouching low. He did not want the reindeer to see him until he was upon them, and as they were grazing away from him, this was not so difficult. In fact, he was within several yards of a clump of cows before one swung about and looked at him.
The minute that occurred, Frank realized there was no longer any possibility of concealment, and that the time had come to strike. And strike he did. Jumping to his feet, he bounded forward, swinging his whip so that it sank through the air.
Bringing the whip down with a cruel lash on the flank of the nearest reindeer, Frank swung it around on all sides. Every swing landed. The swish as the pliant green wood struck the animals reminded him oddly of the sound of a stick beating rugs at home. Many a time he had heard that same thud-thud from behind his house.
Not a sound did he make as he lashed about him, for he felt that if no sound indicating that he was human came from him, the consternation of the reindeer would be increased.
And that he had not miscalculated became at once apparent, for the reindeer near him lifted up their sharp little hooves and sprang to get out of the vicinity of this strange animal with the lash. Naturally, to escape him, there was only one way for them to go, and that was forward, so forward they went. Right into the main body of the herd they dashed, with Frank prancing and bounding behind them, with each leap bringing his whip down upon the flank of a laggard.
Suddenly, one reindeer, nearer than the rest, dashed by so close on his right as to brush Frank. He was not being charged. The animal was panicky, and merely seeking to escape. But he had to leap nimbly aside to avoid being bowled over. And as he leaped, the long knife clutched in his hand pricked the animal’s flank.
The reindeer screamed, a shrill, terror-stricken cry, and launched itself forward like a thunderbolt into the midst of the disturbed herd. That, apparently, was all that was needed to complete the impending panic. Frank’s inexperienced eye could not have told the composition of the herd, but Art, when they had first caught sight of the reindeer from the hilltop, had pointed out the majority were cows, and the bucks numbered only a handful. If any buck had a masculine curiosity to discover what this strange white-skinned animal that looked so like and yet so unlike a man was, he did not get the chance to gratify it. For the now thoroughly frightened cows started forward in a rush that would have overborne any animal foolish enough to try to stem it.