“But now,” At-a-tak concluded, “no more drive reindeer, those Russian natives. I say, ‘Go away quick. White man will catch you, put in jail, maybe shoot you.’ He say, ‘Go away quick.’ That one go away far. So,” she sighed, “not bother reindeer more.”
“And so,” Jodie laughed, “we have one fine reindeer herd on our hands. What shall we do with it?”
“Take them along; eat them one by one if we must,” was Tom Kennedy’s reply. “But now the cry is ‘On to the mine!’
“On to the gold mine!” he shouted.
“On to the mine! On! On to the mine!” came echoing back.
Not so fast. There was the herd of reindeer, they must be driven on before. In spite of the fact that this herd in an emergency would save them from starvation, Florence felt inclined to bewail the fact that this extra responsibility had been thrust upon them.
“Friends,” she said to her grandfather as they ate a hurriedly prepared breakfast of sourdough pancakes, “friends are fine, but sometimes they are a lot of trouble. If John Bowman hadn’t been our friend, we might have left those deer to shift for themselves.”
“N-no,” the old man spoke slowly, “no, girl, that’s where you’re wrong. It does give us an added responsibility, our friendship with John. But reindeer are property, valuable property. Many a man in this cold white world would have starved had it not been for the reindeer. So we’ll have to look after ’em the best we can.”
“Grandfather,” the girl thought with increased admiration, “surely is a fine old man! If everyone was like him, what a world this would be!”
“We’ll get there all the same!” exclaimed Tom. “You watch and see.”