“Well, I’m here. That much is good.” He caught the sound of the reindeer stamping the ground. “So’s the reindeer here. That is better. Only hope I learn to drive him.”
He did learn to drive the reindeer and that quite speedily. He found that a long rope of rawhide was fastened to the deer’s halter. This was long enough to run back to the sled. It was, he concluded, used as a jerk-line, such as was once employed by drivers of oxen.
The harness he found to be of very simple construction. Two wooden affairs fitting closely to the shoulders and tied together at top and bottom with stout rawhide thongs, served as both collar and harness. From the bottom of these ran a broad strap which connected directly with the sled. This strap was held up from the ground by a second broad strap which encircled the animal’s body directly behind its forelegs.
“Now,” he told the reindeer, “we’re going to try it over again. We got a bad start last time. Fact is, you were away before the starter’s whistle blew.
“You see,” he said, straightening out the jerk strap, “I’m going to hold on to this. If you get excited and speed up a little too much I’ll pull your head over on one side and make you go in a circle. That’ll slow you up. Then I’ll pile off the sled and dig in my heels. That should stand you on your head. You don’t weigh much; not over three or four hundred. When I’ve put you on your head a few times I shouldn’t be surprised if you’d turn into a very good, obedient little reindeer.”
It took but three try-outs to convince the reindeer that Curlie was not an ill-meaning sort of fellow but that he was one who meant to have his own way. Then, like all other creatures who have been trained, he settled down to business and carried his newly acquired master wherever he wanted to go; that is, he did up to a certain moment. After that moment things changed and Curlie was carried straight into trouble.
When he left the clump of willows Curlie drove his reindeer up the slope to the crest of the ridge. He did this that he might get a better view of the surrounding country, to determine if possible the direction in which their former camp lay.
Imagine his surprise on coming to a patch of soft, freshly blown snow at the crest of the ridge, to find the tracks of dogs and sleds.
“Fresh tracks!” he whispered breathlessly, “not ten hours old.”
He bent over to study these tracks. For a moment, he examined each imprint of a dog’s foot in the snow, each trace of sled runner and every footprint of the driver, then with a sudden bound he stood up again.