For a long time he thought of nothing but getting away from the fierce wolves. Then he remembered his cousins. He wondered if they had heard his signal, if they too were running for their lives.
Away off—some three miles ahead—Mother Reindeer had spied a lake, shaped like an hour-glass. She was making for this lake as fast as her feet could carry her. Not once did she look back to see where the wolves were.
To White Sox the lake looked like two patches of water connected by a narrow neck. He was thinking as he ran, wondering if his mother would take him into one of these pieces of water, and if the wolves would keep them there until the water froze over. He had been in icy water once. Some Eskimo dogs had chased him and his uncle into the Arctic Ocean in July, and had kept them there until a herder came and drove the dogs away. His uncle had told him that lakes and streams would soon begin to freeze; so he knew.
White Sox forgot his mother’s command and looked back. He had never heard of Lot’s wife and the pillar of salt. My! How his heart beat when he saw the two wolves behind him! He was just going to urge his mother to greater speed, when his attention was called to something else.
They were entering a grassy bog. Mother Reindeer was slowing down to a trot and heading toward the narrow neck between the two lakes.
At first White Sox was too much surprised to speak. “It looks as if it weren’t very deep, mother,” he called warningly. “Let’s make for the deepest water. Uncle Slim told me that wolves can’t swim very well in deep water.”
His uncle had also told him that if wolves or dogs followed them into deep water, reindeer could strike out with their hoofs and drown their enemies. But White Sox was too much out of breath to explain all that to his mother just at the moment.
But, bless your heart! Old Mother Reindeer knew all those things, and much more.
“Save your breath, White Sox!” she said sternly. “Follow me closely and do exactly as I do.”
Then, instead of hurrying, she went slower and slower.