White Sox, the story of the reindeer in Alaska

by William Thomas Lopp

“They were going so fast as they neared the bottom of the slope that White Feet could not keep ahead of the sled. To prevent its running against his heels, he swerved to the left, giving the riders a great spill.”

“Mother, that’s a wonderful story!” cried White Sox. “That was the first sled reindeer, the first reindeer harness, the first reindeer ride, and the first spill!”

“Yes, my son,” said Mother Reindeer, “the very first. It was the beginning of a new kind of service to man. As I told you before, the hunter was away. He came home while the children were sledding on the snow. He stepped from his boat and watched them in great surprise. And oh, how he laughed when the sled upset! He patted White Feet and spoke kindly to him, and he nodded his head upward and downward several times. Then he put the harness on Blackie and tied him in front of the little sled.

“White Feet told Blackie to watch for the signal and go very carefully. Dainten’s brother drove him. Blackie did good work. You see, he had watched White Feet and had learned how to do as he did. Dainten’s brother was very proud of Blackie.

“After a while the hunter went to his boat. All the children and the fawns followed him to see what he had brought from his hunting trip. First he took out a lot of ducks, some geese, and a swan. Then he unloaded a great many brown and white ptarmigan. His wife was much pleased when she saw that he had brought her two hair seals. She and the children carried the birds and dragged the seals up to the tent. But the fawns didn’t follow then. The hunter was pulling some fresh caribou skins out of his boat.”

“Oh!” cried White Sox, in excitement.

“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “and the very first skin White Feet smelled at was his own mother’s. The neck and hind legs were all chewed up by the teeth of wolves. Of course he felt very badly about it. The world seemed a lonely place to him after losing his mother. But he knew again that a leader must not think of himself. He smelled at the other skins. They all showed the teeth marks of wolves, and all of them were the skins of old mothers.

“White Feet knew that the old mothers were usually the weaklings of the herd. Their death saved many fawns from being caught. Then it came to White Feet that the death of these mothers might be the means of saving his own little band of fawns. The hunter and his family would now have plenty of caribou skins for the coming winter. They would not need his and Blackie’s and those of the doe fawns.

“It was while White Feet was smelling at the skins that Dainten returned from the tent. The boy stood beside White Feet and looked at him, just for all the world as if he understood that the poor torn skin had belonged to White Feet’s mother. From that minute Dainten and White Feet became lifelong friends. Dainten patted the fawn and tried to comfort him. To White Feet a human being had taken the place of his own dear old mother.

“Later, the hunter helped the boys make better harness for White Feet and Blackie. It was the kind now used by our herders. Instead of the curved piece of wood for each shoulder, he used a strap of sealskin about as broad as your ear, placing it over the left shoulder and neck and between the fore legs. The two ends of this band were fastened to the end of the single trace, back of the right fore leg, where they passed under the belly band. The trace stretched from the ends of the collar band to the sled, outside of the right hind leg.