“‘A woman and her three children squatted near the fire.’”
VIII
The First Human Friend
“Inside the big tent,” Mother Reindeer went on, “a woman and her three children squatted near the fire. They were eating a freshly cooked duck. They were so taken by surprise when the little band of caribou fawns dashed in through their open tent flap that at first they could not speak or move. Then the mother sprang up and fastened the tent flap tight.
“White Feet and his followers had come to a stop at the farther side of the tent. They stood bunched together, with heads erect. All but White Feet were shaking with fear. They had seen the woman close the tent flap. They knew that they were prisoners now, and they thought that they had escaped one death only to meet another. Then they saw the tent flap open a little way. The hunter peeped in; then he opened it wider, slipped inside the tent, and closed the flap quickly.
“White Feet noticed that the hunter carried his big bow in his hand. He noticed also that he and his family all wore clothes made of caribou skins. They spoke to each other in strange sounds such as the fawns had never before heard. They all appeared to be very much excited and pleased. They looked at the fawns, and the fawns looked at them.
“Suddenly the bigger boy gave a loud cry and pointed at White Feet. The hunter and the others looked at White Feet, too. Then they talked in excited tones.
“White Feet, of course, didn’t know what they were saying, but he felt quite sure that they were talking about his white markings. Oh, how he wished his mother had been with him! Then he remembered that a leader must not think of himself when others depend on him. Here were the six poor little fawns scared half to death, and he had promised to take care of them. What should he do?
“He looked at the bigger boy, and the bigger boy looked at him. There was something in the boy’s eyes that gave White Feet courage. He didn’t seem like an enemy. He stood near his father, but his head came only as high as the hunter’s elbow.
“White Feet made up his mind to trust this boy. Then he did the boldest thing ever done by a caribou. He walked across the tent to where the bigger boy stood and rubbed his head against the boy’s arm.”
“Oh!” gasped White Sox. “How brave he was!”
“Yes,” said Mother Reindeer, “that little caribou fawn was the first of his kind to try to make friends with an enemy. Of course the boy was surprised. He touched White Feet on the head. He spoke kindly to him and patted his shoulder. All the others stopped talking and watched them.
“The bigger boy stooped down and stroked White Feet’s beautiful stockings. White Feet rubbed his head against the boy’s arm again and tried to tell him how much he wanted him for a friend.
“The boy’s young sister wanted to touch the fawn’s pretty stockings. She was a little bit afraid. She moved close beside the bigger boy, put out her hand very carefully, and just touched the top of the nearest white stocking. Then she laughed, and the two boys laughed, and their mother laughed. And what do you think White Feet did?
“He kissed that little girl. Yes, he did—right on the cheek. He licked her cheek with his warm tongue.
“The little girl wasn’t a bit afraid of him after that. She stroked his white stockings, talked baby talk to him, and then she put her arms about his neck and loved him.
“White Feet felt pretty sure that the children would not let the hunter kill him—just then. But he had to think for Blackie—the other male fawn of his little band—and the five does. He told Blackie and the doe fawns to make friends with the other boy and his mother. At first they were too scared to move, but at last poor Blackie got courage enough to walk up to the younger boy and rub his head against his arm. This seemed to please the younger boy very much. Before long all the doe fawns had followed his example, and the human beings were laughing and talking kindly to them.
“The hunter had been shaking his head, but now he nodded it upward and downward. White Feet felt sure that he was saying ‘yes’ to what the children had been asking, and that none of the little band would be killed at once. White Feet watched the hunter very carefully, but he kept close to the bigger boy because the boy was his first friend.
“After a little while the hunter made two small halters of sealskin rope. He put one over White Feet’s head and the other over Blackie’s. Then the bigger boy led White Feet out of the tent and on to the narrow spit. The younger boy led Blackie. The five doe fawns followed them, and so did the little girl and her mother and father.
“‘Dainten and White Feet loved each other.’”
“When they were all far out on the spit, the hunter stretched his fish net across the narrow neck of ground. White Feet and his band were now prisoners on the spit. They were very glad to be alive and safe from the wolves. They didn’t know how long the hunter would let them live, and oh! how they did want their mothers! But they were very hungry too, and when White Feet saw some nice grass and scrubby willows, you may be quite sure that the little band forgot their troubles and ate a good supper.
“Afterward White Feet examined the long, narrow spit. It was low and rolling, and most of it was covered with moss and grass. There were dwarf willows too, and along its western shore, under a long bluff, was a level drift of old winter snow. The place looked mighty good to White Feet, especially when he found that the children were going to live on the sand spit with them. That very night the hunter and his family moved their tent inside the fish-net corral. The little band of fawns had a long sleep in perfect safety.
“Next day the hunter and his wife stood and watched the fawns play with the children. The hunter seemed to be most interested in White Feet. When he spoke to him, White Feet would go right up to the hunter and rub his head against the man’s arm or leg. You see, White Feet had thought it all out and decided that the band must have the hunter for a friend; then their lives would be safe. But of course the hunter didn’t know that. He was very much puzzled. He stared at White Feet and talked to him as if the fawn with the unheard-of markings were the returned spirit of his dead father, who had been a chief and a mighty hunter. After a few days the hunter went away.
“The captive fawns soon forgot their sorrow and fear. The spit was a safe home. They had a variety of forage and plenty of it. They had loving companions. They could sleep soundly without fear of enemies. It was a new life to them and they liked it.
“The bigger boy’s name was Dainten. White Feet soon discovered that. The two were together nearly all the time. They loved each other.
“But White Feet always remembered that the hunter and his family dressed in caribou skins. This made him very thoughtful. He felt quite sure that if all his followers were allowed to live and grow up, they must find a way to be of use to the hunter.”