d for this and knew that the fate of the nation might turn on what
passed in this far glen. He sang:

Skoal! Skoal! For Norway Skoal!
Sing ye the song of the Vand-dam troll.
When I am hiding
Norway's luck
On a White Storbuk
Comes riding, riding.

There are no Storks in Norway, and yet an hour later there was a
wonderful little Reindeer lying beside the Varsimle'. She was brushing
his coat, licking and mothering him, proud and happy as though this was
the first little Renskalv ever born. There might be hundreds born in
the herd that month, but probably no more like this one, for he was
snowy white, and the song of the singer on the painted rock was about

Good luck, good luck,
And a White Storbuk,

as though he foresaw clearly the part that the White Calf was to play
when he grew to be a Storbuk.

But another wonder now came to pass. Before an hour, there was a second
little Calf--a brown one this time. Strange things happen, and hard
things are done when they needs must. Two hours later, when the
Varsimle' led the White Calf away from the place, there was no Brown
Calf, only some flattened rags with calf-hair on them.

The mother was wise: better one strongling than two weaklings. Within a
few days the Simle' once more led the band, and running by her side was
the White Calf. The Varsimle' considered him in all things, so that he
really set the pace for the band, which suited very well all the
mothers that now had Calves with them. Big, strong, and wise was the
Varsimle', in the pride of her strength, and this White Calf was the
flower of her prime. He often ran ahead of his mother as she led the
herd, and Rol, coming on them one day, laughed aloud at the sight as
they passed, old and young, fat Simle' and antlered Storbuk, a great
brown herd, all led, as it seemed, by a little White Calf.

So they drifted away to the high mountains, to be gone all summer.
"Gone to be taught by the spirits who dwell where the Black Loon
laughs on the ice," said Lief of the Lower Dale; but Sveggum, who had
always been among the Reindeer, said: "Their mothers are the teachers,
even as ours are."

When the autumn came, old Sveggum saw a moving sno-flack far off on the
brown moor-land; but the Troll saw a white yearling, a Nekbuk; and when
they ranged alongside of Utrovand to drink, the still sheet seemed
fully to reflect the White One, though it barely sketched in the
others, with the dark hills behind.

M