THE REINDEER HUNT 



calf will not go away ; it stays close to its dead 

 mother and noses her and cries. We ' shoo ' it away, 

 and make it run after the herd: but sometimes it 

 will not go, and we must kill it too. That is no 

 good ; it has fine meat, and its skin is soft for clothes 

 for the baby, but it is better to let it live and i 

 grow big for next year." 



However much the seals may mean to the 

 Eskimos, it always seemed to me that the reindeer 

 hunt was the big event of the hunter's year. There 

 never was such excitement as when the sledges 

 were sighted such roars of welcome, such a stampede 

 over the ice, such a willing crowd to help with the 

 groaning sledge. The dogs used to look behind them, 

 wondering why the load was so light ; they lifted 

 up their noses and began to trot, and the sledge 

 came lurching over the rough track among the 

 hummocks and stopped with a jerk at the hunter's 

 door. In a twinkling the housewife is choosing a 

 side for chops, and within an hour the hut is packed 

 with friends and relations and casual visitors, chew- 

 ing with the utmost gusto at one of the greatest 

 luxuries they know the first of the reindeer meat. 



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