The Legend of the White Reindeer 
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. Be- 
fore 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 Varsimlé 
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 
Simlé once more led the band, and running by 
her side was the White Calf. The Varsimlé 
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 Varsimlé, 
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 
Simlé and antlered Storbuk, a great brown 
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