The Legend of the White Reindeer 
or Wolverene; and one day, as this danger- 
scent came suddenly and in great strength, a 
huge blot of dark brown sprang rumbling from 
a rocky ledge, and straight for the foremost— 
the White Calf. His eye caught the flash of a 
whirling, shaggy mass, with gleaming teeth and 
eyes, hot-breathed and ferocious. Blank hor- 
ror set his hair on end; his nostrils flared in 
fear: but before he fled there rose within an- 
other feeling—one of anger at the breaker of 
his peace, a sense that swept all fear away, 
braced his legs, and set his horns at charge. 
The brown brute landed with a deep-chested 
growl, to be received on the young one’s spikes. 
They pierced him deeply, but the shock was 
overmuch; it bore the White One down, and he 
might yet have been killed but that his mother, 
alert and ever near, now charged the attacking 
monster, and heavier, better armed, she hurled 
and speared him to the ground. And the 
White Calf, with a very demon glare in his once 
mild eyes, charged too; and even after the 
Wolverene was a mere hairy mass, and his 
mother had retired to feed, he came, snorting 
out his rage, to drive his spikes into the hateful 
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