The Legend of the White Reindeer 
many a mad mischance for iaughter. Rol 
himself was there with his swiftest sled Deer, a 
tall, dark, five-year-old, in his primest prime. 
But over-eager, over-brutal, he harried the sul- 
len, splendid slave till in mid-race—just when 
in a way to win—it turned at a cruel blow, and 
Rol took refuge under the upturned sled until 
it had vented its rage against the wood; and 
so he lost the race, and the winner was the 
young White Storbuk. ‘Then he won the five- 
mile race around the lake; and for each tri- 
umph Sveggum hung a little silver bell on his 
harness, so that now he ran and won to merry 
music. 
Then came the Horse races,—running races 
these; the Reindeer only trots,—and when 
Balder, the victor Horse, received his ribbon 
and his owner the purse, came Sveggum with 
all his winnings in his hand, and said: “ Ho, 
Lars, thine is a fine Horse, but mine is a better 
Storbuk; let us put our winnings together and 
race, each his beast, for all.” 
A Ren against a Race-horse—such a race 
was never seen till now. Off at the pistol-crack 
they flew. “Ho, Balder! (cluck/) Ho, hi, 
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