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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
208
Good
luck,
good
luck
for
Norway
With
the
White
Storbuk
comes
riding.
Over
Tvindehoug
they
faded
like
flying
scud
on
the
moorlands,
on
to
the
gloomy
distance,
away
toward
Jotunheim,
the
home
of
the
Evil
Spirits,
the
Land
of
the
Lasting
Snow.
Their
every
sign
and
trail
was
wiped
away
by
the
drifting
storm,
and
the
end
of
them
no
man
knows.
The
Norse
folk
awoke
as
from
a
horrid
nightmare.
Their
national
ruin
was
averted;
there
were
no
deaths,
for
there
were
no
proofs;
and
the
talebearer's
strife
was
ended.
The
one
earthly
sign
remaining
from
that
drive
is
the
string
of
silver
bells
that
Sveggum
had
taken
from
the
Storbuk's
neck--the
victory
bells,
each
the
record
of
a
triumph
won;
and
when
the
old
man
came
to
understand,
he
sighed,
and
hung
to
the
string
a
final
bell,
the
largest
of
them
all.
Nothing
more
was
ever
seen
or
heard
of
the
creature
who
so
nearly
sold
his
country,
or
of
the
White
Storbuk
who
balked
him.
Yet
those
who
live
near
Jotunheim
say
that
on
stormy
nights,
when
the
snow
is
flying
and
the
wind
is
raving
in
the
woods,
there
sometimes
passes,
at
frightful
speed,
an
enormous
White
Reindeer
with
fiery
eyes,
drawing
a
snow-white
pulk,
in
which
is
a
screaming
wretch
in
white,
and
on
the
head
of
the
Deer,
balancing
by
the
horns,
is
a
brown-clad,
white-bearded
Troll,
bowing
and
grinning
pleasantly
at
him,
and
singing
Of
Norway's
luck
And
a
White
Storbuk--
the
same,
they
say,
as
the
one
that
with
prophetic
vision
sang
by
Sveggum's
Vand-dam
on
a
bygone
day
when
the
birches
wore
their
springtime
hangers,
and
a
great
mild-eyed
Varsimle'
came
alone,
to
go
away
with
a
little
white
Renskalv
walking
slowly,
demurely,
by
her
side.
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