The chief resource of the Sullaheris of the River Aniuj is, he says, the reindeer chase,--the success of which mainly determines whether famine or some degree of plenty is to be their lot during the coming winter. The passage of the reindeer takes place twice a year: in spring, when the mosquito-swarms drive them to the sea-coast, where they feed on the moss of the tundra; and in autumn, when the increasing cold forces them to retire inland. The spring migration, which begins about the middle of May, is not very profitable; partly because the animals are then in poor condition, and partly because it is more difficult to kill them as they dash across the frozen rivers. The chief hunting takes place in August and September, when the herds, each numbering several thousand deer, return to the forests. They invariably cross the river at a particular spot, where a flat sandy bank enables them to land with comparative ease; and here they close up their ranks, as it were, under the guidance of the stalwart veterans of the herd. After a brief pause of hesitation the herd plunge into the waters, and in a few minutes the surface of the river seems alive with swimming reindeer. Now is the hunter’s time; and out from his concealment in the reedy creek he darts in his little boat, wounding as many animals as he can. While he and his comrades are thus engaged, they run some risk of being capsized in the turmoil, for the bucks gallantly defend themselves with horns, and teeth, and hind legs, while the roes usually attempt to spring with their fore feet upon the gunwale of the boat. If the hunter should be overset, his sole chance of safety is to cling to a strong animal, which will carry him securely across the stream. Such an accident, however, is of rare occurrence. A good hunter will kill a hundred reindeer, or even more, in half an hour. Meantime, the other boats seize the slaughtered animals, which become the property of their crews; while those that are merely wounded and swim ashore belong to the hunters, who, in the midst of the uproar, when all their strength is tasked to the uttermost, so aim their strokes as only to wound severely the larger animals. The noise of the horns striking against each other, the “incarnadined” waters, the shouts of the hunters, the cries of pain, rage, and alarm of the struggling animals, all form a scene which, once seen, is not easily forgotten.