The Island of Yellow Sands: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys
by Ethel C. Brill · English · Gutenberg #46271 · 462,952 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Island of Yellow Sands: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys
Author: Ethel C. Brill
Illustrator: W. H. Wolf
Release date: July 13, 2014 [eBook #46271]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS: AN ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY STORY FOR BOYS ***
[Transcriber's Note: Italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
[Illustration: "IT WAS A DANGEROUS ASCENT."
"The Island of Yellow Sands." (See page 120)]
THE ISLANDS OF
YELLOW SANDS
AN ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY
STORY FOR BOYS
BY
E. C. BRILL
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY
STORIES FOR BOYS
_By_ E. C. BRILL
Large 12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE SECRET CACHE
SOUTH FROM HUDSON BAY
THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS
COPYRIGHT, 1932, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
I. THE ISLE WITH THE GOLDEN SANDS 11
II. THE GRANDE PORTAGE 19
III. RONALD MAKES AN ENEMY 29
IV. LAUNCHED ON THE GREAT ADVENTURE 39
V. THE GRAVE OF NANABOZHO 46
VI. ALONG THE NORTH SHORE 56
VII. THE ROCK OF THE BEAVER 65
VIII. STORM AND WRECK 73
IX. THE HOME OF THE GULLS 81
X. THE ISLAND TO THE SOUTHWEST 89
XI. NANGOTOOK RECONNOITERS 98
XII. OVER THE CLIFFS 105
XIII. THE CAMP IN THE CAVE 112
XIV. LOST IN THE FOG 122
XV. STRANDED 132
XVI. ISLAND OR MAINLAND? 139
XVII. A CARIBOU HUNT 148
XVIII. MINONG 158
XIX. LE FORGERON TORDU AGAIN 168
XX. THE NORTHEASTER 178
XXI. COMPELLED TO GIVE UP THE SEARCH 186
XXII. THE INDIAN MINES 196
XXIII. MINING AND HUNTING 207
XXIV. NANGOTOOK'S DISAPPEARANCE 216
XXV. THE RED SPOT AMONG THE GREEN 223
XXVI. THE BURNING WOODS 232
XXVII. NANGOTOOK'S CAPTIVITY 241
XXVIII. FLEEING FROM LE FORGERON 255
XXIX. NEAR STARVATION 264
XXX. THE END OF THE TWISTED BLACKSMITH 271
XXXI. THE WINDIGO 278
XXXII. THE UPROOTED TREE 287
XXXIII. THE MINE 298
The Island of Yellow Sands
I
THE ISLE WITH THE GOLDEN SANDS
"My white brother speaks wisdom."
The two boys were startled. The red-haired one, who had been lying on
the ground, scrambled to his feet. The other, a wiry dark-skinned lad,
sprang from his seat on a spruce log and seized the newcomer by the
hand.
"Etienne, Nangotook," he cried, "how came you here?"
"Even as you, little brother, over those great waters." The Indian made
a gesture towards the lake, which gleamed between the long point and the
island that protected the bay of the Grande Portage from wind and waves.
"I have listened to the words of this other white brother and found them
good," he added, with a grave glance at the surprised face of the
red-haired boy. "He would deal justly with my people as with his own."
"That would he, even as I would," the dark lad exclaimed. "He is my good
friend and comrade Ronald Kennedy of Montreal. And this, Ronald," he
added, completing the introduction, "is Nangotook, the Flame, called by
the good fathers Etienne, friend of my father and of my own childhood."
The greetings over, the Indian seated himself on the log beside Jean.
"And will my little brother be a trader to steal the wits of the Indian
and take his furs away from him?" he asked.
"Not I, Nangotook, unless I can be an honest one and give the trapper
and hunter fair return for his pelts. Though," Jean added more
thoughtfully, "I am eager indeed to gain gold, and I know not how it is
to be done except through trade with the savages."
"Gold," said the Ojibwa thoughtfully. "White men would do all things for
gold. Why is my brother Jean in need of it? What could gold give him
better than this?" He stretched out his arm with a sweeping gesture that
embraced the water, still glowing with the soft light of the afterglow,
and the rocky wooded shores.
"It would give back the land and the house on the beautiful St.
Lawrence, the house where my father was born," Jean answered, his face
softening. "You know the place, Etienne, and you know how my father
loves it. And now, if he had but the money, he could buy it back, but it
is a great sum and he has it not."
The Indian nodded in silence. After a moment, fixing his dark eyes on
Jean's, he said slowly, "How then if some man should lead my brother and
his comrade with hair like the maple leaf before it falls, to a place
where they can gather much gold and load with it many canoes?"
The two boys stared at him.
"You are making game of us," cried Jean indignantly.
"Nay, little brother. I will tell you the story." And the Indian settled
himself more comfortably on the log.
"Among my people," he began, "a tale is told of an island lying far out
in the wide waters. On that island is a broad beach of sand, a beach
unlike any other, for the sand is of a yellow more bright and shining
than the birch leaf when the frost has touched it."
"Gold?" queried Jean. "I have heard that there is gold on the shores and
islands of this lake, but no white man has found it."
"As the story is told among my people," Nangotook continued, without
heeding the interruption, "many summers ago three braves were driven by
the wind on the shore of that island. They loaded their canoe with the
sand, and started to paddle away. Then a man, as tall as a pine tree and
with a face like the lightning in its fierceness, appeared on the sands
and commanded them to bring back the gold. They did not heed, and he
waded into the water, and, growing greater and more terrible at every
step, gained on them swiftly. Then they were sick with fear, and agreed
to return to the land and empty out the yellow sand they had stolen.
When not one grain remained in the canoe, the manito of the sands
allowed them to go."
"That is the story of the Island of Yellow Sands," said Jean, as
Nangotook paused. "I recall it now. I heard it in childhood. Many have
sought that island, but none has found it. Do you mean that you know
where it is and can lead us there?"
The Ojibwa nodded. "My grandfather saw the island once many summers ago,
when a storm had driven him far out in the lake. But the wind was wrong
and the waves were rolling high on the beach, so he could not land. He
was close enough to see the sands gleaming in the sunlight. He knew them
for the same as the piece of yellow metal a medicine man of his clan had
taken from a Sioux prisoner. The Sioux had bought it from one whose
people lived far towards the setting sun. That metal was what the white
men call gold, and are always seeking. I heard my grandfather tell the
tale while the winter snow whistled around the lodge."
"And he told you how to reach the island?" asked Ronald. "Why did he not
go back and bring away some of the gold?"
"He had no need of the yellow sands, and he feared the manito that was
said to guard them."
"And do not you fear the manito?" Jean questioned.
The Indian shook his head. "I am a Christian," he said proudly, "and the
good fathers have taught me that I need fear no evil spirits, if I
remain true in my heart to the great Father above. Then too," he added
in a lower voice, "I have a mighty charm," his hand touched the breast
of his deerskin tunic, "which protects me from all the spirits of the
waters and the islands."
The two lads were not surprised at this strange intermingling of savage
superstition and civilized religion. Such a combination did not seem as
contradictory to them, in that superstitious age, as it would to a
modern boy. Jean merely replied very seriously that he had heard that
the golden sands of the island were guarded, not only by the spirit
himself, but by gigantic serpents, that came up out of the water, and
fierce birds and beasts which, at the command of the manito, attacked
the rash man who attempted to land.
At that the Indian smiled and, leaning forward from his log, said in a
low voice, "Nay, little brother, many tales are told that are not true.
May not the red men wish to keep the white men from the islands of this
great water, and so tell them tales to frighten them away? Is it not
right that we should keep something to ourselves, not the yellow sands
only but the red metal that comes from the Isle Minong? My brother has
heard tales of Minong, some white men call it the Isle Royale. Yet I
have been there and others with me, and after we had sacrificed to the
manito of the island, we carried away pieces of red metal, and no evil
befell us."
"My uncle," remarked Ronald, "told me of a man he knew, Alexander Henry,
once a partner in the Company, and even now connected with it, I
believe, who went in search of the Island of Yellow Sands. But when he
reached it, there were no golden sands at all, only the bones of dead
caribou."
"He never reached the island," said Nangotook scornfully. "Those who
guided him misled him, and let him think he had been to the right place.
The true Island of Yellow Sands is many days' journey from the island
where he landed."
"And you know where it is?"
"I know in what part of the waters it lies, where to leave the shore and
how to head my canoe," the Ojibwa replied confidently. "If my brothers
fear not a hard and dangerous journey, I will take them there. I know
not whether the charm I bear will protect them also," he added more
doubtfully.
"We are willing to risk that," Ronald answered promptly. "We're not
fearing a little danger and hardship, if there is chance of reaching the
island with the sands of gold."
"It is not that we fear to go," put in Jean, "but how can we find an
opportunity? We cannot ask for leave from the fleet, for then we must
tell our purpose, and that would never do."
"No," Ronald agreed, "we must be keeping our plans secret, so we may be
the first to land. Then the gold will be ours by right of discovery.
'Tis not likely we could obtain leave anyway, if we asked for it,
whatever our purpose, and----"
He was interrupted by the Indian, who made a gesture of silence.
Glancing about, the boys saw several men in the scarlet caps and sashes
of canoemen, approaching along the shore. Nangotook rose from the log.
"To-morrow, after the sun has gone to rest, I will speak to my brothers
again," he said in a low voice. "Let them be at this spot." Without
waiting for a reply, he slipped swiftly and silently away among the
trees.
Before the canoemen drew near enough to speak to them, the boys were
making their way towards the post. They kept back from the shore, in the
dusk of the woods, that they might not have to encounter the newcomers,
who appeared to be strangers to them.
Jean Havard and Ronald Kennedy had come to the Grande Portage, on the
northwest shore of Lake Superior, as canoemen in the service of the
Northwest Fur Company. Ronald's uncle was a partner in the Company, and
the boy had been ambitious to follow the life of the fur-trader. Both he
and Jean had found the long trip from the Sault interesting and well
worth while, in spite of its hardships and strenuous toil. They were
outdoor lads, with a plentiful share of the hardihood and adventurous
spirit of the outdoor men of their time. Since reaching the Portage,
however, they had begun to question whether they really wished to make
fur-trading their life-work. Ronald, especially, an honest,
straightforward Scot with a strong sense of fair play, had been sickened
and roused to indignation by many of the tales told by men from the
north and west who had come to the Portage with their loads of furs. It
seemed to the boy that most of the traders cared for nothing but gain
and were far from honest in their methods. They boasted of giving liquor
to the Indians, stealing their wits away, and obtaining their furs, the
earnings of a whole winter's work and hardship, for next to nothing. To
the boys this seemed a miserable, heartless way of doing business. Both
were eager for the life of the explorer. They longed to push through the
wilderness and see strange lands, but the regular work of the
fur-trader, carried on as it was by most of these men, had lost its
attractiveness.
Ronald, as well as Jean, was poor and had his own way to make. He knew
that his uncle had planned to get him into the Northwest Company's
permanent service. From a practical point of view the opportunity would
be a good one. He would have a chance to advance. He might even become
some day a member of the Company, and make a fortune. But he hated the
idea of being compelled to use the methods which seemed a matter of
course to most of the "northmen". He had been vigorously expressing his
disgust with the whole sordid business, when Nangotook had interrupted
him. The Indian had made it plain that he had been listening to the
boy's remarks and had approved of them.
The Ojibwa's extraordinary proposition had put the rights and wrongs of
the fur trade quite out of the two lads' heads for the time being. They
were fired with a desire to go in quest of the wonderful island. It
might be a mere myth indeed, but they were willing to believe that it
was not. Nangotook's grandfather had seen it, and Jean declared that he
had never known Nangotook to lie. In those days, even in the last decade
of the eighteenth century, very little was known about the islands of
Lake Superior. The great central expanse of the lake was unexplored. Who
could tell what wonders it might contain?
II
THE GRANDE PORTAGE
That night and the next day the two lads' heads were full of the Island
of Yellow Sands. They wanted to be alone to discuss the Indian's tale,
but found it impossible to avoid their companions. Moreover they had few
idle moments, for the Northwest Fur Company's station was a busy place
that July day in 179--. Nearly a thousand men were gathered at the post,
and there was much work to be done.
The Bay of the Grande Portage, where the station was located, is on the
northwest shore of Lake Superior, a few miles south of the Pigeon River.
The river forms a part of the line between the United States and the
Dominion of Canada. Although the peace treaty that followed the
Revolution had been signed, defining the boundary, the Northwest
Company, a Canadian organization, still maintained its trading post on
United States ground. The place had proved a convenient and satisfactory
spot for the chief station, that marked the point of departure from Lake
Superior for the country north and west.
Separated from a much larger bay to the northeast by a long point of
land, and further cut off from the main lake by an outlying, wooded
island, Grande Portage was well screened from all winds except the
south. The land at the head of the bay formed a natural amphitheatre and
had been cleared of woods. On one side of the open ground, underneath a
hill more than three hundred feet high, with higher hills rising beyond,
a cedar stockade walled in a rectangular space some twenty-four rods
wide by thirty long. Within the stockade were the quarters of the men in
charge of the post, clerks, servants, artisans and visiting traders and
members of the Company, as well as the buildings where furs, supplies
and goods for trade were stored and business transacted. There also was
the great dining hall where proprietors, clerks, guides and interpreters
messed together.
Outside the stockade were grouped tents and upturned canoes, supported
on paddles and poles. The tents were the temporary homes of the
"northmen," the men who went to the far north and west for furs. The
"comers and goers" or "pork eaters," as the canoemen who made the trip
between Montreal and the Portage, but did not go on to the west, were
called, slept under their canoes. In that queer town of tents and boats,
men were constantly coming and going; clerks and other employees from
the fort; painted and befeathered Indians, many of them accompanied by
squaws and children; and French-Canadians and half-breed voyageurs,
strikingly clothed in blanket or leather tunics, leggings and moccasins
of tanned skins, and scarlet sashes and caps.
Offshore a small sailing vessel of about fifty tons burden lay at
anchor. This boat was to take a cargo of pelts back across the lake, but
the main dependence of the Company was placed upon the great fleet of
canoes. Other smaller canoes were arriving daily from the northwest or
setting out in that direction, the route being up the Rivière aux
Tourtres, now known as Pigeon River, the English translation of the
French name. The mouth of the stream is about five miles northeast of
Grande Portage Bay, and the falls and rapids near the outlet were so
many and dangerous that boats could not be paddled or poled through
them. So the canoes from the west had to be unloaded several miles above
the mouth of the river, and the packages of furs carried on the backs of
men over a hard nine-mile portage to the post, while provisions and
articles of trade were taken back to the waiting canoes in the same way.
This was the long or great portage that gave the place its name.
Busy with their work, and surrounded almost constantly by the other
voyageurs, the boys had no opportunity to discuss the prospect of
reaching the Island of Yellow Sands, but Jean found a chance to answer
some of Ronald's questions about the tall Ojibwa. The Indian's gratitude
and devotion to Jean's father dated from fifteen years back, when the
elder Havard had saved him from being put to death by white traders at
the Sault de Ste. Marie, for a crime he had not committed. Convinced of
Nangotook's innocence, Havard had induced the angry men to delay the
execution of their sentence, and had sought out and brought to justice
the real offender, a renegade half-breed. For that service the Indian
had vowed that his life belonged to his white brother. The Ojibwa and
the Frenchman had become fast friends, for Nangotook, or Etienne, as the
French priests, in whose mission school he had been trained, had
christened him, was one of the higher type of Indians, possessing most
of the better and few of the worse traits of his tribe. He visited
Havard at his home on the St. Lawrence, and there became the devoted
friend of little Jean, then a child of three.
Since that first visit, Nangotook had appeared at the Havard home a
number of times, after irregular intervals of absence, sometimes of
months, again of years. Although, until the night before, it had been
more than four years since Jean had seen him, the Ojibwa had apparently
not forgotten either his gratitude to the elder Havard or his affection
for the boy. That gratitude and affection had led him to offer to guide
the two lads to the wonderful island. Jean and his father needed gold,
so Nangotook intended that they should have gold, if it was in his power
to help them to it. Ronald was Jean's friend, and the Indian was willing
to include him also. Moreover what he had overheard of the Scotch boy's
remarks about the way some of the traders treated the Indians had
pleased Nangotook. He had taken the teachings of the missionary priests
seriously and had grasped at least a little of their meaning. By nature
moderate and self-controlled, he realized the disasters that were coming
upon his people through the physical degradation, idleness and other
evils that followed overindulgence in the white man's liquor. So
Ronald's disgust at the unscrupulousness of many of the traders in their
dealings with the savages had met with his approval, and had made the
Indian the lad's friend.
It was nearly sunset when the two boys slipped away from the camp to the
secluded spot where they were to meet Etienne. Seating themselves on the
fallen tree trunk, they began at once to talk of the subject uppermost
in their thoughts. In a week or two the canoes would be ready to start
back around the shore of the lake to the Sault, and thence to Montreal,
where they would arrive late in September. Jean and Ronald, however,
were not obliged to return the whole distance, although, up to the night
before, they had intended to do so. They had spent the previous winter
at the Sault de Ste. Marie, the falls of the river St. Mary which
connects Lake Superior with Lake Huron. Jean had been staying with a
French family there, friends of his father, while Ronald, who had made
the trip from Montreal with his uncle in the autumn, had remained, after
the latter's return, as a volunteer helper to the Company's agent at the
Sault. Before pledging him to the Company's service for a term of years,
his uncle had wished him to learn whether he really liked the business
of fur-trading. When, in the spring, the canoe fleet from Montreal had
arrived at the Sault, it had been short handed. Two men had been killed
and several seriously injured in an accident on the way. So it happened
that Jean and Ronald, expert canoemen and eager to make the Superior
trip, had been engaged with three others. Their contracts were only for
the voyage from the Sault to the Grande Portage and back again to the
Sault, and they were under no obligation to go on with the fleet to
Montreal.
Whether there would be time, before cold weather and winter storms set
in, to come back to the lake and join the Indian in a search for the
Island of Yellow Sands, they could not be sure until they had consulted
him. They hoped ardently that they could make the attempt that year, for
who could tell what might happen before another spring? As Ronald
pointed out, Etienne alone knew how to reach the island. If anything
should go wrong with him, they would have no guide. Moreover, in the
interval, some other white man might discover the place. Indeed Etienne,
though Jean thought that unlikely, might take it into his head to lead
some one else there.
They were discussing this question, when, just as the sun was sinking,
the Indian joined them. It soon became evident that he was bent on
leading them on the adventure, and they were quite as eager to follow
him. He seemed certain that there would be ample time, unless they were
delayed by unusually bad weather, to make at least one trip from the
Sault to the mysterious island and back, before winter set in. He would
furnish a small canoe, and would bargain at the trading post for the
supplies they would need. He was well known at the Sault, and his
arrival there would excite no comment. But he cautioned them to keep
their plans secret, lest others should forestall them in the discovery
of the gold. They must disappear quietly and join their guide at a spot
agreed upon, several miles from the little settlement. As rapidly as
possible they would paddle along the north shore of Lake Superior to the
place where they must strike out into the open lake. The voyage from
shore to island could be undertaken only in the best of weather, but it
could be made, he assured them, in a few hours. After they had loaded
their canoe with as much sand as it would carry, they would return to
the shelter of the shore, and make their way back to the eastern end of
the lake. Not far from the Sault he knew a safe, well hidden spot where
they could secrete the bulk of their precious cargo, until they could
find an opportunity to return to the island for more.
Any scruples the lads might have felt at leaving the Sault without
letting their friends know where they were going, were soon overcome by
the lure of the adventure as well as of the gold itself. They comforted
their consciences with the thought that, once they had found the yellow
sands, they would make everything right by taking Jean's father and
Ronald's uncle into confidence and partnership. Then they would secure,
or build, a small sailing vessel, and bring away from the island all the
gold they would ever need. M. Havard could buy back the old home on the
St. Lawrence that financial reverses had forced him to lose. Jean glowed
with the thought of the happiness his father and mother would feel at
returning to their dearly loved and much mourned home. Ronald was an
orphan, the uncle in Montreal being his only near relative, and the
latter was wealthy and not in need of help. But the boy had already
planned a great future for himself. First he would go to college in
Montreal and perhaps even in England for a time, until he learned all
the things an explorer ought to know. Then he would make up an
expedition to the north and west, and, not being dependent on trade for
gain, would penetrate to new lands and would add, not only to his own
glory and renown, but to that of his country as well.
After their plans had been perfected, so far as they could be at that
time, Nangotook left them, but the two lads lingered to discuss their
hopes and dreams. As they were sitting on the log, watching the
moonlight on the peaceful waters of the bay, and talking in low but
eager voices, Jean's keen ears caught the sound of a snapping twig and a
slight rustle among the trees behind him. He rose quickly to his feet
and peered into the shadows, but could distinguish nothing that could
have made the sounds. Ronald also took alarm. They ceased their
conversation, and slipped quietly back among the trees and bushes. In
the darkness they could find no trace of anything disturbing, but the
thread of their thoughts had been broken, and they felt strangely
uneasy. With one accord they turned in the direction of the camp, and
made their way towards it without speaking. As they approached the edge
of the clearing, they saw ahead of them the dark figure of a man slip
out from among the trees and go swiftly, but with an awkward gait,
across the open. His stiff ankle and out-turning right foot betrayed
him.
"Le Forgeron Tordu," exclaimed Ronald. "Do you suppose he was listening
to us?"
"I fear it," answered Jean. "We were fools not to be more cautious. I
would give much to know just what he overheard."
"He may not have been listening at all," Ronald returned. "Perhaps he
was merely passing through the woods and didn't hear us, or paid no heed
even if he caught the sound of our voices. Unless he were close by he
couldn't have understood, for we were speaking softly."
Jean shook his head doubtfully. "I hope he heard nothing," he said.
"There is not another man in the fleet I would so fear to have know our
plans. He is not to be trusted for one moment. There is nothing evil he
would shrink from, if he thought it to his advantage."
"Well," was Ronald's answer, "he's not fond of you and me, that is
certain, but what harm can he do? Since Etienne left, I am sure we have
not been saying anything about the island itself or how to reach it.
Indeed he told us little enough. He merely said it lies south of a point
on the north shore, the Rock of the Beaver he called it, but he didn't
tell us where on the north shore that rock is. Have you ever heard of
such a place, Jean?"
The French lad shook his head, then said with an air of relief, "It is
true Le Forgeron can have learned nothing of importance, if he has been
listening. He was not near when Etienne was there or Etienne would have
discovered him. Trust Nangotook not to let an enemy creep up on him
without his knowing it. But we must be more careful in the future."
The camp was ruddy with the light of fires and noisy with the voices of
men, talking, laughing, singing, quarreling. Many of the voyageurs were
the worse for too much liquor, which flowed far too freely among the
canoemen. But the canoe where the boys lodged was near the edge of the
camp, and they were able to avoid the more noisy and boisterous groups.
The night was fine, and they had no need of shelter. Wrapping themselves
in their blankets, they stretched out, not under the canoe, but in its
shadow, a little way from the fire. Around the blaze the rest of the
crew were gathered, listening to the tale that one of the Frenchmen was
telling with much animation and many gestures. Ordinarily the boys would
have paused to hear the story, for they usually enjoyed sitting about
the camp-fire to listen to the tales and join in the songs. They had no
taste for the excesses and more boisterous merry-making of many of the
men and youths who were their companions, but, as both boys were plucky,
good-natured, and always willing to do their share of the work, their
temperate and quiet ways did them no harm with most of their rough
fellows, and they were by no means unpopular. That night, however, they
took no interest in song or story. Their minds were too full of the
fascinating adventure in which they had enlisted.
III
RONALD MAKES AN ENEMY
During the days that passed before their departure from the Portage, the
two lads saw Etienne only twice more and then for but a few minutes. The
last of the northmen arrived, the portaging was completed, the furs
sorted and made into packages of ninety to one hundred pounds each, and
everything was ready for the homeward trip.
One fine morning, when the sky was blue and the breeze light, the first
canoes of the great return fleet put out from shore. The birch canoes of
the traders were not much like the small pleasure craft we are familiar
with to-day. Frail looking boats though they were, each was between
thirty and forty feet long, and capable of carrying, including the
weight of the men that formed the crew, about four tons. In each canoe
were a foreman and a steersman, skilled men at higher wages than the
others and with complete authority over the middlemen. The foreman was
the chief officer of the boat, always on the lookout to direct the
course and passage, but he shared responsibility with the steersman in
the stern. Three or four boats made up a brigade, and each brigade had a
guide who was in absolute command.
The long, slender, graceful canoes, picturesque in themselves, were
filled with even more picturesque canoemen: Indians, French half-breeds,
many of them scarcely distinguishable from their full-blooded Indian
brothers, and white men, French-Canadians for the most part, in pointed
scarlet caps that contrasted strongly with their swarthy, sun-bronzed
faces. Singing boat songs, the men dipped their paddles with swift and
perfect unison and rhythm, and the canoes slipped over the quiet water
as smoothly and easily as if they were themselves alive. The clear
depths of the lake reflected the deep blue of the sky, while the rocky
shores, crowned or covered to the water's edge with dark evergreens and
bright-leaved birches, made a fitting background.
The canoes of each brigade kept as close together as possible, but all
the brigades did not start at the same time. When the last one was ready
to put off, the first was apt to be a number of days and many miles
ahead. In calm weather the canoes, though heavily loaded, made good
speed, four miles an hour being considered satisfactory progress. The
trips to and from the Sault were always made as rapidly as wind and
waves would permit, but the number of days required depended on the
weather encountered. The birch canoes could not plow through the middle
of the lake as the steamers of to-day do, but were obliged to skirt the
shore and take advantage of its shelter. The daring voyageurs often took
chances that would seem reckless to us, and paddled their frail boats
through seas that would have swamped or destroyed them, had they not
been handled with wonderful skill by the experienced Canadians and
Indians. But there were always periods of storm and rough weather when
the boats and their precious cargoes could not be trusted to the mercy
of the waters. Then the canoemen had to remain in camp on shore or
island, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for days. During the
outward trip delays had not disturbed Jean and Ronald, but had been
enjoyed as welcome periods of rest from the hard and incessant labor of
paddling. On the return journey, however, the two were all impatience.
On the way out the two lads had traveled in the same canoe, but for the
trip back, they were assigned, much to their disgust, to different
boats. It did not add to Ronald's satisfaction to find that he had been
placed in the same canoe with the man whom he had suspected of listening
when he and Jean had been talking over their plans. Le Forgeron Tordu
was the steersman. The foreman was Benoît Gervais, Benoît le Gros or Big
Benoît he was usually called, a merry giant of a Frenchman, with a
strain of Indian blood, who, in spite of his usual good nature, could be
trusted to keep his crew in admirable control and to handle even the
evil tempered Le Forgeron. The latter was known far and wide throughout
the Indian country. He was always called Le Forgeron, the blacksmith, or
in Ojibwa, Awishtoya. His real name no one seemed to know, but the
nickname had evidently been given him because of his unusual skill as a
metal worker. The epithet "tordu" or "twisted" referred to his
deformity, his right leg from the knee down being twisted outward, and
his ankle stiff. His nose also was twisted to one side, and there was an
ugly scar on his chin. It was said that these disfigurements were the
marks of the tortures he had suffered, when scarcely more than a boy, at
the hands of the Iroquois.
Skilled smith though he was, Le Forgeron Tordu did not choose to settle
down and work at his trade. Occasionally he took employment for a short
period at one of the trading posts or as a voyageur. He had tremendous
physical strength and far more intelligence than the average canoeman,
but his violence, ugly temper, and treacherous craftiness made him a
dangerous employee or companion. Most of the time he lived with the
Indians, among whom he had the reputation of a great medicine man or
magician. Yet he professed to be of pure Norman French blood, and did
not have the appearance of a half-breed, though cruel enough in
disposition for an Iroquois.
For the first two days everything went well with the brigade to which
the boys belonged, for the skies were blue and the winds light. To make
the most of the good weather the men paddled long hours and slept short
ones. On the beaches where they camped, after they had made their fires
and boiled their kettles, they needed no shelter but their blankets
wrapped about them, as they lay stretched out under the stars.
The two lads' muscles had been hardened on the outward trip, and they
were in too much haste to reach the Sault to complain of the long hours
of work. Neither did they have any fault to find with the food,
monotonous enough as such meals would seem to boys of to-day. The fare
of the voyageurs consisted almost entirely of corn mush. The corn had
been prepared by boiling in lye to remove the outer coating of the
kernels, which were then washed, crushed and dried. This crushed corn
was very much like what is now called hominy, an Indian name. It was
mixed with a portion of fat and boiled in kettles hung on sticks over
the fire. When time and weather permitted, nets and lines were set at
night and taken up in the morning, supplying the canoemen with fish, but
there was never any time for hunting or gathering berries, except when
bad weather or head winds forced the voyageurs to remain on shore.
The third day of the trip a sudden storm compelled the brigade to seek
the refuge of a sheltered bay. The two canoes in which the boys traveled
were beached nearly half a mile apart. During the storm, which lasted
into the night, the lads were unable to get together. The next morning
the sky was clear again, but a violent northwest wind prevented the
launching of the boats. Since they could not go on, the canoemen were at
liberty to follow their own devices. Some of them sat around the fires
they had kindled in the lea of rocks and bushes, mended their moccasins
and other clothing, and told long tales of their adventures and
experiences. Others wandered about the beach and the adjacent woods,
seeking for ripe raspberries or hunting squirrels, hares and wood
pigeons. A group of Indian wigwams on a point was visited by a few of
the men, who bartered with the natives for fish, maple sugar and
deerskin moccasins.
For Ronald the Indian fishing camp had no particular attraction, and he
started to walk around the bay to the place where Jean's canoe was
beached. On the way he climbed a bluff a little back from the water, and
lingered to eat his fill of the ripe wild raspberries that grew along
the top. As he pushed his way through the brush, he heard the sound of
voices from the beach below and recognized the harsh, rough tones of Le
Forgeron. Just why he turned and went to the edge of the bluff in the
direction of the voices, Ronald did not know. Instinct seemed to tell
him that the Twisted Blacksmith was up to some mischief. Parting the
bushes, he looked down on an Indian lodge. He was surprised to see a
wigwam in that place, for it was at least a quarter of a mile from the
point where the temporary village stood. Near the wigwam Le Forgeron was
sitting cross-legged on a blanket, smoking at his ease, while a squaw,
bending over a small cooking fire, was preparing food for him, venison,
the boy's nose told him, as the savory odor rose on the wind.
"Make haste there, thou daughter of a pig," the Blacksmith was saying
roughly, "and take care that the meat is not burned or underdone or I
will burn thee alive in thine own fire."
The Indian woman shrank back as if frightened, and, as she turned her
head, Ronald saw that she was old and withered, and, from the way she
groped about, he judged her to be nearly if not quite blind. She made a
motion to withdraw from the fire the piece of venison she was broiling
on a wooden spit, that rested on two sticks driven into the ground, but,
whether through fear or blindness, she struck the stick with her hand
instead of grasping it, and spit and meat went into the fire.
Le Forgeron uttered an ugly oath and sprang to his feet. "I'll teach you
how to broil meat, old witch," he cried. Before Ronald could free
himself from the bushes, the Blacksmith had seized the frightened old
woman and had thrust her moccasined foot and bare ankle, for she wore no
leggings, into the fire. She gave a scream of pain and terror, and
Ronald, without pausing to think, launched himself over the edge of the
bluff in a flying leap. He landed on the sand close to where the old
squaw was struggling in Le Forgeron's grasp, and brought a stout stick,
that he had used a few moments before to kill a snake, down on the
Blacksmith's neck and shoulder. Surprised at the attack, Le Forgeron
flung the squaw from him and turned on the boy, reaching for his knife
as he did so. He made a quick lunge at Ronald, who jumped aside just in
time and seized him by the arm that held the knife. At the same moment
he heard a shout from beyond the lodge and recognized Jean's voice.
Ronald, though a strong and sturdy lad, was no match for Le Forgeron,
but he hung on to the Frenchman's right arm like a bulldog. The
Blacksmith flung his left arm out and around the boy's waist, to crush
him in his iron grasp. Ronald heard Jean's shout close by, and then,
just as he thought his body would be crushed in the Blacksmith's
terrible grip, there came from the top of the bluff a roar like that of
a mad bull, and Benoît le Gros launched his great body down on the
struggling pair as if to bury them both.
But Big Benoît did not bury Ronald. The boy went down on the sand, found
himself loose, rolled completely over and picked himself up, just in
time to see the giant foreman hurl his steersman into the breakers that
were rolling on the beach. Then he strode in after him, seized him by
the back of the neck and pulled him out again, dazed, bloody, choking
with the water he had swallowed. Le Forgeron Tordu was beaten. There was
no fight left in him for the time being, but he was far from being
subdued. He cast an ugly look at the two boys, but for the moment he was
unable even to swear. With an imperious gesture Big Benoît motioned him
to go back down the beach towards camp. Le Forgeron went, but as he
passed Ronald he gave him a look so full of vindictive hatred it fairly
chilled the lad's blood. There was no need of voice or words to express
the threat of vengeance. That look was enough.
In the meantime the Indian woman had disappeared, and, though the boys
sought for her to discover how badly she had been burned and to see if
they could do anything to relieve her suffering, they could not find
her. When Ronald returned to the camping place of his own crew, he found
the brigade guide in conversation with Big Benoît. The boy was summoned
to tell his story, and did so in a few words. He admitted having
attacked Le Forgeron first and gave his reason. Benoît added his
evidence, for he had seen the Indian woman crawl away and thrust her
smoking, blackened moccasin into the water. The guide grunted a
malediction upon Le Forgeron, whom he called the "king of fiends," and
dismissed the boy. Later Benoît informed him that he had been
transferred to the canoe where Jean was, and added, with a grin, that he
was sorry to lose a lad who was not afraid to attack the Blacksmith, but
that it was best the two should be separated. "Look to yourself, my
son," he said, laying a kindly hand on the boy's shoulder. "Le Forgeron
does not forget a grudge."
For two days strong winds prevented the continuance of the journey, but
Ronald, having been transferred to the same canoe with Jean, kept clear
of Le Forgeron.
The delay vexed the impatient boys, who felt that every lost hour was
shortening the time they could give to the search for the strange
island. At last, during the night, the wind changed to another quarter
and went down, and for the remainder of the voyage the weather was
generally favorable. There were several delays, but none so long as the
first, and the Sault was reached in fairly good time.
The visits of the brigades were the great events of the year at the
trading post of Sault de Ste. Marie. The few whites and half-breeds that
formed the little settlement, and most of the Indians of the Ojibwa
village near by, were on hand to receive the voyageurs. But Nangotook,
who should have been awaiting the boys, was nowhere to be seen.
The Northwest Company's agent and Jean's friends had expected the lads
to go on to Montreal with the fleet, and the two were hard put to it to
find excuses for lingering. The men who had been injured in the accident
of the spring before, and who had been left behind to recover, were
strong enough to resume their places at the paddles, so the lads'
services were not actually needed, and no pressure was put upon them to
go on. As day after day of impatient waiting passed without any sign of
their Indian guide, Jean and Ronald began to wonder if they had been
foolish to remain behind. Until the prospect of adventure and riches had
opened before them, they had not dreamed of spending another winter at
the Sault. Even when they had decided not to go on with the fleet, they
had hoped that they might accomplish their treasure-seeking trip in time
to allow them to return to Montreal or at least to Michilimackinac,
under Etienne's guidance, before winter set in.
IV
LAUNCHED ON THE GREAT ADVENTURE
On the morning of the third day after the departure of the last brigade
of the fleet, Etienne appeared at the Sault. At the post he purchased a
supply of corn, a piece of fat pork, some ammunition and tobacco and two
blankets, and was given credit for them, promising to pay in beaver
skins from his next winter's catch. Of the two lads he took no notice
whatever, but his behavior did not surprise them. They knew exactly what
was expected of them, and in the afternoon of the day he made his
purchases, they left the post quietly. Wishing to give the impression
that they were going for a mere ramble, they took no blankets, but each
had concealed about him fish lines, hooks, as much ammunition as he
could carry comfortably and various other little things. The fact that
they were carrying their guns, hunting knives and small, light axes, did
not excite suspicion. Game was extremely scarce, especially at that time
of year, in the vicinity of the post, the Indians and whites living
largely on fish. One of the half-breeds laughed at the boys for going
hunting, but they answered good-naturedly that they were not looking for
either bears or moose.
While in sight of the post and the Indian camp, the two lads went at a
deliberate pace, as if they had no particular aim or purpose, but as
soon as a patch of woods had hidden the houses and lodges from view,
they increased their speed and made directly for the place where they
were to meet Etienne. The spot agreed upon was above the rapids, out of
sight of the post, where a thick growth of willows at the river's edge
made an excellent cover. There they found the Ojibwa, in an opening
among the bushes, going over the seams of his canoe with a piece of
heat-softened pine gum. He grunted a welcome, but was evidently not in a
talkative mood, and the boys, knowing how an Indian dislikes to be
questioned about his affairs, forbore to ask what had caused his long
delay. They had expected to start at once, but Etienne seemed in no
hurry. When he had made sure that the birch seams were all water-tight,
he settled himself in a half reclining position on the ground, took some
tobacco from his pouch, cut it into small particles, rubbed them into
powder and filled the bowl of his long-stemmed, red stone pipe. He
struck sparks with his flint and steel, and, using a bit of dry fungus
as tinder, lighted the tobacco. After smoking in silence for a few
minutes, he went to sleep.
"He thinks it best not to start until dark," whispered Jean to his
companion. "Doubtless he is right. We might meet canoes on the river and
have to answer questions."
Ronald nodded, but inaction made him restless, and presently he slipped
through the willows and started to make his way along the shore of the
river. In a few moments Jean joined him, and they rambled about until
the sun was setting. When they returned to the place where Etienne and
the canoe were concealed, they found the Indian awake. He had made a
small cooking fire and had swung his iron kettle over it. As soon as the
water boiled, he stirred in enough of the prepared corn and fat to make
a meal for the three of them. While they ate he remained silent and
uncommunicative.
Dusk was changing into darkness when the three adventurers launched
their canoe. They carried it into the water, and Ronald and Jean held it
from swinging around with the current while Nangotook loaded it. To
distribute the weight equally he placed the packages of ammunition,
tobacco, corn and pork, a birch-bark basket of maple sugar he had
provided, the blankets, guns, kettle and other things on poles resting
on the bottom and running the entire length of the boat. A very little
inequality in the lading of a birch canoe makes it awkward to manage and
easy to capsize. When the boat was loaded Ronald held it steady, while
the Indian and Jean stepped in from opposite sides, one in the bow, the
other in the stern. Ronald took his place in the middle, and they were
off up the River Ste. Marie, on the first stage of their adventure.
Where the river narrows opposite Point aux Pins, which to this day
retains its French name meaning Pine Point, there was a group of Indian
lodges, but the canoe slipped past so quietly in the darkness that even
the dogs were not disturbed. The voyageurs rounded the point and,
turning to the northwest, skirted its low, sandy shore. The water was
still, and in the clear northern night, traveling, as long as they kept
out from the shore, was as easy as by daylight.
As they neared Gros Cap, the "Big Cape," which, on the northern side,
marks the real entrance from Ste. Mary's River into Whitefish Bay,
Nangotook, in the bow, suddenly made a low hissing sound, as a warning
to the boys, and ceased paddling, holding his blade motionless in the
water. The others instantly did the same, while the Indian, with raised
head, listened intently. Evidently he detected some danger ahead, though
no unusual sound came to the blunter ears of the white boys.
Suddenly resuming his strokes, Nangotook swerved the canoe to the right,
the lads lifting their blades and leaving the paddling to the Ojibwa. As
they drew near the shadow of the shore, the boys discovered the reason
for the sudden change of direction. Very faintly at first, then with
increasing clearness, came the sound of a high tenor voice, singing. It
was an old song, brought from old France many years before, and Jean
knew it well.
"Chante, rossignol, chante,
Toi qui a le cocur gai;
Tu as le coeur a rire,
Moi je l'ai-t-a pleurer,"
sang the tenor voice. Then other voices joined in the chorus.
"Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai."
A rough translation would be something like this:
"Sing, nightingale, sing,
Thou who hast a heart of cheer,
Hast alway the heart to laugh,
But I weep sadly many a tear.
A long, long time have I loved thee,
Never can I forget my dear."
By the time these words could be heard distinctly, the adventurers had
reached a place of concealment in the dark shadow of the tree-covered
shore. There they remained silent and motionless, while three canoes,
each containing several men, passed farther out on the moonlit water.
They were headed for the Sault, and were evidently trappers or traders
from somewhere along the north shore, coming in to sell or forward their
furs and to buy supplies. Not until the strangers were out of sight and
hearing, did the treasure-seekers put out from the shadows again.
At sunrise they made a brief halt at Gros Cap for breakfast, entering a
narrow cove formed by a long, rocky point, almost parallel with the
shore. There, well hidden from the lake among aspen trees and raspberry
and thimbleberry bushes, they boiled their corn and finished the meal
with berries. The thimbleberries, which are common on the shores and
islands of Superior, are first cousins to the ordinary red raspberry,
though the bushes, with their large, handsome leaves and big, white
blossoms, look more like blackberry bushes. The berries are longer in
shape than raspberries, and those the boys gathered that morning, with
the dew on them, were acid and refreshing. Later, when very ripe, they
would become insipid to the taste.
Anxious to take advantage of the good weather, the three delayed only
long enough for a short rest. The sun was bright and a light breeze
rippled the water, when they paddled out from the cove. Jean started a
voyageur's song.
"La fill' du roi d'Espagne,
Vogue, marinier, vogue!
Veut apprendre un metier,
Vogue, marinier!
Veut apprendre un metier.
Vogue, marinier!
"The daughter of the king of Spain,
Row, canoemen, row!
Some handicraft to learn is fain,
Row, canoemen!
Some handicraft to learn is fain,
Row, canoemen."
Ronald joined in the chorus, though his voice, not yet through changing
from boy's to man's, was somewhat cracked and quavering. The Indian
remained silent, but his paddle kept time to the music.
They were still in the shadow of the cliff of Gros Cap, rising abruptly
from the lake, while to the north, eight or ten miles away across the
water, they could see a high point of much the same general appearance,
Goulais Point, marking the northern and western side of a deep bay. The
water was so quiet that, instead of coasting along the shores of Goulais
Bay, they risked running straight across to the point, saving themselves
about fifteen miles of paddling.
The traverse, as the voyageurs called such a short cut across the mouth
of a bay, was made safely, although the wind had risen before the point
was gained. They proceeded along Goulais Point, past the mouth of a
little bay where they caught a glimpse of Indian lodges, and through a
channel between an island and the mainland. The lodges doubtless
belonged to Indians who had camped there to fish, but the travelers
caught no glimpse of them and were glad to escape their notice.
The wind, which was from the west, was steadily rising, and by the time
the point now called Rudderhead was reached, was blowing with such force
that the traverse across the wide entrance to Batchewana Bay was out of
the question. The voyageurs were obliged to take refuge within the mouth
of the bay, running into a horseshoe shaped indentation at the foot of a
high hill. There a landing was made and a meal of mush prepared.
By that time the adventurers were far enough away from the Sault not to
fear discovery. Any one going out from the post in search of them might
easily follow the two boys' trails to the spot where they had met
Etienne. The lads chuckled to think how their aimless wanderings after
that, while they were waiting for darkness, might confuse a search
party. It was unlikely, however, that any one would worry about them or
make any thorough search for them, until several days had passed. They
were now fairly launched on their adventure and their hopes were high.
V
THE GRAVE OF NANABOZHO
The sun set clear in a sky glowing with flame-red and orange, but the
wind blew harder than ever, and forced the adventurers to camp in the
cove. They were tired enough to roll themselves in their blankets as
soon as darkness came, for they had not taken a wink of sleep the night
before. Protected from the wind, they needed no overhead shelter.
When the complaining cries of the gulls waked the lads at dawn, the wind
was still strong, but from a more southerly direction. While the open
lake was rough, the bay might be circled without danger, so, without
waiting for breakfast, the three launched the canoe. Jean, who was in
the stern, baited a hook with a piece of pork, and, fastening the line
to his paddle, let the hook, which was held down by a heavy sinker,
trail through the water, the motion of the paddle keeping the line
moving.
As they were passing a group of submerged rocks at the mouth of a
stream, a sudden pull on the line almost jerked the paddle out of his
hands. The fish made a hard fight, but Etienne handled the canoe
skilfully, giving Jean a chance to play his catch. He finally succeeded
in drawing it close enough so that Ronald, leaning over the side of the
boat, while the Indian balanced by throwing his body the other way,
managed to reach the fish with his knife. It proved to be a lake trout
of about six pounds. Landing on a sandy point that ran out from the
north shore of the bay, the boys prepared breakfast. Broiled trout was a
welcome change from corn, and the three ate every particle that was
eatable.
The wind continuing to blow with force, they camped on the point, and
spent the rest of the day fishing and hunting. Fishing was fairly
successful, but they found no game, not even a squirrel. The only tracks
observed were those of a mink at the edge of a stream. An abundance of
ripe raspberries helped out their evening meal, however. The wind
lessened after sunset, but the lake was too rough for night travel. So
the treasure-seekers laid their blankets on the sand for another good
night's sleep.
Nangotook woke at dawn and roused the boys. The sky, dappled with soft
white clouds and streaked with pink, was reflected in the absolutely
still water. So the three got away at once and, making a traverse of
five or six miles across an indentation in the shore to the end of
another point, were soon out of Batchewana Bay.
Going on up the shore, the travelers rounded Mamainse Point, and ran
among rock islets, some of them bare, some with a tuft of trees or
bushes at the summit. The islands they had passed in the southeast
corner of the lake had been flat and sandy. From Mamainse on, although
many of the larger islands and the margin of the shore continued low,
the general appearance of the land was very different. High cliffs
formed a continuous rampart a little back from the water and were
covered with trees down to the beach, the silvery stems and bright
green of the birches and aspens standing out against the darker colors
of spruce and balsam. This was true north shore country, contrasting
strongly with most of the south shore.
All day the wind was light, and the voyageurs made upwards of forty
miles, reaching Montreal River before dark. As the canoe turned towards
the broad beach where the stream enters the lake, the boys ceased
paddling, leaving Etienne to make the landing. The Indian took a long
stroke, then held his paddle motionless, edge forward and blade pressed
against the side of the boat, until the momentum slackened, made another
stroke, held the blade still again, then a third and rested until the
bow ran gently on the sand. The moment it struck, before the onward
motion ceased, the three rose as with one movement, threw their legs
over the sides, Etienne and Jean to the right, Ronald to the left, and
stepped out into the water without tipping the canoe. Then the boys
lifted it by the cross bars and carried it beyond the water line.
The beach jutted out across the mouth of the river, partly closing it,
while a bar, about six feet below the surface, extended clear across.
Farther back were large trees, and the place was in every way a
satisfactory camping ground.
After the evening meal, the boys, hoping to secure a fish or two for
breakfast, went out in the canoe to set some lines. Trolling had been
unsuccessful that day. In the meanwhile Etienne was examining an old
trail that led up-stream. The deep, clear, brown waters emptied into
the lake through a kind of delta, partly tree covered, but farther up
they raced down with great force through a steep-walled, rock chasm. The
trail, which proved that Indians were in the habit of frequenting the
place, interested Nangotook for it bore signs of recent use. So he
followed it.
Suddenly, as he rounded a clump of birches, he saw two men coming
towards him. Luckily they were both looking in the other direction at
the moment when the Ojibwa caught sight of them. Before they could turn
their heads, he was out of view, squatted in the dark shadow behind an
alder bush. Though he had but a glimpse of them, he recognized one, a
white man with twisted nose and a scar on his chin. The other was an
Indian, a stranger to him. As soon as the two men had passed, Nangotook
rose and followed them cautiously, making his way among trees and bushes
at the edge of the trail. The long twilight was deepening to darkness,
and it was not difficult to keep hidden. The men went on along the trail
for a way, then turned from it and struck off into the woods. Nangotook
did not pursue them farther. Satisfied that they were not headed for the
camp on the beach, he went on rapidly and joined the boys at the fire.
In a few words he told them of the encounter.
The lads were amazed. At first they could scarcely believe it was really
Le Forgeron Tordu Etienne had seen. The Blacksmith had left the Sault
with his brigade for Montreal nearly two weeks before. He must have
deserted below the Sault, have returned past the post and come on to
the northeast shore. Desertion from the fleet was a serious matter, for
the canoemen were under strict contract, and the guilty man was liable
to heavy punishment. Le Forgeron had been a steersman too, and that made
his offense worse. It was scarcely possible that he could have been
discharged voluntarily, but if he had taken the risk of desertion, it
must have been for some very important or desperate purpose.
The knowledge that the evil Frenchman was so near made the lads uneasy.
Remembering the look of bitter hatred the Blacksmith had given him, and
Big Benoit's warning to look to himself, Ronald felt, for the first time
in his life, the chill dread that comes to one who is followed by a
relentless enemy. He pulled himself together in a moment, however. If Le
Forgeron was following them, it could not be merely to obtain vengeance
for the blow the lad had given him. That cause seemed altogether too
slight to account for desertion and the long trip back to Superior. It
was probable that he had heard more of their plans that night at the
Grande Portage than they had believed he could have heard, and was bent
on securing the gold for himself.
While Ronald was pondering these things, Jean was telling Nangotook of
their suspicions that Le Forgeron had overheard them, of his treatment
of the squaw, of Ronald's attack on him and of Big Benoit's fortunate
appearance. Nangotook listened silently, and nodded gravely when the boy
had finished his tale, but the two could not read in his impassive face
whether he shared their fears or not.
From a tree overhead a screech owl uttered its eerie cry, the long drawn
closing tremolo on one note sounding like a threat of disaster. Perhaps
the Indian took the sinister sound for a warning, for he rose from the
log where he was sitting and went down to the water's edge. When he
returned, he said decisively, "Sleep now little while. Then go on in
dark."
The boys concluded he was as anxious as they to get away from the
neighborhood of Le Forgeron.
Ronald could not sleep much that night, and when he did drop off for a
few moments, the slightest sound was enough to arouse him. By midnight
the water was still, and, at Nangotook's command, the boys launched the
canoe. The Indian in the bow, the three paddled noiselessly away from
their camping ground, going slowly at first for fear of striking a bar
or reef. Though they scanned the shore, they could see no sign of Le
Forgeron's camp-fire. Had he gone on ahead of them, they wondered.
All the rest of the night they traveled steadily, and did not make a
landing until the sun had been up for more than an hour. Then they
stopped long enough to boil the kettle and eat their breakfast of corn
and pork.
The wind had come up with the sun, and before they had gone far from the
little island where they had breakfasted, the gale threatened to dash
the canoe on the shore, where breakers were rolling. The travelers were
driven to seek refuge behind a sand-bar at the mouth of a small stream.
Then the wind began to shift about from one point to another. Rain
clouds appeared, and a succession of squalls and showers kept the
impatient gold-seekers on shore until the following morning.
The sky was still cloudy and threatening, but the water was not
dangerously rough, when they put out from the shelter of the sand-bar. A
head wind made progress slow, as they went on up the shore and around
the great cape which some early explorer had named Gargantua, because of
a fancied resemblance to the giant whose adventures were told by
Rabelais, a French writer of the first half of the sixteenth century.
A short distance east of the Cape, Nangotook directed the canoe towards
a small rock island, one of a group. "Land there," he said laconically.
"Why should we be landing on that barren rock?" questioned Ronald in
surprise.
"Grave of great manito, Nanabozho," the Indian answered seriously.
Ronald opened his mouth to speak again, but Jean punched him with his
paddle as a warning to ask no further questions. Nangotook ran the canoe
alongside a ledge of rock only slightly above the water. There he
stepped out. The others followed and lifted the boat up on the ledge.
Without waiting for them, Nangotook climbed swiftly over the rocks.
Ronald would have followed him, but Jean took the Scotch boy by the arm.
"He goes to make an offering to the manito," the French lad said, "and
to ask him to send us fair weather and favorable winds for our voyage."
"But Nangotook says he's a Christian," the other replied. "Why is he
making sacrifices to heathen gods then?"
Jean shrugged his shoulders. "A savage does not so easily forget the
gods of his people," he said. "I have heard of this place before. Let us
look around a bit while he is offering his sacrifices."
The island proved to be a mere rock, barren of everything but moss,
lichens, a few trailing evergreens, and here and there such scattering,
stunted plants as will grow with almost no soil. Part of the rock looked
as if it had been artificially cut off close to the water line, while
the rest ran up steeply to a height of thirty or forty feet. At several
spots the two lads found the remains of offerings made by passing
Indians, strands of sun-dried or decaying tobacco, broken guns, rusty
kettles and knives, bits of scarlet cloth, beads and trinkets. Evidently
the savages reverenced the place deeply and believed that the spirit of
the great manito made it his abode.
What interested the boys more than Indian offerings was several clearly
defined veins of metal running through the rock. Here and there in the
veins were holes indicating that some one, white man or Indian, had made
an attempt to mine. Moss and stunted bushes growing in the holes proved
that the prospecting must have been done a number of years before.
Ronald, who knew a little of geology, said there was certainly copper in
the rock, and he thought there might be lead, and perhaps silver, which,
he explained, was sometimes found in conjunction with copper.
"The man I was telling you about," Ronald concluded, "old Alexander
Henry, who looked for the Island of Yellow Sands, but who went to the
wrong place Etienne says, did some mining along this east and north
shore. Perhaps he opened these veins, but if he did, it must have been
twenty or thirty years ago."
The three did not remain long on the island. Around Cape Gargantua the
shore had become more abrupt and more broken, with sheer cliffs, deep
chasms, ragged points and islands. The rocks were painted with a variety
of tints, caused by the weathering of metallic substances and by lichens
that ranged in color from gray-green to bright orange. It was slow work
paddling in the rough water, but before night the travelers reached a
good camping ground, among birch trees, above a steep, terraced beach in
the shadow of the high cliffs of Cape Choyye.
Near their landing place the boys came upon a broad sheet of red
sandstone sloping gradually into the water. The rock was scored with
shallow, winding channels and peppered with smooth holes, some of them
three or four feet deep. Many of the cavities were nearly round, but one
was in the shape of a cloven hoof. When the Indian saw the place he
looked awed and muttered, "Manito been here." Jean, too, was much
impressed, and hastened to make the sign of the cross over the cloven
footprint, but Ronald laughed at him. The holes were perfectly natural,
he said. He pointed out in many of them loose stones of a much harder
rock, and suggested that, at some previous period when the lake level
must have been much higher, the friction of such stones and boulders
against the softer sandstone, as they were washed and churned about by
the waves, might have ground out the cavities. The shallow channels were
probably chiseled by the grating of sand and small pebbles. Nangotook
paid no attention whatever to Ronald's explanation, and even Jean did
not seem entirely convinced. He shook his head doubtfully over the
cloven hole.
VI
ALONG THE NORTH SHORE
Apparently the great Nanabozho looked upon the treasure-seekers with
favor, for the next morning dawned bright, clear and with a favorable
breeze. They started early to the tune of
"Fringue, fringue, sur la rivière,
Fringue, fringue, sur l'aviron."
"Speed, speed on the river,
Speed, speed with the oar."
Making good time, they continued northward into Michipicoten Bay. On the
Michipicoten River, which empties into the head of the bay, was a
trading station. They did not wish to land there, but hoped to pass
unobserved and to avoid any one going to or coming from the post. It was
late in the season for white men to be traveling towards the western end
of the lake, and questions or even unspoken curiosity might be
embarrassing.
So, on reaching a beach, the only one they noticed along that bold,
steep stretch of shore, they decided to land and wait for darkness
before running past the post.
The manito continued to be kind to them, for during the afternoon a haze
spread over the sky. When the fog on the water became thick enough to
furnish cover, the adventurers set out again, paddling along the steep
shore, gray and indistinct in the mist, the Indian keeping a sharp
lookout for detached rocks. As they neared the mouth of the
Michipicoten, they went farther out, and passed noiselessly, completely
hidden in the fog. Not caring to risk traveling in the thick obscurity
of a foggy night, they made camp before dark a few miles beyond the
river.
The next morning they embarked at dawn and went on under cover of the
fog, but the rising sun soon dispersed it. They were now traveling
directly west. After passing Point Isacor, they could see clearly, ten
or twelve miles to the south, Michipicoten Island or Isle de Maurepas,
as the French named it, after the Comte de Maurepas, minister of marine
under Louis XV. Alexander Henry the elder visited that island, and it
was the Indians who guided him there who told him of another isle
farther to the south, where the sands were yellow and shining. According
to Nangotook, those Indians had deliberately deceived the white man,
taking him intentionally to the wrong island. The boys gazed with new
interest at the high pile of rock and forest, and Jean related to Ronald
a legend that one of the old French missionaries had heard from the
savages more than a century before and had written down.
"The savages told the good Father," began Jean, "that four braves were
lost in a fog one day, and drifted to that island. Wishing to prepare
food, they began to pick up pebbles, intending to heat them in the fire
they had lighted, and then drop them into their basket-ware kettle to
make the water boil. But they were surprised to find that all the
pebbles and slabs on the beach were of pure copper. At once they began
to load their canoe with the copper rocks, when they were startled by a
terrible voice calling out in wrath. 'Who are you,' roared the great
voice, 'you robbers who carry away my papoose cases and the playthings
of my children?' The slabs, it seems, were the cradles, and the round
stones, the toys, of the children of the strange race of manitos or
supernatural beings who dwelt, like mermen and mermaids, in the water
round about the island. The frightful voice terrified the savages so
they dropped the copper stones, and put out from the shore in haste. One
of them died of fright on the way to the mainland. A short time later a
second died, and then, after he had returned to his own people and told
the story, the third. What became of the fourth the savages did not say.
It is said," concluded Jean, "that the island is rich in copper and
other metals, so it well may be, as Etienne suggests, that such tales
were told to frighten the white men and keep them from the place."
That night the eager gold-seekers traveled until after midnight, pausing
at sundown only long enough for supper and a brief rest. As the darkness
deepened, the wavering flames of the aurora borealis, or northern
lights, began to glow in the northern and western sky. From the sharply
defined edge of bank of clouds below, bands and streamers of white and
pale green stretched upwards, flashing, flickering and changeable.
Sometimes glowing spots appeared in the dark band, again streamers of
light shot up to the zenith, the center of brightness constantly
shifting, as the flames died out in one place to flare up in another.
The Ojibwa hailed the "dancing spirits" as a good omen, and the boys
were inclined to agree with him. All the evening the lights flashed and
glowed, but when, after midnight, the travelers rounded the cape known
as Otter's Head, from the upright rock surmounting it, the streaks and
bands were growing faint, and by the time a landing had been made in the
cover beyond, they had faded out entirely.
Whether the aurora borealis was to be considered a good sign or not,
fortune continued to favor the voyageurs the next day. They put up a
blanket sail attached to poles, and ran before a favorable wind most of
the twenty-five miles to the mouth of White Gravel River. There they
remained until nightfall, for they were anxious to avoid another trading
post some twenty miles farther up the shore, near the mouth of the Pic
River.
Glad of exercise after being cramped in the canoe, the boys made their
way along the bank of White Gravel River for about two miles, where they
discovered a round, deep, shaded pool, alive with darting shadows. They
cut fishing poles and had an hour of fine sport. As they were going on
up-stream, they heard the calling and cooing of wood pigeons, and soon
came upon a great flock of the birds. The trees were covered with them,
and the air fairly full of them, flying up, darting down, and wheeling
about in the open spaces, singly and in squads and small flocks. So
plentiful were the pigeons, and so little disturbed by the lads'
presence, that the two might have killed hundreds had they chosen, but
they were not greedy or wanton sportsmen, and shot only as many as they
thought they could eat for supper, reserving the trout for breakfast.
A grove of trees and bushes hid the camp, and the canoe was beached on
the inner side of the sand-bar that partly concealed the entrance to the
stream. Ever since Etienne had seen Le Forgeron Tordu at Montreal River,
he had taken precautions to select camping places where the three would
not be noticed by any one passing on the lake. If the Twisted Blacksmith
were coming up the shore on some business of his own that had nothing to
do with them, the gold-seekers had no wish to attract his attention. If
he was following them, they hoped to give him the slip. Just as the sun
was setting that night, as Jean was plucking the pigeons and Ronald was
preparing to kindle the cooking fire, their attention was attracted by
the harsh screaming of gulls. Looking out through their screen of
bushes, the lads saw a canoe, about the size of their own, passing a
little way out. It was going north, and contained two men, one evidently
an Indian, the other from his dress a white man or half-breed. The boys
could not see him plainly enough to be sure, but they had little doubt
the white man was Le Forgeron. Etienne was some distance away gathering
bearberry leaves to dry and mix with his smoking tobacco to make
kinni-kinnik. So he did not see the canoe go by.
The sight of the passing voyageurs caused the three to delay going on
until twilight had deepened to darkness, and then they traveled in
silence, and watched the shore closely for signs of a camp. They saw
none, however, ran past the mouth of the Pic without encountering any
one, and landed in a bay a few miles farther on. Ahead of them lay a
very irregular shore with many islands, rocks and reefs, which they did
not dare to try to thread in the darkness.
In spite of their night run, they embarked early and passed through a
labyrinth of islands. In a winding passage they met a canoe containing
an Indian, his squaw, three children and two pointed-nosed, fox-eared
dogs. The boys thought this Indian family particularly unattractive
looking savages. They had very flat faces and large mouths and were
ragged and disgustingly dirty, but they were evidently good-natured and
ready to be friendly, for man, woman and children grinned broadly as
they called out "Boojou, boojou," the Indian corruption of the French
"Bonjour." The man held up some fish for sale, but Nangotook treated him
with dignified contempt, grunting an unsmiling greeting, shaking his
head at the proffered fish, and passing by without slowing the strokes
of his paddle. As he left the Indian canoe astern, he growled out a name
that Ronald could not make out, but that Jean understood.
"Gens de Terre," the boy exclaimed. "These are the shores where they
belong. They seldom go as far south as the Sault. Some call them Men of
the Woods. They are dirty, but very honest. The traders say it is
always safe to give them credit, for rarely does one of them fail to pay
in full. They are good tempered too, but when food is scarce I have
heard they sometimes turn Windigo." The lad shuddered and crossed
himself. Windigo is the Indian name for a man who has eaten human flesh
and has learned to like it. Both Indians and white men believed that
such a savage was taken possession of by a fiend. Men suspected of being
Windigos were shunned and feared by red men and white alike.
The voyageurs made a traverse of several miles, and ran among a cluster
of little islands abreast of Pic Island, a rock peak rising about seven
hundred feet from a partly submerged ridge. Fog, blown by a raw, gusty
wind delayed them considerably that day. After running on a hidden rock
and starting a seam in the canoe, they were finally compelled to camp on
a rock islet near shore. There they dined on blueberries, and slept on
thick beds of moss and low growing blueberry and bearberry plants.
The following day, after a sharp north wind had driven away the fog,
they went on, and passed the Slate Islands, high and blue, seven or
eight miles across the water. At supper time they entered a little cove,
where they were horrified to find signs of a recent tragedy. A canoe was
floating bottom up, the beach at the head of the cove was strewn with
pelts, the sand trampled and blotched with dark patches. Near by were
the ashes of a camp-fire.
Nangotook looked the place over carefully, then remarked, "Awishtoya
been here."
"Why do you say that?" exclaimed Jean. "What makes you think so?"
"Trapper going to Pic with winter's catch," the Indian explained.
"Awishtoya found him, attacked him, killed him maybe," and he pointed to
the blood stains in the sand. "Broke open his packs and took best furs.
These no good," touching one of the abandoned skins with his foot.
"Something of the kind must have happened here," Ronald agreed, "and Le
Forgeron would not be above such a deed. Do you see anything to prove he
did it, Etienne?"
The Ojibwa shook his head. "No need to prove it," he said. "Awishtoya
came this way. Always there are evil deeds where he goes."
From the ashes of the fire and the condition of the sand, the Indian
thought the deed a recent one, committed not longer ago than the night
before, perhaps that very day. The three righted the canoe, but found
nothing about it to show its owner. Though they searched the shores of
the cove, they did not discover the body of the murdered man, if he had
been murdered, or any further traces of him or of the man or men who had
attacked him. The marks in the sand were so confused, indicating a
desperate struggle, that not much could be read from them, but Nangotook
thought there had been at least three men in the affray.
The boys had no desire to linger in the cove. As soon as the evening
meal was over, they launched their canoe, and traveled far into the
night, most of the time against a troublesome head wind. Near the
entrance to what is now called the North Channel, which leads into
Nipigon Bay, they made camp.
The lads were growing very impatient. It seemed to them they never would
reach the Rock of the Beaver, as Nangotook had called the spot where
they were to strike south across the open lake. They were beginning to
wonder if he were taking them clear back to Grande Portage, for they had
now come considerably more than two-thirds of the way. Up to that time
the Ojibwa had given them no hint of the location of the Rock, except to
say that it was on the north shore, but that night he volunteered some
information. "Only one day more," he said, "one good day."
VII
THE ROCK OF THE BEAVER
The next morning at dawn the sky was mottled with scudding clouds driven
by an east wind. The prospect was not promising, but the wind was in the
right direction for sailing, and the voyageurs put out in haste, rigging
their blanket sail. It was their intention to pass outside the islands
that almost block the entrance to Nipigon Bay. They made good time
before the breeze, though the waves followed the frail craft perilously,
and the three were soon well soaked with cold spray. But the wind
changed to the southeast, and dark blue clouds, with slanting lines of
rain below them, began to roll up. The sail had to be lowered, and, as
the wind increased and blew in gusts and squalls, it took all the
canoemen's skill to keep from swamping before they gained the eastern
end of the great Island of St. Ignace.
There they were glad to run into a long bay or cove, protected by high
peaks and ridges on either side and by a small island at the entrance
and another large one, now known as Simpson's Island, across a narrow
channel to the east. To the head of the cove, where a small stream
entered it, they paddled, and found a landing place. There they stowed
the supplies under the canoe, placing them on poles and paddles to keep
them off the wet ground, for rain had begun to fall.
Making camp in the rain is an unpleasant task, but they needed a better
shelter than the small canoe would afford. So they left the beach, and
explored the woods for a good spot where they could build a lodge in the
Indian fashion. A considerable distance back from the water, Etienne
found, at last, a spot level and open enough.
Ronald and Jean cleared the ground, while the Indian cut young birch
trees and stripped larger ones of their bark. Ronald was expert with an
ax and wasted no blows. Bending a sapling over with his left hand, he
gave it a sharp clip, then bending it the other way, another quick
stroke, and it was down. Bushes were cut or pulled up, loose rocks
thrown to one side, troublesome roots grubbed up, and hummocks leveled
with vigorous strokes of the back of the ax. In an incredibly short time
the camping ground was fairly smooth and level. Then Nangotook set up a
frame, thrusting the butts of the trees he had cut into the ground, and
bending together and interlacing the tops. This framework he and the
boys covered with sheets of birch bark, "wig-wass" Nangotook called the
bark. They did not take time to sew the pieces together, but overlapped
them and placed more poles against them to keep them in place. The
ground within the lodge, or "wigwam," as the Ojibwa called it, was
hastily strewn with spruce branches. The shelter was completed none too
soon. Just as Jean was carrying in an armful of the gray moss or lichen
that almost covered many of the spruce trees, hanging down from them and
giving them the appearance of being bearded with age, there came a wild
burst of rain and hail that rattled on the bark walls like bullets.
The rest of that day and night and most of the next day rain fell with
scarcely a pause. The disgusted gold-seekers were compelled to remain
within shelter, going out only long enough to cut wood for the fire and
to catch a few fish.
Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and the gray clouds showed signs
of breaking. Hares seemed to be plentiful on the island, and Etienne
went out to set some snares, while the two boys climbed up through the
dripping woods, over slippery moss and rocks, to a spot where they could
see out over the lake. The water was still rough, but the wind had
shifted to the north and gave promise of clearing weather. They hoped
they might be able to go on by morning. According to Etienne the Rock of
the Beaver was only a half day's journey away.
On their way back to camp they came suddenly within range of a plump
hare that was feeding on a large red mushroom. Ronald, who was on the
lookout for game, made a lucky shot. Though hare flesh is not at its
best while the animal still wears his gray-brown summer coat, the fresh
meat was more than welcome to the voyageurs. There was other game on the
island, for they saw tracks, half washed out by the rain, that Jean was
sure were those of caribou, and the Indian said there were moose prints
in a boggy place near where he set his snares. When the boys went down
to the bay for water, they found signs that both mink and marten had
been there before them, and in the night they were awakened several
times by the sharp, cat-like snarl of a lynx. They found no indications
that any one had trapped in the vicinity the winter before, however.
The next morning dawned fair with a light breeze, and the adventurers
hastened down to the shore where the canoe lay. Jean gave a cry of
dismay when he turned over the boat. Under it they had left most of the
ammunition and all of the food supplies they did not want to use
immediately. Now everything, except the paddles and the poles, was gone.
"Stolen," cried Jean in great excitement. "Le Forgeron Tordu has been
here, the fiend! It is some of his evil work."
"It is evil work, surely," Ronald answered more quietly, but his blue
eyes hardened and his square jaw set. To break into another man's cache
or steal his provisions was the most serious of offenses in the
wilderness among white men and Indians alike, an offense that might even
be punished with death.
Nangotook, after one glance under the canoe, had set himself to
examining the tracks that led to the water. "One man," he remarked
briefly, "two trips. Other man stay in canoe. Last night or this day
early." The footprints had been made since the rain. There were no signs
that a canoe had been brought ashore, so the Ojibwa inferred that the
boat had remained on the water with at least one man to handle it. To
track the thieves was impossible, for, as the Indian said disgustedly,
"Canoe leave no trail."
There was no way to prove that the Frenchman and his companion were the
thieves. The things might have been taken by some wandering Indians, but
it would have been difficult to convince either Ronald or Jean of such a
probability.
The loss of supplies was very serious, and made it all the more
necessary for the treasure-seekers to make haste to the Island of Yellow
Sands. Fate continued to be against them, however. By the time they
reached the mouth of the cove, the wind, that had been so light at dawn,
had come up and was blowing hard from the worst of directions for them,
the southwest, rolling great waves against the outer rocks of the
island. If they kept to their intended course, they would have to paddle
in the trough. It seemed as if Nanabozho had repented of his former
kindness, and was trying to keep them from their goal as long as he
could.
Etienne took one look out across the water. Then, with a grunt, he
signaled Ronald to turn and run north, up the channel between the end of
St. Ignace and its neighbor island. Once on the north side of St.
Ignace, they would find protection from the wind, though to go that way
would add at least fifteen miles to their journey.
Well sheltered by the high cliffs, that rose steeply from the water, and
the peaks and ridges beyond, the adventurers made good time, and their
hopes rose. Their course led them about twenty miles along the steep and
continuous north wall of the island. Then, at the western end of St.
Ignace, they turned into a narrow strait between that island and the
east cliffs of the long point that forms the western boundary of
Nipigon Bay. Through the strait, with high walls and forest clad slopes
on either side, they paddled for eight or ten miles farther, until the
channel divided into two, at the end of an island. They took the right
hand passage, but, as its opening was towards the southwest, the waves
were running into it so strongly, that they could not go far, and were
soon obliged to seek shelter in a little bay. The boys were disgusted at
the delay, but Etienne's assurance that the Rock of the Beaver was
scarcely more than an hour's travel away raised their spirits.
When, late in the afternoon, the wind and waves having gone down
somewhat, they launched the canoe once more and paddled on down the
channel, their hearts were as light as if the Island of Yellow Sands lay
in sight. Careless whether Le Forgeron might be somewhere within
hearing, Jean started to sing:
"M'en revenant de Saint André,
J'ai vu le loup, le r'nard passer."
"As I was returning from St. André,
I saw the wolf and the fox pass by."
Ronald joined in the chorus,
"L'on, ton, laridon danée,
L'on, ton, laridon dai,"
but the Indian as usual kept silence.
Coming out from the strait, they rounded the point of an island, and
found themselves among small islands and islets. Towards one of the
islets Nangotook directed that the canoe be steered. There was no beach,
so the landing had to be made with extreme care. To keep the canoe from
being battered on the rocks, two of the poles, that lay along the
bottom, were taken up and lashed, one to the bow, the other to the
stern. The larger ends of the poles were placed on a ledge and weighted
down with slabs of rock. In this way the canoe was held safe and steady
in deep water.
As soon as the boat was made fast, Nangotook led the eager lads across
the islet to the outer shore. There he paused and pointed dramatically
to a great rock that towered above their heads. On its gray face was the
crude outline of an animal done in some dull red pigment. The shape of
the figure and especially its trowel-like tail showed plainly that it
was intended to represent a beaver. This was the Rock of the Beaver, the
point from which they were to start south over the open lake.
Nangotook seemed to hold the rough drawing in great respect and
veneration. The Ojibwa nation, like other Indian races, is divided into
a number of clans or families, each supposed to be descended from and
under the protection of some mythical, magical beast or bird. Nangotook
belonged to the Amik or Beaver Clan, and his totem, his protecting
spirit, was the Great Beaver. The figure on the rock was very old, he
said. It had been there in his grandfather's youth, and, although it was
exposed to wind and rain, it had never been obliterated. Ronald thought
it showed signs of having been retouched not long before, for the paint
in some parts was much brighter and fresher than in others, the tail
being particularly distinct. When he pointed this out to Nangotook, the
latter admitted that some of the lines, when they began to grow faint,
might have been repainted from time to time by medicine men.
A little way out from the end of the island another rock rose from the
water. Nangotook explained that, in starting across the lake, the
travelers must keep the outer rock and the one that bore the figure of
the beaver directly in line as long as they could be distinguished, and
go on in the same direction, until the Island of Yellow Sands came in
view. In order to keep the course true, it would be necessary to steer
by the stars, so the trip must be made by night, a clear, calm, starlit
night.
That night was not favorable, for the waves were still too high, so the
three camped on another and more hospitable island, a short distance
from the Island of the Beaver.
VIII
STORM AND WRECK
The next evening was exactly right for the trip. The sky was clear, and
the surface of the lake was scarcely rippled by the light southwest
breeze. The sun had set before the adventurers put off from their
camping place. Nangotook directed their course to the Island of the
Beaver, and ran the canoe up to the same ledge where they had landed the
day before. Bidding the boys remain with the boat, he stepped out on the
rock, but the lads were curious to know his purpose, so Jean followed
him at a respectful distance. Peeping around the corner of the high pile
of rocks, the boy saw the Indian standing where he could command a good
view of the figure painted there. He gazed up at it while he muttered a
few words in his own language. Then he stretched out his arm towards
each of the four points of the compass in turn, threw a sacrifice of
tobacco into the water, and said a few more words in conclusion. Though
the French lad knew something of the Ojibwa tongue, he could not
understand what Nangotook said, but he felt sure that, Christian though
the Indian considered himself, he was praying to the manitos of winds
and waters for protection, a prosperous voyage and a safe return. While
Nangotook was making his offering, Jean slipped hastily back to the
canoe, reaching it before the Ojibwa came in sight.
The western sky was still flushed and bright with the northern
afterglow, when the gold-seekers paddled around the little Islet of the
Beaver. As they left the outer end, Jean caught sight of a thin line of
smoke rising straight up from another island not a quarter of a mile
away. Some one else was camping only a short distance from their own
camp.
Due south they steered. Ronald and the Indian were at the paddles, while
Jean, sitting with his face to the north, kept his eyes on the two
rocks, and warned the others if they swerved in the least from their
course. From time to time, not willing to trust wholly to the boy,
Nangotook turned his head to make sure their course was true. The lads'
hearts were beating fast with excitement, for the great adventure had
really begun. Nangotook was silent and stolid. If he were excited or
eager, apprehensive or fearful of the risk they were running in putting
out into the open lake in search of a place said to be guarded by
spirits, animals and serpents, he gave no sign.
In the clear, light, northern evening, the two high rocks were visible
to the keen sight of the voyageurs until they were a long way out.
Before he lost sight of his landmarks, the Indian took a careful
observation of the sky, where the stars were beginning to appear, that
he might be able to steer by them and hold his course true. He said
that, according to his grandfather's story, the island should be reached
long before dawn. In the hope of catching some glimpse of the land they
sought, the boys had gazed again and again, during the day, out across
the water, but, though the sky was blue overhead, the distance had been
hazy, and no faintest shadow of land was to be seen in that direction.
When they had asked Etienne if the island was ever visible from the spot
where they were, he had said he did not know. He had never seen it, but
perhaps the air had never been clear enough when he had passed that way.
Until after midnight all went well. The night was brilliantly clear, the
canoe moved easily over the ripples, and everything seemed to favor the
adventure. Then the breeze died down entirely. The dip of the paddle
blades alone broke the smooth surface of the water. The air was
unusually warm for night time on Lake Superior, and there was something
ominous in the stillness.
Lightning began to flash low down on the southern horizon, and the
gleams disclosed a bank of clouds. The adventurers increased the
swiftness and strength of their paddle strokes. The distant growling of
thunder reached their ears. As flash after flash lit up the sky, they
could see the clouds growing and spreading. The stars were losing some
of their brilliancy. A light haze seemed to be veiling them. The thunder
rolled louder and nearer, the intervals between flash and sound
decreased. The clouds from south and west were moving more rapidly, and
the breeze was beginning to blow up in fitful puffs and gusts.
The voyageurs did not think of turning back. They had come too far. If
Nangotook's information was correct, the island could not be many miles
away. In the lightning flashes Jean thought he could make out a dark
line on the water far ahead. To go back would be suicidal, for they must
have come considerably more than half-way.
One after another the stars were swallowed up by the clouds. The gusts
of wind grew stronger, the lake was roughening. In a very short time
there would be no stars left to steer by, and the wind was so fitful and
unsteady in direction that it was no guide. The night had grown very
dark, and the lightning revealed nothing but heaving water below and
moving clouds overhead. If Jean had really seen land, the waves now hid
it from view.
Every moment the adventurers thought the storm must break, and yet it
did not. The sky remained overcast, the thunder rolled and grumbled, the
lightning flashed, now overhead, now low on the horizon, first in one
quarter, then in another. But no rain fell. There must be worse coming.
Still it did not come. Would it hold off until daybreak, until they
could see land and reach it?
Even for skilled canoemen there was danger enough. The wind came in
squalls, sending the waves first one way, then another. Nangotook had to
be constantly on the alert to turn the canoe this way and that, a
difficult task in the darkness. As the wind increased and the waves
rolled higher, he ordered the others to cease paddling. One man must
take all the responsibility. He must act so quickly that there was no
time to give orders to another. It was no longer a question of getting
ahead but of keeping the canoe right side up. The buoyant, but frail,
little craft must mount each wave at just the right angle. It must be
held steady when it shot down the other side and through the trough
between. The shifting squally wind made frequent, sudden twists of the
paddle necessary, and to prevent the canoe from careening, the body of
the paddler must be thrown in the opposite direction. The poise of his
body was almost as important as the handling of the paddle. Whatever
happened, Ronald and Jean must remain motionless, never for one moment
shifting their weight unless the Indian so ordered. The whole fate of
the three rested on his skill and judgment.
So they went on and on, in imminent peril every moment, on through the
black night, lit up only by the lightning flashes, which revealed to
them nothing but a world of threatening sky and tossing water. All sense
of direction was gone. Nangotook's only aim was to keep the canoe from
being swamped, and it did not seem as if he could accomplish that feat
much longer. It was not surprising that the two lads, living in that
superstitious age, began to wonder if the spirits of the lake were not
arrayed against them, struggling to keep them from the wonderful island
where the sands were of gold. Had a manito risen out of the water and
promised them a safe return to shore if they would give up their quest,
they would have been glad to agree to anything. But no manito appeared,
and the situation, instead of improving, grew steadily worse.
They had become convinced that the storm was one of wind and lightning
only, when suddenly the rain came in a dash so fierce that swamping
seemed inevitable. Jean and Ronald bailed for their lives. Fortunately
the wind had lessened with the burst of rain that seemed to flatten out
the waves, so it was possible for the lads to bail. Fast and frenziedly
as they worked, they refrained by instinct from moving their bodies any
more than was absolutely necessary. The chief danger for the moment was
that the canoe might fill and sink. Had the violent rain been of long
duration that disaster could not have been prevented, but luckily the
deluge lasted but a very few minutes, ceasing as suddenly as it had
begun.
With the passing of the rain, the wind steadied, blowing strong and
cold, instead of in shifting squalls. Evidently the weather was
clearing. Patches of star sprinkled sky began to appear and disappear
and appear again, as the storm clouds broke and scattered, scudding
before the wind. The waves were high, and the canoe was still in great
peril. It was borne along rapidly, and the Indian had his hands full to
keep the waters from overwhelming it. It was tossed up and down until it
seemed about to turn end over end. But Nangotook's trained judgment,
cool head and iron wrist and forearm continued to triumph in the
struggle.
As the sky cleared the boys could see, from the faintness of the stars,
that day was dawning. Then just as hope began to be renewed in them, the
sound of breakers ahead reached their ears. The Ojibwa gave his paddle a
twist to swerve the canoe to the right, but the wind counteracted his
effort, and before he could turn sufficiently, a dark mass of rocks
loomed up close by. As the canoe was lifted on the crest of a wave, he
could see the pale gleam of the spray that dashed against that rock
wall. With a supreme effort, and at the risk of overturning his craft,
he succeeded in swinging to the right, beyond the reach of the surf. He
had barely made the turn, when a big wave carried the canoe by the rock
wall, so close in that an outstretched hand could almost have touched
it.
The dangerous manoeuver of turning again, to run in on the lea side of
the rocks, was accomplished safely. Suddenly the three adventurers found
themselves in almost still water, so completely were they sheltered from
the wind. The Indian paddled slowly along, straining his eyes to find a
rift or a beach where a landing could be made. He had taken but a few
strokes when he discerned a blacker gap in the dark rock. That gap was
the entrance to a narrow passage, so pitchy black that he could not tell
whether it was long or short. Even his keen eyes could not see the
dangers ahead. The stern of the canoe had scarcely passed into the rift,
when the bow struck sharply on a submerged rock. A great hole was torn
in the birch bark, and the water rushed in.
As the canoe filled and settled, Nangotook climbed out on the rock where
the boat had struck, but Ronald and Jean were less fortunate. They could
not reach bottom and were compelled to swim. They had only a few strokes
to go in the cold water and black darkness, however, before their feet
touched solid rock. Scrambling up a slippery slope, they were soon out
of the water, on a narrow, shelving ledge running along a steep wall.
From near by Nangotook called to them. Making their way cautiously along
the ledge in the direction of his voice, they soon reached the head of
the rift, which the Indian had already gained.
There on a beach of sloping boulders and large pebbles, safe from wind
and waves, the three crouched. Whether the canoe and its contents could
be raised they would not know until daylight came, but they were too
thankful for their own safety to worry about anything else. Sincerely,
though silently, the two lads, each in his own way, thanked God for
their deliverance, while the Indian spoke a few words in his own
language and in a low voice. Whether his gratitude was directed to the
Christian God, to Nanabozho or some other manito of the lake, or to the
mysterious charm he carried in the breast of his tunic, the lads could
not tell, probably to a combination of the three.
There among the rocks, the seekers after the golden sands remained safe,
but chilled and miserable enough, until daylight came. They did not
talk, but the boys could not help wondering if the place where they had
taken refuge might not be some part of the Island of Yellow Sands
itself. To be sure, they had encountered no sand of any kind, only rocks
and pebbles, but whether the wonderful beach Etienne had described ran
clear around the mysterious island or only fringed a part of it they did
not know. Perhaps at that very moment of chilled misery the golden sands
might lie but a few feet away from them.
IX
THE HOME OF THE GULLS
At first all that the castaways knew of their situation was that they
were in a narrow cleft of rock. As the light increased, they discovered
that the vertical rock walls, which rose high above their heads, came
together a little way beyond where the three were huddled, forming a
V-shaped cove. The waters of the lake extended into the rift about half
its length. Then came a shelving beach of boulders and large, smooth,
rounded pebbles. With the dawn, gulls, in ever increasing numbers, began
to circle overhead, keeping up an incessant crying, now high pitched and
whining, now harsh and guttural.
As soon as the light was strong enough, Etienne and the boys, chilled
and stiff, scrambled down to the water's edge to look for the sunken
canoe. They were relieved to find that it had not drifted out into the
lake. There it lay, one end tilted up on the sharp edged rock, where it
had struck, the other in deep water. One of the paddles Etienne had
saved, the other had disappeared. The canoe and its contents must be
raised and brought ashore at once, before the castaways even climbed the
rocks to see where they were.
Their supplies were scanty enough. A few handfuls of corn had remained
of the food they had kept with them when in their lean-to on St. Ignace.
After leaving their camping ground there, they had lived on hare meat
and fish, and, before they had paddled away from the Rock of the Beaver,
they had wrapped the corn in a piece of birch bark. They rescued the
package, but it was not water-tight, and the corn was a pulp. The powder
that the boys had carried on their persons was wet, too, from their
plunge in the lake. Only the Indian, who had not been in over his knees,
had saved his dry. He had also saved his most precious possession, next
to his mysterious charm, his red stone pipe with the bowl carved in the
form of a beaver and the stem decorated with copper bands. All three
guns had had a thorough wetting.
The corn and powder was spread on convenient, flat-topped rocks, the
soaked blankets on the pebbles, to dry in the sun. Then Nangotook and
the lads succeeded in raising the canoe and carrying it up on the bit of
beach. Fortunately the roll of birch bark, the ball of spruce roots and
the pieces of gum, they had provided for repairs, were unharmed. The
hole in the bottom of the canoe was large and jagged, but by no means
beyond mending. Before they began that task, however, the castaways
decided to climb the rocks and have a look about them. They were
dripping wet, and, as Lake Superior water is cold even in summer, they
needed sun, wind and exercise to dry and warm them.
At the head of the fissure they found a place in the ribbed and seamed
rock wall, where they could scramble up. They had to go one at a time,
and it was Ronald who led the way. Around his head gulls whirled,
screaming, and, as he neared the top, they swooped down so threateningly
that he remembered the story of the ferocious birds and beasts that
guarded the Island of Yellow Sands. His heart beat quickly as he thrust
his head above the top of the wall and looked about him. The prospect
was not encouraging. Waving his arms to ward off the gulls, which darted
down, with menacing wings and beaks, almost in his face, he scrambled up
until he stood on the verge of the rift.
This place was surely not the Island of Golden Sands. There were no
sands of any kind, and such a heap of barren rocks could scarcely be
called an island. One glance showed him why the gulls had disputed his
way so fiercely. The lonely rock was a nesting place. The air seemed
full of great white birds, wheeling, sailing, swooping on their long
wings, and making a deafening din with their angry cries, harsh,
mocking, threatening. As Ronald moved forward, hundreds of brownish-gray
young birds plunged into the water and swam away to join the flocks of
old ones that were riding the waves a little distance out.
For the moment the boy took small interest in gulls, young or old. His
disappointment was too keen. He had actually hoped that he might be on
the mysterious island he was seeking. Instead he had been cast ashore
upon a bare pile of rocks. Jean and Nangotook soon joined him. The
French youth's long face and the Ojibwa's grunt of disgust showed
plainly their disappointment.
The three strained their eyes over the waters in every direction. The
sky was blue, but the light haze of morning lay on the lake, shrouding
the distance. Other scattered rocks could be discerned, but no
continuous shore line was visible. At first the two boys could see
nothing that gave them any hope. Nangotook, however, gazed intently
towards the southwest. Then he stretched out his arm and pointed.
"Island off there. Reach it in little while," he said.
"It is only a pile of rocks like this," replied Ronald in a disgusted
tone.
"No," the Indian returned quietly. "Larger, with trees."
Though the lads were unable to make out what Nangotook said he saw, they
were cheered by his words. They knew that, keen-eyed as they were, they
were no match for him in eyesight, and were content to take his word
that to the southwest of them, not far away, lay an island with trees.
Their spirits rose at once. Surely that must be the place they were
seeking. They did not know how many miles they had come after the clouds
had blotted out the guiding stars, or how far they might have been
driven from their course, but they were very ready to believe that they
could not be much out of the way, and that the land to the southwest
must be the sought-for island. Before they could reach it, though, the
canoe must be mended.
After scrambling about the rocks for a while, the gold-seekers returned
to the cove. There they found that the gulls had stolen most of the
corn. Leaving it unguarded had been an inexcusable piece of
carelessness, for which Etienne blamed himself. The birds must have
stolen his wits first, he said. The three were ravenously hungry, so
Ronald climbed out of the rift again to search for a place where he
could fish with some hope of success.
He took his station at the most favorable looking spot, where a
projecting wall of rock and a number of large fragments, broken off at
some time long past, sheltered the water. Into the quiet pool he dropped
his hook. While he fished, Jean and Etienne mended the canoe.
Soon after Ronald let down his line, he caught the smallest lake trout
he had ever seen, much too small for three. After that, luck forsook
him. Half the morning he patiently fished the pool, but did not get a
bite. The rest of the forenoon he spent climbing about the rocks,
seeking other spots to fish from and trying every place that was
possible. Then he gave it up for the time, cleaned his little fish, and
lighted a fire of dry moss and small sticks. The iron kettle had
disappeared. The boys could not understand how the waves had managed to
wash the heavy thing away, but all their searching had failed to bring
it to light. So Ronald split his trout and broiled it on green twigs.
Divided among the three, it only whetted their appetites.
Time passed slowly on the wind-swept rock. With small, tough spruce
roots, called "wattap" by the Indians and voyageurs, a neat patch of
bark was sewed over the hole in the canoe, and the seams carefully
daubed with heat-softened pine gum. As the day advanced, the wind came
up, and, by the time the canoe was ready to be put in the water, the
crests of the waves were breaking in foam. The lake was much too rough
to make leaving the rock advisable.
The boys fished continually, but without luck. It began to look as if
they must eat gull or go without food, and gulls are far from good
eating. Only intense hunger would have driven the lads to try one.
There were gulls' nests everywhere, although they could hardly be called
nests in the usual sense of the word, being mere collections of sticks,
leaves and bits of lichen and moss placed in crevices and hollows of the
rock. No fresh eggs were to be found. The mottled gray-brown plumage of
the young birds was scarcely distinguishable from the rock itself as
they crouched close to it. They were hard to catch for all were able to
swim, and immediately plunged into the water when disturbed. Most of
them had learned to fly too, and could rise circling overhead with the
white-winged adult birds.
Jean noticed one young gull hopping up and down in a strange manner,
flapping its wings. As he watched it, it ran down a sloping bit of rock,
still moving its wings, rose unsteadily in the air, made a few
uncertain, awkward motions, trying its wings and learning to manage
them, then flew out over the water as if it had always been used to
flying. He watched it circle about and then light in a clumsy and
inexperienced manner. Wings raised straight over its back, it dropped
heavily into the water, going clear under. Rising to the surface, it
arranged its feathers and swam about, holding its head high as if proud
of its achievement. Jean felt sure that was the young gull's first
flight, and was surprised at the rapidity with which it had learned to
sail and wheel about in the air.
It was nearly sunset before the castaways had any luck with their
fishing, and then it was Nangotook who made the catch. He had noticed
several gulls hovering over and swooping down into the lake at a little
distance out, near a solitary rock that raised its head two or three
feet above the water. It was evident that the birds were fishing. So the
Indian launched the mended canoe, and, taking Jean with him, went out to
the spot. With the sinking sun the wind was going down, and paddling was
no longer dangerous. Passing close to the rock, he handed the paddle to
Jean and dropped his line quietly over the side. In a few minutes there
was a strong pull. Then a battle began, the Ojibwa playing his fish with
skill, letting out his line when his game made a dash, pulling in the
slack swiftly hand over hand as the fish changed its mind and darted
towards the boat, or slowly, steadily drawing it in without pulling too
strongly. Jean devoted his attention to the canoe, which pitched about,
and had to be turned and paddled this way and that in accordance with
the actions of the fish and the Indian's sharp orders. Finally, after a
struggle that lasted for ten minutes or more, Nangotook succeeded in
bringing the tired fish almost up to the boat. Pulling in the line
quickly with one hand, he reached far out over the gunwale, Jean hastily
balancing by leaning the other way, and plunged his knife into the fish
just below the mouth. He held it up exultingly. It was a lake trout of
eight or ten pounds weight.
When the two boys, rolled in their blankets, lay down that night in a
crevice of the rock, where moss and trailing cedar made a thin but not
to be despised bed, they were feeling very hopeful. They had eaten a
good meal of trout, the night was fair, the wind had subsided, the
prospect of reaching the island to the southwest was good. In
discouragement over their surroundings, they had rather forgotten at
times during the day, their thankfulness for having been saved from the
storm of the night before. Now, however, with renewed hope and bodily
comfort, their gratitude for their rescue returned, and with it a very
kindly feeling for the barren rock that had sheltered them from the fury
of the lake. Surely that land to the southwest must be the Island of
Yellow Sands. As the air had cleared during the day, they had been able
to make it out more plainly, and the lads had become convinced by their
own eyes that it was no mere rock like the one they were on. Ronald had
asked whether it might not be some point or headland of the lake shore,
but Etienne had shaken his head.
"South shore too far away," he had replied. "Island out there. Island of
Yellow Sands, just like my grandfather said."
X
THE ISLAND TO THE SOUTHWEST
The breeze still blew from the north the next morning, but the waves
were not high enough to forbid crossing the three or four miles of open
water that separated the adventurers from the land to the southwest.
Before starting out, Nangotook, to gain the good favor of the manito,
threw into the lake another offering of tobacco, though he had little
left. The two paddles, that had remained in the canoe when it sank, had
evidently been washed out of the cove, so the trip had to be made with
one blade, the Indian wielding it.
The boys' minds were full of the land they were approaching, and they
discussed its possibilities earnestly, but the Ojibwa was silent,
apparently devoting his whole attention to his paddling. As they drew
near the unknown island, the lads searched it eagerly with their eyes,
but they could discover no indication of a sand beach. A rocky point,
spotted with the white bodies of the gulls resting upon it, ran out into
the water. Back from the point rose high ground covered with trees.
Clouds had begun to fleck the blue sky, and the breeze had gained in
force. The rocks, exposed to the wind and dashed with spray, afforded no
good landing place. So the three went on between the point and the small
rock islands and reefs that lay out from it, the boys on the watch for
the gleam of golden sands. Nangotook, heedful of hidden points and
reefs, kept his eyes on the water most of the time.
No yellow sands came into view. There was one stretch of beach, but it
showed no gleam of gold. Apparently it was just ordinary sand, and
Nangotook did not think landing worth while, but paddled by. Beyond
another stretch of broken and tumbled rocks, a small opening, cutting
into the island between high portals, came into view. The Indian's
curiosity must have been aroused, for he headed the canoe into the
narrow channel.
Then an unexpected and beautiful sight met the eyes of the wanderers.
They found themselves in a peaceful harbor, almost round, and wooded
with evergreens to the water line. Directly in front of them, as they
entered, the ground was low, but to right and left it rose high, spruces
and balsam firs standing in thick ranks to the summit. The gap through
which they had come was a mere cut in a tree-clothed ridge, which
stretched away on either side. Ronald confided to Jean that it looked as
if some giant manito had taken a bite out of the ridge, but he was
careful not to let Nangotook overhear the remark. There was no sand of
any kind to be seen, but, in spite of their disappointment, the boys
voiced their admiration of this beautiful, landlocked harbor. The
Ojibwa's usually impassive face wore a look in which relief seemed
mingled with surprise, and he spoke a few words in his own language, and
quickly cast a pinch of tobacco into the water. It was no wonder that he
felt such an attractive place must be the dwelling of some spirit.
By that time the sky had become thickly overcast, and, as the
gold-seekers circled the wooded shore, rain began to fall. They made a
landing on the trunk of a cedar, that had tilted over until it lay
almost flat on the water, and lifting out the canoe, hid it in the thick
growth. In spite of the rain, the boys were eager to explore. They had
seen nothing very encouraging so far, but they were by no means
convinced that this was not the mysterious island they sought. How could
they be sure the golden sands did not lie just over there beyond the
forest?
Curiously enough it was the Indian who hung back and wanted to delay
exploration until the weather cleared. He did not give any good reason
for waiting, but his disinclination to begin the search was so plain,
that the boys grew impatient and told him if he did not want to go he
could stay behind. They were going to see what was on the other side of
the woods. When he found they were determined, he joined them, but,
contrary to his usual custom, he did not lead the way. It was the Scotch
boy who took the lead.
Striking through the woods where they had landed, they went up the
ridge. As they climbed, the way became steep and rocky. The spruces and
balsams stood less thickly on the summit, and, if the weather had been
clear, the adventurers might have obtained a good view of their
surroundings, but the rain was falling so thick and fine, more like a
dense mist than rain, that they could see only a few feet beyond where
they stood. It was quite impossible to tell what sort of shore lay
beyond and below the woods.
"It is scarcely worth while to seek for golden sands or anything else in
this thick weather," Jean remarked. "We must wait until it passes."
"Go back to bay, make camp, catch some fish," said Etienne, in his
brief, abrupt way.
Ronald was reluctant to give up, but there seemed nothing else to do,
and the mention of fish reminded him he was very hungry, so he yielded,
not very good-naturedly. It was the Ojibwa that led the way this time,
and a steep, dripping, slippery way it was, down through the woods to
the bay.
Probably that bay had never been fished by any creature but the gulls
that swooped down on the small fishes that swam too near the surface.
The water abounded in little fish, but they were lake herring, which are
really not herring at all, and will not take a hook. The lads had no
net, and failing to catch anything in the bay, were obliged to go out
through the channel. There, above a sunken reef, they secured three good
sized lake trout.
In the meantime Etienne had found and made ready a camping place, and
had built a small bark lodge. The rain continued steadily, and the three
spent the rest of the day under shelter.
Rain was still coming down the next morning, and the weather had turned
so cold that the boys would not have been surprised if snow had fallen,
though it was still early in September. By the time another supply of
fish had been caught and fire-wood cut, they were glad to seek the
wigwam. There they remained most of the day, resting on couches of
balsam and spruce, covered with blankets, and passing the time talking,
mending their moccasins and dozing. In the center of the wigwam they
kept a small fire going, the smoke finding its way out through a hole in
the roof. The lads tried to persuade Nangotook to tell of his adventures
and exploits, but he seemed disinclined to talk, and passed the day in
morose and sullen silence. Jean could not imagine what had come over the
usually good-natured Ojibwa.
Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and Jean and Ronald climbed up
over their trail of the day before. Nangotook only grunted when they
proposed the trip, and did not accompany them. The sky was still
overcast and the distance hazy, but from the top of the ridge, a hundred
feet or more above the lake, the two lads could look down upon a rocky
shore to their left and across a stretch of lower land to the right.
What the shore was like beyond that low land they could not tell. There
might be, indeed it seemed probable from the lay of the land that there
was, a beach on that side of the island. Ahead of them the trees
obstructed the view.
They made their way along the ridge, a rough way, over slippery rocks,
along the verge of steep declivities, among spruce and balsam trees,
until they came out from woods on almost bare rocks. They had reached
the southern end of the island, where rock walls and slopes descended to
the water, vertically in some places, more gently in others. Everywhere
there was rock, no beaches, no sand.
The sun had set behind heavy clouds, and the gray sky shed little light.
No land was visible across the water, in the growing darkness and haze
of the gloomy, sullen evening. Depressed and silent, the two lads
stumbled back along their trail, finding it with difficulty in the
blackness of the woods. Their confidence was dwindling, though they
tried to comfort themselves with the thought that they had not explored
all of the island yet. The shore beyond the lower land to the west of
the ridge was their only real hope.
That night Jean dreamed that he went to that shore by night, and found
the golden sands gleaming in the moonlight. Then, just as he stooped to
gather up a handful, there came a strange, rustling sound over his head.
He looked up, and an enormous bird with open beak and fiery eyes was
swooping down on him. He tried to run, to wave his arms, to shout, but
not a muscle could he move, not a sound could he make. The bird's great
wing brushed his head. He made a tremendous effort and broke the spell
that bound him. With a little cry he sprang out of his blanket and on to
his feet, just as some heavy, furry, spitting object grazed his shoulder
and landed in the bed he had left.
The animal was as badly frightened as the boy. It uttered a shrill
screech, and sprang for the patch of dim light that marked the entrance
to the shelter. Unfortunately Ronald was lying directly across its path.
Aroused by the screech, he raised himself up. The heavy ball of fur
struck him full in the body, knocking him flat again. The impact broke
the beast's leap, and it fell sprawling across the lad's breast. Its
vicious, cat-like snarl was close to his ear, he felt its hot breath on
his face. Too terrified to cry out, he upheaved his body in an effort to
throw off the creature. Its sharp claws tore through his blanket coat,
and he tried to get a hold on its throat.
Just at that moment, Jean precipitated himself full upon both Ronald and
the animal. The attack was too much for the fierce cat. It slipped out
from between the two and sprang clear of the entrance, before Jean's
knife could find it.
The boys disentangled themselves from the blankets and balsam branches,
each assuring the other that he was not seriously hurt. Although dawn
had come, darkness still lingered in the heavily shaded shelter. The
fire was out, but, with sparks from his flint and steel, Jean lighted a
roll of dry birch bark. As it flared up, they could see the hole in the
roof of branches where the animal had fallen through.
"It was attracted by the fish," said Ronald. "A lynx----"
With a startled exclamation, Jean interrupted him. "Where is Nangotook?"
Nangotook had disappeared. His blanket lay on his balsam couch, his gun
beside it, but he was gone. In the light of their flickering birch
torch, the two lads stared at one another. The Ojibwa had not run away
from the cat, of course. He had left his blanket before the beast came
through the roof, and had stepped over Ronald without waking him. What
could have moved him to steal away without arousing them?
"Do you think he has deserted us?" Ronald asked.
"That is impossible," Jean replied emphatically. "Nangotook is loyal. He
would not desert us, whatever might befall us."
"I should have been saying the same two days ago," agreed his companion,
"but now I'm not so sure. He was acting strangely all day yesterday. I
think he begins to regret this voyage and to dread what lies before us."
"He has not been like himself since we landed in this place," Jean
admitted. "I know not what has come over him, unless it is fear of the
manitos of the lake and the islands. He thinks perhaps that the spirits
send storm and disaster to keep us from the golden sands. Either he
loses faith in his charm, or fears it will protect him only, not you and
me."
"What is his charm? Do you know? Have you ever seen it?"
"I think I saw it yesterday. Once when I came into the lodge, he was
sitting by the fire looking at something he held in his hand. In the
firelight it looked like a nugget of copper. It was a queer shape,
something like a fish, but one end was like a beaver's tail, and it was
rubbed bright. As I moved nearer for a better look, he heard me, closed
his hand over the piece of copper, and glanced around. Then he slipped
it into a little deerskin bag, his medicine bag, I suppose, without
giving me another glimpse of it. You know the beaver is his totem. But
even if he fears his charm will fail him, I am sure he would not desert
us."
"I scarcely believe myself that he would," Ronald returned. "Where would
he go? He would not be starting across the water on such a threatening
night."
"He will return before long. I am sure of it," was Jean's confident
assertion.
XI
NANGOTOOK RECONNOITERS
The cat-like tracks of the animal that had attacked the lads were
plainly marked in the rain-softened earth and leaf mould. They were the
prints of a lynx of unusual size. It was lucky for Ronald that he had
slept in his heavy coat, or the beast's claws might have injured him
seriously. As it was, they had torn through his clothes, and had
inflicted a shallow but painful scratch on his breast.
The boys cut more fuel and broiled their fish for breakfast. They were
just finishing the meal, when the bushes parted suddenly and Nangotook
stood before them.
Jean rose to his feet. "Where have you been, Nangotook?" he exclaimed.
"We were just about to follow your trail to see if any evil had
overtaken you."
"Little brother need have no fear," Nangotook answered with more
amiability than he had shown the night before. "The Ojibwa brave can
take care of himself--with other men," he added, after a moment's pause.
Perhaps he was not so sure of being able to hold his own with spirits or
supernatural beings.
Knowing that he would tell them what he had been doing when he was ready
to speak, and not before, the lads forbore to question him. Instead they
told him of the beast that had fallen into the lodge. Nangotook
examined the tracks with interest. "Big lynx," he said. "We track him
and find where he lives."
"'Tis hardly worth while to be doing that," objected Ronald. "His pelt
is not at its best now, and anyway we're not hunting for pelts. We must
examine every yard of the shore of this island. I feel sure there's a
beach beyond the lower ground, and it may be the one we're looking for."
"Yes," agreed Jean, "we must go over there at once."
The Indian made no reply, but continued to eat his fish in silence. When
he had finished, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said briefly. "I show
you tracks not made by lynx."
He led the boys behind the wigwam and a little way through the thick
woods. There he stopped and pointed to some marks in the soft ground
under a spruce tree.
"A man," Jean exclaimed, dropping on his knees to examine the prints.
"Two men," corrected Nangotook.
"What are they? Did you follow them?" cried Ronald. "How did you come
upon their trail?"
In the brief, abrupt manner in which he usually gave information when
action impended, Nangotook explained that he had waked in the night with
the feeling that some strange thing or person was near by. He had lain
quiet, listening. From a big cedar that overhung the lodge, he had heard
the faint rustle of foliage, the creaking of a limb. There was little
wind, and that sixth sense, by which an Indian distinguishes sounds,
told the Ojibwa that the noises were made by animal or man. Something
warned him of danger. As he lay listening, his suspicions were
confirmed. He heard a scraping as if some hard substance rubbed the bark
of the tree. Then the branches creaked more loudly, and there came a
thud as of something heavy striking the ground. But that was not all.
Just as the heavy thing struck the earth, the Indian's keen ears
detected a whispered exclamation, an oath in French. That sound must
have dispelled from his mind the fear, if he had felt it, that the thing
in the tree might be some supernatural being. Indian manitos, spirits or
fiends would not be apt to swear in French.
The full, slow breathing of the two boys indicated that they had not
been disturbed. Lying perfectly still, Nangotook also breathed deeply
and regularly, so that any one listening might think that all three
slept soundly. He did not want the spy, whoever he was, to suspect that
any one was awake and listening. The Indian heard no more rustlings or
scrapings, however. There was nothing to suggest that the man approached
nearer.
For a long time Nangotook lay perfectly still. Then, feeling sure that
the spy had taken himself off, he rose noiselessly, cast away his
blanket, and, knife in hand, stepped over Ronald and out of the lodge.
It was useless to try to track the uninvited visitor in the darkness. It
was the canoe the Ojibwa was anxious about. Making his way to the place
where it was hidden, he found it safe and undisturbed.
On the bay, and along the edge of the woods that grew down to it, there
was more light, for day was dawning. As Nangotook started to turn back
towards camp, he caught sight of something floating on the water near
by. He crawled out on the leaning tree trunk where he and his companions
had landed two days before, reached for the thing and secured it. It was
a small piece of deerskin, such as travelers usually carried for
moccasin patches. It did not belong to him or to either of the boys, and
it had not been in the water long, for it was scarcely wet. To the
Indian it was sure proof that the night visitor had come by water. He
looked for the place where the man's canoe had come in, and soon found
the spot, under a thick, overhanging tangle of trees and bushes, where
he would not have noticed signs of landing had he not been searching for
them.
Returning to his own hidden canoe, he put it in the water, shoved off,
and paddled noiselessly along close to shore. He had not gone far, when
he heard, from the direction of the camp, the sharp screech of a lynx,
but he paid no heed. It was the cry of a real lynx, not a human
imitation, and the thought that the two boys might be in any danger from
that fierce, but, as far as man is concerned, cowardly animal, never
occurred to him. He was seeking to discover whether the stranger's canoe
had come from somewhere on the bay or through the channel. The depth of
the water enabled him to keep close in to the shore, which he eyed
keenly in the half light of the gray, gloomy dawn. He skirted the
higher land, then the low ground opposite the entrance, finding nothing
to indicate that a boat had ever run in anywhere.
It was not until he had gone more than half-way around and had come to
rising ground again, that he observed a suspicious looking spot. He
paused to examine it, and found a landing place, with a distinct trail
leading away from it. The tracks showed that two men had come and gone
that way. Probably they had carried their canoe with them, for he did
not find it hidden anywhere, though he sought for it. The tracks had
been made since the rain, and there had been no attempt to obliterate
them. Nangotook followed them across to the north shore of the island,
where he had not been before.
There, among the rocks, the trail ended abruptly. He searched, but could
find no more tracks. Finally he became convinced that the men must have
lowered the canoe down a cleft in the rock wall to the water.
Where had they gone? He had no way of telling. The outlying rocks were
wave washed, and afforded no shelter. There was no other land visible. A
short distance out, the morning mists lay thick on the lake. There might
be hidden land off there somewhere, or the canoe might have gone along
shore, but which way or how far he could not guess. So he turned back
the way he had come.
He paddled across the bay, and landed at the place near the camp where
the two men had come ashore. From there they had proceeded very
cautiously, and had left little trace of their passage through the
woods. It was with considerable difficulty that the Ojibwa tracked them
to the tall spruce. The spruce was at least a hundred and fifty feet
from the hut, but the men must have climbed it and made their way, as
squirrels might, from one tree to another until they reached the cedar
that overhung the shelter. The thick growth made such a feat possible
for active men. One of them, however, had missed his hold in the
darkness, and had fallen from the cedar. A hollow in the soft leaf mould
showed where he had struck the ground. It was then he had uttered the
exclamation in French that had convinced Nangotook the spy was neither
animal nor spirit. He had climbed the tree again, for there were no
other tracks to be found, and had gone back in the same way. Perhaps
only one man had made the trip from tree to tree, the other waiting for
him at the tall spruce.
With intense interest and excitement the boys listened to the Ojibwa's
story. The spies might be wandering Indians who had come to the island
in search of copper. It was said that many of the islands of the lake
bore copper in loose pieces that could be picked up on the shores. One
of the visitors, however, had uttered an oath in French.
"Can you make any guess who those men are?" Ronald asked, anxiously,
when the Ojibwa had finished his tale.
Nangotook nodded gravely. "One Indian, Cree, I think," he said, "the
other Awishtoya."
"Are you sure? How can you tell?" cried both boys.
Nangotook pointed to the tracks. "One man lame," he said. "Walk heavier
with right foot, and foot turn out. Some places, across the bay there,
tracks show it plain. Following us for something. Bad man, Awishtoya."
XII
OVER THE CLIFFS
Le Forgeron Tordu, or Awishtoya, as the Indians called him, had surely
been following the gold-seekers. Was it the smoke of his fire they had
seen when they were leaving the Rock of the Beaver? He might have
watched them start out and have noted their course, but they had seen no
canoe in pursuit. How could he have followed in darkness, wind and rain?
It seemed incredible that he had been able to do so, and had come safe
through the storm to the island where they now were. Yet Nangotook was
sure of the footprints, sure they had been made by the Blacksmith and
his Indian companion. Ronald suggested that perhaps the evil Frenchman
or the Cree knew how to reach the Island of Yellow Sands, knew the way
better indeed than Nangotook knew it, and had not followed them, but had
come direct.
"If that be true," cried Jean. "If they know the way, and have come
straight here, it means that we are even now on the Island of Yellow
Sands."
"We can find out only by exploring the place," Ronald replied promptly.
"That is the first thing for us to be doing. We must look for the beach
of gold. We can be seeking for some signs of Le Forgeron at the same
time."
Nangotook made no objection that time, and seemed less inclined to hold
back. Nevertheless, he allowed Ronald to take the lead. Going through
the woods by a different route from the one they had followed before,
they came to the level stretch of ground they had seen from the ridge.
They were no longer in the forest, but were obliged to penetrate a thick
and high growth of alders, high-bush cranberries, and other shrubs.
Wherever the bushes left room for them to grow, the little bunchberry or
dwarf cornel plants, with their clusters of red berries, covered the
ground. Beyond the patch of bushes, which was not more than a quarter of
a mile wide, the treasure-seekers hoped to find a sand beach, _the_ sand
beach for which they were searching.
They pushed their way through the growth as rapidly as they could and
soon came out upon a rocky shore that descended straight to the water,
bunchberries, bearberries and other plants growing to the verge. The
disappointment was a bitter one. The lads had fully expected to find a
sand beach there, and their hopes of yellow sands had been high. They
were not ready to give up even then, but followed along the shore until
they reached the high barren rocks at the southern extremity of the
island, where they had been the day before. Not a grain of gold was to
be found.
"No yellow sands on this island," the Ojibwa said, with a shake of his
head, as they turned back from the rocks of the southern end.
"But you said this was the place," cried Jean with impatience. "You said
so when we first saw it from that heap of rocks where we were stranded.
You said it was the island your grandfather saw."
Nangotook did not deign to reply, but Ronald was not yet willing to
abandon the search.
"There is one stretch of shore remaining we know nothing of," he said.
"We must search every inch of it before we can be sure. It may be that
the beach is only a short one, but even a hundred feet of sands of gold
would mean a fortune for us."
So the treasure-seekers returned to the bay, crossed it in the canoe,
and explored the whole northern half of the island. The north end was
quite as discouraging as the south. Everywhere the shore was of rock,
rising in palisades or composed of tumbled heaps of boulders, around and
among which the water washed. In one place the explorers came to a bay
partly protected by a reef, but on its pebble beach there were no golden
grains. The beach they had passed on the day of their arrival the two
boys examined thoroughly, digging up the sand here and there in the hope
of finding some bits of yellow metal, but not a trace could they
discover. Even Ronald gave up at last, forced to admit that they had not
yet reached the island they were seeking. In his disappointment he began
to doubt that the Island of Yellow Sands existed anywhere but in the
Indian's imagination. He confided to Jean that he did not believe
Nangotook's grandfather had ever seen such a place. His discouragement
was the more complete, because, with the exception of the small rocky
islets near at hand, they could get no glimpse of any other land.
Jean, however, clung to the belief that the sought-for island might not
be far off. It was not strange that they could not get sight of it, for
the day remained thick and cloudy, fog on the water shutting off their
view, and blotting out even the rock where they had been storm-bound.
All that day the three, especially the Indian, had kept a lookout for
some trace of their visitors of the night before, but had found no sign.
The boys concluded that Le Forgeron and his companion had not merely
paddled along shore and landed at some other spot, but had left the
island entirely. Where had they gone? Though some of the outlying islets
bore a few trees and bushes, none seemed to afford a sufficient shelter
for a camp. No one would choose such an exposed spot, with a good
camping place close at hand. The disappearance of Le Forgeron further
convinced Jean that there must be other land not far off.
Nangotook was not so sure that the Frenchman had left the island. Though
they had found no further traces of the man, he might be concealed
somewhere. It was evident that the Ojibwa himself had reason to fear Le
Forgeron. Apparently he thought the Blacksmith might return to their
camp again that night and do them some injury, for he proposed that they
move to another spot not so deep in the woods, where they could keep a
better lookout for danger. The lads were more than willing, and he
selected a place at the southern end of the island, on open ground, a
little distance from the woods. There, where they could not be
approached under cover of the trees, the three built another lodge.
While the boys cut balsam for their beds and fire-wood for cooking,
Nangotook went back to the bay, launched the canoe, and paddled it
through the entrance and around the outer shore to the end of the
island. Then they hoisted it up the rocks and carried it to their camp,
where they placed it, bottom side up, close to the wigwam.
Supper that night was a pleasant change from the fish diet of the past
few days. The evening before, the Indian had set some snares, using
fish-line for the nooses, and had caught a hare. To take the place of
the missing kettle, he had made a birch-bark basket in two compartments
between which the water could circulate. Having filled the basket about
half full of water, he placed in one compartment the meat, cut into
small pieces, and some little tubers he had dug. Meanwhile stones had
been heating in the fire. When they were red hot, he lifted them, one at
a time, with two sticks, and carefully immersed them in the water in the
other compartment, setting it to boiling. The tubers he called
waub-es-see-pin. They were a little like potatoes, and, stewed with the
hare meat, the lads found them good.
All night the fire was kept going, and the Indian remained awake and
alert until daylight, when he roused Jean to take his place. There were
no signs that either man or beast had approached the camp.
The weather remained raw and threatening and the lake was hazy with cold
mist. After noon, Ronald, growing restless, set off to hunt and explore.
Etienne had gone to look at his snares, and Jean remained in camp.
Ronald followed the ridge to the bay, then made his way around to the
extreme inner end, where the waters of the bay were separated from the
lake by a narrow strip of land. From there he struck along the lake
shore to the place where the track Etienne had followed the morning
before ended abruptly. The boy's mind was busy with the problem of the
appearance of Le Forgeron on the island and his departure from it. Why
had he come there and where had he disappeared to? The lad went clear to
the northern end. Gulls were everywhere, swimming in the lake, diving
through the waves, flying overhead and resting on the rocks. The place
seemed alive with them. Ronald paused for a few moments to look out over
the water. The sun had broken through the clouds, and they were scudding
before a strong wind. In the distance he could discern the rock that had
sheltered his companions and himself. The clearing weather gave him hope
that they would be able to leave the island soon, and it was in better
spirits that he turned to go.
On the way back, he climbed about on the rocks to get a view down on the
palisaded cliffs, which were not quite like anything he had seen before.
In some places the columns were in two or three rows, one row rising
above another, the lower one starting at water level and running up like
a flight of steps. After he had passed this singular place, he noticed,
as he looked down from the top of a vertical wall of rock, that the
waves, instead of breaking into foam against it, seemed to be passing
under it. "There must be a cave down there," he thought. Balancing
himself on the very edge of the cliff, he leaned forward in an attempt
to see the hole where the water washed in.
Then something struck him suddenly, heavily, on the head and shoulders,
and he toppled over. The blow had taken him wholly by surprise, and
there was nothing to catch hold of. He went down into the lake. His head
struck a rock, and he knew nothing more.
XIII
THE CAMP IN THE CAVE
When Ronald regained consciousness, he found himself in semi-darkness,
and it was several moments before he could make out his surroundings. He
was lying with his body in the water, but his head and shoulders on
shelving rock. Just as he opened his eyes, a wave swept over his breast,
the cold spray striking his face. As the water receded, it seemed to
pull at his legs, but his body was lodged in a shallow rift of the rock,
and the drag of the water was not strong enough to dislodge him. A
little way above his head he could discern in the gloom, a dark rock
ceiling. As soon as he was able to connect his thoughts with what went
before his plunge over the cliff, he realized that he was probably in
one of the caves that he had guessed must penetrate the rock at the
water line.
His head ached, and when he put his hand to his forehead, he felt that
it was wet with something thicker and stickier than lake water. He had
cut his head on a rock when he fell into the water. It was striking the
rock, rather than plunging into the lake, that had made him lose
consciousness. He wondered that he had not been drowned. It was not the
first time in his rather adventurous life that he had come near to
drowning. It was strange, he thought, that he was not strangling and
gasping for breath, his throat, nose and lungs full of water. Surely
his head could not have been under more than a moment. Yet he had been
washed into the hole in the rock.
His limbs were so numb with cold he could scarcely use them, but he
managed to roll over and crawl farther up the slanting shelf on which he
lay. This rock incline was at the inner end of the cave, which, as he
could see in the half light, was small and low. When he was close
against the rear wall he was above the reach of the waves, but he could
not rise to a sitting position without striking his head against the
ceiling.
Then he remembered his gun. He slipped back down the slope and searched
for it as best he could, but failed to find it. Probably it had fallen
out of his hand when he tumbled over the cliff. He was almost out of
ammunition anyway, so the loss was not very serious.
The really serious thing was his situation there in the cave. How was he
to get out? Of course he could swim, breasting the waves that washed
into the opening, but after he had passed the entrance, it would be no
easy feat, with such a sea running, to swim along shore looking for a
place where he could climb up. It would take strenuous exertion to keep
from being dashed against the rocks. His limbs were stiff and numb from
the cold water, his head aching and dizzy, and he felt himself in poor
trim for such a struggle.
Perhaps there was some other opening from the hole. He could see that
the sloping shelf extended part way along the sides. Crawling to the
left, he found the wall continuous. There was no exit on that side. He
rolled over and crawled back and around to the right of where he had
been lying. In the dim light he could discern a black streak just where
the shelf ended. The streak proved to be, as he had hoped, a rift in the
rock. The rear and side walls, running almost at right angles, did not
quite come together, leaving a narrow break he could just squeeze his
body into. The rift was dark, the rock closing overhead, and, as there
was not room for him to stand upright, he was obliged to crawl, but the
bottom sloped sharply upward, and he could see dim light ahead. He hoped
that he had found a way to reach the top of the cliff. He had not
crawled more than fifty feet, however, when he came to the end of the
passage. It did not lead to the top, but opened out on a narrow ledge
about half-way up the side wall of another cave.
This cave was larger and higher than the one he had just left, and on
its farther side there was a pebble beach fifteen or twenty feet wide.
Ronald stared at that stretch of beach in amazement, for there on the
pebbles glowed the live embers of a fire. The boy's eyes searched every
foot of the cavern. It was better lighted than the other hole, for the
entrance, though narrow, was much higher, and even the nooks and corners
were not dim enough to conceal from his keen eyes any one in hiding. Not
a living thing, man, animal or bird, was to be seen. Men had been there
only a short time before, but they had gone and taken their belongings
with them.
To reach the beach Ronald had to let himself down into the water. The
bottom was rock and he succeeded in wading around the cave without going
in above his knees. For some reason the waves did not come into this
cavern so strongly.
On the beach he found that the fire had been made between drift logs
laid close enough together to allow a kettle or pan to rest on them.
Near by was a bed of balsam branches and other traces of a camp. He
remembered that the trail Etienne had followed had ended near this
place. Surely this camp in the cave accounted for the disappearance of
the Frenchman and the Cree. They had been here not later than a few
hours before.
The boy's mind reverted to his plunge over the cliff. He knew well that
he had not merely slipped and fallen. Something had struck him a heavy
blow from behind. He and his comrades had come upon no traces of large
animals on the island. Moreover Ronald did not know of any animal, that,
unprovoked, would be likely to attack a man in such a manner. The
inference was plain. Either Le Forgeron or his Indian companion had
stolen up on him from behind and had knocked him over the cliff. What
reason could the Blacksmith have for such an assault? Revenge
undoubtedly for Ronald's attack on him when he was torturing the poor
old squaw. But surely he had not come all this distance back from the
Sault for a mere act of vengeance. It must be, the lad thought, that Le
Forgeron was following the three adventurers with the intention of
taking the golden sand for himself. If they were near the gold, and he
knew it, he might wish to make away with them before they actually
reached the spot. But if he wanted to get rid of them, why had he not
attacked their camp two nights before, when he had the advantage and
could have slain them all in their sleep? Perhaps he had had such an
intention, but had given it up after falling from the tree, fearing that
Nangotook at least might have heard him. There was also the possibility
that Le Forgeron might not know just where the yellow sands lay, and
that he did not want to destroy all of the party until they had guided
him to the place. He had merely seized the opportunity to get even with
a personal enemy, as he certainly considered Ronald, by making away with
him in a manner that would seem wholly accidental. At any rate Ronald
was convinced that the Frenchman had made a deliberate attempt upon his
life. A glint came into the lad's blue eyes, and his mouth set in a
determined line. Instead of frightening him, the treacherous, cowardly
assault had merely steeled his determination to outwit the Blacksmith
and, in defiance and despite of him, to find and take possession of the
golden sands.
All these thoughts flashed through the lad's mind in the few moments
that he spent in examining the camping place on the pebbles. Then he
commenced to search for a way out of the cave. Except the rift by which
he had come, there was no break anywhere in the rock walls. It was
evident that there was no exit except by water. He must make his attempt
that way.
Exercise had dried his clothes somewhat, but he felt chilled to the
bone. He took off his heavy blanket tunic, and noticed as he did so that
his knife was missing. It had not fallen from the sheath, for the sheath
was gone too, the leather thong that held it to his belt cut cleanly. He
whistled between his teeth at the discovery.
Vigorously he rubbed his limbs, then rolled up the tunic and fastened it
around his neck by the sleeves, leaving his arms free for swimming, and
stepped into the water again. Keeping as close to the wall as he could,
he waded to the entrance of the cave, where he paused, waist deep in
water, to look out. The sky was blue, the wind blowing strongly, and the
waves rolling high, but rocks just outside protected the entrance
somewhat. He could make his start in comparatively smooth water, but a
few strokes either way would bring him out into the force of the waves.
He did not hesitate long, for he must make the attempt sooner or later.
He could not trust to his friends ever finding him in that well hidden
cave. Even if they followed his trail to the place where he had fallen
over, he was not sure that he would hear them, or that, calling from
below, he could make them hear his voice above the noise of the surf.
He was standing at the threshold of the cave, on a ledge across the
entrance. The outer side ran straight down, sheer with the wall above
the opening, and one step would take him into unknown depths. He made
the plunge, but had scarcely taken three strokes, when he saw that he
was close to the rift where the Frenchman and the Cree, according to
the Ojibwa's reckoning, must have lowered their canoe and scrambled down
to it. If they could go up and down there so could he, provided he could
get in without being thrown in forcibly by the water and his brains
dashed out against the walls. The waves were rolling straight into the
rift. He must let himself be carried in, and trust to his strength to
resist being battered against the rocks.
He had scarcely an instant of time to make the decision. He was borne
in, almost grazing the wall, straight towards the place where the foam
dashed to the top of the cliff. He would be thrown against the rock,
battered, stunned. But, as he was carried in, he caught sight of a point
of rock projecting from the wall just above where his head would pass.
Instinctively he threw up his right arm and grasped that rock, his
fingers gripping the tough stem of the stunted, trailing juniper that
grew upon it. With the pull of the water below and the weight of his
soaked garments, it seemed as if his arm would be torn out of the
socket, but he held on, and, with a mighty effort, raised himself up
until he could grasp the rock with his other hand also. Luckily the
strong stem of the juniper and its tough roots, that had penetrated deep
into the cracks and crannies, held fast, and the boy was able at last to
pull himself clear of the water.
He was safe for the moment, but what was he to do next? How was he to
reach the spot, near the head of the rift and beyond the foam-dashed
wall where he could climb to the top? There was no possible way to
reach it, unless he let himself down into the water again, and took the
risk of being carried against the rock by the waves. He gave a little
whistle between his teeth. Apparently he was worse off, much worse off,
than he had been in the cave. He had better have stayed there, but it
was of no use regretting that now.
He turned to examine the cliff behind him. The only possible place of
ascent was just where the point of rock he was clinging to projected
from the wall. There the wall was not quite perpendicular, there were a
few crannies and holes, and from the top another trailing juniper
sprawled part way over and hung down a few feet. It was a dangerous
ascent, but a possible one. He could not remain where he was, inactive,
the cold wind blowing on his soaked clothes, without chilling to the
bone.
Crouched on the projecting rock, he wrung the water out of his clothes
as well as he could without taking them off. There was no room to do
that. Then he crawled along a little, put the fingers of his right hand
into a hole in the cliff, and cautiously pulled himself up to a standing
position, leaning against the wall. Clinging with his fingers and
moccasined toes to every little cranny and hollow, his body sprawled
flat against the rock, he made his way, slowly, carefully up, a few
inches at a time, until he could grasp with his left hand the stout
hanging stem of the juniper. After that it was easier, and he pulled
himself safely over the edge not far from the place where he had fallen
down.
As soon as he was safe again, Ronald became conscious that his head was
throbbing painfully. He had hardly felt it since he came out of the
crack into the larger cavern. He was shivering with cold too, and his
one desire was to get back to camp as soon as possible.
The sun was setting when he came out of the woods at the southern end of
the island. He shouted, and Jean appeared from the other side of the
cabin, where, out of range of the wind, he was getting supper. He waved
his hand in cheery greeting, then stopped and stared at the figure
Ronald presented, his clothes only half dried, his cap gone, his hair
and forehead stained with blood.
"_Ciel!_ What has come to you?" he cried. His startled exclamation
brought the Indian around the hut.
Crouched close to the fire, upon which Jean heaped fuel, Ronald told the
story of his adventures. The others listened, each according to his
nature, Jean with amazed expression and frequent exclamations and
questions, Etienne silently, with grave, stern face.
When Ronald had finished, the Indian made but one comment. "Your
guardian spirit must be very powerful," he said, "or the manito of the
waters favors you." Then, as if remembering suddenly that he was a
Christian, he hastened to add in a devout tone, "The good God above was
indeed watching over you."
"'Tis true I have been miraculously saved," Ronald replied, "but why,
think you, is Le Forgeron on this island? Are we near the Island of
Yellow Sands then? I would that we could resume our search for it."
"We will resume it as soon as this gale blows itself out," replied Jean
confidently. "We are near it I am sure, and now we know which way to
go."
"What do you mean?" cried Ronald. "Have you gained some new knowledge
then?"
"Truly we have," Jean answered springing to his feet. "Look, over
there!" And he pointed across the water to the southwest.
Ronald rose and gazed. The wind had driven away cloud, mist and haze.
Land, for days shut off by thick weather, was distinctly visible.
XIV
LOST IN THE FOG
All that night the wind blew a gale, dashing the waves on the rocks,
where they broke in showers of foam and spray that gleamed white in the
moonlight, for the sky was cloudless and the air clear and cold.
When the gold-seekers looked off across the water next morning they met
with a surprise. Far away to the west stretched a dim blue shape like
the figure of a gigantic man lying on his back.
"The Cape of Nanabozho," exclaimed the Indian in an awe-struck tone.
"The Sleeping Giant himself," the lads cried, and Jean added, "Are we
not then far west of our course? Surely we should not be able to see the
Pointe au Tonnerre."
Nangotook shook his head. "Who knows," he said, "how far the Cape of
Thunder may be seen? Is it not the home of Nanabozho himself? Who knows
that it may not come and go in the sight of men at the will of the
manito?"
"But," objected Ronald, "you said that island on the east shore was the
grave of Nanabozho. What has he to do with the Cape of Thunder?"
Nangotook looked puzzled. "It is true," he said slowly, "my people say
the manito makes his dwelling on that island to the east, but they say
also that the Cape of Thunder is formed in his likeness, and they leave
offerings to him there. It may be," the Ojibwa added, his face clearing,
"that part of the time he lives in one place, part of the time in the
other. Why not? Spirits may be in many places. They do not travel slowly
like men, who creep along with much labor. What do the manitos know of
paddling and of portages? They cross high hills at a stride, and the
land and water are alike to them. Do not the white fathers say that God
is a spirit and that He is everywhere?"
"Hush, hush, Etienne!" cried Jean scandalized. "Would you speak of the
good God and your heathen manitos in the same breath, and even compare
them with Him? And you a Christian! It is sacrilege!"
The Ojibwa looked abashed. "I _am_ a Christian, I worship the one great
spirit as the fathers taught me," he answered somewhat sullenly. He
started to turn away, but Ronald spoke to him.
"Surely," the boy insisted, "we're out of our course. We've been driven
too far to the west, and must seek our island towards the east. Is that
not true?"
"It may be," Nangotook grunted, "if that is the true cape."
"Of course it is the cape. What else could it be?"
"A sign from the manito himself," growled the Indian, and turned his
back.
The lads were not unimpressed by Nangotook's words and manner. The dim
figure, like a great man outstretched in sleep, seemed mysterious and
uncanny enough to their imaginations. Thunder Cape is the eastern
boundary of Thunder Bay on the northwest shore of Superior, and it is
only its highest part that is visible far across the lake, the lower
land sinking entirely out of view and leaving the Giant lying solitary
on the water.
"Etienne says it is a sign," Jean remarked in a low voice. "Does he
think the omen good or bad, I wonder?"
Ronald shook his head. "I doubt if he knows what he thinks, but what is
that to us? If we ever find the gold, we will secure it in spite of all
the Indian devils in the lake." He spoke hotly, eager to prove to
himself as well as to his companion that he had no faith in or respect
for the power of such heathen spirits and demons.
Jean looked a little frightened at his friend's bold tone. Nangotook
turned on him with a stern face. "Speak not so of the manitos of these
waters," he said peremptorily, "lest you rouse their wrath and bring
disaster on us all." And with a glance of scorn at the offending lad, he
walked away.
"Nangotook is but a weak kind of Christian," Ronald remarked sneeringly.
"He still puts his faith in these manitos of his and fears them." The
boy was smarting under the Indian's rebuke.
Jean shook his head doubtfully. "He is a Christian," he replied, "but,
being an Indian, he has seen instances of the power of the spirits of
the lake. I, too, am a Christian, as you very well know, and have no
veneration for such savage gods and devils, but I have heard strange
tales of their doings and of the power of their priests. Father René
says the medicine men's gifts are surely of the devil, but that good
Christians who put their faith in a higher power need have no fear of
them. Yet I can see no good in offending the spirits needlessly, and
bringing their enmity upon us by foolish speeches."
To this argument, which indicated that Jean upheld the Indian in his
rebuke, Ronald found no ready answer. Indeed in his heart he was not so
contemptuous of the manito's powers as he appeared, and was just a bit
uneasy over his own defiance. The feeling was not strong enough,
however, to shake his determination to find the wonderful island and to
carry off a goodly sample of its golden sands.
The wind was still blowing so strongly from the west as to make
traveling impossible. Ronald had suffered no ill effects, except a
little stiffness of the muscles, from his soaking and chilling of the
day before, but the wound on his forehead and a lump on the back of his
head pained him considerably, so he did not care to exert himself. He
remained in camp, spending his time mending his clothes and making a
hare skin cap to replace the toque he had lost when he fell over the
cliff. The others fished on the lea side of the island, visited the
snares, and searched for some signs of the man or beast that had
attacked the boy. With the exception of some footprints at the edge of
the cliff, prints made by a larger moccasin than Ronald wore, there was
no trace of the mysterious enemy. The tracks were found in one place
only, where a little earth had lodged on the rock. On the almost bare
rocks round about, no marks were discernible. Jean and Etienne would
have been glad to explore the caves under the cliff, but the high wind
of that day and the following one made it impossible to use the canoe on
that side of the island.
The second evening after Ronald's fall from the cliff, a wonderful
aurora borealis, more brightly colored than any the boys had ever seen,
waved its streamers of green, yellow, orange and flame-red over the
northern sky. Nangotook regarded it with awe, and muttered something in
his own language that the boys could not understand.
The next night the wind went down with the sun, but when the lads crept
into their blankets, the long roll of the waves had not subsided enough
to make launching the canoe safe. Since they had learned of the presence
of an enemy on the island, one or another of the three had kept awake
and watchful all night. When Ronald took his turn before dawn, he left
the wigwam and scrambled down the rocks to get a drink of water. He was
pleased to find that the waves had smoothed out into long, gentle
swells. "We can surely cross to that other land to-day," he thought. He
was too impatient to put off departure, however. Why wait till daylight?
The sun would come up in another hour or two. If they started at once,
they could make the trip before there was any danger of the wind rising
again, and, moreover, their enemies, who might be on the watch
somewhere, would be less likely to see them go.
The lad returned to the shelter, aroused the others and explained his
plan. Jean was eager to go, and Nangotook grunted his assent. The idea
of stealing a march on their enemies appealed to the Indian's love of
strategy. Dawn was just beginning to break, when everything was ready.
But Nangotook suddenly became reluctant to start out. He pointed to the
mist that lay on the water and dimmed the stars. "Fog come soon," he
said.
"'Tis only the morning haze," replied Ronald. "'Tis not thick enough to
hinder us, and it will disappear at sunrise."
"We shall be there by sunrise if we start now," Jean added confidently.
"That land is not far away. An hour's paddling will surely take us
there."
"Better wait and see," said the Ojibwa.
But the boys insisted. They were impatient to be gone, and could not
endure the thought of further delay. Ronald especially was stubbornly
determined. He knew better than to accuse Nangotook openly of cowardice,
but he hinted so plainly that the Indian might be influenced by fear,
that the latter's pride was touched. Suddenly breaking short the
argument, he picked up the canoe, stalked into the water with it, and
held it ready for the lads to step in.
They began their trip in silence. During the stay on the island
Nangotook had whittled out two paddles to replace the ones they had
lost, and now, as was his custom, he took the bow, with Jean in the
stern. In the dim light and the haze they could not make out the land to
which they were going, but they knew the direction, and had no fear of
missing the place unless the mist grew denser.
It did grow denser. The light breeze was almost directly south now and
it brought the fog. Gradually, and at first almost imperceptibly, the
haze thickened. Nangotook and the boys paddled with all their strength
and speed, the latter confident that they would soon reach their
destination, the Indian so silent and stolid that it was impossible to
guess at his thoughts. Then suddenly, all in a moment as it seemed, the
fog folded them in its thick white blanket. Nangotook grunted as if to
say "I told you so," but did not lessen the speed of his stroke. To turn
back was useless. There was better chance of keeping their direction
true if they went ahead, for in turning they would almost inevitably
lose their bearings.
The breeze was driving the fog, and as they went on, Jean and Ronald
were sure, from the angle at which they took the waves and the way the
breeze struck them, that they were keeping the course and would soon
reach land. They strained their ears for the sound of water lapping on
rocks or sand beach, and peered through the thickness for the shadowy,
looming shape of cliffs or trees.
On and on they went. The fog whitened with the coming of dawn, but did
not lessen or disperse. It blew and shifted from time to time, but never
thinned enough to give them a clear view for more than a few feet in any
direction. Either the land they had seen was much farther away than they
had estimated, or they were out of their course. The Indian had nothing
to say, and the lads could not tell whether he had really lost his
bearings and knew it, or believed himself to be going in the right
direction. When they questioned him, he answered only with grunts. They
had scorned his advice, and had hurt his pride by implying that he was
afraid to set out. Now he was letting them take their punishment.
They were certainly being well punished. As they paddled on through the
fog, without a sound or glimpse of anything that suggested land, both
boys grew very uneasy. After all, perhaps Nangotook had been right,
perhaps the sleeping Nanabozho had actually shown himself to them as a
warning to their rashness, or perhaps Ronald's bold speech had really
offended some manito. Neither boy would have admitted to the other that
he had such thoughts, but they lived in a superstitious age, and there
were many strange tales current among the voyageurs of the powers of the
Indian spirits and of their priests or shamans.
The brightening of the fog showed the advance of day. Yet the
adventurers went on and on and on. The thought occurred to both lads
that the land they had seen might not be real at all, but only a mirage
or a false appearance sent by the evil spirits to lure them to their
deaths. There in that dense, chilling mist, cut off as it seemed from
the world of men, and going perhaps into the very middle of the great
lake, whose mysteries neither Indian nor white man had ever fully
penetrated, such thoughts were far from pleasant.
Even fear could not still the pangs of hunger in healthy boys, however,
or make them quite forget that they had had no breakfast. The birch
basket still held the remains of the hare stew from their evening meal,
so Ronald helped himself to a share of it, and then took the stern
paddle while Jean breakfasted. Nangotook, however, refused to give up
his paddle or to eat.
The day wore away, and still the blades dipped with regular rhythm. The
stroke was slower and easier now, for there was no reason, lost as they
were for haste or speed. They paddled merely to keep headway on the
canoe and to strike the waves at the right angle. And still, hour after
hour, they went on and on, Jean and Ronald taking turns at the stern
paddle, the Indian never yielding up his place in the bow.
Ronald was plying his paddle mechanically, a dull apathy having settled
down on his spirit, as the hour of silence and white mist passed, and
Jean, stretched out on the bottom of the canoe, had fallen asleep when
Nangotook, who had been sullenly silent all day, spoke suddenly. "Land,"
he said and jerked his head towards the left.
Ronald woke from his stupor at once. The first thing he noticed was that
the mist was a little less thick, for he could see Nangotook more
distinctly, the next thing he observed was that the water was perfectly
smooth, without even a ripple, and the third and most important was a
dim, scarcely discernible something, a shadow of a shape, on the left
hand. He called to Jean and the latter sat up and stared at the shadow.
At the Indian's order Ronald swerved the canoe in that direction. There
was no sound of surf, yet the approach must be made cautiously, for rock
shores are far more common on Lake Superior than sand beaches. A careful
stroke and paddles lifted, another stroke and paddles lifted again, and
then the bow grated gently. Without hesitation Nangotook stepped over
the side, while Ronald held the canoe stationary with his paddle.
XV
STRANDED
It was not a sand beach the canoe had grated upon, but solid rock. The
three adventurers stepped over the side, and, carrying the canoe, waded
up a slope of rock until they were well above the water line. The fog
was so thick they could see almost nothing of their surroundings.
Scrambling over unfamiliar rocks slippery with moisture, when they could
not see where they were going, was too perilous an undertaking to be
worth attempting. There was nothing to do but wait until the fog
cleared. So they unloaded the canoe, turned it over, propped it up, and
settled themselves on their blankets in its shelter. Waiting was chilly,
dreary work, but they were cheered by the knowledge that the mist was
thinning. They did not have to wait long. Before the veiled sun sank to
its setting, the fog, though it did not disappear, became so thin that
climbing about was no longer dangerous.
The lads were eager to learn what sort of land they had reached. The
place certainly abounded in gulls. The birds welcomed the lifting of the
fog with such a chorus of shrill and whining cries, that the boys feared
they had landed on another mere pile of rocks, one of those desolate and
wind-swept spots where the gulls love to nest. There was always the
chance, however, that the golden sands might lie close by.
Once more Etienne hung back and let Ronald take the lead. The Indian's
superstitious dread of what they might encounter had probably not been
lessened by the Scotch boy's defiance of the manitos or by the
subsequent experience in the fog. No ravenous beast or hideous serpent
appeared to threaten the treasure-seekers, however, no enormous shape
towered out of the mist to warn them back. Only the gulls disputed their
way as they climbed about the rocks. They soon discovered that the place
was either a narrow point or an island. Where they had landed, it was
only a few rods wide. Further exploration proved it to be an island,
about two miles long, and nowhere more than a quarter of a mile broad.
There was no golden sand, only sandstone rock in slanting, overlapping
sheets and blocks with upturned edges. A narrow belt of small trees and
shrubs ran along the highest part. Everywhere were gulls, young and old,
and the remains of their nests. By the time the setting sun had gilded
the mist with red and gold, the three had examined the island very
thoroughly.
After sunset the fog thickened again, and before dark turned into cold
rain. There was nothing on the island to eat, the attempt to fish was
unsuccessful, and the castaways were reluctant to use the handful of
crushed corn they had saved so carefully for an emergency. They would
eat it next day if they could get nothing else, but for that night they
decided to go supperless. Everything on the island was dripping wet, so
they did not attempt to light a fire, but crept under the upturned canoe
and wrapped themselves in their damp blankets. With the rain came wind,
blowing in gusts and squalls.
In spite of hunger and discomfort, the lads went to sleep. They were
awakened suddenly by a terrific blast of wind that blew directly into
the propped up canoe, lifted the light birch craft as if it had been a
dried leaf, and whirled it away in the darkness. In an instant the three
were out of their blankets, up and scrambling over the slippery rocks.
They could not find the canoe again, though they sought everywhere for
it, endangering their necks again and again in the black darkness, wind
and rain. At last, after Ronald had plunged down a steep slope into the
water and narrowly missed drowning, and Jean had stumbled over the
upturned edge of a broken block and wrenched his ankle, they gave up in
despair. If the canoe had not been carried away across the water, they
might find it, or the battered remains of it, in the morning, but to
attempt further search that night would be useless and foolhardy.
The only thing they could do was to crouch down in such shelter as the
belt of trees afforded, and wait for dawn. They could not even search
out a good place, but were compelled to make the best of what was close
at hand. The stunted trees and bushes protected them but little from the
rain and the wind, that came in violent squalls, now from one quarter,
now from another.
It seemed as if the night never would end, but towards morning the wind
steadied and the rain ceased. Breaking through the clouds at the
horizon, the sun rose red in a wind-torn sky. The waves were dashing
their spray up to the very edge of the band of trees, and there was no
sign of the canoe. There were other things to be seen, however. Rocks
and reefs and islets, almost smothered in foam, were visible to east and
south, while to west and north, at a distance of several miles,
stretched what appeared to be continuous land, rising high.
The boys marveled at the sight, and at once questioned the Indian about
the Island of Yellow Sands. "What was it your grandfather said about the
island, Etienne?" Jean asked. "Did he not describe it? Was it large or
small, high or low?"
Etienne shook his head. "That I cannot tell you, little brother," he
replied. "My grandfather told of nothing but the beach with the yellow
sands and the waves rolling high upon it. Whether the island was large
or small, high or low, wooded or barren, I do not remember that he said.
In some of the tales, it is said that fierce beasts came out of the
woods to attack the braves who tried to carry away the sand, but whether
those tales are true or are only told to frighten the white man and keep
him away from the gold, I do not know."
While Etienne was speaking, Ronald had been gazing intently at the
stretch of land hazy and blue in the distance. When the Indian had
finished, the boy said slowly: "I do not believe that land can be the
island we seek. If the Island of Yellow Sands were as large and high and
plainly visible as that, some one would have found and explored it long
ago. No, that is either part of the mainland, or one of the greater
islands that men know. Surely to have escaped the white men's eyes for
so many years, the Island of Yellow Sands must be small and low and
inconspicuous."
"So it would seem indeed," agreed Jean. "That land may be, as you say, a
part of the main shore of the lake, or one of the great islands, Royale,
Philippeau or Ponchartrain. Yet we can scarcely be sure that the island
we seek is not a large one, just because men have not found it. Who,
either white man or red, has ever traveled over all this great lake? The
canoes go along the shores, and even the sailing vessels follow their
regular courses. No man knows what may lie in the center of these
waters. Is that not true, Nangotook?"
The Ojibwa nodded in assent. "Many tales are told," he replied solemnly,
"but they are only tales. No man knows."
"There is one thing certain," said Ronald the practical, "we can't find
out what that land is until we cross to it, and we can't cross until we
have a craft of some kind."
"And even though we had the best of canoes," Jean added, "we could not
go through this sea."
"Then 'tis something to eat we must be seeking first," the younger boy
responded. "I'm hungry indeed, but not quite ready to eat gull, until we
see if we can find other food."
All efforts to obtain anything else eatable failed Fishing from the
rocks, even in those patches quiet water that were sheltered from wind
and waves, brought no result. Nothing edible grew on the island but a
few blueberries and bearberries, and the gulls had stripped the plants
of their fruit. The castaways had to eat bark, leaves and roots, or try
the flesh of the gulls.
They attempted to capture some of the young gulls by creeping up on them
and seizing them or striking them with a canoe paddle, but all the young
were full grown, able to swim and fly, and were so shy and wary that not
even Nangotook succeeded in killing one. Snaring was equally
unsuccessful, and some of the precious ammunition had to be sacrificed.
Ronald was the best shot of the three, so the hunting was entrusted to
him. Every time he fired, the birds rose from the rocks in a screaming
cloud of gray and white, but he was fortunate enough to secure several.
He shot young gulls, thinking they would be tenderer than the old.
The birds were plucked, cut up and boiled, and the two hungry boys and
the Indian devoured every bit of the strong, fishy tasting meat. Their
uninviting meal down, they set about constructing some kind of a craft
to take them away from the island when the waves should go down. The
trees were all small and unsuitable for canoe making. The best the three
could do was to build a raft. They felled the straightest of the little
trees, trimmed them of their branches, and bound them together with
tough roots and strips of bark. So much of the growth on the exposed
rock was stunted and twisted by the winds, that straight trunks were
few. The harsh cries of the gulls seemed to mock at their efforts, but
they finished their task at last, just as the sun was setting. Though
the raft was small, rough and very imperfect, they believed it would
hold them up and enable them to reach the distant shore in calm weather.
They had decided to make directly for that shore. The other islands and
islets, visible from the one where they were stranded, appeared to be
mere heaps of wind and wave-swept rock. It seemed unlikely that any sand
whatever was to be found on the and the danger of trying to coast such
rock piles in a clumsy raft was too great to be risked. If the
gold-seekers could but reach a forested shore, where they could build
another canoe, they might return and explore every island, but they must
have a good boat first.
XVI
ISLAND OR MAINLAND?
To navigate Lake Superior on a raft was a perilous undertaking, but the
attempt had to be made. Hoping to reach their destination before the
wind came up again, the castaways started at dawn, while the mists still
lay on the water and the land to north and west showed shadowy and
indistinct. When the three, with their scanty equipment, had taken their
places, the rude raft had all it would carry. It seemed as if an added
pound or two might easily sink it. Etienne and Ronald knelt one on each
side to ply the paddles, which fortunately had not been blown away,
while Jean, who was of lighter build, sat between them, legs extended.
The course was northwest, for in that direction the land seemed nearest.
All went well at first, but progress was very slow, and, before they had
gone two miles, the wind was rising with the advancing day, and was
threatening to make the raft unmanageable. As the mists cleared away,
the voyageurs discovered that the land in front of them extended as far
as they could see in either direction. On the left, to the southwest, it
curved around and shut off the lake, but did not furnish much
protection, for the shore on that side lay at least ten miles away.
Evidently they were in a large bay, ten or twelve miles long and three
or four broad, protected on the west and north by high land, partly cut
off from the lake by rock islands to the south and southeast, but open
to the northeast, and affording little shelter for small craft. As the
wind rose and the ripples changed to waves, the peril of their position
increased, and Ronald and the Ojibwa had their hands full guiding their
clumsy craft and making headway. Every few moments a wave washed on it
and sometimes over it, and the three were soon wet to their waists. But
they managed to stick to the raft and continued to make some progress
towards land.
The danger increased momentarily, and, as they approached a rocky shore,
they lost control of the raft in the rising wind. The paddles were no
longer of avail in handling the unwieldy thing. Wind and water took it
wherever they would, the Indian and the boys washed and rolled about by
the waves, but clinging with fingers and toes to the roots and bark
ropes that bound the logs together. The boys' only hope was that they
would be carried ashore.
Unluckily rocks off the shore were in the way. A gust of wind bore the
raft full on a jagged, upturned edge of rock, a sharp point penetrated
between two of the slender poles and ripped through the fastenings. The
raft hung suspended at an angle, the waves washing it, the castaways
clinging to the slanting surface. The raft was doomed. It could not last
many minutes without splitting in two. If they were to gain the shore,
they must swim for it. Fortunately it was only a few feet away.
Ronald, who was the best swimmer of the three, went first, his blanket
and the rest of his belongings fastened to his shoulders, Etienne's gun,
for Ronald had lost his own, held over his head with one hand, while he
swam with the other. The waves bore him along, but his greatest danger
was from the rocks, and he had to be on the lookout for a place where he
could land without bruising himself against them. He rounded a
projecting point, which broke the force of the water, and succeeded in
making a landing just beyond. Then, having pulled himself up a steep,
slippery slope, he turned to see how his companions were faring.
Jean and the Ojibwa had left the raft at the same moment, but the
latter, like many Indians, was a poor swimmer. In spite of the fact that
he was not burdened with a gun and could use both arms, he had fallen
behind Jean and was making bad work of the short passage. In safety Jean
passed the point Ronald had gone around, but Etienne, caught by an
unusually large wave, was borne against a rock, striking the side of his
head.
The moment Ronald saw what had happened, he plunged into the water
again, shouting to Jean as he did so. Jean turned back at once, ducking
through an advancing wave like a sea-gull. The Indian had gone under,
and a receding wave had dragged him back from the rock. Just as he was
being washed against it again, Jean, dropping his gun, seized him with
one hand. He was unconscious, and Jean could hardly have managed him
alone in such a heavy sea. Ronald reached him in a moment, however, and
together they towed the inert body to shore, and succeeded in dragging
and hoisting it up the rocks to safety.
It was the blow on the side of the head that had made Nangotook lose
consciousness, for he had not swallowed much water. The boys laid him
face downward and lifted him at the waist to get rid of what little
water he had taken in, but it was several minutes before he came to. He
had nothing to say about the accident and offered no thanks for the
rescue, but it was evident from his changed manner that he was not
unmindful that his companions had saved his life. Ever since Ronald had
defied the manitos and had appeared to question Nangotook's courage, the
latter had been morose, gruff and silent, and had shown plainly that the
Scotch lad had offended him deeply. Now, however, he seemed to think
they were quits, for the angry mood had passed and he was himself again.
The adventurers were disappointed to find they had not reached the
mainland, but were on an island about a mile long and half a mile wide
in its broadest part. It was of irregular shape, two little bays running
into it on the east and west, almost cutting it in two. The island was
covered with trees, among them birches large enough to make the
construction of a canoe possible. Other islands lay near at hand, while
what they took to be the main shore was not more than half a mile away.
Reaching it would be a simple matter, as soon as they had built a canoe.
The most important thing at the moment, however, was food. They had
eaten nothing that day, and nothing the day before but a very
insufficient amount of gull flesh. In a birch bark receptacle wrapped
in Jean's blanket, was the small quantity of corn, not more than two
handfuls, they had saved so carefully. Convinced that they would soon be
able to reach the land to the west, and that there must be game on so
large a tract, they decided to eat this last remnant of their
provisions. Etienne made another bark cooking vessel and prepared a
rather thin soup of the corn. They made way with every drop and hungered
for more.
Then Ronald sought for game while the Indian and Jean began canoe
making. Ronald met with no success. Not a trace of game of any kind
could he find. Apparently there was not even a squirrel on the island,
and no gulls frequented it. He tried fishing from shore and rocks, but
did not get a bite. Once more the wanderers were obliged to lie down for
the night supperless, while from somewhere across the water an owl
hooted derisively.
"If that fellow comes over here where we can get him, he'll be howling
in a different tone," growled Ronald. He was so hungry he would not have
rejected an owl, in spite of its animal diet.
"The great horned one is far too wise to come close enough for us to
catch or shoot him," Jean replied.
All three had worked late by firelight that night. They were expert at
canoe building, and, though they did not appear to hurry, but performed
each step of the operation carefully and thoroughly, they wasted few
motions. Without any ready made materials, however, and no tools except
their axes, knives and a big, strong needle for sewing, the task was
necessarily a slow one and could not be completed in one day. They had
felled suitable trees, white cedar for the frame and birch for the
covering, and had skilfully peeled the birch bark, stripping a trunk in
a single piece and scraping the inner surface as a tanner scrapes
leather. Their ball of wattap and chunk of gum were gone, so they had to
dig small spruce roots and gather spruce gum, soak, peel and split the
roots and twist the strands into cord, and boil the gum to prepare it
for use. Ribs, gunwales, cross pieces and sheathing had to be hewed and
whittled out of the tough, elastic, but light and easily cut cedar wood,
and soaked to render them as pliable as possible.
An open space, with soil deep enough to hold stakes, had been selected,
and the stakes cut and driven in to outline the shape of the canoe.
Within them the frame was formed, large stones being placed on the ribs
to keep them in shape until dry. Slender cross pieces or bars
strengthened and held the ribs in place, and the ends were pointed and
fitted into holes in the rim, then bound with wattap. The pieces of
bark, which had been sewed together, were fitted neatly over this frame,
and wattap was wrapped over and over the gunwale and passed through bark
and ribs. Next to the bark, and held in place by the ribs, strips of
cedar, shaved as thin as the blade of a knife, were placed to form
sheathing. The last process was the gumming of the seams to make them
water-tight. The gum, softened by heat, was applied, and the seams
carefully gone over with a live coal held in a split stick, while, with
the thumb of the other hand, the canoe maker pressed in the sticky
substance.
The boat was done at last, and, though made without saw, hammer, chisel,
plane, nails, boards or paint, was, when completed and put in the water,
a strong, sound, light, graceful, well-balanced craft that satisfied
even the Indian's critical eye. It floated buoyantly, and was water
proof in every seam.
During the boat building, a few small fish had been caught, but no one
had had half enough to eat. As the three paddled away in their new
canoe, they debated whether they had better land at once or skirt the
shore looking for possible beaches. They were not yet fully convinced
that they might not be near the yellow sands. Food, not sand, was the
first necessity, however, and Nangotook and Jean expressed themselves in
favor of landing immediately and looking for game. But Ronald pointed
out that they had scarcely any ammunition left, and that to catch game
with snares and traps would be slow work. They had better try for fish
first, he said, and they could do that while going along shore. Jean at
once agreed, and Nangotook, when he saw the others were both against
him, grunted his assent. So, when close to a gently sloping rock beach,
they turned and paddled northeast, with a fishing line attached to the
stern paddle.
They had gone but a little way, when a pull at the line signaled a bite.
The fish did not make as hard a fight as the lake trout they had caught
before, while fishing in the same manner, and when Jean pulled it over
the side, he was disappointed to find that it was a siskiwit or lake
salmon. Siskiwit are not very good eating for they are very fat and this
was a small one weighing not over three pounds. Hungry as they were,
they decided to try their luck again, in the hope of getting a better
and larger fish, but after paddling for fifteen or twenty minutes and
catching another larger siskiwit, they could wait no longer.
They put in to the rock beach very carefully, stepping out into the
water before the bow grounded, to avoid scraping the new canoe. There on
the rock Ronald and Etienne made a fire of moss, bark and birch wood,
while Jean cleaned the fish. The boiled siskiwit was very fat and oily,
but the three were so nearly starved that it seemed a feast to them. As
they had not been accustomed to use salt with their food they did not
miss that luxury. While the lads were preparing the meal, Etienne had
discovered a well defined hare runway. The boys had to admit that a
supply of food was a prime necessity, and they agreed to camp where they
were until next day and make every attempt to secure game.
After Etienne had gone to set his snares, Ronald and Jean crossed the
sloping rock beach, which was rough and scored. A little back from the
water's edge it was covered more or less thickly, first with lichens,
and then with moss, bearberry plants and creeping evergreens. Looking
for signs of game, they pushed their way through spruce and birch woods,
stopping several times to set snares where hares had made a runway or
squirrels had left a little pile of cone scales, with the seeds neatly
extracted, at the foot of a spruce. The two had been going through the
woods for perhaps half a mile, when they came out suddenly on the shore
of a body of water.
"A bay," exclaimed Jean, "who would have looked for one here?"
"It looks more like a lake," Ronald replied. "The water is brownish like
the little streams we've seen, and there is no opening in sight."
Jean shook his head. "Just because we cannot see an opening is no sign
that there is none," he said. "Shores that look continuous are not
always so, as you well know. Unless we have reached the mainland, this
must be a landlocked bay. It is surely too large for a lake within an
island."
"It looks to me as if we _had_ reached the mainland," Ronald answered.
"See how high the land towers beyond this lake or bay. If this is an
island it must be Minong or Philippeau, and our Island of Yellow Sands
lies far to the east. Let us go back for the canoe and cross this lake
or skirt its shores. We have time enough before darkness comes."
XVII
A CARIBOU HUNT
From the outer shore to the interior bay or lake was not what voyageurs
would call a hard portage, for the distance was less than half a mile
and the ground not very irregular, the hills and ridges being low.
Nangotook and Jean bore the light canoe on their heads, while Ronald
went first to clear the way. The woods of spruce, balsam and birch were
open enough in many places to allow the canoe to go through easily.
Where the growth was more dense, a few strokes of Ronald's ax disposed
of the branches that hindered progress. On the higher ground were open
rock spaces, while in the depressions grew thick patches of alders,
hazels, red osier dogwood, ground pine and the fern-like yew or ground
hemlock. On the red berries of the yew flocks of white-throated sparrows
were feeding, their brightly striped heads conspicuous among the green.
The shore where the explorers launched the canoe was rocky, but
overgrown with small plants and bushes. They paddled northeast at first,
seeking for an opening. Finding the body of water landlocked on the east
and north, they continued on around. The south shore was rather low, but
the north was of a different character. A narrow beach was bordered by
an irregular ridge of boulders and fragments of rock, which looked as if
it might have been pushed up by waves or ice. The beach was composed
principally of pebbles and rock fragments, and there was no indication
of yellow sands. The sun was sinking when the three reached a spot
opposite the place where they had embarked, and they went on only far
enough to make sure that there was no chance of golden sands in that
direction. By the time they had crossed to the southern shore, they were
very sure they were on a lake, not a bay. The sout
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