As they hastened back through the woods, the boys’ one thought was to reach the canoe. They knew there was no chance of checking the fire, which apparently had a good start and would sweep the island from end to end. The wind was north, so, thinking they would be out of the worst of the heat and smoke on that side, they chose the northwestern or outer shore, though it was unknown ground to them, for they had come around the inner side at the edge of the woods. Light though the breeze was, the fire spread rapidly. The spruces flared up like torches, the flames running along the limbs and leaping from tree to tree. The resinous branches and needles made a loud crackling noise as they burned, broken by an occasional crash, as some tree, fire-eaten at its base, toppled over and fell against its fellows or broke through and measured its length on the ground.
The belt of almost bare rock between the lake and the woods was wider on the outer shore than on the inner, but the rocks, rising steeply from the water, were extremely rough and broken. Deep cracks had to be leaped, scrambled through or followed up until they could be crossed. In a very few minutes the trees, across the narrow open strip from the boys, were blazing. Though the lads were to the windward of the fire, the heat scorched them, and the smoke at times was almost suffocating. Either the wind was becoming variable or the heated air from the burning caused erratic currents, for frequent puffs and gusts of flame and smoke were carried towards the refugees. They kept as near the water and as far from the fire as they could, scrambling over rocks, jumping chasms, climbing slopes, slipping and falling sometimes, when the waves of pungent, stinging smoke choked and blinded them.
One crack was so wide they could not jump it, so steep they could not climb down. Going along its edge, they were led, before they reached a place narrow enough to be jumped, almost into the burning woods, where the chasm became a gully, covered with trees and bushes. Confused by the smoke, Ronald missed his leap, and would have gone to the bottom, if his hand had not grasped a little spruce growing on the brink. By the time Jean had pulled him over the edge, the bushes around them were beginning to burn. As the two boys sprang through, Jean’s tunic caught fire, and he was obliged to tear it off as he ran, and leave it behind. Not until they were at the very edge of the cliffs, were they clear of the blazing bushes.
As they scrambled on along the rocks, the two were in less danger, for the fire had passed through the bordering growth. Trees, bushes and moss still smouldered and smoked and broke out here and there in flames, but the worst of the fire seemed to be over in that part of the island. The smoke was still dense, however, and the rocks so hot in spots that they scorched the boys’ feet through their moccasins. With blackened clothes, blistered skins, stinging eyes, parched throats and bodies dripping with perspiration from the heat and excitement, the two lads reached the cove where they had landed, and made for the place where they had hidden the canoe.
The canoe was gone! Jean and Ronald could scarcely believe their senses. The boat had not burned, for the moss and bushes around the crack where it had been concealed were untouched by the fire. A bare space lay between the bushes and the edge of the woods, and the fire had not leaped across. There was no way the canoe could have disappeared except by human agency. Some one had been on the island when they landed. Probably he had seen them come ashore, had watched them hide their boat, and, as soon as they were out of sight and hearing, had taken possession of it and paddled away. How about the fire then? Had it been accidental, spreading from a carelessly made cooking fire, or had the man who had stolen their canoe deliberately set it and then left them, without means of escape, to perish in the flames, or to die of starvation afterwards?
These thoughts flashed through the heads of both boys as they stood gazing at the empty space where the canoe had been, but a new peril suddenly interrupted their speculations. There on the northeast end of the island, they had thought themselves safe from the fire, but something, a momentary change of the wind perhaps, caused a clump of half burned trees at the edge of the woods to blaze up suddenly, sending sparks far and wide. The sparks leaped the open space, and the dry bushes and stunted evergreens around the lads were on fire almost before the two realized what had happened. They had no time to seek for a place of safety on land. Scrambling down the rocks, the moss and lichens smouldering and bursting into tiny flames under their feet, the two plunged into the water not a moment too soon. The bottom shelved rapidly, and they lost their footing almost immediately. Just ahead of them a solitary rock rose a little above the surface, and a few strokes brought them to it.
There they clung, heads turned from the smoke, noses and throats choked, eyes smarting and blinded, while the fire swept away every bush and plant that grew about the landing place. At first the cold water felt grateful to their heated bodies and blistered skins, though no amount of it seemed to have much effect on their parched and swollen mouths and throats. The rock was too small and sharp pointed for them to climb up on it, and, in spite of the hot waves that swept over them from the fire, they soon began to chill.
After a little the breeze steadied and blew the smoke cloud in the other direction, and the boys were able to breathe again with some comfort, but not until the fire had thoroughly swept the rocks about the cove, did they dare to leave their refuge and swim the few strokes back to shore. The wildest of the fire was over, for the island was small, and the flames had swept it very thoroughly. Smoke still rose thickly though, and here and there parts of standing and fallen trees glowed red or burst out now and then into crackling tongues of fire. The rocks where the fire had taken bushes and moss were still warm, and the warmth was welcome to the lads, who had passed from extreme heat to cold, soaked as they were from their sojourn in the lake. Huddled in a cranny where the breeze did not strike them, they wrung the water out of their clothes, and waited for dawn. Now that the immediate peril seemed over, they found themselves so weary that they even slept a little.
At the first sign of day, they were up and out of their crack in the rock. What was to be done next? They had no canoe and nothing to eat. In their wild trip around the island, Jean had kept hold of his bow and arrows, but when he had plunged into the lake, he had been obliged to drop the bow on the shore. It had fallen on a bed of moss, where they found the blackened remains of the frame. If any animals had survived the fire, by taking to the water or burying themselves in holes, the boys had nothing to shoot them with, though they might make snares of the fishing lines they carried in their pockets. From their first landing, however, the only sign of life they had seen was the owl that had flown down over Ronald’s head.
As soon as the light was strong enough so they could see to find their way about, they set out to explore the burned woods, in the hope of finding a few sound trees for a raft. Luckily neither of them had lost the knife or small ax he carried attached to his belt. The central part of the island, though rough with broken rocks, had been green with spruces, balsams, junipers and moss. Now it was a scene of desolation. Most of the trees were still standing, but charred and blackened from base to summit. Enough trunks and branches, many of them crumbling into charcoal dust and ashes when stepped on, had fallen, however, to make walking through the burned woods difficult. Thinking they would stand the best chance of finding sound trees along the edge of the burning on the north shore of the island, the boys decided to go that way first. The results of their search were not encouraging, although they marked with their axes a few standing trunks they thought they could use.
The sun had not yet risen when they reached the opposite end of the island. Looking off across the water, Ronald was surprised to see something moving through the light mist. He called Jean, and the two soon made out a canoe with one man.
“Perhaps that’s the man who was on the island last night,” Ronald exclaimed, “and our canoe.”
“It may be,” Jean replied, “but that is not the man we saw here among the trees, or, if it is, he has taken off his red toque.” There was no bright color to be seen about the figure in the canoe. “That’s not our canoe either,” Jean added. “It is smaller and not so high in the bow.” Then as the boat drew nearer, he cried out, “It is Etienne!”
Ronald shook his head. “He is too far away. You can’t tell in the mist. Besides, it’s impossible. How could Etienne have come here,—in a canoe?”
“It isEtienne. I am sure of it,” Jean repeated. “But he is not making for this place. He intends to pass between this island and the shore.”
“We must hail him, whoever he is,” cried Ronald. “He’ll not refuse to take us off, unless he is Le Forgeron’s Indian, and in that case,” the boy’s face hardened, “we’re two to one.”
He opened his mouth to shout, but Jean stopped him and seized his half raised arm. “We will soon find out if it is Etienne,” he said. Then out across the water, he sent a peculiar, long drawn, wavering cry, not very loud but high pitched and penetrating. The man in the canoe turned his head, held himself motionless a moment, his paddle suspended, then sent back an answering cry, the same except for a falling cadence at the close, while Jean’s call had ended with a rising one.
“ItisEtienne,” the lad cried, and he sprang down the rocks, waving his arms, and uttering the queer cry a second time.
Again the man in the canoe answered, then turned and paddled towards the island. A few strokes and he was near enough so that even Ronald made sure that it was really the Ojibwa.
If the Indian was surprised to find his two companions on the burned over island, he gave no expression to the feeling. He came in close to the shore, but did not get out of the canoe, holding it off from the rocks with his paddle. “Canoe burned?” he asked briefly.
“Not burned, stolen,” Jean replied, and, without explaining how he and Ronald came to be on the island, he told how they had found the place where they had hidden their boat, empty, though the fire had not reached it.
The Indian cut short the boy’s explanations by motioning both lads into the canoe. When they were settled, he said sharply, “Paddle now. Get back to camp. Talk then.”
After a quick look across the water in the direction he had come, he suited his action to his words, paddling with quick, strong strokes. Seizing the other blade that lay in the boat, Ronald joined in, and they made good speed over the almost still water. Now and then Nangotook looked back over his shoulder. It was evident that he feared pursuit.
They reached the camp just as the sun was rising. Nangotook landed first, and the boys, as they were carrying up the canoe, heard him give a grunt, when he rounded a bush and came in view of the lodge. Only its framework was standing. The bark covering had been stripped off. The Indian stooped to examine the ground. In the ashes, where the fire had been, was the print of a moccasined foot, a large foot that turned out and pressed more heavily on the inner side than on the outer. “Awishtoya,” he growled, and when the boys saw the track they too felt sure that it had been made by the lame Frenchman. They had not left anything of value in the wigwam, except a pile of hare skins, which had disappeared of course. Alarmed for the safety of the dried meat, the lads ran to the tree where they had hung it. The birch bark package was gone. No animal would or could have carried it off in its entirety. The caribou hide, which had been stretched out to cure, had disappeared also.
“It was Le Forgeron’s red toque we saw on that island,” said Jean with conviction. “He was hiding somewhere when we landed. He set the woods on fire to destroy us. Then he took our canoe, came here and stole our meat.”
“There can be no doubt of it,” Ronald agreed.
Nangotook nodded. He was to add his confirmation to Jean’s surmises later. All he said at the time was, “Tell me, my brothers, all that has happened since we parted. Then we can take council together.”
So the boys related how they had searched for him without result, how they had been led to visit the island, and what had happened to them there. When they had finished, Nangotook told his story.
Nangotook had followed the caribou trail to the bog the animals were in the habit of visiting, and there he had wounded a stag so badly that it fell in its tracks. He ran up to it, and, finding it still alive, was stooping to give it the death stroke, when something struck him suddenly on the back of the head, and he knew nothing more. This part of the story he told somewhat shamefacedly. He was at a loss to understand how an enemy could have crept up on him, and blamed himself for allowing the caribou he was stalking to occupy all of his senses, to the exclusion of everything else.
When his spirit came back to his body, he was lying on his back, legs and arms bound, beside a fire, in a little open place surrounded by trees. It was dark, but he could not tell how far advanced the night was, for no stars were visible. On the opposite side of the fire sat the Cree Indian he had seen with Le Forgeron Tordu, and over the flames was a scaffold where meat was drying, the flesh of the caribou he had killed, as he learned later. Nangotook lay still, and, his head being in shadow, his open eyes were not noticed by the Cree. Presently a figure came out of the woods and up to the fire. Nangotook recognized the strong, squat form and ugly, scarred face of Le Forgeron.
After taking a look at the drying meat, the Frenchman came around the fire, and, standing directly over Nangotook, looked down at him. Thinking nothing was to be gained by feigning sleep, the Ojibwa stared back at Le Forgeron defiantly. He expected the taunt and ridicule that are usually heaped upon the Indian captive, but Le Forgeron merely nodded in a friendly manner and sat down beside his prisoner. The reason for his friendliness was not long in appearing. He had a proposition to make.
He knew, he said, that Nangotook and his companions were seeking a rich gold mine, but he, Awishtoya, intended to have that gold for himself. What could boys like the young Havard and the red-haired Kennedy do with such a mine, he asked. They were only lads without sense or judgment. If they found the gold they would go back to Montreal and brag of it, and other men, wiser and cleverer than they, would get control of the mine. All that the boys would ever gain from the discovery would be experience, but no riches. Then what would happen to Nangotook? If he thought he would share in the wealth of the mine, he was mistaken. The young are always ungrateful, and the lads would have no use for their guide once they had found the treasure. But even if they did not prove ungrateful, it would make no difference. They would be powerless to reward him, while the rich and clever men, who would take the mine away from them, would acknowledge no obligation to a poor savage. They would scorn him and kick him out when he went to plead for his share of the gold.
While the white man was presenting his argument, Nangotook kept silent, knowing well what the other was leading up to. At that point, however, it occurred to him that he might gain time and also learn more about what Le Forgeron actually knew of their quest, if he appeared to be influenced by the Frenchman’s arguments. So, when the latter described the treatment the poor Indian would receive at the hands of the men who would gain control of the mine, the Ojibwa allowed his expression to change and even gave a little grunt of assent. Thus encouraged, the Blacksmith began to show his purpose more plainly. He admitted with apparent frankness that, while he knew in general where to search for the gold mine, he was not familiar with its exact location. Otherwise he would not have troubled himself to bring Nangotook to his camp. His evil smile conveyed the impression that he would merely have struck the Indian down at the first good opportunity, and so have got him out of his way. However, he had spared Nangotook’s life and had brought him here, because he had need of him. Undoubtedly he, Awishtoya, could find the place if he searched closely enough, but the season was getting late, and he wanted to leave the lake before winter came. So he had taken this method, a harsh one he admitted, to have an interview with the Ojibwa and make him a proposition. If Nangotook would abandon his two companions and lead Le Forgeron to the gold mine, he would promise him half of all the wealth obtained from it, a generous offer, for the Indian would share none of the expense of taking out and transporting the gold.
Le Forgeron paused impressively at this point to let the idea sink in. Nangotook appeared to consider the proposition for some moments, then, speaking for the first time, asked what he, a poor Indian, with simple wants, could do with such great wealth.
His question was cleverly framed to give the impression that he knew the wealth in question would be indeed very great. He saw a gleam in the Frenchman’s eyes that assured him his shot had struck home.
In answer to the Indian’s question, Le Forgeron launched into a long and vivid description of the delights of wealth and of all the wonderful things Nangotook could do with it. Though selfish and evil himself, he was clever enough to realize that the Indian he was dealing with was of a higher type than most of his fellows. He not only described the pleasures of personal indulgence that could be bought with riches, but enlarged upon the opportunity to obtain power and become the greatest chief of the Ojibwas and of all the Indian tribes, able to deal on terms of equality with the white men and their chiefs, even with the great white father across the sea in England and the other white father whom the men who called themselves Americans served! Nangotook could make his own people the greatest, the most prosperous, the happiest of all the Indian nations. He could prevent them from ever knowing famine, or even hunger again, though the game should disappear from the woods, the fish from the lakes, and the wild rice from the streams and the marshes, for he could purchase from the white men great ship loads of flour, pork and all other articles of food. He could supply his people with the best of guns and all the ammunition they needed, with an abundance of iron kettles, utensils and implements of all kinds, the thickest and warmest of blankets, clothes as good as the richest white men wore and luxuries and ornaments that would arouse the envy of all the other tribes. The Ojibwas could tread under their feet their hereditary enemies, the great Sioux nation.
It was a vivid and, to an Indian, an attractive picture Le Forgeron painted, and Nangotook admitted that it would have moved him greatly if he had had any confidence in the good faith and promises of the man beside him. But he knew Awishtoya, and as he lay looking up into his face, appearing to drink in his words, he could see, he declared, the greed and treachery and evil under the innocent expression.
“His words were smooth and sweet to the ear as the maple sap in spring is to the taste,” said Nangotook, “yet I knew that he spoke with a forked tongue, and in his voice I could hear the hissing of the spotted snake.”
The Ojibwa knew better than to refuse the proposition at once however. He must play for time until he could find some means of escape. So he appeared to consider the Blacksmith’s offer, but said he could not make up his mind on such an important matter so quickly. He must have time to think. Perhaps by the next morning he would be able to give an answer.
Le Forgeron was familiar with Indian nature and knew he would gain nothing by arguing farther just then, but might lose some of the influence he had already acquired. So he dropped the subject, and leaving his captive’s side, ordered the Cree to give “the guest” something to eat. The Cree did as he was commanded, bringing Nangotook a large birch bowl of steaming caribou stew, and untying his hands so he could eat it. After the prisoner had eaten, Le Forgeron offered him some tobacco. Nangotook did not feel that he could refuse it without exciting the white man’s suspicions. To have smoked it, however, would have been a sign of peace between them. The Ojibwa, being too honest for that, managed in the darkness to slip the tobacco into his pouch, and to take out a little of his own kinni-kinnik instead. After he had smoked, the Cree tied his hands again, and Nangotook closed his eyes and appeared to sleep.
He had no chance to escape that night. Even if he had been able to loose his bonds, he could not have got away, for one or the other of his captors remained awake to tend the meat on the scaffold. The next morning he still delayed answering Le Forgeron Tordu’s proposition, making the excuse that, though he had asked for counsel, his totem or guardian spirit had not signified either in a dream or in any other way what he should do. Awishtoya’s words and promises had sounded good to him, he said, but the matter was a serious one. He had never deserted a companion who trusted him, and he was bound especially to Jean Havard by gratitude to Jean’s father, who had saved his life. What would become of the two white lads if he forsook them, he asked.
Le Forgeron had been expecting that question, and had a ready answer. If Nangotook would lead him to the gold mine at once, he would then leave the Ojibwa free to return to the two boys, whom he would pledge himself not to injure in the meantime. Of course Nangotook must promise not to reveal to them that he had found the mine. Instead he must tell them that he could not find the place. Then he must take them away immediately to Grande Portage. “In that way,” said the crafty Frenchman, “you can fulfill your agreement with me, and at the same time save the lives of your companions, and return the young Havard to his father.” Again he smiled his evil smile, hinting that if Nangotook did not accept his proposition, the lives of his comrades would most certainly not be saved.
Again the Indian read the evil purpose underlying the smooth words. He was sure that no matter what agreement he made, the Blacksmith would never, if he could help it, let any of the three escape alive. They knew too much about his plans and purposes. It would be much simpler for him to destroy them all, than to risk their telling tales against him if he found the gold and did not share his fortune with them. The Ojibwa was convinced that Le Forgeron was not the kind of a man to share anything, whatever he might promise. He kept his thoughts to himself though, and, after appearing to consider for some time, answered that he would ask his totem for counsel again that night, and would give his reply the following morning. Once more Le Forgeron, used to dealing with savages who could not be hurried, consented. He had not used all his arguments yet, but was saving the strongest for the last, and he felt very sure he should succeed. Apparently, it did not occur to him that his prisoner might not know just where the gold mine was. He seemed perfectly confident that the Indian could lead him there speedily if he would, and Nangotook was careful not to undeceive him. He knew that his life and that of the two boys hung on the Frenchman’s belief that the Ojibwa could be useful to him.
The task of guarding the captive was left to the Cree that day, and he proved a careful and zealous guard. Not for one moment did he go out of sight of his prisoner, and Nangotook, after sounding him cautiously, decided that he could not be tampered with. His loyalty to, or fear of, Awishtoya was too great.
There was no drying meat to be watched that night, and the prisoner hoped for a chance of escape. He had carefully tried his bonds, and had made up his mind that there was no way of slipping or loosening them. He must gnaw through the thongs, cut them by drawing them across something sharp, or burn them by placing them against a live coal. The gnawing would take a long time, and if he was found with partly severed bonds, he knew he would be tied more tightly as a result, his hands bound behind his back probably so that he could not get at them. Up to that time, though his wrists were firmly fastened together, his arms had not been tied to his body. No knives or sharp things were within reach, so he resolved to try burning the thongs.
He lay with his feet to the fire, and to reach it he must roll over and around. He waited for a good opportunity to make the move, but the chance was slow in coming. The Cree slept close to him, and slept very lightly. Every time Nangotook made the slightest movement, the latter either woke or stirred in his sleep as if about to wake. At last the captive succeeded in rolling over and turning part way around, but his guard woke and gave him a brutal kick. It was some time before the Cree settled down to sleep again. As soon as the latter was breathing deeply, Nangotook attempted to turn a little farther, but a stick under him cracked, and the Cree was up in a moment. Probably he suspected what his prisoner was trying to do, for, after giving him another savage kick, he replenished the fire and sat close to it, wide awake, the rest of the night.
Balked in his attempts to escape, Nangotook had to fence for time again. He thought seriously of appearing to agree to Le Forgeron’s proposal, and leading him somewhere, anywhere. His ankles would have to be unbound for land traveling, but he knew that he would be forced to go ahead with a loaded weapon at his back. He might have to travel so far before he could escape, that it would be difficult to get back to the boys. Moreover, before they started, either Le Forgeron or the Cree might waylay and destroy the lads. Why the Blacksmith had not done so before that, the Ojibwa could scarcely understand.
Once more he tried to put Le Forgeron off, but this time he did not succeed so well. The Twisted Blacksmith grew angry at the delay and told him sharply that he could not have another night to make up his mind. He must decide before sunset, so they might start that evening. The Frenchman would delay no longer. He thought the time had come to try threats as well as persuasion, so he told Nangotook that unless he agreed promptly it would be the worse for him and his friends. He had the Ojibwa in his power and could do what he willed with him. The two boys were as good as in his hands. They could not escape him. When the three were once “out of the way,” he would find the gold anyway, he asserted. He knew the place was near by. A week’s search at the farthest must reveal it to him. Then Nangotook would have sacrificed his life and his companions’ lives all for nothing, when he might have had wealth and power.
The Indian appeared deeply concerned at these threats, and promised to make up his mind by nightfall. From the white man’s remarks he had learned two important things, first that Le Forgeron had no definite idea where the gold mine was, and second that he did not associate it with the Island of Yellow Sands. Whatever he had heard of the lads’ conversation that night at the Grande Portage, he had not caught anything that served to connect their search with the island of the Indian tales, tales he must have heard more than once. He knew merely that they were seeking some rich deposit of gold, and he had been following them without any knowledge where they would lead him. It was evident that he suspected the mine was either on or near the island of Minong.
Le Forgeron was both restless and ugly that morning, abusing the Cree until Nangotook wondered the latter did not turn on him. The Indian appeared to be a sort of slave to the white man, and was in deadly fear of him. Probably it was the magic power which the Indians, and many of the whites as well, supposed the Twisted Blacksmith to possess, that his slave dreaded, rather than his brutality or physical strength.
Some time after the sun had reached its height and had begun to decline again, Le Forgeron told the Cree sharply to look to his charge. He was going to leave the island a while he said, but he might be back any time, and unless he found everything to his satisfaction, the Cree knew what would happen. Then he cast a threatening glance at Nangotook, and went limping off among the trees. The captive had suspected from the appearance of the place that the camp was on a small island, but he had not been sure until now. The departure of Le Forgeron worried him, for he feared his enemy might be going to work some evil on the two boys. The man hated Ronald, and would not be content, the Indian believed, with merely killing the lad, but would devise some especially cruel way of getting rid of him. Yet Nangotook could not follow Le Forgeron. Even if he could escape the watchful eyes of the Cree, or manage in some way to overpower him, he could not get away until the Blacksmith came back, for the latter must have taken his canoe. There was nothing for the captive to do but to remain quiet and feign indifference.
Nangotook did not have to give his decision at sunset, for Le Forgeron had not returned. Darkness fell and night came on, but still the Frenchman did not come. The breeze brought the smell of smoke from the northeast. Nangotook was sure the woods were burning somewhere. The smoke grew thicker, and the Cree became anxious, but would not leave his charge even to find out if the fire was on the island.
After a time the smoke thinned, and was hardly perceptible by the time Le Forgeron returned. Nangotook feigned to be sleeping, and the Blacksmith did not disturb him. Le Forgeron seemed restless. He would sit by the fire for a few minutes, then get up and wander off through the woods. As long as his master was awake, the Cree feared to sleep, but both of them quieted down at last. As if to make up for their former wakefulness, they slept with unusual soundness.
When his captors were snoring loudly, Nangotook made another attempt to reach the fire. That time he succeeded. Lying on his side, he stretched his arms out over the embers, and held the thongs against a glowing coal until they were so charred he could pull them apart. He burned his hands and wrists in the process, but he did not heed the pain. When his hands were free, he did not untie his feet immediately, but quietly and slowly, a few inches at a time, dragged himself over the ground, away from the Cree and into the shadows of the trees. There, behind a bush, he untied the cords that were about his ankles, rose to his feet and slipped silently into the woods. The cry of an owl caused him to duck suddenly. The noise must have disturbed Le Forgeron, for Nangotook heard him mumble an oath.
The Ojibwa remained motionless, expecting every moment that his absence would be discovered, and that he would have to run or fight. His bow and arrows, knife and ax had been taken from him when he was first captured, before he regained consciousness. But neither Le Forgeron nor the Cree roused enough to think of the prisoner. He waited a while, until he was sure from their deep breathing that they were sleeping soundly, then slipped away, going in the same direction the Frenchman had gone that morning. The goings and comings of the two had made a clear trail, and even in the darkness Nangotook had no trouble in keeping it. It led him to a rocky shore where a canoe lay above water line.
Day was dawning, and the Ojibwa knew he must hurry. Perhaps it was his haste that prevented him from noticing whether there was another canoe anywhere near by. Indeed he never thought of there being more than one. Embarking at once, he paddled away swiftly but without sound. He could see that the island, where he had been held, was off the main shore of the big island, to the southwest of the cove mouth, and he made speed back towards the camp where he had left his comrades. He was steering to run between the burned island and the shore, when he heard Jean’s call across the water, the Indian call he had taught the lad when he was a little child. Nangotook not only knew the call, but he recognized Jean’s voice and his way of uttering the syllables.
After Nangotook had finished his narrative, Ronald asked him how Le Forgeron had managed to follow them through storm and fog, and yet not lose track of them. The boys knew that the Indians, among whom he had lived for many years, regarded him as a great medicine man and believed him to have magic powers which they respected and feared. Nangotook answered that the Frenchman had hinted that he had learned of the gold-seekers’ quest in some mysterious way, and had asserted that, from the first, he had had them in his power. They could not escape him, he said, no matter how hard they might try. But the Ojibwa knew that all this might be mere boasting to put his prisoner in awe of him. The fact that Le Forgeron had not discovered that it was the Island of Yellow Sands the three were seeking, as well as his betrayal of his dependence on his captive’s leadership, rather destroyed Nangotook’s faith in Awishtoya’s magic powers. So, in the white man’s absence, he had questioned the Cree, leading up to the subject so carefully that the latter had not suspected he was being quizzed.
From what the Cree told him, Nangotook discovered that Le Forgeron had not tracked the treasure-seeking party as easily or readily as he pretended. Whether he had overheard them say something about the Rock of the Beaver, and, knowing the place, had gone there directly, or had trailed them along the north shore of the lake, Nangotook had not learned. At any rate it was the smoke of his fire they had seen when they left the Rock. He had watched them go and had noted their course, but had not followed until darkness came. He did not wish to be observed by them, and had trusted that, if he kept to the same course, he would reach whatever place the gold-seekers were headed for. The Cree evidently believed that it was by Awishtoya’s magic powers alone that the two had survived the storm and reached land. Instead of being cast up on a barren rock, as the others had been, they had been driven on the shore of the island that Nangotook and the boys had reached two days later. They had narrowly escaped being battered on the rocks at the northern end, but had managed to avoid wreck, and had found a refuge in the cave where Ronald had discovered the remains of their camp.
It was Le Forgeron who had knocked Ronald over the cliff. The Cree had been in the cave at the time, He had gone out in the canoe and had towed the unconscious boy into the adjoining cavern, where he had taken from him his gun and knife. Awishtoya had ordered him, the Indian said, to kill the lad, if he were not already dead, but because of a dream he had had the night before, which forbade him to take life, even the life of an animal, that day, the Cree had not given the death stroke. He had thought the boy would die anyway, for he did not believe he could get out of the cave without a boat to help him, and he felt sure that his companions would never find him there. Le Forgeron did not go into the hole where Ronald was, so he did not discover that his servant had not carried out his commands. As soon as he had disposed of the lad, the Indian had paddled to the place where the two were in the habit of descending the cliff, and had taken his master into the canoe. Then they had crossed a short stretch of water to a little, outlying, almost barren island, where they had lain hidden among the few stunted trees and bushes until nightfall. Before night the weather had cleared, so they could see the land away to the southwest.
Evidently Le Forgeron had made up his mind that the gold mine was not on the island where they had been staying. He had doubtless spied on the three and had seen no evidence of prospecting. After midnight he ordered the Cree to launch the canoe again, and they made a perilous crossing, with strong wind and high waves, to Minong. There they waited in the camp on the point for several days, one or the other of them on watch day and night for the coming of the gold-seekers’ canoe. As the days passed, the Frenchman grew more and more impatient. He was absent from camp most of the time, leaving the Indian to watch for the canoe. Finally Le Forgeron gave up waiting, and the two began a series of wanderings that the Cree evidently did not understand. To Nangotook, however, it was plain that the Blacksmith had been searching for the gold mine. They left the harbor where they had been camping, and explored the whole northern end of the big island, as well as the little islands off its shores. They penetrated to the interior of Minong, traveling along the ridges. In some places they remained for several days at a time, the Cree minding the camp while his master went off by himself. The northeaster did not disturb them seriously, for they were in camp with plenty to eat. At last they reached the cove where the copper mines were.
This was the sum of what Nangotook, by careful questioning and without appearing especially curious, had learned from the Cree. It proved to him that Le Forgeron had not followed the three by any exercise of mysterious powers. If he had used magic, it had been merely to save himself and his companion from storm and waves, and in that respect he had not been any better cared for than Nangotook and the boys. The fog, which had hidden their coming to Minong and had caused them to land many miles from Le Forgeron’s camp, had put him off their track, so that it was not until he reached the cove of the copper mines that he found himself in their neighborhood again. It was then that he discovered that he still had three persons, not two, to deal with. His anger at his Indian servant, for not obeying orders and taking Ronald’s life, had been so great that he had threatened to kill the Cree, and might have done so, had the latter not fled from him and kept away until his master’s fury cooled.
“It would seem,” said Jean, when the Indian had finished telling what he had learned, “that, if Le Forgeron thinks we are seeking gold about here somewhere, the wisest course for us is to leave at once, and get as far away as we can before he discovers we have gone. With a good start, and three paddles to his two, we may easily beat him to the Grande Portage and be rid of him. If he has deserted from the fleet, I do not believe he will show himself at any of the Company’s posts for some years to come.”
Ronald did not like the idea of running away, as he called it. His fiery temper had been aroused by the attempt to destroy his comrade and himself in such a cruel and cowardly way, as well as by the capture of Nangotook. His first impulse was to seek the Frenchman’s camp, and have it out with him, but, after a brief argument, the wiser and cooler counsels of Jean and the Ojibwa prevailed. The latter, while he would have liked well to avenge himself on Le Forgeron, felt responsible for the two boys, and was reluctant to expose them to a fight with the cruel and crafty Blacksmith. To be sure they were three to two, but the others had guns and ammunition, which gave them an overpowering advantage. So Nangotook was in favor of getting away first, and settling the score with the Frenchman at some later time. Although he did not say so to the boys, he was determined to seek out Awishtoya and make him pay that score, as soon as the two lads had been returned to their friends.
To Nangotook’s argument, Jean added the opinion that, if they should provoke a fight with Le Forgeron, or attack him, they would put themselves in the wrong, and make themselves liable to punishment for crime, if either of their enemies should escape from their assault, or if the matter should become known in any other way. “There is no way we could punish them except to kill them outright,” he said, “and while I do not doubt Le Forgeron well deserves death, I should be loath to attack him deliberately and in cold blood. If he should attack us, that would be different. Then I should have no compunctions.”
“He will attack us, that is certain, if he finds a chance,” replied Ronald. “It is open warfare between us, and it seems to me only good generalship to strike first and get the advantage.”
In the end, however, he yielded to the counsels of the others, and they prepared to leave their camp at once. The Indian had not taken long to tell his story, and the discussion that followed had lasted but a few minutes. So the morning was but little advanced when they were ready to start. If they paddled out of the cove and along shore, they could hardly hope to escape being seen by their enemies, yet they did not want to delay until nightfall. So they decided to cross the cove and go overland, portaging the canoe, to the bay the boys had found when they were searching for some trace of Nangotook.
They put their plan into execution at once. Paddling across the cove, they landed in a narrow little bay, climbed to the high ground, carrying the canoe, and went along at the top of the cliffs. They chose, so far as they could, ground open enough to allow the canoe to be taken through easily, but with growth sufficiently large and thick to prevent their being seen by any one on the water or on the outlying islands. Conditions on the whole were favorable, and they were able to make good speed without exposing themselves. They went rapidly, but carefully, leaving as little trace of their passage as possible, in the hope that Le Forgeron would not find their trail. The place had been much frequented by caribou, and a broken branch or a bruised bit of moss or lichen would naturally be laid to the animals, unless it bore plain signs of the human. Such plain signs it was their intention to avoid. In one respect, however, luck was against them, for, though they were in need of food, they saw but one caribou, and did not get near enough for a shot. As the boys had been over the ground before, they led the way. When they came to the rift that led down to the pebble beach, Nangotook, pointing to the island that lay out from it, said it was there he had been held a prisoner. He must have been carried down to the beach, while still unconscious, and taken across in Le Forgeron’s canoe.
The refugees launched their boat in a little lake the lads had found, and, after portaging around a beaver dam, paddled down a narrow stream to the great bay.
None of the three had had anything to eat since the night before. The loss of the caribou meat was a serious matter, for, instead of pushing on rapidly as they wished to do, they must delay to hunt and fish. Among the reefs and islands of the bay, they succeeded in catching enough fish for a meal, and, landing on a small island, broiled their catch. Wishing to leave as few traces as possible for Le Forgeron to find, they gathered up the fish cleanings, and even the embers and ashes from the fire, and threw them into the lake. Then Etienne covered the spot where the ashes had been with dry earth and fallen leaves, so cleverly that no one would have suspected that a fire had ever been kindled there.
Taking to the canoe, the voyageurs started to go on with their journey, but, as they paddled out from the shelter of the small island, they discovered that the wind was blowing a gale from the west. By keeping close to shore and taking advantage of every bit of shelter that little islands and points afforded, they managed to make their way through the bay. When they rounded a long point at the southwestern end, however, they found the waves rolling so high and the black clouds coming up the sky so threateningly, that they did not dare to continue along an open and unprotected shore. They were obliged to turn back into the little subsidiary harbor they had just skirted, which cut into the land in a south-*westerly direction at the end of the large bay.
In their anxiety to make speed, they would have tried to go on overland, but the storm broke before they had the canoe out of the water. In the heavy rain and boisterous wind, traveling over rough and unfamiliar ground, carrying the canoe was out of the question. They were forced to crawl under the upturned boat, and wait for the passing of the storm.
The storm was in no haste to pass over. It developed into one of those cold, driving, wind-lashed, autumn rains that may last any length of time, from hours to days. The weather-wise Etienne soon decided that farther travel that day, either by water or land, was out of the question. The three might as well make themselves as comfortable as they could. They had one consolation at least. The storm would delay Le Forgeron as well, if he had succeeded in getting on their track. If he had not found their trail before the rain began, he would not find it at all, for all the traces they had left would be completely washed out.
They did not attempt to build a shelter, but cut evergreen branches, shook the water from them, and covered the ground under the canoe. The driving rain prevented them from finding food. Not an animal or bird ventured forth, and fishing from the shore was without result. So the three went supperless. When their canoe had disappeared from the burning island, the one remaining blanket had gone with it, for the blankets, folded or rolled, were always carried in the canoe to kneel upon or lean against. So the campers had no cover that night but the damp spruce and balsam branches they burrowed into, in the attempt to keep warm. Jean was the worst off, for he did not even have a coat.
The next morning was foggy, but the water was calm, so the voyageurs made an early start. As they had nothing to eat, they did not have to delay for breakfast. In the thick mist, navigation was difficult, however, even for the experienced Ojibwa. Disaster came quickly. They ran too close to an island that lay off the end of the point separating their camping ground from the open lake, struck upon a sharp, submerged rock, and tore a bad hole in the bottom of the canoe. The water came in so rapidly that, to reach shore, Ronald and the Indian had to put all their strength and speed into their paddling, while Jean bailed as fast as he could. It was fortunate that they were only a few hundred feet from the point, or they could not have gained it before the boat filled. They had no time to choose a landing place, and, striking the rocks, damaged the canoe still more.
The bark covering was so badly torn that mending it would take considerable time. So the three decided that breakfast was the first essential. While Ronald gathered fire-wood and Etienne attempted to coax a blaze from the wet materials, Jean looked for a place where he could fish from the shore. From a pool among the rocks, he dipped up some tiny fish that he could use for bait, but neither he nor Ronald succeeded in catching anything large enough to be eaten. Finally they breakfasted on two squirrels that Ronald brought down with stones, scanty fare indeed for three men who had fasted for nearly twenty-four hours.
After they had finished the last drop of the squirrel stew, the two boys decided to go back around the shore to the mouth of a stream they had noticed the day before. There they might be able to catch some brook trout, while Etienne was repairing the canoe.
Accordingly, the two lads scrambled along the rocky point, to the head of the narrow little bay where they had spent the night. They knew that the stream entered the lake at the upper end of another subsidiary bay, that lay parallel to the one where they were. Instead of going around the intervening point, they risked losing themselves in the fog, and struck off through the woods. After climbing a ridge, they came upon the stream they sought, running through a swampy valley. It was not a favorable place for trout, so they continued on down the brook to its mouth, around the end of the little bay, and along higher ground for about two miles, to another larger and more rapid stream, that discharged into the lake through a break between the ridges. The fog was so thick that the lads, had they not been guided by the ridge they traveled along, might easily have become lost and have failed to find the stream they were seeking. Indeed they had underestimated the distance, and had begun to fear they had missed the place, when they came suddenly to the edge of the ravine where the brown waters flowed swiftly down to the lake. The little trout were biting so eagerly that the fishermen soon had fine strings. These were primitive, uneducated trout that had never been fished for, and did not have to be lured with bright colored, artificial flies, but were ready to rise to minnows and even to bare hooks.
The fog was still dense when the boys, well laden with fish, started to make their way back to their camping place, but when they climbed out of the ravine, they found it was no longer a motionless curtain of mist that hung about them, but waves of moisture driven before a raw northeast wind. Before they reached the point where Etienne was at work on the canoe, the fog had turned to rain, cold, fine and mist-like.
“Northeaster coming,” grunted the Indian, without even glancing at the strings of trout. “Find better place and make wigwam quick.”
Hungry though they were, the three did not even wait to cook their fish, but, seizing the canoe, made speed back along the point to look for a sheltered camping spot. The northeast wind swept the whole length of the bay, and it was not until they reached thick woods at its head, that they found a good place. A bit of partly open ground surrounded by trees was hastily cleared and leveled, and a wigwam erected. Not until the hut was finished and a good supply of fire-wood cut and piled inside, did Nangotook allow the boys to even clean their fish. By that time the cold rain was coming down hard, and the wind was bending the tree tops. Within their bark shelter the three, wet, chilled and painfully hungry, sat around their little fire and waited impatiently for the fish to broil. It was well that the lads had brought back long strings, for to their hunger one little trout was scarcely more than a mouthful.
Nangotook’s prophecy was correct. Another northeaster was upon them, not quite so violent as the one they had passed through a short time before, but even more long continued. Four days, the cold, driving storm of rain, wind, sleet and snow lasted, with never a long enough lull to let the waves, that dashed furiously the length of the big, open bay, subside so a canoe could be launched. It was a time of misery for the three wanderers. They had no blankets or furs for covering, but could only burrow down among evergreen branches to keep out the bitter cold. Jean did not even have a coat, and his shirt, like Ronald’s, was worn and ragged. Neither boy had a change of clothing left. Their moccasins were in rags, and they had no deerskin to make new. Fuel was plenty, but hard to get in the icy storm, and slow to dry so it would burn well enough to give off anything but smoke.
Their greatest misery, however, was due to lack of food. If there were any animals in that part of Minong, they kept to their holes and dens. It was impossible to go out in the canoe, and fishing from the shore brought little result. Once when the storm lulled slightly, Nangotook and Ronald tried to reach the stream where the boys had caught the trout, but before they had fought their way through snow and wind for half a mile, the storm came on again with such violence that they were obliged to turn back. In the quieter intervals they sought for anything eatable that the woods near their wigwam afforded, digging through the frozen snow for roots, picking every nut and seed and dried berry that remained on the bushes, and even stripping the tender inner bark of willows and birches and chewing it. To ease his hunger, Nangotook smoked incessantly. He was out of tobacco, but used bearberry leaves and willow bark in his pipe. He spent most of his time, when compelled by the storm to remain within the lodge, making new bows and arrows and twisting stout cord from the inner bark of the white cedar to weave into a fishing net. In this work the boys joined him.
They attempted to forget their suffering in talk. Jean told all the strange French-Canadian tales and sang all the songs he could remember, from “Marlborough Has Gone to War,”