[Contents]CHAPTER XIMYSTERY AND DANGERIn the morning Ganawa told the lads some news which he had kept to himself the evening before.“There was a visitor at this camp only a few sleeps ago,” he said. “It was Hamogeesik. He is no good Indian, he is no good white man. He is a bad Indian and a bad white man in one. He asked my Chippewa friends if they had seen two white boys and he tried to find out from the Ininiwac people where two white men had made a cache of fur, and if the white men had been looking for any gold rock. Most white men, he said, were looking for gold rock all the time. The Ininiwac people told him they did not know where the two white men had cached their fur more than twelve moons ago; and none of the Indians here know[90]whether the two white men are still back in the hills or whether they have left and taken their furs away.“But I know what is in the black heart of Hamogeesik. I think he is trying to follow us, for he has learned that we are trying to find the two men who made a cache of fur and looked for gold rock in the hills from which the waters run to the Michipicoten.”The three travellers remained several days at the camp with the Ininiwacs and the Chippewas, because Ganawa thought he might discover more definite information about the place where the two white men had made their cache, whether they had found or had been looking for any gold rock, and whether they were still in the country.On the fourth morning he said: “My sons, we must leave this camp. I have learned very little from the people here, and I know now that I shall learn nothing more; so we must travel among the hills up the river and look for signs of our friends. But[91]I fear we shall find nothing, unless the Great Spirit sends me more light. The country is very big, and there are as many hills and streams and lakes as there are leaves on a tree. There are many big lakes and many more small lakes. No Indian has ever found all the small lakes and small streams, only the beaver people have found them and the fish that shine like a rainbow. But we must now paddle up-stream among the high hills and trust in the Great Spirit that he may let us find some sign that may tell us where to look for your friends.”Had the three travellers been on a pleasure or camping trip, they could hardly have chosen a finer and more beautiful river. For a mile or two they passed through a level sandy country into which the river has cut its channel, making on the north side a steep bank more than fifty feet high. This level country was covered with a growth of jack-pine, spruces and balsam firs; and to this day a most beautiful, natural jack-pine park extends some miles up-stream toward[92]the big falls of the Michipicoten, of which we shall soon hear more.The area of this jack-pine park was covered by the waters of Lake Superior a long time ago, when the big lake was even bigger than it is now; and over the whole Lake Superior region is written a most wonderful story of great ice-sheets and floods for those who can read the story of lakes and streams and hills and of the great deposits of gravel and small stones and large boulders.While Ganawa and Bruce were paddling the canoe up the fairly swift current, Ray sat in the stern and had a line out, baited with a piece of flannel; and by the time Ganawa stopped for a meal and for rest, Ray had caught enough rainbow trout for the men, and a pike and a pickerel for Tawny.The Michipicoten is carrying about as much water as the Wabash or the Minnesota, but its water is clear and cold with just a tint of brown in it, and pike and pickerel and large rainbow trout may still[93]be caught in its waters in the same pool. It is not to be thought, however, that they will always bite on a piece of flannel; for, like fish in other waters, at times no bait will tempt them.If any of my readers should ever paddle up the Michipicoten from the mouth toward the big falls, they would naturally use a fly or they might keep a trolling-line out and enjoy the thrill of catching a big rainbow trout, for the country of the Michipicoten is still a wilderness and its waters still flow cold and clear.In 1775 spoon hooks had not yet been invented and, of course, no trout-flies could be bought of any Indian traders.Whenever the three travellers came to a place where some one had camped, they landed and examined the spot with great care.“My father,” asked Bruce, “how would you be able to tell whether Indians or white men had camped on the river?”“If I found a button,” Ganawa replied,[94]“or a coin, or paper with printed words, I should say that white men had made the camp.”They spent the better part of a day in paddling some ten or twelve miles up-stream. They examined minutely three camping-places near the river. At each place the Indians had left their tepee-poles standing, as is their custom to this day. None of the places showed signs of very recent camps; however, at one camp Ray picked up a scrap of printed paper; but the words were French and the sign, therefore, gave no clue as to the whereabouts of the friend of Bruce.At the foot of some rapid water, Ganawa made camp for the night, and the lads now saw the advantage of leaving the tepee-poles standing at each camp, for within a few minutes Ganawa had their long strip of deerskin wound around the poles, fastened it to the ground, and the tepee was ready.“We had better sleep in the tepee,” he remarked, “for the night will be cool and[95]the air damp in the deep shaded valley near the river.“To-morrow, my sons,” he added, “we must push our canoe with a pole or drag it on a rope, and in some places we must carry it, for it is a league from here to the big falls and the water is very swift all the way and many rocks have rolled into the river from the hills.”That evening Ray lay awake a long time listening to the talk of the river, which gurgled and bubbled, roared and rushed and rippled past the camp, as if a crowd of living men or spirits talking in a strange language were for ever and ever marching past the camp.Then the lad was bold enough to turn aside the tepee-flap and step out into the night. If Tawny had not come out with him, he would have been afraid. A strange sight met his eyes. Above the stream, which now looked uncanny and forbidding, hung a fog which in the moonlight looked like a long gray cloud. Patches of moonlight[96]lay bright on the trail and the high tree tops on the hills opposite stood out in bold relief, while the tree trunks near by stood like black spectres. A big owl was hooting in the distance. Or was it the howling of a wolf? And some small creature rushed from the trail into the thicket.The spookiness of the moonlight night seized Ray. He turned and walked quickly back to the tepee, crept under his blanket, head and all, and, listening again to the talk of the river, he soon fell asleep.[97]
[Contents]CHAPTER XIMYSTERY AND DANGERIn the morning Ganawa told the lads some news which he had kept to himself the evening before.“There was a visitor at this camp only a few sleeps ago,” he said. “It was Hamogeesik. He is no good Indian, he is no good white man. He is a bad Indian and a bad white man in one. He asked my Chippewa friends if they had seen two white boys and he tried to find out from the Ininiwac people where two white men had made a cache of fur, and if the white men had been looking for any gold rock. Most white men, he said, were looking for gold rock all the time. The Ininiwac people told him they did not know where the two white men had cached their fur more than twelve moons ago; and none of the Indians here know[90]whether the two white men are still back in the hills or whether they have left and taken their furs away.“But I know what is in the black heart of Hamogeesik. I think he is trying to follow us, for he has learned that we are trying to find the two men who made a cache of fur and looked for gold rock in the hills from which the waters run to the Michipicoten.”The three travellers remained several days at the camp with the Ininiwacs and the Chippewas, because Ganawa thought he might discover more definite information about the place where the two white men had made their cache, whether they had found or had been looking for any gold rock, and whether they were still in the country.On the fourth morning he said: “My sons, we must leave this camp. I have learned very little from the people here, and I know now that I shall learn nothing more; so we must travel among the hills up the river and look for signs of our friends. But[91]I fear we shall find nothing, unless the Great Spirit sends me more light. The country is very big, and there are as many hills and streams and lakes as there are leaves on a tree. There are many big lakes and many more small lakes. No Indian has ever found all the small lakes and small streams, only the beaver people have found them and the fish that shine like a rainbow. But we must now paddle up-stream among the high hills and trust in the Great Spirit that he may let us find some sign that may tell us where to look for your friends.”Had the three travellers been on a pleasure or camping trip, they could hardly have chosen a finer and more beautiful river. For a mile or two they passed through a level sandy country into which the river has cut its channel, making on the north side a steep bank more than fifty feet high. This level country was covered with a growth of jack-pine, spruces and balsam firs; and to this day a most beautiful, natural jack-pine park extends some miles up-stream toward[92]the big falls of the Michipicoten, of which we shall soon hear more.The area of this jack-pine park was covered by the waters of Lake Superior a long time ago, when the big lake was even bigger than it is now; and over the whole Lake Superior region is written a most wonderful story of great ice-sheets and floods for those who can read the story of lakes and streams and hills and of the great deposits of gravel and small stones and large boulders.While Ganawa and Bruce were paddling the canoe up the fairly swift current, Ray sat in the stern and had a line out, baited with a piece of flannel; and by the time Ganawa stopped for a meal and for rest, Ray had caught enough rainbow trout for the men, and a pike and a pickerel for Tawny.The Michipicoten is carrying about as much water as the Wabash or the Minnesota, but its water is clear and cold with just a tint of brown in it, and pike and pickerel and large rainbow trout may still[93]be caught in its waters in the same pool. It is not to be thought, however, that they will always bite on a piece of flannel; for, like fish in other waters, at times no bait will tempt them.If any of my readers should ever paddle up the Michipicoten from the mouth toward the big falls, they would naturally use a fly or they might keep a trolling-line out and enjoy the thrill of catching a big rainbow trout, for the country of the Michipicoten is still a wilderness and its waters still flow cold and clear.In 1775 spoon hooks had not yet been invented and, of course, no trout-flies could be bought of any Indian traders.Whenever the three travellers came to a place where some one had camped, they landed and examined the spot with great care.“My father,” asked Bruce, “how would you be able to tell whether Indians or white men had camped on the river?”“If I found a button,” Ganawa replied,[94]“or a coin, or paper with printed words, I should say that white men had made the camp.”They spent the better part of a day in paddling some ten or twelve miles up-stream. They examined minutely three camping-places near the river. At each place the Indians had left their tepee-poles standing, as is their custom to this day. None of the places showed signs of very recent camps; however, at one camp Ray picked up a scrap of printed paper; but the words were French and the sign, therefore, gave no clue as to the whereabouts of the friend of Bruce.At the foot of some rapid water, Ganawa made camp for the night, and the lads now saw the advantage of leaving the tepee-poles standing at each camp, for within a few minutes Ganawa had their long strip of deerskin wound around the poles, fastened it to the ground, and the tepee was ready.“We had better sleep in the tepee,” he remarked, “for the night will be cool and[95]the air damp in the deep shaded valley near the river.“To-morrow, my sons,” he added, “we must push our canoe with a pole or drag it on a rope, and in some places we must carry it, for it is a league from here to the big falls and the water is very swift all the way and many rocks have rolled into the river from the hills.”That evening Ray lay awake a long time listening to the talk of the river, which gurgled and bubbled, roared and rushed and rippled past the camp, as if a crowd of living men or spirits talking in a strange language were for ever and ever marching past the camp.Then the lad was bold enough to turn aside the tepee-flap and step out into the night. If Tawny had not come out with him, he would have been afraid. A strange sight met his eyes. Above the stream, which now looked uncanny and forbidding, hung a fog which in the moonlight looked like a long gray cloud. Patches of moonlight[96]lay bright on the trail and the high tree tops on the hills opposite stood out in bold relief, while the tree trunks near by stood like black spectres. A big owl was hooting in the distance. Or was it the howling of a wolf? And some small creature rushed from the trail into the thicket.The spookiness of the moonlight night seized Ray. He turned and walked quickly back to the tepee, crept under his blanket, head and all, and, listening again to the talk of the river, he soon fell asleep.[97]
CHAPTER XIMYSTERY AND DANGER
In the morning Ganawa told the lads some news which he had kept to himself the evening before.“There was a visitor at this camp only a few sleeps ago,” he said. “It was Hamogeesik. He is no good Indian, he is no good white man. He is a bad Indian and a bad white man in one. He asked my Chippewa friends if they had seen two white boys and he tried to find out from the Ininiwac people where two white men had made a cache of fur, and if the white men had been looking for any gold rock. Most white men, he said, were looking for gold rock all the time. The Ininiwac people told him they did not know where the two white men had cached their fur more than twelve moons ago; and none of the Indians here know[90]whether the two white men are still back in the hills or whether they have left and taken their furs away.“But I know what is in the black heart of Hamogeesik. I think he is trying to follow us, for he has learned that we are trying to find the two men who made a cache of fur and looked for gold rock in the hills from which the waters run to the Michipicoten.”The three travellers remained several days at the camp with the Ininiwacs and the Chippewas, because Ganawa thought he might discover more definite information about the place where the two white men had made their cache, whether they had found or had been looking for any gold rock, and whether they were still in the country.On the fourth morning he said: “My sons, we must leave this camp. I have learned very little from the people here, and I know now that I shall learn nothing more; so we must travel among the hills up the river and look for signs of our friends. But[91]I fear we shall find nothing, unless the Great Spirit sends me more light. The country is very big, and there are as many hills and streams and lakes as there are leaves on a tree. There are many big lakes and many more small lakes. No Indian has ever found all the small lakes and small streams, only the beaver people have found them and the fish that shine like a rainbow. But we must now paddle up-stream among the high hills and trust in the Great Spirit that he may let us find some sign that may tell us where to look for your friends.”Had the three travellers been on a pleasure or camping trip, they could hardly have chosen a finer and more beautiful river. For a mile or two they passed through a level sandy country into which the river has cut its channel, making on the north side a steep bank more than fifty feet high. This level country was covered with a growth of jack-pine, spruces and balsam firs; and to this day a most beautiful, natural jack-pine park extends some miles up-stream toward[92]the big falls of the Michipicoten, of which we shall soon hear more.The area of this jack-pine park was covered by the waters of Lake Superior a long time ago, when the big lake was even bigger than it is now; and over the whole Lake Superior region is written a most wonderful story of great ice-sheets and floods for those who can read the story of lakes and streams and hills and of the great deposits of gravel and small stones and large boulders.While Ganawa and Bruce were paddling the canoe up the fairly swift current, Ray sat in the stern and had a line out, baited with a piece of flannel; and by the time Ganawa stopped for a meal and for rest, Ray had caught enough rainbow trout for the men, and a pike and a pickerel for Tawny.The Michipicoten is carrying about as much water as the Wabash or the Minnesota, but its water is clear and cold with just a tint of brown in it, and pike and pickerel and large rainbow trout may still[93]be caught in its waters in the same pool. It is not to be thought, however, that they will always bite on a piece of flannel; for, like fish in other waters, at times no bait will tempt them.If any of my readers should ever paddle up the Michipicoten from the mouth toward the big falls, they would naturally use a fly or they might keep a trolling-line out and enjoy the thrill of catching a big rainbow trout, for the country of the Michipicoten is still a wilderness and its waters still flow cold and clear.In 1775 spoon hooks had not yet been invented and, of course, no trout-flies could be bought of any Indian traders.Whenever the three travellers came to a place where some one had camped, they landed and examined the spot with great care.“My father,” asked Bruce, “how would you be able to tell whether Indians or white men had camped on the river?”“If I found a button,” Ganawa replied,[94]“or a coin, or paper with printed words, I should say that white men had made the camp.”They spent the better part of a day in paddling some ten or twelve miles up-stream. They examined minutely three camping-places near the river. At each place the Indians had left their tepee-poles standing, as is their custom to this day. None of the places showed signs of very recent camps; however, at one camp Ray picked up a scrap of printed paper; but the words were French and the sign, therefore, gave no clue as to the whereabouts of the friend of Bruce.At the foot of some rapid water, Ganawa made camp for the night, and the lads now saw the advantage of leaving the tepee-poles standing at each camp, for within a few minutes Ganawa had their long strip of deerskin wound around the poles, fastened it to the ground, and the tepee was ready.“We had better sleep in the tepee,” he remarked, “for the night will be cool and[95]the air damp in the deep shaded valley near the river.“To-morrow, my sons,” he added, “we must push our canoe with a pole or drag it on a rope, and in some places we must carry it, for it is a league from here to the big falls and the water is very swift all the way and many rocks have rolled into the river from the hills.”That evening Ray lay awake a long time listening to the talk of the river, which gurgled and bubbled, roared and rushed and rippled past the camp, as if a crowd of living men or spirits talking in a strange language were for ever and ever marching past the camp.Then the lad was bold enough to turn aside the tepee-flap and step out into the night. If Tawny had not come out with him, he would have been afraid. A strange sight met his eyes. Above the stream, which now looked uncanny and forbidding, hung a fog which in the moonlight looked like a long gray cloud. Patches of moonlight[96]lay bright on the trail and the high tree tops on the hills opposite stood out in bold relief, while the tree trunks near by stood like black spectres. A big owl was hooting in the distance. Or was it the howling of a wolf? And some small creature rushed from the trail into the thicket.The spookiness of the moonlight night seized Ray. He turned and walked quickly back to the tepee, crept under his blanket, head and all, and, listening again to the talk of the river, he soon fell asleep.[97]
In the morning Ganawa told the lads some news which he had kept to himself the evening before.
“There was a visitor at this camp only a few sleeps ago,” he said. “It was Hamogeesik. He is no good Indian, he is no good white man. He is a bad Indian and a bad white man in one. He asked my Chippewa friends if they had seen two white boys and he tried to find out from the Ininiwac people where two white men had made a cache of fur, and if the white men had been looking for any gold rock. Most white men, he said, were looking for gold rock all the time. The Ininiwac people told him they did not know where the two white men had cached their fur more than twelve moons ago; and none of the Indians here know[90]whether the two white men are still back in the hills or whether they have left and taken their furs away.
“But I know what is in the black heart of Hamogeesik. I think he is trying to follow us, for he has learned that we are trying to find the two men who made a cache of fur and looked for gold rock in the hills from which the waters run to the Michipicoten.”
The three travellers remained several days at the camp with the Ininiwacs and the Chippewas, because Ganawa thought he might discover more definite information about the place where the two white men had made their cache, whether they had found or had been looking for any gold rock, and whether they were still in the country.
On the fourth morning he said: “My sons, we must leave this camp. I have learned very little from the people here, and I know now that I shall learn nothing more; so we must travel among the hills up the river and look for signs of our friends. But[91]I fear we shall find nothing, unless the Great Spirit sends me more light. The country is very big, and there are as many hills and streams and lakes as there are leaves on a tree. There are many big lakes and many more small lakes. No Indian has ever found all the small lakes and small streams, only the beaver people have found them and the fish that shine like a rainbow. But we must now paddle up-stream among the high hills and trust in the Great Spirit that he may let us find some sign that may tell us where to look for your friends.”
Had the three travellers been on a pleasure or camping trip, they could hardly have chosen a finer and more beautiful river. For a mile or two they passed through a level sandy country into which the river has cut its channel, making on the north side a steep bank more than fifty feet high. This level country was covered with a growth of jack-pine, spruces and balsam firs; and to this day a most beautiful, natural jack-pine park extends some miles up-stream toward[92]the big falls of the Michipicoten, of which we shall soon hear more.
The area of this jack-pine park was covered by the waters of Lake Superior a long time ago, when the big lake was even bigger than it is now; and over the whole Lake Superior region is written a most wonderful story of great ice-sheets and floods for those who can read the story of lakes and streams and hills and of the great deposits of gravel and small stones and large boulders.
While Ganawa and Bruce were paddling the canoe up the fairly swift current, Ray sat in the stern and had a line out, baited with a piece of flannel; and by the time Ganawa stopped for a meal and for rest, Ray had caught enough rainbow trout for the men, and a pike and a pickerel for Tawny.
The Michipicoten is carrying about as much water as the Wabash or the Minnesota, but its water is clear and cold with just a tint of brown in it, and pike and pickerel and large rainbow trout may still[93]be caught in its waters in the same pool. It is not to be thought, however, that they will always bite on a piece of flannel; for, like fish in other waters, at times no bait will tempt them.
If any of my readers should ever paddle up the Michipicoten from the mouth toward the big falls, they would naturally use a fly or they might keep a trolling-line out and enjoy the thrill of catching a big rainbow trout, for the country of the Michipicoten is still a wilderness and its waters still flow cold and clear.
In 1775 spoon hooks had not yet been invented and, of course, no trout-flies could be bought of any Indian traders.
Whenever the three travellers came to a place where some one had camped, they landed and examined the spot with great care.
“My father,” asked Bruce, “how would you be able to tell whether Indians or white men had camped on the river?”
“If I found a button,” Ganawa replied,[94]“or a coin, or paper with printed words, I should say that white men had made the camp.”
They spent the better part of a day in paddling some ten or twelve miles up-stream. They examined minutely three camping-places near the river. At each place the Indians had left their tepee-poles standing, as is their custom to this day. None of the places showed signs of very recent camps; however, at one camp Ray picked up a scrap of printed paper; but the words were French and the sign, therefore, gave no clue as to the whereabouts of the friend of Bruce.
At the foot of some rapid water, Ganawa made camp for the night, and the lads now saw the advantage of leaving the tepee-poles standing at each camp, for within a few minutes Ganawa had their long strip of deerskin wound around the poles, fastened it to the ground, and the tepee was ready.
“We had better sleep in the tepee,” he remarked, “for the night will be cool and[95]the air damp in the deep shaded valley near the river.
“To-morrow, my sons,” he added, “we must push our canoe with a pole or drag it on a rope, and in some places we must carry it, for it is a league from here to the big falls and the water is very swift all the way and many rocks have rolled into the river from the hills.”
That evening Ray lay awake a long time listening to the talk of the river, which gurgled and bubbled, roared and rushed and rippled past the camp, as if a crowd of living men or spirits talking in a strange language were for ever and ever marching past the camp.
Then the lad was bold enough to turn aside the tepee-flap and step out into the night. If Tawny had not come out with him, he would have been afraid. A strange sight met his eyes. Above the stream, which now looked uncanny and forbidding, hung a fog which in the moonlight looked like a long gray cloud. Patches of moonlight[96]lay bright on the trail and the high tree tops on the hills opposite stood out in bold relief, while the tree trunks near by stood like black spectres. A big owl was hooting in the distance. Or was it the howling of a wolf? And some small creature rushed from the trail into the thicket.
The spookiness of the moonlight night seized Ray. He turned and walked quickly back to the tepee, crept under his blanket, head and all, and, listening again to the talk of the river, he soon fell asleep.[97]