[Contents]CHAPTER XIXON WILD LAKESOn a lake, which is now called Whitefish Lake, the travellers secured the young moose they had been looking for, and here they stopped a few days to smoke and dry the meat and to rest. Until now they had been living on fresh and smoked fish and on rabbits.Ganawa then told the lads that they would now travel northward. An old Indian at Michipicoten Bay had told him that two white men had gone northward to look for gold rock on a high cliff on one of the big lakes. He thought it was Oba Lake. Now Ganawa wanted to try to find the white men and the gold rock and he also wished to see several big lakes on which his father once made a great hunting trip, but which Ganawa had never seen. His white sons could now go with him, he said. He did[152]not have to provide any longer for his Indian sons and daughters, and so he wished to see these big lakes before he was too old to go on long hard journeys.It was the middle of July when they reached Lake Manitowik. From this lake they portaged to Dog Lake, and from Dog Lake they crossed a mile overland to Lake Wabatongushi.Whitefish Lake and Manitowik Lake are narrow lakes with simple shore-lines which run from southwest to northeast; but on the other two lakes the lads felt completely lost. They passed an endless number of bays and not a few islands, and several nights they camped on an island where they were entirely free from mosquitoes.“Bruce, I think we are pretty close to Hudson Bay,” remarked Ray when they had been several days travelling along the west shore of Wabatongushi. “It is right that this lake should have a long name, because it is so long that I think we shall never reach the end of it.[153]“We shall never find Jack Dutton, Bruce. This country is so big that you might as well tell me to find a carpet-tack you lost in Vermont as to expect to find Jack Dutton. I wonder if Ganawa knows where we are. Pretty soon it will be winter and then we shall freeze to death in our tepee.”As they travelled along under the lee of the west shore where the water was quiet, they saw the whitecaps breaking on the east shore, although the lake is in most places less than a mile wide, but it is about twenty miles long and runs straight north and south.While they were travelling northward, they were constantly looking for a camp or signs of a camp, but the whole country seemed an endless wilderness, uninhabited by either Indians or white men. They discovered several old camp-sites of Indians, but only one where white men had camped on the northwest bay of the lake.“Look, my sons,” said Ganawa. “It[154]was a white men’s camp. They built a big fire and let it run up the hills and it killed all the pines and other trees, but we shall go up there and look for gold rock.”If the lads had thought that looking for gold rock, which is now called prospecting, was easy, they learned something new. Ganawa led them up a steep rocky hill where hundreds of dead trees lay in all directions, and where birches and pin-cherry bushes had begun to cover the destruction wrought by the fire. At last Ganawa stopped on the top of a ridge over a vein of white quartz about a foot wide. “This should be the gold rock,” he said. “It looks as my father and a white man described it to me; but I cannot see the gold.”They followed the vein over the hill until it was lost in some green timber in the valley beyond, then they returned to the bay and made camp for the night.Next morning Ganawa sat a long time thinking, then he rose up and pointed to the northwest. “My sons,” he said, “there is[155]another large lake, Oba Lake, in the direction of the setting sun, and if you are not tired of travelling with me, we shall go there, but there is no portage trail to it and it is more than a league away. There are many beavers on the streams that run into that lake and your friend may be on that lake, but I do not know if we shall find any gold rock near its shore.”“My father,” replied Bruce, “if you think our friend might be on that lake, we should go there and look for him. We might build a raft and leave our canoe at this place.”“My son,” Ganawa answered, “it is much hard work to build a raft on which three men can travel and, when you have built it, you will find it hard to travel on it, because it travels very slowly and you cannot steer it against the wind. And sometimes your raft will float to-day, but to-morrow it will sink, because the logs have sucked up much water during the night. If we go we must carry our canoe across the hills to the lake.[156]We can leave our tepee here and take only our blankets and some dried meat.”So they tied their blankets and provisions in the canoe and started out. Ganawa and Bruce carried the canoe while Ray was told to walk behind and mark the trail, which he did by blazing some trees and breaking the tops of some brush.“It will be much easier for us to return over a blazed trail,” said Ganawa, “and we shall be sure to strike the place where we left our tepee and other things.”Ganawa held a northwesterly course, directing himself by the sun. “We cannot miss the lake,” he remarked, “because it is six leagues long.”As Ray worked along, blazing more trees and breaking more brush than was necessary, he had the feeling that they were all hopelessly lost in a trackless wilderness. “We shall never find Jack Dutton in a hundred years,” he thought. “I wish I were back home in Vermont. I could never find my way back to the Big Lake, and I don’t[157]believe Ganawa knows where we are. We have passed a thousand bays and I can’t tell one from the other.”They might have been travelling three hours when Bruce gave a shout, and he and Ganawa set the canoe down for a rest, as they had done many times.“What have you found?” called Ray and ran over to see.“Look ahead,” answered Bruce, “and see.” Before the travellers lay spread out a most beautiful sheet of blue water, for the sky was clear and the wind had not yet sprung up, as it nearly always does in the middle of the forenoon.“But there are no big hills around the lake as there are around Lake George and Lake Champlain back home,” remarked Ray. “It is all just a wild country, not a soul living in it. I wish we were home, Bruce.”The country of Dog Lake, Wabatongushi, and Oba Lake is still nearly as wild as in the days of our story. A few Indians,[158]trappers, miners, lumbermen, and railroad men now live in the country, but it is still a great playground of lakes and forests, although fire has ruined much of the fine green timber. All three of the lakes may be reached by rail, and any one who wishes to do so may follow the trail of Ganawa and his white sons.[159]
[Contents]CHAPTER XIXON WILD LAKESOn a lake, which is now called Whitefish Lake, the travellers secured the young moose they had been looking for, and here they stopped a few days to smoke and dry the meat and to rest. Until now they had been living on fresh and smoked fish and on rabbits.Ganawa then told the lads that they would now travel northward. An old Indian at Michipicoten Bay had told him that two white men had gone northward to look for gold rock on a high cliff on one of the big lakes. He thought it was Oba Lake. Now Ganawa wanted to try to find the white men and the gold rock and he also wished to see several big lakes on which his father once made a great hunting trip, but which Ganawa had never seen. His white sons could now go with him, he said. He did[152]not have to provide any longer for his Indian sons and daughters, and so he wished to see these big lakes before he was too old to go on long hard journeys.It was the middle of July when they reached Lake Manitowik. From this lake they portaged to Dog Lake, and from Dog Lake they crossed a mile overland to Lake Wabatongushi.Whitefish Lake and Manitowik Lake are narrow lakes with simple shore-lines which run from southwest to northeast; but on the other two lakes the lads felt completely lost. They passed an endless number of bays and not a few islands, and several nights they camped on an island where they were entirely free from mosquitoes.“Bruce, I think we are pretty close to Hudson Bay,” remarked Ray when they had been several days travelling along the west shore of Wabatongushi. “It is right that this lake should have a long name, because it is so long that I think we shall never reach the end of it.[153]“We shall never find Jack Dutton, Bruce. This country is so big that you might as well tell me to find a carpet-tack you lost in Vermont as to expect to find Jack Dutton. I wonder if Ganawa knows where we are. Pretty soon it will be winter and then we shall freeze to death in our tepee.”As they travelled along under the lee of the west shore where the water was quiet, they saw the whitecaps breaking on the east shore, although the lake is in most places less than a mile wide, but it is about twenty miles long and runs straight north and south.While they were travelling northward, they were constantly looking for a camp or signs of a camp, but the whole country seemed an endless wilderness, uninhabited by either Indians or white men. They discovered several old camp-sites of Indians, but only one where white men had camped on the northwest bay of the lake.“Look, my sons,” said Ganawa. “It[154]was a white men’s camp. They built a big fire and let it run up the hills and it killed all the pines and other trees, but we shall go up there and look for gold rock.”If the lads had thought that looking for gold rock, which is now called prospecting, was easy, they learned something new. Ganawa led them up a steep rocky hill where hundreds of dead trees lay in all directions, and where birches and pin-cherry bushes had begun to cover the destruction wrought by the fire. At last Ganawa stopped on the top of a ridge over a vein of white quartz about a foot wide. “This should be the gold rock,” he said. “It looks as my father and a white man described it to me; but I cannot see the gold.”They followed the vein over the hill until it was lost in some green timber in the valley beyond, then they returned to the bay and made camp for the night.Next morning Ganawa sat a long time thinking, then he rose up and pointed to the northwest. “My sons,” he said, “there is[155]another large lake, Oba Lake, in the direction of the setting sun, and if you are not tired of travelling with me, we shall go there, but there is no portage trail to it and it is more than a league away. There are many beavers on the streams that run into that lake and your friend may be on that lake, but I do not know if we shall find any gold rock near its shore.”“My father,” replied Bruce, “if you think our friend might be on that lake, we should go there and look for him. We might build a raft and leave our canoe at this place.”“My son,” Ganawa answered, “it is much hard work to build a raft on which three men can travel and, when you have built it, you will find it hard to travel on it, because it travels very slowly and you cannot steer it against the wind. And sometimes your raft will float to-day, but to-morrow it will sink, because the logs have sucked up much water during the night. If we go we must carry our canoe across the hills to the lake.[156]We can leave our tepee here and take only our blankets and some dried meat.”So they tied their blankets and provisions in the canoe and started out. Ganawa and Bruce carried the canoe while Ray was told to walk behind and mark the trail, which he did by blazing some trees and breaking the tops of some brush.“It will be much easier for us to return over a blazed trail,” said Ganawa, “and we shall be sure to strike the place where we left our tepee and other things.”Ganawa held a northwesterly course, directing himself by the sun. “We cannot miss the lake,” he remarked, “because it is six leagues long.”As Ray worked along, blazing more trees and breaking more brush than was necessary, he had the feeling that they were all hopelessly lost in a trackless wilderness. “We shall never find Jack Dutton in a hundred years,” he thought. “I wish I were back home in Vermont. I could never find my way back to the Big Lake, and I don’t[157]believe Ganawa knows where we are. We have passed a thousand bays and I can’t tell one from the other.”They might have been travelling three hours when Bruce gave a shout, and he and Ganawa set the canoe down for a rest, as they had done many times.“What have you found?” called Ray and ran over to see.“Look ahead,” answered Bruce, “and see.” Before the travellers lay spread out a most beautiful sheet of blue water, for the sky was clear and the wind had not yet sprung up, as it nearly always does in the middle of the forenoon.“But there are no big hills around the lake as there are around Lake George and Lake Champlain back home,” remarked Ray. “It is all just a wild country, not a soul living in it. I wish we were home, Bruce.”The country of Dog Lake, Wabatongushi, and Oba Lake is still nearly as wild as in the days of our story. A few Indians,[158]trappers, miners, lumbermen, and railroad men now live in the country, but it is still a great playground of lakes and forests, although fire has ruined much of the fine green timber. All three of the lakes may be reached by rail, and any one who wishes to do so may follow the trail of Ganawa and his white sons.[159]
CHAPTER XIXON WILD LAKES
On a lake, which is now called Whitefish Lake, the travellers secured the young moose they had been looking for, and here they stopped a few days to smoke and dry the meat and to rest. Until now they had been living on fresh and smoked fish and on rabbits.Ganawa then told the lads that they would now travel northward. An old Indian at Michipicoten Bay had told him that two white men had gone northward to look for gold rock on a high cliff on one of the big lakes. He thought it was Oba Lake. Now Ganawa wanted to try to find the white men and the gold rock and he also wished to see several big lakes on which his father once made a great hunting trip, but which Ganawa had never seen. His white sons could now go with him, he said. He did[152]not have to provide any longer for his Indian sons and daughters, and so he wished to see these big lakes before he was too old to go on long hard journeys.It was the middle of July when they reached Lake Manitowik. From this lake they portaged to Dog Lake, and from Dog Lake they crossed a mile overland to Lake Wabatongushi.Whitefish Lake and Manitowik Lake are narrow lakes with simple shore-lines which run from southwest to northeast; but on the other two lakes the lads felt completely lost. They passed an endless number of bays and not a few islands, and several nights they camped on an island where they were entirely free from mosquitoes.“Bruce, I think we are pretty close to Hudson Bay,” remarked Ray when they had been several days travelling along the west shore of Wabatongushi. “It is right that this lake should have a long name, because it is so long that I think we shall never reach the end of it.[153]“We shall never find Jack Dutton, Bruce. This country is so big that you might as well tell me to find a carpet-tack you lost in Vermont as to expect to find Jack Dutton. I wonder if Ganawa knows where we are. Pretty soon it will be winter and then we shall freeze to death in our tepee.”As they travelled along under the lee of the west shore where the water was quiet, they saw the whitecaps breaking on the east shore, although the lake is in most places less than a mile wide, but it is about twenty miles long and runs straight north and south.While they were travelling northward, they were constantly looking for a camp or signs of a camp, but the whole country seemed an endless wilderness, uninhabited by either Indians or white men. They discovered several old camp-sites of Indians, but only one where white men had camped on the northwest bay of the lake.“Look, my sons,” said Ganawa. “It[154]was a white men’s camp. They built a big fire and let it run up the hills and it killed all the pines and other trees, but we shall go up there and look for gold rock.”If the lads had thought that looking for gold rock, which is now called prospecting, was easy, they learned something new. Ganawa led them up a steep rocky hill where hundreds of dead trees lay in all directions, and where birches and pin-cherry bushes had begun to cover the destruction wrought by the fire. At last Ganawa stopped on the top of a ridge over a vein of white quartz about a foot wide. “This should be the gold rock,” he said. “It looks as my father and a white man described it to me; but I cannot see the gold.”They followed the vein over the hill until it was lost in some green timber in the valley beyond, then they returned to the bay and made camp for the night.Next morning Ganawa sat a long time thinking, then he rose up and pointed to the northwest. “My sons,” he said, “there is[155]another large lake, Oba Lake, in the direction of the setting sun, and if you are not tired of travelling with me, we shall go there, but there is no portage trail to it and it is more than a league away. There are many beavers on the streams that run into that lake and your friend may be on that lake, but I do not know if we shall find any gold rock near its shore.”“My father,” replied Bruce, “if you think our friend might be on that lake, we should go there and look for him. We might build a raft and leave our canoe at this place.”“My son,” Ganawa answered, “it is much hard work to build a raft on which three men can travel and, when you have built it, you will find it hard to travel on it, because it travels very slowly and you cannot steer it against the wind. And sometimes your raft will float to-day, but to-morrow it will sink, because the logs have sucked up much water during the night. If we go we must carry our canoe across the hills to the lake.[156]We can leave our tepee here and take only our blankets and some dried meat.”So they tied their blankets and provisions in the canoe and started out. Ganawa and Bruce carried the canoe while Ray was told to walk behind and mark the trail, which he did by blazing some trees and breaking the tops of some brush.“It will be much easier for us to return over a blazed trail,” said Ganawa, “and we shall be sure to strike the place where we left our tepee and other things.”Ganawa held a northwesterly course, directing himself by the sun. “We cannot miss the lake,” he remarked, “because it is six leagues long.”As Ray worked along, blazing more trees and breaking more brush than was necessary, he had the feeling that they were all hopelessly lost in a trackless wilderness. “We shall never find Jack Dutton in a hundred years,” he thought. “I wish I were back home in Vermont. I could never find my way back to the Big Lake, and I don’t[157]believe Ganawa knows where we are. We have passed a thousand bays and I can’t tell one from the other.”They might have been travelling three hours when Bruce gave a shout, and he and Ganawa set the canoe down for a rest, as they had done many times.“What have you found?” called Ray and ran over to see.“Look ahead,” answered Bruce, “and see.” Before the travellers lay spread out a most beautiful sheet of blue water, for the sky was clear and the wind had not yet sprung up, as it nearly always does in the middle of the forenoon.“But there are no big hills around the lake as there are around Lake George and Lake Champlain back home,” remarked Ray. “It is all just a wild country, not a soul living in it. I wish we were home, Bruce.”The country of Dog Lake, Wabatongushi, and Oba Lake is still nearly as wild as in the days of our story. A few Indians,[158]trappers, miners, lumbermen, and railroad men now live in the country, but it is still a great playground of lakes and forests, although fire has ruined much of the fine green timber. All three of the lakes may be reached by rail, and any one who wishes to do so may follow the trail of Ganawa and his white sons.[159]
On a lake, which is now called Whitefish Lake, the travellers secured the young moose they had been looking for, and here they stopped a few days to smoke and dry the meat and to rest. Until now they had been living on fresh and smoked fish and on rabbits.
Ganawa then told the lads that they would now travel northward. An old Indian at Michipicoten Bay had told him that two white men had gone northward to look for gold rock on a high cliff on one of the big lakes. He thought it was Oba Lake. Now Ganawa wanted to try to find the white men and the gold rock and he also wished to see several big lakes on which his father once made a great hunting trip, but which Ganawa had never seen. His white sons could now go with him, he said. He did[152]not have to provide any longer for his Indian sons and daughters, and so he wished to see these big lakes before he was too old to go on long hard journeys.
It was the middle of July when they reached Lake Manitowik. From this lake they portaged to Dog Lake, and from Dog Lake they crossed a mile overland to Lake Wabatongushi.
Whitefish Lake and Manitowik Lake are narrow lakes with simple shore-lines which run from southwest to northeast; but on the other two lakes the lads felt completely lost. They passed an endless number of bays and not a few islands, and several nights they camped on an island where they were entirely free from mosquitoes.
“Bruce, I think we are pretty close to Hudson Bay,” remarked Ray when they had been several days travelling along the west shore of Wabatongushi. “It is right that this lake should have a long name, because it is so long that I think we shall never reach the end of it.[153]
“We shall never find Jack Dutton, Bruce. This country is so big that you might as well tell me to find a carpet-tack you lost in Vermont as to expect to find Jack Dutton. I wonder if Ganawa knows where we are. Pretty soon it will be winter and then we shall freeze to death in our tepee.”
As they travelled along under the lee of the west shore where the water was quiet, they saw the whitecaps breaking on the east shore, although the lake is in most places less than a mile wide, but it is about twenty miles long and runs straight north and south.
While they were travelling northward, they were constantly looking for a camp or signs of a camp, but the whole country seemed an endless wilderness, uninhabited by either Indians or white men. They discovered several old camp-sites of Indians, but only one where white men had camped on the northwest bay of the lake.
“Look, my sons,” said Ganawa. “It[154]was a white men’s camp. They built a big fire and let it run up the hills and it killed all the pines and other trees, but we shall go up there and look for gold rock.”
If the lads had thought that looking for gold rock, which is now called prospecting, was easy, they learned something new. Ganawa led them up a steep rocky hill where hundreds of dead trees lay in all directions, and where birches and pin-cherry bushes had begun to cover the destruction wrought by the fire. At last Ganawa stopped on the top of a ridge over a vein of white quartz about a foot wide. “This should be the gold rock,” he said. “It looks as my father and a white man described it to me; but I cannot see the gold.”
They followed the vein over the hill until it was lost in some green timber in the valley beyond, then they returned to the bay and made camp for the night.
Next morning Ganawa sat a long time thinking, then he rose up and pointed to the northwest. “My sons,” he said, “there is[155]another large lake, Oba Lake, in the direction of the setting sun, and if you are not tired of travelling with me, we shall go there, but there is no portage trail to it and it is more than a league away. There are many beavers on the streams that run into that lake and your friend may be on that lake, but I do not know if we shall find any gold rock near its shore.”
“My father,” replied Bruce, “if you think our friend might be on that lake, we should go there and look for him. We might build a raft and leave our canoe at this place.”
“My son,” Ganawa answered, “it is much hard work to build a raft on which three men can travel and, when you have built it, you will find it hard to travel on it, because it travels very slowly and you cannot steer it against the wind. And sometimes your raft will float to-day, but to-morrow it will sink, because the logs have sucked up much water during the night. If we go we must carry our canoe across the hills to the lake.[156]We can leave our tepee here and take only our blankets and some dried meat.”
So they tied their blankets and provisions in the canoe and started out. Ganawa and Bruce carried the canoe while Ray was told to walk behind and mark the trail, which he did by blazing some trees and breaking the tops of some brush.
“It will be much easier for us to return over a blazed trail,” said Ganawa, “and we shall be sure to strike the place where we left our tepee and other things.”
Ganawa held a northwesterly course, directing himself by the sun. “We cannot miss the lake,” he remarked, “because it is six leagues long.”
As Ray worked along, blazing more trees and breaking more brush than was necessary, he had the feeling that they were all hopelessly lost in a trackless wilderness. “We shall never find Jack Dutton in a hundred years,” he thought. “I wish I were back home in Vermont. I could never find my way back to the Big Lake, and I don’t[157]believe Ganawa knows where we are. We have passed a thousand bays and I can’t tell one from the other.”
They might have been travelling three hours when Bruce gave a shout, and he and Ganawa set the canoe down for a rest, as they had done many times.
“What have you found?” called Ray and ran over to see.
“Look ahead,” answered Bruce, “and see.” Before the travellers lay spread out a most beautiful sheet of blue water, for the sky was clear and the wind had not yet sprung up, as it nearly always does in the middle of the forenoon.
“But there are no big hills around the lake as there are around Lake George and Lake Champlain back home,” remarked Ray. “It is all just a wild country, not a soul living in it. I wish we were home, Bruce.”
The country of Dog Lake, Wabatongushi, and Oba Lake is still nearly as wild as in the days of our story. A few Indians,[158]trappers, miners, lumbermen, and railroad men now live in the country, but it is still a great playground of lakes and forests, although fire has ruined much of the fine green timber. All three of the lakes may be reached by rail, and any one who wishes to do so may follow the trail of Ganawa and his white sons.[159]