Project Gutenberg's The Island of Yellow Sands, by E. C. [Ethel Claire] Brill

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: The Island of Yellow Sands
       An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

Author: E. C. [Ethel Claire] Brill

Illustrator: W. A. Wolf

Release Date: July 13, 2014 [EBook #46271]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS ***




Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Beth Baran, Rod Crawford,
Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net






[Transcriber's Note: Italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]



[Illustration: "IT WAS A DANGEROUS ASCENT."
"The Island of Yellow Sands." (See page 120)]

        THE ISLANDS OF
         YELLOW SANDS

      AN ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY
          STORY FOR BOYS

                BY

           E. C. BRILL

          _ILLUSTRATED_

          [Illustration]

      CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
      PUBLISHERS      NEW YORK


            ADVENTURE AND MYSTERY
              STORIES FOR BOYS

               _By_ E. C. BRILL

     Large 12 mo.      Cloth.      Illustrated.


             THE SECRET CACHE
           SOUTH FROM HUDSON BAY
         THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS


              COPYRIGHT, 1932, BY
            CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

           THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS

               PRINTED IN U. S. A.




                      CONTENTS

    I.      THE ISLE WITH THE GOLDEN SANDS         11

    II.     THE GRANDE PORTAGE                     19

    III.    RONALD MAKES AN ENEMY                  29

    IV.     LAUNCHED ON THE GREAT ADVENTURE        39

    V.      THE GRAVE OF NANABOZHO                 46

    VI.     ALONG THE NORTH SHORE                  56

    VII.    THE ROCK OF THE BEAVER                 65

    VIII.   STORM AND WRECK                        73

    IX.     THE HOME OF THE GULLS                  81

    X.      THE ISLAND TO THE SOUTHWEST            89

    XI.     NANGOTOOK RECONNOITERS                 98

    XII.    OVER THE CLIFFS                        105

    XIII.   THE CAMP IN THE CAVE                   112

    XIV.    LOST IN THE FOG                        122

    XV.     STRANDED                               132

    XVI.    ISLAND OR MAINLAND?                    139

    XVII.   A CARIBOU HUNT                         148

    XVIII.  MINONG                                 158

    XIX.    LE FORGERON TORDU AGAIN                168

    XX.     THE NORTHEASTER                        178

    XXI.    COMPELLED TO GIVE UP THE SEARCH        186

    XXII.   THE INDIAN MINES                       196

    XXIII.  MINING AND HUNTING                     207

    XXIV.   NANGOTOOK'S DISAPPEARANCE              216

    XXV.    THE RED SPOT AMONG THE GREEN           223

    XXVI.   THE BURNING WOODS                      232

    XXVII.  NANGOTOOK'S CAPTIVITY                  241

    XXVIII. FLEEING FROM LE FORGERON               255

    XXIX.   NEAR STARVATION                        264

    XXX.    THE END OF THE TWISTED BLACKSMITH      271

    XXXI.   THE WINDIGO                            278

    XXXII.  THE UPROOTED TREE                      287

    XXXIII. THE MINE                               298




The Island of Yellow Sands




I

THE ISLE WITH THE GOLDEN SANDS


"My white brother speaks wisdom."

The two boys were startled. The red-haired one, who had been lying on
the ground, scrambled to his feet. The other, a wiry dark-skinned lad,
sprang from his seat on a spruce log and seized the newcomer by the
hand.

"Etienne, Nangotook," he cried, "how came you here?"

"Even as you, little brother, over those great waters." The Indian made
a gesture towards the lake, which gleamed between the long point and the
island that protected the bay of the Grande Portage from wind and waves.
"I have listened to the words of this other white brother and found them
good," he added, with a grave glance at the surprised face of the
red-haired boy. "He would deal justly with my people as with his own."

"That would he, even as I would," the dark lad exclaimed. "He is my good
friend and comrade Ronald Kennedy of Montreal. And this, Ronald," he
added, completing the introduction, "is Nangotook, the Flame, called by
the good fathers Etienne, friend of my father and of my own childhood."

The greetings over, the Indian seated himself on the log beside Jean.
"And will my little brother be a trader to steal the wits of the Indian
and take his furs away from him?" he asked.

"Not I, Nangotook, unless I can be an honest one and give the trapper
and hunter fair return for his pelts. Though," Jean added more
thoughtfully, "I am eager indeed to gain gold, and I know not how it is
to be done except through trade with the savages."

"Gold," said the Ojibwa thoughtfully. "White men would do all things for
gold. Why is my brother Jean in need of it? What could gold give him
better than this?" He stretched out his arm with a sweeping gesture that
embraced the water, still glowing with the soft light of the afterglow,
and the rocky wooded shores.

"It would give back the land and the house on the beautiful St.
Lawrence, the house where my father was born," Jean answered, his face
softening. "You know the place, Etienne, and you know how my father
loves it. And now, if he had but the money, he could buy it back, but it
is a great sum and he has it not."

The Indian nodded in silence. After a moment, fixing his dark eyes on
Jean's, he said slowly, "How then if some man should lead my brother and
his comrade with hair like the maple leaf before it falls, to a place
where they can gather much gold and load with it many canoes?"

The two boys stared at him.

"You are making game of us," cried Jean indignantly.

"Nay, little brother. I will tell you the story." And the Indian settled
himself more comfortably on the log.

"Among my people," he began, "a tale is told of an island lying far out
in the wide waters. On that island is a broad beach of sand, a beach
unlike any other, for the sand is of a yellow more bright and shining
than the birch leaf when the frost has touched it."

"Gold?" queried Jean. "I have heard that there is gold on the shores and
islands of this lake, but no white man has found it."

"As the story is told among my people," Nangotook continued, without
heeding the interruption, "many summers ago three braves were driven by
the wind on the shore of that island. They loaded their canoe with the
sand, and started to paddle away. Then a man, as tall as a pine tree and
with a face like the lightning in its fierceness, appeared on the sands
and commanded them to bring back the gold. They did not heed, and he
waded into the water, and, growing greater and more terrible at every
step, gained on them swiftly. Then they were sick with fear, and agreed
to return to the land and empty out the yellow sand they had stolen.
When not one grain remained in the canoe, the manito of the sands
allowed them to go."

"That is the story of the Island of Yellow Sands," said Jean, as
Nangotook paused. "I recall it now. I heard it in childhood. Many have
sought that island, but none has found it. Do you mean that you know
where it is and can lead us there?"

The Ojibwa nodded. "My grandfather saw the island once many summers ago,
when a storm had driven him far out in the lake. But the wind was wrong
and the waves were rolling high on the beach, so he could not land. He
was close enough to see the sands gleaming in the sunlight. He knew them
for the same as the piece of yellow metal a medicine man of his clan had
taken from a Sioux prisoner. The Sioux had bought it from one whose
people lived far towards the setting sun. That metal was what the white
men call gold, and are always seeking. I heard my grandfather tell the
tale while the winter snow whistled around the lodge."

"And he told you how to reach the island?" asked Ronald. "Why did he not
go back and bring away some of the gold?"

"He had no need of the yellow sands, and he feared the manito that was
said to guard them."

"And do not you fear the manito?" Jean questioned.

The Indian shook his head. "I am a Christian," he said proudly, "and the
good fathers have taught me that I need fear no evil spirits, if I
remain true in my heart to the great Father above. Then too," he added
in a lower voice, "I have a mighty charm," his hand touched the breast
of his deerskin tunic, "which protects me from all the spirits of the
waters and the islands."

The two lads were not surprised at this strange intermingling of savage
superstition and civilized religion. Such a combination did not seem as
contradictory to them, in that superstitious age, as it would to a
modern boy. Jean merely replied very seriously that he had heard that
the golden sands of the island were guarded, not only by the spirit
himself, but by gigantic serpents, that came up out of the water, and
fierce birds and beasts which, at the command of the manito, attacked
the rash man who attempted to land.

At that the Indian smiled and, leaning forward from his log, said in a
low voice, "Nay, little brother, many tales are told that are not true.
May not the red men wish to keep the white men from the islands of this
great water, and so tell them tales to frighten them away? Is it not
right that we should keep something to ourselves, not the yellow sands
only but the red metal that comes from the Isle Minong? My brother has
heard tales of Minong, some white men call it the Isle Royale. Yet I
have been there and others with me, and after we had sacrificed to the
manito of the island, we carried away pieces of red metal, and no evil
befell us."

"My uncle," remarked Ronald, "told me of a man he knew, Alexander Henry,
once a partner in the Company, and even now connected with it, I
believe, who went in search of the Island of Yellow Sands. But when he
reached it, there were no golden sands at all, only the bones of dead
caribou."

"He never reached the island," said Nangotook scornfully. "Those who
guided him misled him, and let him think he had been to the right place.
The true Island of Yellow Sands is many days' journey from the island
where he landed."

"And you know where it is?"

"I know in what part of the waters it lies, where to leave the shore and
how to head my canoe," the Ojibwa replied confidently. "If my brothers
fear not a hard and dangerous journey, I will take them there. I know
not whether the charm I bear will protect them also," he added more
doubtfully.

"We are willing to risk that," Ronald answered promptly. "We're not
fearing a little danger and hardship, if there is chance of reaching the
island with the sands of gold."

"It is not that we fear to go," put in Jean, "but how can we find an
opportunity? We cannot ask for leave from the fleet, for then we must
tell our purpose, and that would never do."

"No," Ronald agreed, "we must be keeping our plans secret, so we may be
the first to land. Then the gold will be ours by right of discovery.
'Tis not likely we could obtain leave anyway, if we asked for it,
whatever our purpose, and----"

He was interrupted by the Indian, who made a gesture of silence.
Glancing about, the boys saw several men in the scarlet caps and sashes
of canoemen, approaching along the shore. Nangotook rose from the log.

"To-morrow, after the sun has gone to rest, I will speak to my brothers
again," he said in a low voice. "Let them be at this spot." Without
waiting for a reply, he slipped swiftly and silently away among the
trees.

Before the canoemen drew near enough to speak to them, the boys were
making their way towards the post. They kept back from the shore, in the
dusk of the woods, that they might not have to encounter the newcomers,
who appeared to be strangers to them.

Jean Havard and Ronald Kennedy had come to the Grande Portage, on the
northwest shore of Lake Superior, as canoemen in the service of the
Northwest Fur Company. Ronald's uncle was a partner in the Company, and
the boy had been ambitious to follow the life of the fur-trader. Both he
and Jean had found the long trip from the Sault interesting and well
worth while, in spite of its hardships and strenuous toil. They were
outdoor lads, with a plentiful share of the hardihood and adventurous
spirit of the outdoor men of their time. Since reaching the Portage,
however, they had begun to question whether they really wished to make
fur-trading their life-work. Ronald, especially, an honest,
straightforward Scot with a strong sense of fair play, had been sickened
and roused to indignation by many of the tales told by men from the
north and west who had come to the Portage with their loads of furs. It
seemed to the boy that most of the traders cared for nothing but gain
and were far from honest in their methods. They boasted of giving liquor
to the Indians, stealing their wits away, and obtaining their furs, the
earnings of a whole winter's work and hardship, for next to nothing. To
the boys this seemed a miserable, heartless way of doing business. Both
were eager for the life of the explorer. They longed to push through the
wilderness and see strange lands, but the regular work of the
fur-trader, carried on as it was by most of these men, had lost its
attractiveness.

Ronald, as well as Jean, was poor and had his own way to make. He knew
that his uncle had planned to get him into the Northwest Company's
permanent service. From a practical point of view the opportunity would
be a good one. He would have a chance to advance. He might even become
some day a member of the Company, and make a fortune. But he hated the
idea of being compelled to use the methods which seemed a matter of
course to most of the "northmen". He had been vigorously expressing his
disgust with the whole sordid business, when Nangotook had interrupted
him. The Indian had made it plain that he had been listening to the
boy's remarks and had approved of them.

The Ojibwa's extraordinary proposition had put the rights and wrongs of
the fur trade quite out of the two lads' heads for the time being. They
were fired with a desire to go in quest of the wonderful island. It
might be a mere myth indeed, but they were willing to believe that it
was not. Nangotook's grandfather had seen it, and Jean declared that he
had never known Nangotook to lie. In those days, even in the last decade
of the eighteenth century, very little was known about the islands of
Lake Superior. The great central expanse of the lake was unexplored. Who
could tell what wonders it might contain?




II

THE GRANDE PORTAGE


That night and the next day the two lads' heads were full of the Island
of Yellow Sands. They wanted to be alone to discuss the Indian's tale,
but found it impossible to avoid their companions. Moreover they had few
idle moments, for the Northwest Fur Company's station was a busy place
that July day in 179--. Nearly a thousand men were gathered at the post,
and there was much work to be done.

The Bay of the Grande Portage, where the station was located, is on the
northwest shore of Lake Superior, a few miles south of the Pigeon River.
The river forms a part of the line between the United States and the
Dominion of Canada. Although the peace treaty that followed the
Revolution had been signed, defining the boundary, the Northwest
Company, a Canadian organization, still maintained its trading post on
United States ground. The place had proved a convenient and satisfactory
spot for the chief station, that marked the point of departure from Lake
Superior for the country north and west.

Separated from a much larger bay to the northeast by a long point of
land, and further cut off from the main lake by an outlying, wooded
island, Grande Portage was well screened from all winds except the
south. The land at the head of the bay formed a natural amphitheatre and
had been cleared of woods. On one side of the open ground, underneath a
hill more than three hundred feet high, with higher hills rising beyond,
a cedar stockade walled in a rectangular space some twenty-four rods
wide by thirty long. Within the stockade were the quarters of the men in
charge of the post, clerks, servants, artisans and visiting traders and
members of the Company, as well as the buildings where furs, supplies
and goods for trade were stored and business transacted. There also was
the great dining hall where proprietors, clerks, guides and interpreters
messed together.

Outside the stockade were grouped tents and upturned canoes, supported
on paddles and poles. The tents were the temporary homes of the
"northmen," the men who went to the far north and west for furs. The
"comers and goers" or "pork eaters," as the canoemen who made the trip
between Montreal and the Portage, but did not go on to the west, were
called, slept under their canoes. In that queer town of tents and boats,
men were constantly coming and going; clerks and other employees from
the fort; painted and befeathered Indians, many of them accompanied by
squaws and children; and French-Canadians and half-breed voyageurs,
strikingly clothed in blanket or leather tunics, leggings and moccasins
of tanned skins, and scarlet sashes and caps.

Offshore a small sailing vessel of about fifty tons burden lay at
anchor. This boat was to take a cargo of pelts back across the lake, but
the main dependence of the Company was placed upon the great fleet of
canoes. Other smaller canoes were arriving daily from the northwest or
setting out in that direction, the route being up the Riviere aux
Tourtres, now known as Pigeon River, the English translation of the
French name. The mouth of the stream is about five miles northeast of
Grande Portage Bay, and the falls and rapids near the outlet were so
many and dangerous that boats could not be paddled or poled through
them. So the canoes from the west had to be unloaded several miles above
the mouth of the river, and the packages of furs carried on the backs of
men over a hard nine-mile portage to the post, while provisions and
articles of trade were taken back to the waiting canoes in the same way.
This was the long or great portage that gave the place its name.

Busy with their work, and surrounded almost constantly by the other
voyageurs, the boys had no opportunity to discuss the prospect of
reaching the Island of Yellow Sands, but Jean found a chance to answer
some of Ronald's questions about the tall Ojibwa. The Indian's gratitude
and devotion to Jean's father dated from fifteen years back, when the
elder Havard had saved him from being put to death by white traders at
the Sault de Ste. Marie, for a crime he had not committed. Convinced of
Nangotook's innocence, Havard had induced the angry men to delay the
execution of their sentence, and had sought out and brought to justice
the real offender, a renegade half-breed. For that service the Indian
had vowed that his life belonged to his white brother. The Ojibwa and
the Frenchman had become fast friends, for Nangotook, or Etienne, as the
French priests, in whose mission school he had been trained, had
christened him, was one of the higher type of Indians, possessing most
of the better and few of the worse traits of his tribe. He visited
Havard at his home on the St. Lawrence, and there became the devoted
friend of little Jean, then a child of three.

Since that first visit, Nangotook had appeared at the Havard home a
number of times, after irregular intervals of absence, sometimes of
months, again of years. Although, until the night before, it had been
more than four years since Jean had seen him, the Ojibwa had apparently
not forgotten either his gratitude to the elder Havard or his affection
for the boy. That gratitude and affection had led him to offer to guide
the two lads to the wonderful island. Jean and his father needed gold,
so Nangotook intended that they should have gold, if it was in his power
to help them to it. Ronald was Jean's friend, and the Indian was willing
to include him also. Moreover what he had overheard of the Scotch boy's
remarks about the way some of the traders treated the Indians had
pleased Nangotook. He had taken the teachings of the missionary priests
seriously and had grasped at least a little of their meaning. By nature
moderate and self-controlled, he realized the disasters that were coming
upon his people through the physical degradation, idleness and other
evils that followed overindulgence in the white man's liquor. So
Ronald's disgust at the unscrupulousness of many of the traders in their
dealings with the savages had met with his approval, and had made the
Indian the lad's friend.

It was nearly sunset when the two boys slipped away from the camp to the
secluded spot where they were to meet Etienne. Seating themselves on the
fallen tree trunk, they began at once to talk of the subject uppermost
in their thoughts. In a week or two the canoes would be ready to start
back around the shore of the lake to the Sault, and thence to Montreal,
where they would arrive late in September. Jean and Ronald, however,
were not obliged to return the whole distance, although, up to the night
before, they had intended to do so. They had spent the previous winter
at the Sault de Ste. Marie, the falls of the river St. Mary which
connects Lake Superior with Lake Huron. Jean had been staying with a
French family there, friends of his father, while Ronald, who had made
the trip from Montreal with his uncle in the autumn, had remained, after
the latter's return, as a volunteer helper to the Company's agent at the
Sault. Before pledging him to the Company's service for a term of years,
his uncle had wished him to learn whether he really liked the business
of fur-trading. When, in the spring, the canoe fleet from Montreal had
arrived at the Sault, it had been short handed. Two men had been killed
and several seriously injured in an accident on the way. So it happened
that Jean and Ronald, expert canoemen and eager to make the Superior
trip, had been engaged with three others. Their contracts were only for
the voyage from the Sault to the Grande Portage and back again to the
Sault, and they were under no obligation to go on with the fleet to
Montreal.

Whether there would be time, before cold weather and winter storms set
in, to come back to the lake and join the Indian in a search for the
Island of Yellow Sands, they could not be sure until they had consulted
him. They hoped ardently that they could make the attempt that year, for
who could tell what might happen before another spring? As Ronald
pointed out, Etienne alone knew how to reach the island. If anything
should go wrong with him, they would have no guide. Moreover, in the
interval, some other white man might discover the place. Indeed Etienne,
though Jean thought that unlikely, might take it into his head to lead
some one else there.

They were discussing this question, when, just as the sun was sinking,
the Indian joined them. It soon became evident that he was bent on
leading them on the adventure, and they were quite as eager to follow
him. He seemed certain that there would be ample time, unless they were
delayed by unusually bad weather, to make at least one trip from the
Sault to the mysterious island and back, before winter set in. He would
furnish a small canoe, and would bargain at the trading post for the
supplies they would need. He was well known at the Sault, and his
arrival there would excite no comment. But he cautioned them to keep
their plans secret, lest others should forestall them in the discovery
of the gold. They must disappear quietly and join their guide at a spot
agreed upon, several miles from the little settlement. As rapidly as
possible they would paddle along the north shore of Lake Superior to the
place where they must strike out into the open lake. The voyage from
shore to island could be undertaken only in the best of weather, but it
could be made, he assured them, in a few hours. After they had loaded
their canoe with as much sand as it would carry, they would return to
the shelter of the shore, and make their way back to the eastern end of
the lake. Not far from the Sault he knew a safe, well hidden spot where
they could secrete the bulk of their precious cargo, until they could
find an opportunity to return to the island for more.

Any scruples the lads might have felt at leaving the Sault without
letting their friends know where they were going, were soon overcome by
the lure of the adventure as well as of the gold itself. They comforted
their consciences with the thought that, once they had found the yellow
sands, they would make everything right by taking Jean's father and
Ronald's uncle into confidence and partnership. Then they would secure,
or build, a small sailing vessel, and bring away from the island all the
gold they would ever need. M. Havard could buy back the old home on the
St. Lawrence that financial reverses had forced him to lose. Jean glowed
with the thought of the happiness his father and mother would feel at
returning to their dearly loved and much mourned home. Ronald was an
orphan, the uncle in Montreal being his only near relative, and the
latter was wealthy and not in need of help. But the boy had already
planned a great future for himself. First he would go to college in
Montreal and perhaps even in England for a time, until he learned all
the things an explorer ought to know. Then he would make up an
expedition to the north and west, and, not being dependent on trade for
gain, would penetrate to new lands and would add, not only to his own
glory and renown, but to that of his country as well.

After their plans had been perfected, so far as they could be at that
time, Nangotook left them, but the two lads lingered to discuss their
hopes and dreams. As they were sitting on the log, watching the
moonlight on the peaceful waters of the bay, and talking in low but
eager voices, Jean's keen ears caught the sound of a snapping twig and a
slight rustle among the trees behind him. He rose quickly to his feet
and peered into the shadows, but could distinguish nothing that could
have made the sounds. Ronald also took alarm. They ceased their
conversation, and slipped quietly back among the trees and bushes. In
the darkness they could find no trace of anything disturbing, but the
thread of their thoughts had been broken, and they felt strangely
uneasy. With one accord they turned in the direction of the camp, and
made their way towards it without speaking. As they approached the edge
of the clearing, they saw ahead of them the dark figure of a man slip
out from among the trees and go swiftly, but with an awkward gait,
across the open. His stiff ankle and out-turning right foot betrayed
him.

"Le Forgeron Tordu," exclaimed Ronald. "Do you suppose he was listening
to us?"

"I fear it," answered Jean. "We were fools not to be more cautious. I
would give much to know just what he overheard."

"He may not have been listening at all," Ronald returned. "Perhaps he
was merely passing through the woods and didn't hear us, or paid no heed
even if he caught the sound of our voices. Unless he were close by he
couldn't have understood, for we were speaking softly."

Jean shook his head doubtfully. "I hope he heard nothing," he said.
"There is not another man in the fleet I would so fear to have know our
plans. He is not to be trusted for one moment. There is nothing evil he
would shrink from, if he thought it to his advantage."

"Well," was Ronald's answer, "he's not fond of you and me, that is
certain, but what harm can he do? Since Etienne left, I am sure we have
not been saying anything about the island itself or how to reach it.
Indeed he told us little enough. He merely said it lies south of a point
on the north shore, the Rock of the Beaver he called it, but he didn't
tell us where on the north shore that rock is. Have you ever heard of
such a place, Jean?"

The French lad shook his head, then said with an air of relief, "It is
true Le Forgeron can have learned nothing of importance, if he has been
listening. He was not near when Etienne was there or Etienne would have
discovered him. Trust Nangotook not to let an enemy creep up on him
without his knowing it. But we must be more careful in the future."

The camp was ruddy with the light of fires and noisy with the voices of
men, talking, laughing, singing, quarreling. Many of the voyageurs were
the worse for too much liquor, which flowed far too freely among the
canoemen. But the canoe where the boys lodged was near the edge of the
camp, and they were able to avoid the more noisy and boisterous groups.

The night was fine, and they had no need of shelter. Wrapping themselves
in their blankets, they stretched out, not under the canoe, but in its
shadow, a little way from the fire. Around the blaze the rest of the
crew were gathered, listening to the tale that one of the Frenchmen was
telling with much animation and many gestures. Ordinarily the boys would
have paused to hear the story, for they usually enjoyed sitting about
the camp-fire to listen to the tales and join in the songs. They had no
taste for the excesses and more boisterous merry-making of many of the
men and youths who were their companions, but, as both boys were plucky,
good-natured, and always willing to do their share of the work, their
temperate and quiet ways did them no harm with most of their rough
fellows, and they were by no means unpopular. That night, however, they
took no interest in song or story. Their minds were too full of the
fascinating adventure in which they had enlisted.




III

RONALD MAKES AN ENEMY


During the days that passed before their departure from the Portage, the
two lads saw Etienne only twice more and then for but a few minutes. The
last of the northmen arrived, the portaging was completed, the furs
sorted and made into packages of ninety to one hundred pounds each, and
everything was ready for the homeward trip.

One fine morning, when the sky was blue and the breeze light, the first
canoes of the great return fleet put out from shore. The birch canoes of
the traders were not much like the small pleasure craft we are familiar
with to-day. Frail looking boats though they were, each was between
thirty and forty feet long, and capable of carrying, including the
weight of the men that formed the crew, about four tons. In each canoe
were a foreman and a steersman, skilled men at higher wages than the
others and with complete authority over the middlemen. The foreman was
the chief officer of the boat, always on the lookout to direct the
course and passage, but he shared responsibility with the steersman in
the stern. Three or four boats made up a brigade, and each brigade had a
guide who was in absolute command.

The long, slender, graceful canoes, picturesque in themselves, were
filled with even more picturesque canoemen: Indians, French half-breeds,
many of them scarcely distinguishable from their full-blooded Indian
brothers, and white men, French-Canadians for the most part, in pointed
scarlet caps that contrasted strongly with their swarthy, sun-bronzed
faces. Singing boat songs, the men dipped their paddles with swift and
perfect unison and rhythm, and the canoes slipped over the quiet water
as smoothly and easily as if they were themselves alive. The clear
depths of the lake reflected the deep blue of the sky, while the rocky
shores, crowned or covered to the water's edge with dark evergreens and
bright-leaved birches, made a fitting background.

The canoes of each brigade kept as close together as possible, but all
the brigades did not start at the same time. When the last one was ready
to put off, the first was apt to be a number of days and many miles
ahead. In calm weather the canoes, though heavily loaded, made good
speed, four miles an hour being considered satisfactory progress. The
trips to and from the Sault were always made as rapidly as wind and
waves would permit, but the number of days required depended on the
weather encountered. The birch canoes could not plow through the middle
of the lake as the steamers of to-day do, but were obliged to skirt the
shore and take advantage of its shelter. The daring voyageurs often took
chances that would seem reckless to us, and paddled their frail boats
through seas that would have swamped or destroyed them, had they not
been handled with wonderful skill by the experienced Canadians and
Indians. But there were always periods of storm and rough weather when
the boats and their precious cargoes could not be trusted to the mercy
of the waters. Then the canoemen had to remain in camp on shore or
island, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for days. During the
outward trip delays had not disturbed Jean and Ronald, but had been
enjoyed as welcome periods of rest from the hard and incessant labor of
paddling. On the return journey, however, the two were all impatience.

On the way out the two lads had traveled in the same canoe, but for the
trip back, they were assigned, much to their disgust, to different
boats. It did not add to Ronald's satisfaction to find that he had been
placed in the same canoe with the man whom he had suspected of listening
when he and Jean had been talking over their plans. Le Forgeron Tordu
was the steersman. The foreman was Benoit Gervais, Benoit le Gros or Big
Benoit he was usually called, a merry giant of a Frenchman, with a
strain of Indian blood, who, in spite of his usual good nature, could be
trusted to keep his crew in admirable control and to handle even the
evil tempered Le Forgeron. The latter was known far and wide throughout
the Indian country. He was always called Le Forgeron, the blacksmith, or
in Ojibwa, Awishtoya. His real name no one seemed to know, but the
nickname had evidently been given him because of his unusual skill as a
metal worker. The epithet "tordu" or "twisted" referred to his
deformity, his right leg from the knee down being twisted outward, and
his ankle stiff. His nose also was twisted to one side, and there was an
ugly scar on his chin. It was said that these disfigurements were the
marks of the tortures he had suffered, when scarcely more than a boy, at
the hands of the Iroquois.

Skilled smith though he was, Le Forgeron Tordu did not choose to settle
down and work at his trade. Occasionally he took employment for a short
period at one of the trading posts or as a voyageur. He had tremendous
physical strength and far more intelligence than the average canoeman,
but his violence, ugly temper, and treacherous craftiness made him a
dangerous employee or companion. Most of the time he lived with the
Indians, among whom he had the reputation of a great medicine man or
magician. Yet he professed to be of pure Norman French blood, and did
not have the appearance of a half-breed, though cruel enough in
disposition for an Iroquois.

For the first two days everything went well with the brigade to which
the boys belonged, for the skies were blue and the winds light. To make
the most of the good weather the men paddled long hours and slept short
ones. On the beaches where they camped, after they had made their fires
and boiled their kettles, they needed no shelter but their blankets
wrapped about them, as they lay stretched out under the stars.

The two lads' muscles had been hardened on the outward trip, and they
were in too much haste to reach the Sault to complain of the long hours
of work. Neither did they have any fault to find with the food,
monotonous enough as such meals would seem to boys of to-day. The fare
of the voyageurs consisted almost entirely of corn mush. The corn had
been prepared by boiling in lye to remove the outer coating of the
kernels, which were then washed, crushed and dried. This crushed corn
was very much like what is now called hominy, an Indian name. It was
mixed with a portion of fat and boiled in kettles hung on sticks over
the fire. When time and weather permitted, nets and lines were set at
night and taken up in the morning, supplying the canoemen with fish, but
there was never any time for hunting or gathering berries, except when
bad weather or head winds forced the voyageurs to remain on shore.

The third day of the trip a sudden storm compelled the brigade to seek
the refuge of a sheltered bay. The two canoes in which the boys traveled
were beached nearly half a mile apart. During the storm, which lasted
into the night, the lads were unable to get together. The next morning
the sky was clear again, but a violent northwest wind prevented the
launching of the boats. Since they could not go on, the canoemen were at
liberty to follow their own devices. Some of them sat around the fires
they had kindled in the lea of rocks and bushes, mended their moccasins
and other clothing, and told long tales of their adventures and
experiences. Others wandered about the beach and the adjacent woods,
seeking for ripe raspberries or hunting squirrels, hares and wood
pigeons. A group of Indian wigwams on a point was visited by a few of
the men, who bartered with the natives for fish, maple sugar and
deerskin moccasins.

For Ronald the Indian fishing camp had no particular attraction, and he
started to walk around the bay to the place where Jean's canoe was
beached. On the way he climbed a bluff a little back from the water, and
lingered to eat his fill of the ripe wild raspberries that grew along
the top. As he pushed his way through the brush, he heard the sound of
voices from the beach below and recognized the harsh, rough tones of Le
Forgeron. Just why he turned and went to the edge of the bluff in the
direction of the voices, Ronald did not know. Instinct seemed to tell
him that the Twisted Blacksmith was up to some mischief. Parting the
bushes, he looked down on an Indian lodge. He was surprised to see a
wigwam in that place, for it was at least a quarter of a mile from the
point where the temporary village stood. Near the wigwam Le Forgeron was
sitting cross-legged on a blanket, smoking at his ease, while a squaw,
bending over a small cooking fire, was preparing food for him, venison,
the boy's nose told him, as the savory odor rose on the wind.

"Make haste there, thou daughter of a pig," the Blacksmith was saying
roughly, "and take care that the meat is not burned or underdone or I
will burn thee alive in thine own fire."

The Indian woman shrank back as if frightened, and, as she turned her
head, Ronald saw that she was old and withered, and, from the way she
groped about, he judged her to be nearly if not quite blind. She made a
motion to withdraw from the fire the piece of venison she was broiling
on a wooden spit, that rested on two sticks driven into the ground, but,
whether through fear or blindness, she struck the stick with her hand
instead of grasping it, and spit and meat went into the fire.

Le Forgeron uttered an ugly oath and sprang to his feet. "I'll teach you
how to broil meat, old witch," he cried. Before Ronald could free
himself from the bushes, the Blacksmith had seized the frightened old
woman and had thrust her moccasined foot and bare ankle, for she wore no
leggings, into the fire. She gave a scream of pain and terror, and
Ronald, without pausing to think, launched himself over the edge of the
bluff in a flying leap. He landed on the sand close to where the old
squaw was struggling in Le Forgeron's grasp, and brought a stout stick,
that he had used a few moments before to kill a snake, down on the
Blacksmith's neck and shoulder. Surprised at the attack, Le Forgeron
flung the squaw from him and turned on the boy, reaching for his knife
as he did so. He made a quick lunge at Ronald, who jumped aside just in
time and seized him by the arm that held the knife. At the same moment
he heard a shout from beyond the lodge and recognized Jean's voice.
Ronald, though a strong and sturdy lad, was no match for Le Forgeron,
but he hung on to the Frenchman's right arm like a bulldog. The
Blacksmith flung his left arm out and around the boy's waist, to crush
him in his iron grasp. Ronald heard Jean's shout close by, and then,
just as he thought his body would be crushed in the Blacksmith's
terrible grip, there came from the top of the bluff a roar like that of
a mad bull, and Benoit le Gros launched his great body down on the
struggling pair as if to bury them both.

But Big Benoit did not bury Ronald. The boy went down on the sand, found
himself loose, rolled completely over and picked himself up, just in
time to see the giant foreman hurl his steersman into the breakers that
were rolling on the beach. Then he strode in after him, seized him by
the back of the neck and pulled him out again, dazed, bloody, choking
with the water he had swallowed. Le Forgeron Tordu was beaten. There was
no fight left in him for the time being, but he was far from being
subdued. He cast an ugly look at the two boys, but for the moment he was
unable even to swear. With an imperious gesture Big Benoit motioned him
to go back down the beach towards camp. Le Forgeron went, but as he
passed Ronald he gave him a look so full of vindictive hatred it fairly
chilled the lad's blood. There was no need of voice or words to express
the threat of vengeance. That look was enough.

In the meantime the Indian woman had disappeared, and, though the boys
sought for her to discover how badly she had been burned and to see if
they could do anything to relieve her suffering, they could not find
her. When Ronald returned to the camping place of his own crew, he found
the brigade guide in conversation with Big Benoit. The boy was summoned
to tell his story, and did so in a few words. He admitted having
attacked Le Forgeron first and gave his reason. Benoit added his
evidence, for he had seen the Indian woman crawl away and thrust her
smoking, blackened moccasin into the water. The guide grunted a
malediction upon Le Forgeron, whom he called the "king of fiends," and
dismissed the boy. Later Benoit informed him that he had been
transferred to the canoe where Jean was, and added, with a grin, that he
was sorry to lose a lad who was not afraid to attack the Blacksmith, but
that it was best the two should be separated. "Look to yourself, my
son," he said, laying a kindly hand on the boy's shoulder. "Le Forgeron
does not forget a grudge."

For two days strong winds prevented the continuance of the journey, but
Ronald, having been transferred to the same canoe with Jean, kept clear
of Le Forgeron.

The delay vexed the impatient boys, who felt that every lost hour was
shortening the time they could give to the search for the strange
island. At last, during the night, the wind changed to another quarter
and went down, and for the remainder of the voyage the weather was
generally favorable. There were several delays, but none so long as the
first, and the Sault was reached in fairly good time.

The visits of the brigades were the great events of the year at the
trading post of Sault de Ste. Marie. The few whites and half-breeds that
formed the little settlement, and most of the Indians of the Ojibwa
village near by, were on hand to receive the voyageurs. But Nangotook,
who should have been awaiting the boys, was nowhere to be seen.

The Northwest Company's agent and Jean's friends had expected the lads
to go on to Montreal with the fleet, and the two were hard put to it to
find excuses for lingering. The men who had been injured in the accident
of the spring before, and who had been left behind to recover, were
strong enough to resume their places at the paddles, so the lads'
services were not actually needed, and no pressure was put upon them to
go on. As day after day of impatient waiting passed without any sign of
their Indian guide, Jean and Ronald began to wonder if they had been
foolish to remain behind. Until the prospect of adventure and riches had
opened before them, they had not dreamed of spending another winter at
the Sault. Even when they had decided not to go on with the fleet, they
had hoped that they might accomplish their treasure-seeking trip in time
to allow them to return to Montreal or at least to Michilimackinac,
under Etienne's guidance, before winter set in.




IV

LAUNCHED ON THE GREAT ADVENTURE


On the morning of the third day after the departure of the last brigade
of the fleet, Etienne appeared at the Sault. At the post he purchased a
supply of corn, a piece of fat pork, some ammunition and tobacco and two
blankets, and was given credit for them, promising to pay in beaver
skins from his next winter's catch. Of the two lads he took no notice
whatever, but his behavior did not surprise them. They knew exactly what
was expected of them, and in the afternoon of the day he made his
purchases, they left the post quietly. Wishing to give the impression
that they were going for a mere ramble, they took no blankets, but each
had concealed about him fish lines, hooks, as much ammunition as he
could carry comfortably and various other little things. The fact that
they were carrying their guns, hunting knives and small, light axes, did
not excite suspicion. Game was extremely scarce, especially at that time
of year, in the vicinity of the post, the Indians and whites living
largely on fish. One of the half-breeds laughed at the boys for going
hunting, but they answered good-naturedly that they were not looking for
either bears or moose.

While in sight of the post and the Indian camp, the two lads went at a
deliberate pace, as if they had no particular aim or purpose, but as
soon as a patch of woods had hidden the houses and lodges from view,
they increased their speed and made directly for the place where they
were to meet Etienne. The spot agreed upon was above the rapids, out of
sight of the post, where a thick growth of willows at the river's edge
made an excellent cover. There they found the Ojibwa, in an opening
among the bushes, going over the seams of his canoe with a piece of
heat-softened pine gum. He grunted a welcome, but was evidently not in a
talkative mood, and the boys, knowing how an Indian dislikes to be
questioned about his affairs, forbore to ask what had caused his long
delay. They had expected to start at once, but Etienne seemed in no
hurry. When he had made sure that the birch seams were all water-tight,
he settled himself in a half reclining position on the ground, took some
tobacco from his pouch, cut it into small particles, rubbed them into
powder and filled the bowl of his long-stemmed, red stone pipe. He
struck sparks with his flint and steel, and, using a bit of dry fungus
as tinder, lighted the tobacco. After smoking in silence for a few
minutes, he went to sleep.

"He thinks it best not to start until dark," whispered Jean to his
companion. "Doubtless he is right. We might meet canoes on the river and
have to answer questions."

Ronald nodded, but inaction made him restless, and presently he slipped
through the willows and started to make his way along the shore of the
river. In a few moments Jean joined him, and they rambled about until
the sun was setting. When they returned to the place where Etienne and
the canoe were concealed, they found the Indian awake. He had made a
small cooking fire and had swung his iron kettle over it. As soon as the
water boiled, he stirred in enough of the prepared corn and fat to make
a meal for the three of them. While they ate he remained silent and
uncommunicative.

Dusk was changing into darkness when the three adventurers launched
their canoe. They carried it into the water, and Ronald and Jean held it
from swinging around with the current while Nangotook loaded it. To
distribute the weight equally he placed the packages of ammunition,
tobacco, corn and pork, a birch-bark basket of maple sugar he had
provided, the blankets, guns, kettle and other things on poles resting
on the bottom and running the entire length of the boat. A very little
inequality in the lading of a birch canoe makes it awkward to manage and
easy to capsize. When the boat was loaded Ronald held it steady, while
the Indian and Jean stepped in from opposite sides, one in the bow, the
other in the stern. Ronald took his place in the middle, and they were
off up the River Ste. Marie, on the first stage of their adventure.

Where the river narrows opposite Point aux Pins, which to this day
retains its French name meaning Pine Point, there was a group of Indian
lodges, but the canoe slipped past so quietly in the darkness that even
the dogs were not disturbed. The voyageurs rounded the point and,
turning to the northwest, skirted its low, sandy shore. The water was
still, and in the clear northern night, traveling, as long as they kept
out from the shore, was as easy as by daylight.

As they neared Gros Cap, the "Big Cape," which, on the northern side,
marks the real entrance from Ste. Mary's River into Whitefish Bay,
Nangotook, in the bow, suddenly made a low hissing sound, as a warning
to the boys, and ceased paddling, holding his blade motionless in the
water. The others instantly did the same, while the Indian, with raised
head, listened intently. Evidently he detected some danger ahead, though
no unusual sound came to the blunter ears of the white boys.

Suddenly resuming his strokes, Nangotook swerved the canoe to the right,
the lads lifting their blades and leaving the paddling to the Ojibwa. As
they drew near the shadow of the shore, the boys discovered the reason
for the sudden change of direction. Very faintly at first, then with
increasing clearness, came the sound of a high tenor voice, singing. It
was an old song, brought from old France many years before, and Jean
knew it well.

    "Chante, rossignol, chante,
    Toi qui a le cocur gai;
    Tu as le coeur a rire,
    Moi je l'ai-t-a pleurer,"

sang the tenor voice. Then other voices joined in the chorus.

    "Lui ya longtemps que je t'aime,
    Jamais je ne t'oublierai."

A rough translation would be something like this:

    "Sing, nightingale, sing,
    Thou who hast a heart of cheer,
    Hast alway the heart to laugh,
    But I weep sadly many a tear.
       A long, long time have I loved thee,
       Never can I forget my dear."

By the time these words could be heard distinctly, the adventurers had
reached a place of concealment in the dark shadow of the tree-covered
shore. There they remained silent and motionless, while three canoes,
each containing several men, passed farther out on the moonlit water.
They were headed for the Sault, and were evidently trappers or traders
from somewhere along the north shore, coming in to sell or forward their
furs and to buy supplies. Not until the strangers were out of sight and
hearing, did the treasure-seekers put out from the shadows again.

At sunrise they made a brief halt at Gros Cap for breakfast, entering a
narrow cove formed by a long, rocky point, almost parallel with the
shore. There, well hidden from the lake among aspen trees and raspberry
and thimbleberry bushes, they boiled their corn and finished the meal
with berries. The thimbleberries, which are common on the shores and
islands of Superior, are first cousins to the ordinary red raspberry,
though the bushes, with their large, handsome leaves and big, white
blossoms, look more like blackberry bushes. The berries are longer in
shape than raspberries, and those the boys gathered that morning, with
the dew on them, were acid and refreshing. Later, when very ripe, they
would become insipid to the taste.

Anxious to take advantage of the good weather, the three delayed only
long enough for a short rest. The sun was bright and a light breeze
rippled the water, when they paddled out from the cove. Jean started a
voyageur's song.

    "La fill' du roi d'Espagne,
    Vogue, marinier, vogue!
    Veut apprendre un metier,
       Vogue, marinier!
    Veut apprendre un metier.
       Vogue, marinier!

    "The daughter of the king of Spain,
    Row, canoemen, row!
    Some handicraft to learn is fain,
       Row, canoemen!
    Some handicraft to learn is fain,
       Row, canoemen."

Ronald joined in the chorus, though his voice, not yet through changing
from boy's to man's, was somewhat cracked and quavering. The Indian
remained silent, but his paddle kept time to the music.

They were still in the shadow of the cliff of Gros Cap, rising abruptly
from the lake, while to the north, eight or ten miles away across the
water, they could see a high point of much the same general appearance,
Goulais Point, marking the northern and western side of a deep bay. The
water was so quiet that, instead of coasting along the shores of Goulais
Bay, they risked running straight across to the point, saving themselves
about fifteen miles of paddling.

The traverse, as the voyageurs called such a short cut across the mouth
of a bay, was made safely, although the wind had risen before the point
was gained. They proceeded along Goulais Point, past the mouth of a
little bay where they caught a glimpse of Indian lodges, and through a
channel between an island and the mainland. The lodges doubtless
belonged to Indians who had camped there to fish, but the travelers
caught no glimpse of them and were glad to escape their notice.

The wind, which was from the west, was steadily rising, and by the time
the point now called Rudderhead was reached, was blowing with such force
that the traverse across the wide entrance to Batchewana Bay was out of
the question. The voyageurs were obliged to take refuge within the mouth
of the bay, running into a horseshoe shaped indentation at the foot of a
high hill. There a landing was made and a meal of mush prepared.

By that time the adventurers were far enough away from the Sault not to
fear discovery. Any one going out from the post in search of them might
easily follow the two boys' trails to the spot where they had met
Etienne. The lads chuckled to think how their aimless wanderings after
that, while they were waiting for darkness, might confuse a search
party. It was unlikely, however, that any one would worry about them or
make any thorough search for them, until several days had passed. They
were now fairly launched on their adventure and their hopes were high.




V

THE GRAVE OF NANABOZHO


The sun set clear in a sky glowing with flame-red and orange, but the
wind blew harder than ever, and forced the adventurers to camp in the
cove. They were tired enough to roll themselves in their blankets as
soon as darkness came, for they had not taken a wink of sleep the night
before. Protected from the wind, they needed no overhead shelter.

When the complaining cries of the gulls waked the lads at dawn, the wind
was still strong, but from a more southerly direction. While the open
lake was rough, the bay might be circled without danger, so, without
waiting for breakfast, the three launched the canoe. Jean, who was in
the stern, baited a hook with a piece of pork, and, fastening the line
to his paddle, let the hook, which was held down by a heavy sinker,
trail through the water, the motion of the paddle keeping the line
moving.

As they were passing a group of submerged rocks at the mouth of a
stream, a sudden pull on the line almost jerked the paddle out of his
hands. The fish made a hard fight, but Etienne handled the canoe
skilfully, giving Jean a chance to play his catch. He finally succeeded
in drawing it close enough so that Ronald, leaning over the side of the
boat, while the Indian balanced by throwing his body the other way,
managed to reach the fish with his knife. It proved to be a lake trout
of about six pounds. Landing on a sandy point that ran out from the
north shore of the bay, the boys prepared breakfast. Broiled trout was a
welcome change from corn, and the three ate every particle that was
eatable.

The wind continuing to blow with force, they camped on the point, and
spent the rest of the day fishing and hunting. Fishing was fairly
successful, but they found no game, not even a squirrel. The only tracks
observed were those of a mink at the edge of a stream. An abundance of
ripe raspberries helped out their evening meal, however. The wind
lessened after sunset, but the lake was too rough for night travel. So
the treasure-seekers laid their blankets on the sand for another good
night's sleep.

Nangotook woke at dawn and roused the boys. The sky, dappled with soft
white clouds and streaked with pink, was reflected in the absolutely
still water. So the three got away at once and, making a traverse of
five or six miles across an indentation in the shore to the end of
another point, were soon out of Batchewana Bay.

Going on up the shore, the travelers rounded Mamainse Point, and ran
among rock islets, some of them bare, some with a tuft of trees or
bushes at the summit. The islands they had passed in the southeast
corner of the lake had been flat and sandy. From Mamainse on, although
many of the larger islands and the margin of the shore continued low,
the general appearance of the land was very different. High cliffs
formed a continuous rampart a little back from the water and were
covered with trees down to the beach, the silvery stems and bright
green of the birches and aspens standing out against the darker colors
of spruce and balsam. This was true north shore country, contrasting
strongly with most of the south shore.

All day the wind was light, and the voyageurs made upwards of forty
miles, reaching Montreal River before dark. As the canoe turned towards
the broad beach where the stream enters the lake, the boys ceased
paddling, leaving Etienne to make the landing. The Indian took a long
stroke, then held his paddle motionless, edge forward and blade pressed
against the side of the boat, until the momentum slackened, made another
stroke, held the blade still again, then a third and rested until the
bow ran gently on the sand. The moment it struck, before the onward
motion ceased, the three rose as with one movement, threw their legs
over the sides, Etienne and Jean to the right, Ronald to the left, and
stepped out into the water without tipping the canoe. Then the boys
lifted it by the cross bars and carried it beyond the water line.

The beach jutted out across the mouth of the river, partly closing it,
while a bar, about six feet below the surface, extended clear across.
Farther back were large trees, and the place was in every way a
satisfactory camping ground.

After the evening meal, the boys, hoping to secure a fish or two for
breakfast, went out in the canoe to set some lines. Trolling had been
unsuccessful that day. In the meanwhile Etienne was examining an old
trail that led up-stream. The deep, clear, brown waters emptied into
the lake through a kind of delta, partly tree covered, but farther up
they raced down with great force through a steep-walled, rock chasm. The
trail, which proved that Indians were in the habit of frequenting the
place, interested Nangotook for it bore signs of recent use. So he
followed it.

Suddenly, as he rounded a clump of birches, he saw two men coming
towards him. Luckily they were both looking in the other direction at
the moment when the Ojibwa caught sight of them. Before they could turn
their heads, he was out of view, squatted in the dark shadow behind an
alder bush. Though he had but a glimpse of them, he recognized one, a
white man with twisted nose and a scar on his chin. The other was an
Indian, a stranger to him. As soon as the two men had passed, Nangotook
rose and followed them cautiously, making his way among trees and bushes
at the edge of the trail. The long twilight was deepening to darkness,
and it was not difficult to keep hidden. The men went on along the trail
for a way, then turned from it and struck off into the woods. Nangotook
did not pursue them farther. Satisfied that they were not headed for the
camp on the beach, he went on rapidly and joined the boys at the fire.
In a few words he told them of the encounter.

The lads were amazed. At first they could scarcely believe it was really
Le Forgeron Tordu Etienne had seen. The Blacksmith had left the Sault
with his brigade for Montreal nearly two weeks before. He must have
deserted below the Sault, have returned past the post and come on to
the northeast shore. Desertion from the fleet was a serious matter, for
the canoemen were under strict contract, and the guilty man was liable
to heavy punishment. Le Forgeron had been a steersman too, and that made
his offense worse. It was scarcely possible that he could have been
discharged voluntarily, but if he had taken the risk of desertion, it
must have been for some very important or desperate purpose.

The knowledge that the evil Frenchman was so near made the lads uneasy.
Remembering the look of bitter hatred the Blacksmith had given him, and
Big Benoit's warning to look to himself, Ronald felt, for the first time
in his life, the chill dread that comes to one who is followed by a
relentless enemy. He pulled himself together in a moment, however. If Le
Forgeron was following them, it could not be merely to obtain vengeance
for the blow the lad had given him. That cause seemed altogether too
slight to account for desertion and the long trip back to Superior. It
was probable that he had heard more of their plans that night at the
Grande Portage than they had believed he could have heard, and was bent
on securing the gold for himself.

While Ronald was pondering these things, Jean was telling Nangotook of
their suspicions that Le Forgeron had overheard them, of his treatment
of the squaw, of Ronald's attack on him and of Big Benoit's fortunate
appearance. Nangotook listened silently, and nodded gravely when the boy
had finished his tale, but the two could not read in his impassive face
whether he shared their fears or not.

From a tree overhead a screech owl uttered its eerie cry, the long drawn
closing tremolo on one note sounding like a threat of disaster. Perhaps
the Indian took the sinister sound for a warning, for he rose from the
log where he was sitting and went down to the water's edge. When he
returned, he said decisively, "Sleep now little while. Then go on in
dark."

The boys concluded he was as anxious as they to get away from the
neighborhood of Le Forgeron.

Ronald could not sleep much that night, and when he did drop off for a
few moments, the slightest sound was enough to arouse him. By midnight
the water was still, and, at Nangotook's command, the boys launched the
canoe. The Indian in the bow, the three paddled noiselessly away from
their camping ground, going slowly at first for fear of striking a bar
or reef. Though they scanned the shore, they could see no sign of Le
Forgeron's camp-fire. Had he gone on ahead of them, they wondered.

All the rest of the night they traveled steadily, and did not make a
landing until the sun had been up for more than an hour. Then they
stopped long enough to boil the kettle and eat their breakfast of corn
and pork.

The wind had come up with the sun, and before they had gone far from the
little island where they had breakfasted, the gale threatened to dash
the canoe on the shore, where breakers were rolling. The travelers were
driven to seek refuge behind a sand-bar at the mouth of a small stream.
Then the wind began to shift about from one point to another. Rain
clouds appeared, and a succession of squalls and showers kept the
impatient gold-seekers on shore until the following morning.

The sky was still cloudy and threatening, but the water was not
dangerously rough, when they put out from the shelter of the sand-bar. A
head wind made progress slow, as they went on up the shore and around
the great cape which some early explorer had named Gargantua, because of
a fancied resemblance to the giant whose adventures were told by
Rabelais, a French writer of the first half of the sixteenth century.

A short distance east of the Cape, Nangotook directed the canoe towards
a small rock island, one of a group. "Land there," he said laconically.

"Why should we be landing on that barren rock?" questioned Ronald in
surprise.

"Grave of great manito, Nanabozho," the Indian answered seriously.

Ronald opened his mouth to speak again, but Jean punched him with his
paddle as a warning to ask no further questions. Nangotook ran the canoe
alongside a ledge of rock only slightly above the water. There he
stepped out. The others followed and lifted the boat up on the ledge.
Without waiting for them, Nangotook climbed swiftly over the rocks.
Ronald would have followed him, but Jean took the Scotch boy by the arm.

"He goes to make an offering to the manito," the French lad said, "and
to ask him to send us fair weather and favorable winds for our voyage."

"But Nangotook says he's a Christian," the other replied. "Why is he
making sacrifices to heathen gods then?"

Jean shrugged his shoulders. "A savage does not so easily forget the
gods of his people," he said. "I have heard of this place before. Let us
look around a bit while he is offering his sacrifices."

The island proved to be a mere rock, barren of everything but moss,
lichens, a few trailing evergreens, and here and there such scattering,
stunted plants as will grow with almost no soil. Part of the rock looked
as if it had been artificially cut off close to the water line, while
the rest ran up steeply to a height of thirty or forty feet. At several
spots the two lads found the remains of offerings made by passing
Indians, strands of sun-dried or decaying tobacco, broken guns, rusty
kettles and knives, bits of scarlet cloth, beads and trinkets. Evidently
the savages reverenced the place deeply and believed that the spirit of
the great manito made it his abode.

What interested the boys more than Indian offerings was several clearly
defined veins of metal running through the rock. Here and there in the
veins were holes indicating that some one, white man or Indian, had made
an attempt to mine. Moss and stunted bushes growing in the holes proved
that the prospecting must have been done a number of years before.
Ronald, who knew a little of geology, said there was certainly copper in
the rock, and he thought there might be lead, and perhaps silver, which,
he explained, was sometimes found in conjunction with copper.

"The man I was telling you about," Ronald concluded, "old Alexander
Henry, who looked for the Island of Yellow Sands, but who went to the
wrong place Etienne says, did some mining along this east and north
shore. Perhaps he opened these veins, but if he did, it must have been
twenty or thirty years ago."

The three did not remain long on the island. Around Cape Gargantua the
shore had become more abrupt and more broken, with sheer cliffs, deep
chasms, ragged points and islands. The rocks were painted with a variety
of tints, caused by the weathering of metallic substances and by lichens
that ranged in color from gray-green to bright orange. It was slow work
paddling in the rough water, but before night the travelers reached a
good camping ground, among birch trees, above a steep, terraced beach in
the shadow of the high cliffs of Cape Choyye.

Near their landing place the boys came upon a broad sheet of red
sandstone sloping gradually into the water. The rock was scored with
shallow, winding channels and peppered with smooth holes, some of them
three or four feet deep. Many of the cavities were nearly round, but one
was in the shape of a cloven hoof. When the Indian saw the place he
looked awed and muttered, "Manito been here." Jean, too, was much
impressed, and hastened to make the sign of the cross over the cloven
footprint, but Ronald laughed at him. The holes were perfectly natural,
he said. He pointed out in many of them loose stones of a much harder
rock, and suggested that, at some previous period when the lake level
must have been much higher, the friction of such stones and boulders
against the softer sandstone, as they were washed and churned about by
the waves, might have ground out the cavities. The shallow channels were
probably chiseled by the grating of sand and small pebbles. Nangotook
paid no attention whatever to Ronald's explanation, and even Jean did
not seem entirely convinced. He shook his head doubtfully over the
cloven hole.




VI

ALONG THE NORTH SHORE


Apparently the great Nanabozho looked upon the treasure-seekers with
favor, for the next morning dawned bright, clear and with a favorable
breeze. They started early to the tune of

    "Fringue, fringue, sur la riviere,
    Fringue, fringue, sur l'aviron."

    "Speed, speed on the river,
    Speed, speed with the oar."

Making good time, they continued northward into Michipicoten Bay. On the
Michipicoten River, which empties into the head of the bay, was a
trading station. They did not wish to land there, but hoped to pass
unobserved and to avoid any one going to or coming from the post. It was
late in the season for white men to be traveling towards the western end
of the lake, and questions or even unspoken curiosity might be
embarrassing.

So, on reaching a beach, the only one they noticed along that bold,
steep stretch of shore, they decided to land and wait for darkness
before running past the post.

The manito continued to be kind to them, for during the afternoon a haze
spread over the sky. When the fog on the water became thick enough to
furnish cover, the adventurers set out again, paddling along the steep
shore, gray and indistinct in the mist, the Indian keeping a sharp
lookout for detached rocks. As they neared the mouth of the
Michipicoten, they went farther out, and passed noiselessly, completely
hidden in the fog. Not caring to risk traveling in the thick obscurity
of a foggy night, they made camp before dark a few miles beyond the
river.

The next morning they embarked at dawn and went on under cover of the
fog, but the rising sun soon dispersed it. They were now traveling
directly west. After passing Point Isacor, they could see clearly, ten
or twelve miles to the south, Michipicoten Island or Isle de Maurepas,
as the French named it, after the Comte de Maurepas, minister of marine
under Louis XV. Alexander Henry the elder visited that island, and it
was the Indians who guided him there who told him of another isle
farther to the south, where the sands were yellow and shining. According
to Nangotook, those Indians had deliberately deceived the white man,
taking him intentionally to the wrong island. The boys gazed with new
interest at the high pile of rock and forest, and Jean related to Ronald
a legend that one of the old French missionaries had heard from the
savages more than a century before and had written down.

"The savages told the good Father," began Jean, "that four braves were
lost in a fog one day, and drifted to that island. Wishing to prepare
food, they began to pick up pebbles, intending to heat them in the fire
they had lighted, and then drop them into their basket-ware kettle to
make the water boil. But they were surprised to find that all the
pebbles and slabs on the beach were of pure copper. At once they began
to load their canoe with the copper rocks, when they were startled by a
terrible voice calling out in wrath. 'Who are you,' roared the great
voice, 'you robbers who carry away my papoose cases and the playthings
of my children?' The slabs, it seems, were the cradles, and the round
stones, the toys, of the children of the strange race of manitos or
supernatural beings who dwelt, like mermen and mermaids, in the water
round about the island. The frightful voice terrified the savages so
they dropped the copper stones, and put out from the shore in haste. One
of them died of fright on the way to the mainland. A short time later a
second died, and then, after he had returned to his own people and told
the story, the third. What became of the fourth the savages did not say.
It is said," concluded Jean, "that the island is rich in copper and
other metals, so it well may be, as Etienne suggests, that such tales
were told to frighten the white men and keep them from the place."

That night the eager gold-seekers traveled until after midnight, pausing
at sundown only long enough for supper and a brief rest. As the darkness
deepened, the wavering flames of the aurora borealis, or northern
lights, began to glow in the northern and western sky. From the sharply
defined edge of bank of clouds below, bands and streamers of white and
pale green stretched upwards, flashing, flickering and changeable.
Sometimes glowing spots appeared in the dark band, again streamers of
light shot up to the zenith, the center of brightness constantly
shifting, as the flames died out in one place to flare up in another.

The Ojibwa hailed the "dancing spirits" as a good omen, and the boys
were inclined to agree with him. All the evening the lights flashed and
glowed, but when, after midnight, the travelers rounded the cape known
as Otter's Head, from the upright rock surmounting it, the streaks and
bands were growing faint, and by the time a landing had been made in the
cover beyond, they had faded out entirely.

Whether the aurora borealis was to be considered a good sign or not,
fortune continued to favor the voyageurs the next day. They put up a
blanket sail attached to poles, and ran before a favorable wind most of
the twenty-five miles to the mouth of White Gravel River. There they
remained until nightfall, for they were anxious to avoid another trading
post some twenty miles farther up the shore, near the mouth of the Pic
River.

Glad of exercise after being cramped in the canoe, the boys made their
way along the bank of White Gravel River for about two miles, where they
discovered a round, deep, shaded pool, alive with darting shadows. They
cut fishing poles and had an hour of fine sport. As they were going on
up-stream, they heard the calling and cooing of wood pigeons, and soon
came upon a great flock of the birds. The trees were covered with them,
and the air fairly full of them, flying up, darting down, and wheeling
about in the open spaces, singly and in squads and small flocks. So
plentiful were the pigeons, and so little disturbed by the lads'
presence, that the two might have killed hundreds had they chosen, but
they were not greedy or wanton sportsmen, and shot only as many as they
thought they could eat for supper, reserving the trout for breakfast.

A grove of trees and bushes hid the camp, and the canoe was beached on
the inner side of the sand-bar that partly concealed the entrance to the
stream. Ever since Etienne had seen Le Forgeron Tordu at Montreal River,
he had taken precautions to select camping places where the three would
not be noticed by any one passing on the lake. If the Twisted Blacksmith
were coming up the shore on some business of his own that had nothing to
do with them, the gold-seekers had no wish to attract his attention. If
he was following them, they hoped to give him the slip. Just as the sun
was setting that night, as Jean was plucking the pigeons and Ronald was
preparing to kindle the cooking fire, their attention was attracted by
the harsh screaming of gulls. Looking out through their screen of
bushes, the lads saw a canoe, about the size of their own, passing a
little way out. It was going north, and contained two men, one evidently
an Indian, the other from his dress a white man or half-breed. The boys
could not see him plainly enough to be sure, but they had little doubt
the white man was Le Forgeron. Etienne was some distance away gathering
bearberry leaves to dry and mix with his smoking tobacco to make
kinni-kinnik. So he did not see the canoe go by.

The sight of the passing voyageurs caused the three to delay going on
until twilight had deepened to darkness, and then they traveled in
silence, and watched the shore closely for signs of a camp. They saw
none, however, ran past the mouth of the Pic without encountering any
one, and landed in a bay a few miles farther on. Ahead of them lay a
very irregular shore with many islands, rocks and reefs, which they did
not dare to try to thread in the darkness.

In spite of their night run, they embarked early and passed through a
labyrinth of islands. In a winding passage they met a canoe containing
an Indian, his squaw, three children and two pointed-nosed, fox-eared
dogs. The boys thought this Indian family particularly unattractive
looking savages. They had very flat faces and large mouths and were
ragged and disgustingly dirty, but they were evidently good-natured and
ready to be friendly, for man, woman and children grinned broadly as
they called out "Boojou, boojou," the Indian corruption of the French
"Bonjour." The man held up some fish for sale, but Nangotook treated him
with dignified contempt, grunting an unsmiling greeting, shaking his
head at the proffered fish, and passing by without slowing the strokes
of his paddle. As he left the Indian canoe astern, he growled out a name
that Ronald could not make out, but that Jean understood.

"Gens de Terre," the boy exclaimed. "These are the shores where they
belong. They seldom go as far south as the Sault. Some call them Men of
the Woods. They are dirty, but very honest. The traders say it is
always safe to give them credit, for rarely does one of them fail to pay
in full. They are good tempered too, but when food is scarce I have
heard they sometimes turn Windigo." The lad shuddered and crossed
himself. Windigo is the Indian name for a man who has eaten human flesh
and has learned to like it. Both Indians and white men believed that
such a savage was taken possession of by a fiend. Men suspected of being
Windigos were shunned and feared by red men and white alike.

The voyageurs made a traverse of several miles, and ran among a cluster
of little islands abreast of Pic Island, a rock peak rising about seven
hundred feet from a partly submerged ridge. Fog, blown by a raw, gusty
wind delayed them considerably that day. After running on a hidden rock
and starting a seam in the canoe, they were finally compelled to camp on
a rock islet near shore. There they dined on blueberries, and slept on
thick beds of moss and low growing blueberry and bearberry plants.

The following day, after a sharp north wind had driven away the fog,
they went on, and passed the Slate Islands, high and blue, seven or
eight miles across the water. At supper time they entered a little cove,
where they were horrified to find signs of a recent tragedy. A canoe was
floating bottom up, the beach at the head of the cove was strewn with
pelts, the sand trampled and blotched with dark patches. Near by were
the ashes of a camp-fire.

Nangotook looked the place over carefully, then remarked, "Awishtoya
been here."

"Why do you say that?" exclaimed Jean. "What makes you think so?"

"Trapper going to Pic with winter's catch," the Indian explained.
"Awishtoya found him, attacked him, killed him maybe," and he pointed to
the blood stains in the sand. "Broke open his packs and took best furs.
These no good," touching one of the abandoned skins with his foot.

"Something of the kind must have happened here," Ronald agreed, "and Le
Forgeron would not be above such a deed. Do you see anything to prove he
did it, Etienne?"

The Ojibwa shook his head. "No need to prove it," he said. "Awishtoya
came this way. Always there are evil deeds where he goes."

From the ashes of the fire and the condition of the sand, the Indian
thought the deed a recent one, committed not longer ago than the night
before, perhaps that very day. The three righted the canoe, but found
nothing about it to show its owner. Though they searched the shores of
the cove, they did not discover the body of the murdered man, if he had
been murdered, or any further traces of him or of the man or men who had
attacked him. The marks in the sand were so confused, indicating a
desperate struggle, that not much could be read from them, but Nangotook
thought there had been at least three men in the affray.

The boys had no desire to linger in the cove. As soon as the evening
meal was over, they launched their canoe, and traveled far into the
night, most of the time against a troublesome head wind. Near the
entrance to what is now called the North Channel, which leads into
Nipigon Bay, they made camp.

The lads were growing very impatient. It seemed to them they never would
reach the Rock of the Beaver, as Nangotook had called the spot where
they were to strike south across the open lake. They were beginning to
wonder if he were taking them clear back to Grande Portage, for they had
now come considerably more than two-thirds of the way. Up to that time
the Ojibwa had given them no hint of the location of the Rock, except to
say that it was on the north shore, but that night he volunteered some
information. "Only one day more," he said, "one good day."




VII

THE ROCK OF THE BEAVER


The next morning at dawn the sky was mottled with scudding clouds driven
by an east wind. The prospect was not promising, but the wind was in the
right direction for sailing, and the voyageurs put out in haste, rigging
their blanket sail. It was their intention to pass outside the islands
that almost block the entrance to Nipigon Bay. They made good time
before the breeze, though the waves followed the frail craft perilously,
and the three were soon well soaked with cold spray. But the wind
changed to the southeast, and dark blue clouds, with slanting lines of
rain below them, began to roll up. The sail had to be lowered, and, as
the wind increased and blew in gusts and squalls, it took all the
canoemen's skill to keep from swamping before they gained the eastern
end of the great Island of St. Ignace.

There they were glad to run into a long bay or cove, protected by high
peaks and ridges on either side and by a small island at the entrance
and another large one, now known as Simpson's Island, across a narrow
channel to the east. To the head of the cove, where a small stream
entered it, they paddled, and found a landing place. There they stowed
the supplies under the canoe, placing them on poles and paddles to keep
them off the wet ground, for rain had begun to fall.

Making camp in the rain is an unpleasant task, but they needed a better
shelter than the small canoe would afford. So they left the beach, and
explored the woods for a good spot where they could build a lodge in the
Indian fashion. A considerable distance back from the water, Etienne
found, at last, a spot level and open enough.

Ronald and Jean cleared the ground, while the Indian cut young birch
trees and stripped larger ones of their bark. Ronald was expert with an
ax and wasted no blows. Bending a sapling over with his left hand, he
gave it a sharp clip, then bending it the other way, another quick
stroke, and it was down. Bushes were cut or pulled up, loose rocks
thrown to one side, troublesome roots grubbed up, and hummocks leveled
with vigorous strokes of the back of the ax. In an incredibly short time
the camping ground was fairly smooth and level. Then Nangotook set up a
frame, thrusting the butts of the trees he had cut into the ground, and
bending together and interlacing the tops. This framework he and the
boys covered with sheets of birch bark, "wig-wass" Nangotook called the
bark. They did not take time to sew the pieces together, but overlapped
them and placed more poles against them to keep them in place. The
ground within the lodge, or "wigwam," as the Ojibwa called it, was
hastily strewn with spruce branches. The shelter was completed none too
soon. Just as Jean was carrying in an armful of the gray moss or lichen
that almost covered many of the spruce trees, hanging down from them and
giving them the appearance of being bearded with age, there came a wild
burst of rain and hail that rattled on the bark walls like bullets.

The rest of that day and night and most of the next day rain fell with
scarcely a pause. The disgusted gold-seekers were compelled to remain
within shelter, going out only long enough to cut wood for the fire and
to catch a few fish.

Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and the gray clouds showed signs
of breaking. Hares seemed to be plentiful on the island, and Etienne
went out to set some snares, while the two boys climbed up through the
dripping woods, over slippery moss and rocks, to a spot where they could
see out over the lake. The water was still rough, but the wind had
shifted to the north and gave promise of clearing weather. They hoped
they might be able to go on by morning. According to Etienne the Rock of
the Beaver was only a half day's journey away.

On their way back to camp they came suddenly within range of a plump
hare that was feeding on a large red mushroom. Ronald, who was on the
lookout for game, made a lucky shot. Though hare flesh is not at its
best while the animal still wears his gray-brown summer coat, the fresh
meat was more than welcome to the voyageurs. There was other game on the
island, for they saw tracks, half washed out by the rain, that Jean was
sure were those of caribou, and the Indian said there were moose prints
in a boggy place near where he set his snares. When the boys went down
to the bay for water, they found signs that both mink and marten had
been there before them, and in the night they were awakened several
times by the sharp, cat-like snarl of a lynx. They found no indications
that any one had trapped in the vicinity the winter before, however.

The next morning dawned fair with a light breeze, and the adventurers
hastened down to the shore where the canoe lay. Jean gave a cry of
dismay when he turned over the boat. Under it they had left most of the
ammunition and all of the food supplies they did not want to use
immediately. Now everything, except the paddles and the poles, was gone.

"Stolen," cried Jean in great excitement. "Le Forgeron Tordu has been
here, the fiend! It is some of his evil work."

"It is evil work, surely," Ronald answered more quietly, but his blue
eyes hardened and his square jaw set. To break into another man's cache
or steal his provisions was the most serious of offenses in the
wilderness among white men and Indians alike, an offense that might even
be punished with death.

Nangotook, after one glance under the canoe, had set himself to
examining the tracks that led to the water. "One man," he remarked
briefly, "two trips. Other man stay in canoe. Last night or this day
early." The footprints had been made since the rain. There were no signs
that a canoe had been brought ashore, so the Ojibwa inferred that the
boat had remained on the water with at least one man to handle it. To
track the thieves was impossible, for, as the Indian said disgustedly,
"Canoe leave no trail."

There was no way to prove that the Frenchman and his companion were the
thieves. The things might have been taken by some wandering Indians, but
it would have been difficult to convince either Ronald or Jean of such a
probability.

The loss of supplies was very serious, and made it all the more
necessary for the treasure-seekers to make haste to the Island of Yellow
Sands. Fate continued to be against them, however. By the time they
reached the mouth of the cove, the wind, that had been so light at dawn,
had come up and was blowing hard from the worst of directions for them,
the southwest, rolling great waves against the outer rocks of the
island. If they kept to their intended course, they would have to paddle
in the trough. It seemed as if Nanabozho had repented of his former
kindness, and was trying to keep them from their goal as long as he
could.

Etienne took one look out across the water. Then, with a grunt, he
signaled Ronald to turn and run north, up the channel between the end of
St. Ignace and its neighbor island. Once on the north side of St.
Ignace, they would find protection from the wind, though to go that way
would add at least fifteen miles to their journey.

Well sheltered by the high cliffs, that rose steeply from the water, and
the peaks and ridges beyond, the adventurers made good time, and their
hopes rose. Their course led them about twenty miles along the steep and
continuous north wall of the island. Then, at the western end of St.
Ignace, they turned into a narrow strait between that island and the
east cliffs of the long point that forms the western boundary of
Nipigon Bay. Through the strait, with high walls and forest clad slopes
on either side, they paddled for eight or ten miles farther, until the
channel divided into two, at the end of an island. They took the right
hand passage, but, as its opening was towards the southwest, the waves
were running into it so strongly, that they could not go far, and were
soon obliged to seek shelter in a little bay. The boys were disgusted at
the delay, but Etienne's assurance that the Rock of the Beaver was
scarcely more than an hour's travel away raised their spirits.

When, late in the afternoon, the wind and waves having gone down
somewhat, they launched the canoe once more and paddled on down the
channel, their hearts were as light as if the Island of Yellow Sands lay
in sight. Careless whether Le Forgeron might be somewhere within
hearing, Jean started to sing:

    "M'en revenant de Saint Andre,
    J'ai vu le loup, le r'nard passer."

    "As I was returning from St. Andre,
    I saw the wolf and the fox pass by."

Ronald joined in the chorus,

       "L'on, ton, laridon danee,
       L'on, ton, laridon dai,"

but the Indian as usual kept silence.

Coming out from the strait, they rounded the point of an island, and
found themselves among small islands and islets. Towards one of the
islets Nangotook directed that the canoe be steered. There was no beach,
so the landing had to be made with extreme care. To keep the canoe from
being battered on the rocks, two of the poles, that lay along the
bottom, were taken up and lashed, one to the bow, the other to the
stern. The larger ends of the poles were placed on a ledge and weighted
down with slabs of rock. In this way the canoe was held safe and steady
in deep water.

As soon as the boat was made fast, Nangotook led the eager lads across
the islet to the outer shore. There he paused and pointed dramatically
to a great rock that towered above their heads. On its gray face was the
crude outline of an animal done in some dull red pigment. The shape of
the figure and especially its trowel-like tail showed plainly that it
was intended to represent a beaver. This was the Rock of the Beaver, the
point from which they were to start south over the open lake.

Nangotook seemed to hold the rough drawing in great respect and
veneration. The Ojibwa nation, like other Indian races, is divided into
a number of clans or families, each supposed to be descended from and
under the protection of some mythical, magical beast or bird. Nangotook
belonged to the Amik or Beaver Clan, and his totem, his protecting
spirit, was the Great Beaver. The figure on the rock was very old, he
said. It had been there in his grandfather's youth, and, although it was
exposed to wind and rain, it had never been obliterated. Ronald thought
it showed signs of having been retouched not long before, for the paint
in some parts was much brighter and fresher than in others, the tail
being particularly distinct. When he pointed this out to Nangotook, the
latter admitted that some of the lines, when they began to grow faint,
might have been repainted from time to time by medicine men.

A little way out from the end of the island another rock rose from the
water. Nangotook explained that, in starting across the lake, the
travelers must keep the outer rock and the one that bore the figure of
the beaver directly in line as long as they could be distinguished, and
go on in the same direction, until the Island of Yellow Sands came in
view. In order to keep the course true, it would be necessary to steer
by the stars, so the trip must be made by night, a clear, calm, starlit
night.

That night was not favorable, for the waves were still too high, so the
three camped on another and more hospitable island, a short distance
from the Island of the Beaver.




VIII

STORM AND WRECK


The next evening was exactly right for the trip. The sky was clear, and
the surface of the lake was scarcely rippled by the light southwest
breeze. The sun had set before the adventurers put off from their
camping place. Nangotook directed their course to the Island of the
Beaver, and ran the canoe up to the same ledge where they had landed the
day before. Bidding the boys remain with the boat, he stepped out on the
rock, but the lads were curious to know his purpose, so Jean followed
him at a respectful distance. Peeping around the corner of the high pile
of rocks, the boy saw the Indian standing where he could command a good
view of the figure painted there. He gazed up at it while he muttered a
few words in his own language. Then he stretched out his arm towards
each of the four points of the compass in turn, threw a sacrifice of
tobacco into the water, and said a few more words in conclusion. Though
the French lad knew something of the Ojibwa tongue, he could not
understand what Nangotook said, but he felt sure that, Christian though
the Indian considered himself, he was praying to the manitos of winds
and waters for protection, a prosperous voyage and a safe return. While
Nangotook was making his offering, Jean slipped hastily back to the
canoe, reaching it before the Ojibwa came in sight.

The western sky was still flushed and bright with the northern
afterglow, when the gold-seekers paddled around the little Islet of the
Beaver. As they left the outer end, Jean caught sight of a thin line of
smoke rising straight up from another island not a quarter of a mile
away. Some one else was camping only a short distance from their own
camp.

Due south they steered. Ronald and the Indian were at the paddles, while
Jean, sitting with his face to the north, kept his eyes on the two
rocks, and warned the others if they swerved in the least from their
course. From time to time, not willing to trust wholly to the boy,
Nangotook turned his head to make sure their course was true. The lads'
hearts were beating fast with excitement, for the great adventure had
really begun. Nangotook was silent and stolid. If he were excited or
eager, apprehensive or fearful of the risk they were running in putting
out into the open lake in search of a place said to be guarded by
spirits, animals and serpents, he gave no sign.

In the clear, light, northern evening, the two high rocks were visible
to the keen sight of the voyageurs until they were a long way out.
Before he lost sight of his landmarks, the Indian took a careful
observation of the sky, where the stars were beginning to appear, that
he might be able to steer by them and hold his course true. He said
that, according to his grandfather's story, the island should be reached
long before dawn. In the hope of catching some glimpse of the land they
sought, the boys had gazed again and again, during the day, out across
the water, but, though the sky was blue overhead, the distance had been
hazy, and no faintest shadow of land was to be seen in that direction.
When they had asked Etienne if the island was ever visible from the spot
where they were, he had said he did not know. He had never seen it, but
perhaps the air had never been clear enough when he had passed that way.

Until after midnight all went well. The night was brilliantly clear, the
canoe moved easily over the ripples, and everything seemed to favor the
adventure. Then the breeze died down entirely. The dip of the paddle
blades alone broke the smooth surface of the water. The air was
unusually warm for night time on Lake Superior, and there was something
ominous in the stillness.

Lightning began to flash low down on the southern horizon, and the
gleams disclosed a bank of clouds. The adventurers increased the
swiftness and strength of their paddle strokes. The distant growling of
thunder reached their ears. As flash after flash lit up the sky, they
could see the clouds growing and spreading. The stars were losing some
of their brilliancy. A light haze seemed to be veiling them. The thunder
rolled louder and nearer, the intervals between flash and sound
decreased. The clouds from south and west were moving more rapidly, and
the breeze was beginning to blow up in fitful puffs and gusts.

The voyageurs did not think of turning back. They had come too far. If
Nangotook's information was correct, the island could not be many miles
away. In the lightning flashes Jean thought he could make out a dark
line on the water far ahead. To go back would be suicidal, for they must
have come considerably more than half-way.

One after another the stars were swallowed up by the clouds. The gusts
of wind grew stronger, the lake was roughening. In a very short time
there would be no stars left to steer by, and the wind was so fitful and
unsteady in direction that it was no guide. The night had grown very
dark, and the lightning revealed nothing but heaving water below and
moving clouds overhead. If Jean had really seen land, the waves now hid
it from view.

Every moment the adventurers thought the storm must break, and yet it
did not. The sky remained overcast, the thunder rolled and grumbled, the
lightning flashed, now overhead, now low on the horizon, first in one
quarter, then in another. But no rain fell. There must be worse coming.
Still it did not come. Would it hold off until daybreak, until they
could see land and reach it?

Even for skilled canoemen there was danger enough. The wind came in
squalls, sending the waves first one way, then another. Nangotook had to
be constantly on the alert to turn the canoe this way and that, a
difficult task in the darkness. As the wind increased and the waves
rolled higher, he ordered the others to cease paddling. One man must
take all the responsibility. He must act so quickly that there was no
time to give orders to another. It was no longer a question of getting
ahead but of keeping the canoe right side up. The buoyant, but frail,
little craft must mount each wave at just the right angle. It must be
held steady when it shot down the other side and through the trough
between. The shifting squally wind made frequent, sudden twists of the
paddle necessary, and to prevent the canoe from careening, the body of
the paddler must be thrown in the opposite direction. The poise of his
body was almost as important as the handling of the paddle. Whatever
happened, Ronald and Jean must remain motionless, never for one moment
shifting their weight unless the Indian so ordered. The whole fate of
the three rested on his skill and judgment.

So they went on and on, in imminent peril every moment, on through the
black night, lit up only by the lightning flashes, which revealed to
them nothing but a world of threatening sky and tossing water. All sense
of direction was gone. Nangotook's only aim was to keep the canoe from
being swamped, and it did not seem as if he could accomplish that feat
much longer. It was not surprising that the two lads, living in that
superstitious age, began to wonder if the spirits of the lake were not
arrayed against them, struggling to keep them from the wonderful island
where the sands were of gold. Had a manito risen out of the water and
promised them a safe return to shore if they would give up their quest,
they would have been glad to agree to anything. But no manito appeared,
and the situation, instead of improving, grew steadily worse.

They had become convinced that the storm was one of wind and lightning
only, when suddenly the rain came in a dash so fierce that swamping
seemed inevitable. Jean and Ronald bailed for their lives. Fortunately
the wind had lessened with the burst of rain that seemed to flatten out
the waves, so it was possible for the lads to bail. Fast and frenziedly
as they worked, they refrained by instinct from moving their bodies any
more than was absolutely necessary. The chief danger for the moment was
that the canoe might fill and sink. Had the violent rain been of long
duration that disaster could not have been prevented, but luckily the
deluge lasted but a very few minutes, ceasing as suddenly as it had
begun.

With the passing of the rain, the wind steadied, blowing strong and
cold, instead of in shifting squalls. Evidently the weather was
clearing. Patches of star sprinkled sky began to appear and disappear
and appear again, as the storm clouds broke and scattered, scudding
before the wind. The waves were high, and the canoe was still in great
peril. It was borne along rapidly, and the Indian had his hands full to
keep the waters from overwhelming it. It was tossed up and down until it
seemed about to turn end over end. But Nangotook's trained judgment,
cool head and iron wrist and forearm continued to triumph in the
struggle.

As the sky cleared the boys could see, from the faintness of the stars,
that day was dawning. Then just as hope began to be renewed in them, the
sound of breakers ahead reached their ears. The Ojibwa gave his paddle a
twist to swerve the canoe to the right, but the wind counteracted his
effort, and before he could turn sufficiently, a dark mass of rocks
loomed up close by. As the canoe was lifted on the crest of a wave, he
could see the pale gleam of the spray that dashed against that rock
wall. With a supreme effort, and at the risk of overturning his craft,
he succeeded in swinging to the right, beyond the reach of the surf. He
had barely made the turn, when a big wave carried the canoe by the rock
wall, so close in that an outstretched hand could almost have touched
it.

The dangerous manoeuver of turning again, to run in on the lea side of
the rocks, was accomplished safely. Suddenly the three adventurers found
themselves in almost still water, so completely were they sheltered from
the wind. The Indian paddled slowly along, straining his eyes to find a
rift or a beach where a landing could be made. He had taken but a few
strokes when he discerned a blacker gap in the dark rock. That gap was
the entrance to a narrow passage, so pitchy black that he could not tell
whether it was long or short. Even his keen eyes could not see the
dangers ahead. The stern of the canoe had scarcely passed into the rift,
when the bow struck sharply on a submerged rock. A great hole was torn
in the birch bark, and the water rushed in.

As the canoe filled and settled, Nangotook climbed out on the rock where
the boat had struck, but Ronald and Jean were less fortunate. They could
not reach bottom and were compelled to swim. They had only a few strokes
to go in the cold water and black darkness, however, before their feet
touched solid rock. Scrambling up a slippery slope, they were soon out
of the water, on a narrow, shelving ledge running along a steep wall.
From near by Nangotook called to them. Making their way cautiously along
the ledge in the direction of his voice, they soon reached the head of
the rift, which the Indian had already gained.

There on a beach of sloping boulders and large pebbles, safe from wind
and waves, the three crouched. Whether the canoe and its contents could
be raised they would not know until daylight came, but they were too
thankful for their own safety to worry about anything else. Sincerely,
though silently, the two lads, each in his own way, thanked God for
their deliverance, while the Indian spoke a few words in his own
language and in a low voice. Whether his gratitude was directed to the
Christian God, to Nanabozho or some other manito of the lake, or to the
mysterious charm he carried in the breast of his tunic, the lads could
not tell, probably to a combination of the three.

There among the rocks, the seekers after the golden sands remained safe,
but chilled and miserable enough, until daylight came. They did not
talk, but the boys could not help wondering if the place where they had
taken refuge might not be some part of the Island of Yellow Sands
itself. To be sure, they had encountered no sand of any kind, only rocks
and pebbles, but whether the wonderful beach Etienne had described ran
clear around the mysterious island or only fringed a part of it they did
not know. Perhaps at that very moment of chilled misery the golden sands
might lie but a few feet away from them.




IX

THE HOME OF THE GULLS


At first all that the castaways knew of their situation was that they
were in a narrow cleft of rock. As the light increased, they discovered
that the vertical rock walls, which rose high above their heads, came
together a little way beyond where the three were huddled, forming a
V-shaped cove. The waters of the lake extended into the rift about half
its length. Then came a shelving beach of boulders and large, smooth,
rounded pebbles. With the dawn, gulls, in ever increasing numbers, began
to circle overhead, keeping up an incessant crying, now high pitched and
whining, now harsh and guttural.

As soon as the light was strong enough, Etienne and the boys, chilled
and stiff, scrambled down to the water's edge to look for the sunken
canoe. They were relieved to find that it had not drifted out into the
lake. There it lay, one end tilted up on the sharp edged rock, where it
had struck, the other in deep water. One of the paddles Etienne had
saved, the other had disappeared. The canoe and its contents must be
raised and brought ashore at once, before the castaways even climbed the
rocks to see where they were.

Their supplies were scanty enough. A few handfuls of corn had remained
of the food they had kept with them when in their lean-to on St. Ignace.
After leaving their camping ground there, they had lived on hare meat
and fish, and, before they had paddled away from the Rock of the Beaver,
they had wrapped the corn in a piece of birch bark. They rescued the
package, but it was not water-tight, and the corn was a pulp. The powder
that the boys had carried on their persons was wet, too, from their
plunge in the lake. Only the Indian, who had not been in over his knees,
had saved his dry. He had also saved his most precious possession, next
to his mysterious charm, his red stone pipe with the bowl carved in the
form of a beaver and the stem decorated with copper bands. All three
guns had had a thorough wetting.

The corn and powder was spread on convenient, flat-topped rocks, the
soaked blankets on the pebbles, to dry in the sun. Then Nangotook and
the lads succeeded in raising the canoe and carrying it up on the bit of
beach. Fortunately the roll of birch bark, the ball of spruce roots and
the pieces of gum, they had provided for repairs, were unharmed. The
hole in the bottom of the canoe was large and jagged, but by no means
beyond mending. Before they began that task, however, the castaways
decided to climb the rocks and have a look about them. They were
dripping wet, and, as Lake Superior water is cold even in summer, they
needed sun, wind and exercise to dry and warm them.

At the head of the fissure they found a place in the ribbed and seamed
rock wall, where they could scramble up. They had to go one at a time,
and it was Ronald who led the way. Around his head gulls whirled,
screaming, and, as he neared the top, they swooped down so threateningly
that he remembered the story of the ferocious birds and beasts that
guarded the Island of Yellow Sands. His heart beat quickly as he thrust
his head above the top of the wall and looked about him. The prospect
was not encouraging. Waving his arms to ward off the gulls, which darted
down, with menacing wings and beaks, almost in his face, he scrambled up
until he stood on the verge of the rift.

This place was surely not the Island of Golden Sands. There were no
sands of any kind, and such a heap of barren rocks could scarcely be
called an island. One glance showed him why the gulls had disputed his
way so fiercely. The lonely rock was a nesting place. The air seemed
full of great white birds, wheeling, sailing, swooping on their long
wings, and making a deafening din with their angry cries, harsh,
mocking, threatening. As Ronald moved forward, hundreds of brownish-gray
young birds plunged into the water and swam away to join the flocks of
old ones that were riding the waves a little distance out.

For the moment the boy took small interest in gulls, young or old. His
disappointment was too keen. He had actually hoped that he might be on
the mysterious island he was seeking. Instead he had been cast ashore
upon a bare pile of rocks. Jean and Nangotook soon joined him. The
French youth's long face and the Ojibwa's grunt of disgust showed
plainly their disappointment.

The three strained their eyes over the waters in every direction. The
sky was blue, but the light haze of morning lay on the lake, shrouding
the distance. Other scattered rocks could be discerned, but no
continuous shore line was visible. At first the two boys could see
nothing that gave them any hope. Nangotook, however, gazed intently
towards the southwest. Then he stretched out his arm and pointed.

"Island off there. Reach it in little while," he said.

"It is only a pile of rocks like this," replied Ronald in a disgusted
tone.

"No," the Indian returned quietly. "Larger, with trees."

Though the lads were unable to make out what Nangotook said he saw, they
were cheered by his words. They knew that, keen-eyed as they were, they
were no match for him in eyesight, and were content to take his word
that to the southwest of them, not far away, lay an island with trees.
Their spirits rose at once. Surely that must be the place they were
seeking. They did not know how many miles they had come after the clouds
had blotted out the guiding stars, or how far they might have been
driven from their course, but they were very ready to believe that they
could not be much out of the way, and that the land to the southwest
must be the sought-for island. Before they could reach it, though, the
canoe must be mended.

After scrambling about the rocks for a while, the gold-seekers returned
to the cove. There they found that the gulls had stolen most of the
corn. Leaving it unguarded had been an inexcusable piece of
carelessness, for which Etienne blamed himself. The birds must have
stolen his wits first, he said. The three were ravenously hungry, so
Ronald climbed out of the rift again to search for a place where he
could fish with some hope of success.

He took his station at the most favorable looking spot, where a
projecting wall of rock and a number of large fragments, broken off at
some time long past, sheltered the water. Into the quiet pool he dropped
his hook. While he fished, Jean and Etienne mended the canoe.

Soon after Ronald let down his line, he caught the smallest lake trout
he had ever seen, much too small for three. After that, luck forsook
him. Half the morning he patiently fished the pool, but did not get a
bite. The rest of the forenoon he spent climbing about the rocks,
seeking other spots to fish from and trying every place that was
possible. Then he gave it up for the time, cleaned his little fish, and
lighted a fire of dry moss and small sticks. The iron kettle had
disappeared. The boys could not understand how the waves had managed to
wash the heavy thing away, but all their searching had failed to bring
it to light. So Ronald split his trout and broiled it on green twigs.
Divided among the three, it only whetted their appetites.

Time passed slowly on the wind-swept rock. With small, tough spruce
roots, called "wattap" by the Indians and voyageurs, a neat patch of
bark was sewed over the hole in the canoe, and the seams carefully
daubed with heat-softened pine gum. As the day advanced, the wind came
up, and, by the time the canoe was ready to be put in the water, the
crests of the waves were breaking in foam. The lake was much too rough
to make leaving the rock advisable.

The boys fished continually, but without luck. It began to look as if
they must eat gull or go without food, and gulls are far from good
eating. Only intense hunger would have driven the lads to try one.

There were gulls' nests everywhere, although they could hardly be called
nests in the usual sense of the word, being mere collections of sticks,
leaves and bits of lichen and moss placed in crevices and hollows of the
rock. No fresh eggs were to be found. The mottled gray-brown plumage of
the young birds was scarcely distinguishable from the rock itself as
they crouched close to it. They were hard to catch for all were able to
swim, and immediately plunged into the water when disturbed. Most of
them had learned to fly too, and could rise circling overhead with the
white-winged adult birds.

Jean noticed one young gull hopping up and down in a strange manner,
flapping its wings. As he watched it, it ran down a sloping bit of rock,
still moving its wings, rose unsteadily in the air, made a few
uncertain, awkward motions, trying its wings and learning to manage
them, then flew out over the water as if it had always been used to
flying. He watched it circle about and then light in a clumsy and
inexperienced manner. Wings raised straight over its back, it dropped
heavily into the water, going clear under. Rising to the surface, it
arranged its feathers and swam about, holding its head high as if proud
of its achievement. Jean felt sure that was the young gull's first
flight, and was surprised at the rapidity with which it had learned to
sail and wheel about in the air.

It was nearly sunset before the castaways had any luck with their
fishing, and then it was Nangotook who made the catch. He had noticed
several gulls hovering over and swooping down into the lake at a little
distance out, near a solitary rock that raised its head two or three
feet above the water. It was evident that the birds were fishing. So the
Indian launched the mended canoe, and, taking Jean with him, went out to
the spot. With the sinking sun the wind was going down, and paddling was
no longer dangerous. Passing close to the rock, he handed the paddle to
Jean and dropped his line quietly over the side. In a few minutes there
was a strong pull. Then a battle began, the Ojibwa playing his fish with
skill, letting out his line when his game made a dash, pulling in the
slack swiftly hand over hand as the fish changed its mind and darted
towards the boat, or slowly, steadily drawing it in without pulling too
strongly. Jean devoted his attention to the canoe, which pitched about,
and had to be turned and paddled this way and that in accordance with
the actions of the fish and the Indian's sharp orders. Finally, after a
struggle that lasted for ten minutes or more, Nangotook succeeded in
bringing the tired fish almost up to the boat. Pulling in the line
quickly with one hand, he reached far out over the gunwale, Jean hastily
balancing by leaning the other way, and plunged his knife into the fish
just below the mouth. He held it up exultingly. It was a lake trout of
eight or ten pounds weight.

When the two boys, rolled in their blankets, lay down that night in a
crevice of the rock, where moss and trailing cedar made a thin but not
to be despised bed, they were feeling very hopeful. They had eaten a
good meal of trout, the night was fair, the wind had subsided, the
prospect of reaching the island to the southwest was good. In
discouragement over their surroundings, they had rather forgotten at
times during the day, their thankfulness for having been saved from the
storm of the night before. Now, however, with renewed hope and bodily
comfort, their gratitude for their rescue returned, and with it a very
kindly feeling for the barren rock that had sheltered them from the fury
of the lake. Surely that land to the southwest must be the Island of
Yellow Sands. As the air had cleared during the day, they had been able
to make it out more plainly, and the lads had become convinced by their
own eyes that it was no mere rock like the one they were on. Ronald had
asked whether it might not be some point or headland of the lake shore,
but Etienne had shaken his head.

"South shore too far away," he had replied. "Island out there. Island of
Yellow Sands, just like my grandfather said."




X

THE ISLAND TO THE SOUTHWEST


The breeze still blew from the north the next morning, but the waves
were not high enough to forbid crossing the three or four miles of open
water that separated the adventurers from the land to the southwest.
Before starting out, Nangotook, to gain the good favor of the manito,
threw into the lake another offering of tobacco, though he had little
left. The two paddles, that had remained in the canoe when it sank, had
evidently been washed out of the cove, so the trip had to be made with
one blade, the Indian wielding it.

The boys' minds were full of the land they were approaching, and they
discussed its possibilities earnestly, but the Ojibwa was silent,
apparently devoting his whole attention to his paddling. As they drew
near the unknown island, the lads searched it eagerly with their eyes,
but they could discover no indication of a sand beach. A rocky point,
spotted with the white bodies of the gulls resting upon it, ran out into
the water. Back from the point rose high ground covered with trees.

Clouds had begun to fleck the blue sky, and the breeze had gained in
force. The rocks, exposed to the wind and dashed with spray, afforded no
good landing place. So the three went on between the point and the small
rock islands and reefs that lay out from it, the boys on the watch for
the gleam of golden sands. Nangotook, heedful of hidden points and
reefs, kept his eyes on the water most of the time.

No yellow sands came into view. There was one stretch of beach, but it
showed no gleam of gold. Apparently it was just ordinary sand, and
Nangotook did not think landing worth while, but paddled by. Beyond
another stretch of broken and tumbled rocks, a small opening, cutting
into the island between high portals, came into view. The Indian's
curiosity must have been aroused, for he headed the canoe into the
narrow channel.

Then an unexpected and beautiful sight met the eyes of the wanderers.
They found themselves in a peaceful harbor, almost round, and wooded
with evergreens to the water line. Directly in front of them, as they
entered, the ground was low, but to right and left it rose high, spruces
and balsam firs standing in thick ranks to the summit. The gap through
which they had come was a mere cut in a tree-clothed ridge, which
stretched away on either side. Ronald confided to Jean that it looked as
if some giant manito had taken a bite out of the ridge, but he was
careful not to let Nangotook overhear the remark. There was no sand of
any kind to be seen, but, in spite of their disappointment, the boys
voiced their admiration of this beautiful, landlocked harbor. The
Ojibwa's usually impassive face wore a look in which relief seemed
mingled with surprise, and he spoke a few words in his own language, and
quickly cast a pinch of tobacco into the water. It was no wonder that he
felt such an attractive place must be the dwelling of some spirit.

By that time the sky had become thickly overcast, and, as the
gold-seekers circled the wooded shore, rain began to fall. They made a
landing on the trunk of a cedar, that had tilted over until it lay
almost flat on the water, and lifting out the canoe, hid it in the thick
growth. In spite of the rain, the boys were eager to explore. They had
seen nothing very encouraging so far, but they were by no means
convinced that this was not the mysterious island they sought. How could
they be sure the golden sands did not lie just over there beyond the
forest?

Curiously enough it was the Indian who hung back and wanted to delay
exploration until the weather cleared. He did not give any good reason
for waiting, but his disinclination to begin the search was so plain,
that the boys grew impatient and told him if he did not want to go he
could stay behind. They were going to see what was on the other side of
the woods. When he found they were determined, he joined them, but,
contrary to his usual custom, he did not lead the way. It was the Scotch
boy who took the lead.

Striking through the woods where they had landed, they went up the
ridge. As they climbed, the way became steep and rocky. The spruces and
balsams stood less thickly on the summit, and, if the weather had been
clear, the adventurers might have obtained a good view of their
surroundings, but the rain was falling so thick and fine, more like a
dense mist than rain, that they could see only a few feet beyond where
they stood. It was quite impossible to tell what sort of shore lay
beyond and below the woods.

"It is scarcely worth while to seek for golden sands or anything else in
this thick weather," Jean remarked. "We must wait until it passes."

"Go back to bay, make camp, catch some fish," said Etienne, in his
brief, abrupt way.

Ronald was reluctant to give up, but there seemed nothing else to do,
and the mention of fish reminded him he was very hungry, so he yielded,
not very good-naturedly. It was the Ojibwa that led the way this time,
and a steep, dripping, slippery way it was, down through the woods to
the bay.

Probably that bay had never been fished by any creature but the gulls
that swooped down on the small fishes that swam too near the surface.
The water abounded in little fish, but they were lake herring, which are
really not herring at all, and will not take a hook. The lads had no
net, and failing to catch anything in the bay, were obliged to go out
through the channel. There, above a sunken reef, they secured three good
sized lake trout.

In the meantime Etienne had found and made ready a camping place, and
had built a small bark lodge. The rain continued steadily, and the three
spent the rest of the day under shelter.

Rain was still coming down the next morning, and the weather had turned
so cold that the boys would not have been surprised if snow had fallen,
though it was still early in September. By the time another supply of
fish had been caught and fire-wood cut, they were glad to seek the
wigwam. There they remained most of the day, resting on couches of
balsam and spruce, covered with blankets, and passing the time talking,
mending their moccasins and dozing. In the center of the wigwam they
kept a small fire going, the smoke finding its way out through a hole in
the roof. The lads tried to persuade Nangotook to tell of his adventures
and exploits, but he seemed disinclined to talk, and passed the day in
morose and sullen silence. Jean could not imagine what had come over the
usually good-natured Ojibwa.

Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and Jean and Ronald climbed up
over their trail of the day before. Nangotook only grunted when they
proposed the trip, and did not accompany them. The sky was still
overcast and the distance hazy, but from the top of the ridge, a hundred
feet or more above the lake, the two lads could look down upon a rocky
shore to their left and across a stretch of lower land to the right.
What the shore was like beyond that low land they could not tell. There
might be, indeed it seemed probable from the lay of the land that there
was, a beach on that side of the island. Ahead of them the trees
obstructed the view.

They made their way along the ridge, a rough way, over slippery rocks,
along the verge of steep declivities, among spruce and balsam trees,
until they came out from woods on almost bare rocks. They had reached
the southern end of the island, where rock walls and slopes descended to
the water, vertically in some places, more gently in others. Everywhere
there was rock, no beaches, no sand.

The sun had set behind heavy clouds, and the gray sky shed little light.
No land was visible across the water, in the growing darkness and haze
of the gloomy, sullen evening. Depressed and silent, the two lads
stumbled back along their trail, finding it with difficulty in the
blackness of the woods. Their confidence was dwindling, though they
tried to comfort themselves with the thought that they had not explored
all of the island yet. The shore beyond the lower land to the west of
the ridge was their only real hope.

That night Jean dreamed that he went to that shore by night, and found
the golden sands gleaming in the moonlight. Then, just as he stooped to
gather up a handful, there came a strange, rustling sound over his head.
He looked up, and an enormous bird with open beak and fiery eyes was
swooping down on him. He tried to run, to wave his arms, to shout, but
not a muscle could he move, not a sound could he make. The bird's great
wing brushed his head. He made a tremendous effort and broke the spell
that bound him. With a little cry he sprang out of his blanket and on to
his feet, just as some heavy, furry, spitting object grazed his shoulder
and landed in the bed he had left.

The animal was as badly frightened as the boy. It uttered a shrill
screech, and sprang for the patch of dim light that marked the entrance
to the shelter. Unfortunately Ronald was lying directly across its path.
Aroused by the screech, he raised himself up. The heavy ball of fur
struck him full in the body, knocking him flat again. The impact broke
the beast's leap, and it fell sprawling across the lad's breast. Its
vicious, cat-like snarl was close to his ear, he felt its hot breath on
his face. Too terrified to cry out, he upheaved his body in an effort to
throw off the creature. Its sharp claws tore through his blanket coat,
and he tried to get a hold on its throat.

Just at that moment, Jean precipitated himself full upon both Ronald and
the animal. The attack was too much for the fierce cat. It slipped out
from between the two and sprang clear of the entrance, before Jean's
knife could find it.

The boys disentangled themselves from the blankets and balsam branches,
each assuring the other that he was not seriously hurt. Although dawn
had come, darkness still lingered in the heavily shaded shelter. The
fire was out, but, with sparks from his flint and steel, Jean lighted a
roll of dry birch bark. As it flared up, they could see the hole in the
roof of branches where the animal had fallen through.

"It was attracted by the fish," said Ronald. "A lynx----"

With a startled exclamation, Jean interrupted him. "Where is Nangotook?"

Nangotook had disappeared. His blanket lay on his balsam couch, his gun
beside it, but he was gone. In the light of their flickering birch
torch, the two lads stared at one another. The Ojibwa had not run away
from the cat, of course. He had left his blanket before the beast came
through the roof, and had stepped over Ronald without waking him. What
could have moved him to steal away without arousing them?

"Do you think he has deserted us?" Ronald asked.

"That is impossible," Jean replied emphatically. "Nangotook is loyal. He
would not desert us, whatever might befall us."

"I should have been saying the same two days ago," agreed his companion,
"but now I'm not so sure. He was acting strangely all day yesterday. I
think he begins to regret this voyage and to dread what lies before us."

"He has not been like himself since we landed in this place," Jean
admitted. "I know not what has come over him, unless it is fear of the
manitos of the lake and the islands. He thinks perhaps that the spirits
send storm and disaster to keep us from the golden sands. Either he
loses faith in his charm, or fears it will protect him only, not you and
me."

"What is his charm? Do you know? Have you ever seen it?"

"I think I saw it yesterday. Once when I came into the lodge, he was
sitting by the fire looking at something he held in his hand. In the
firelight it looked like a nugget of copper. It was a queer shape,
something like a fish, but one end was like a beaver's tail, and it was
rubbed bright. As I moved nearer for a better look, he heard me, closed
his hand over the piece of copper, and glanced around. Then he slipped
it into a little deerskin bag, his medicine bag, I suppose, without
giving me another glimpse of it. You know the beaver is his totem. But
even if he fears his charm will fail him, I am sure he would not desert
us."

"I scarcely believe myself that he would," Ronald returned. "Where would
he go? He would not be starting across the water on such a threatening
night."

"He will return before long. I am sure of it," was Jean's confident
assertion.




XI

NANGOTOOK RECONNOITERS


The cat-like tracks of the animal that had attacked the lads were
plainly marked in the rain-softened earth and leaf mould. They were the
prints of a lynx of unusual size. It was lucky for Ronald that he had
slept in his heavy coat, or the beast's claws might have injured him
seriously. As it was, they had torn through his clothes, and had
inflicted a shallow but painful scratch on his breast.

The boys cut more fuel and broiled their fish for breakfast. They were
just finishing the meal, when the bushes parted suddenly and Nangotook
stood before them.

Jean rose to his feet. "Where have you been, Nangotook?" he exclaimed.
"We were just about to follow your trail to see if any evil had
overtaken you."

"Little brother need have no fear," Nangotook answered with more
amiability than he had shown the night before. "The Ojibwa brave can
take care of himself--with other men," he added, after a moment's pause.
Perhaps he was not so sure of being able to hold his own with spirits or
supernatural beings.

Knowing that he would tell them what he had been doing when he was ready
to speak, and not before, the lads forbore to question him. Instead they
told him of the beast that had fallen into the lodge. Nangotook
examined the tracks with interest. "Big lynx," he said. "We track him
and find where he lives."

"'Tis hardly worth while to be doing that," objected Ronald. "His pelt
is not at its best now, and anyway we're not hunting for pelts. We must
examine every yard of the shore of this island. I feel sure there's a
beach beyond the lower ground, and it may be the one we're looking for."

"Yes," agreed Jean, "we must go over there at once."

The Indian made no reply, but continued to eat his fish in silence. When
he had finished, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said briefly. "I show
you tracks not made by lynx."

He led the boys behind the wigwam and a little way through the thick
woods. There he stopped and pointed to some marks in the soft ground
under a spruce tree.

"A man," Jean exclaimed, dropping on his knees to examine the prints.

"Two men," corrected Nangotook.

"What are they? Did you follow them?" cried Ronald. "How did you come
upon their trail?"

In the brief, abrupt manner in which he usually gave information when
action impended, Nangotook explained that he had waked in the night with
the feeling that some strange thing or person was near by. He had lain
quiet, listening. From a big cedar that overhung the lodge, he had heard
the faint rustle of foliage, the creaking of a limb. There was little
wind, and that sixth sense, by which an Indian distinguishes sounds,
told the Ojibwa that the noises were made by animal or man. Something
warned him of danger. As he lay listening, his suspicions were
confirmed. He heard a scraping as if some hard substance rubbed the bark
of the tree. Then the branches creaked more loudly, and there came a
thud as of something heavy striking the ground. But that was not all.
Just as the heavy thing struck the earth, the Indian's keen ears
detected a whispered exclamation, an oath in French. That sound must
have dispelled from his mind the fear, if he had felt it, that the thing
in the tree might be some supernatural being. Indian manitos, spirits or
fiends would not be apt to swear in French.

The full, slow breathing of the two boys indicated that they had not
been disturbed. Lying perfectly still, Nangotook also breathed deeply
and regularly, so that any one listening might think that all three
slept soundly. He did not want the spy, whoever he was, to suspect that
any one was awake and listening. The Indian heard no more rustlings or
scrapings, however. There was nothing to suggest that the man approached
nearer.

For a long time Nangotook lay perfectly still. Then, feeling sure that
the spy had taken himself off, he rose noiselessly, cast away his
blanket, and, knife in hand, stepped over Ronald and out of the lodge.
It was useless to try to track the uninvited visitor in the darkness. It
was the canoe the Ojibwa was anxious about. Making his way to the place
where it was hidden, he found it safe and undisturbed.

On the bay, and along the edge of the woods that grew down to it, there
was more light, for day was dawning. As Nangotook started to turn back
towards camp, he caught sight of something floating on the water near
by. He crawled out on the leaning tree trunk where he and his companions
had landed two days before, reached for the thing and secured it. It was
a small piece of deerskin, such as travelers usually carried for
moccasin patches. It did not belong to him or to either of the boys, and
it had not been in the water long, for it was scarcely wet. To the
Indian it was sure proof that the night visitor had come by water. He
looked for the place where the man's canoe had come in, and soon found
the spot, under a thick, overhanging tangle of trees and bushes, where
he would not have noticed signs of landing had he not been searching for
them.

Returning to his own hidden canoe, he put it in the water, shoved off,
and paddled noiselessly along close to shore. He had not gone far, when
he heard, from the direction of the camp, the sharp screech of a lynx,
but he paid no heed. It was the cry of a real lynx, not a human
imitation, and the thought that the two boys might be in any danger from
that fierce, but, as far as man is concerned, cowardly animal, never
occurred to him. He was seeking to discover whether the stranger's canoe
had come from somewhere on the bay or through the channel. The depth of
the water enabled him to keep close in to the shore, which he eyed
keenly in the half light of the gray, gloomy dawn. He skirted the
higher land, then the low ground opposite the entrance, finding nothing
to indicate that a boat had ever run in anywhere.

It was not until he had gone more than half-way around and had come to
rising ground again, that he observed a suspicious looking spot. He
paused to examine it, and found a landing place, with a distinct trail
leading away from it. The tracks showed that two men had come and gone
that way. Probably they had carried their canoe with them, for he did
not find it hidden anywhere, though he sought for it. The tracks had
been made since the rain, and there had been no attempt to obliterate
them. Nangotook followed them across to the north shore of the island,
where he had not been before.

There, among the rocks, the trail ended abruptly. He searched, but could
find no more tracks. Finally he became convinced that the men must have
lowered the canoe down a cleft in the rock wall to the water.

Where had they gone? He had no way of telling. The outlying rocks were
wave washed, and afforded no shelter. There was no other land visible. A
short distance out, the morning mists lay thick on the lake. There might
be hidden land off there somewhere, or the canoe might have gone along
shore, but which way or how far he could not guess. So he turned back
the way he had come.

He paddled across the bay, and landed at the place near the camp where
the two men had come ashore. From there they had proceeded very
cautiously, and had left little trace of their passage through the
woods. It was with considerable difficulty that the Ojibwa tracked them
to the tall spruce. The spruce was at least a hundred and fifty feet
from the hut, but the men must have climbed it and made their way, as
squirrels might, from one tree to another until they reached the cedar
that overhung the shelter. The thick growth made such a feat possible
for active men. One of them, however, had missed his hold in the
darkness, and had fallen from the cedar. A hollow in the soft leaf mould
showed where he had struck the ground. It was then he had uttered the
exclamation in French that had convinced Nangotook the spy was neither
animal nor spirit. He had climbed the tree again, for there were no
other tracks to be found, and had gone back in the same way. Perhaps
only one man had made the trip from tree to tree, the other waiting for
him at the tall spruce.

With intense interest and excitement the boys listened to the Ojibwa's
story. The spies might be wandering Indians who had come to the island
in search of copper. It was said that many of the islands of the lake
bore copper in loose pieces that could be picked up on the shores. One
of the visitors, however, had uttered an oath in French.

"Can you make any guess who those men are?" Ronald asked, anxiously,
when the Ojibwa had finished his tale.

Nangotook nodded gravely. "One Indian, Cree, I think," he said, "the
other Awishtoya."

"Are you sure? How can you tell?" cried both boys.

Nangotook pointed to the tracks. "One man lame," he said. "Walk heavier
with right foot, and foot turn out. Some places, across the bay there,
tracks show it plain. Following us for something. Bad man, Awishtoya."




XII

OVER THE CLIFFS


Le Forgeron Tordu, or Awishtoya, as the Indians called him, had surely
been following the gold-seekers. Was it the smoke of his fire they had
seen when they were leaving the Rock of the Beaver? He might have
watched them start out and have noted their course, but they had seen no
canoe in pursuit. How could he have followed in darkness, wind and rain?
It seemed incredible that he had been able to do so, and had come safe
through the storm to the island where they now were. Yet Nangotook was
sure of the footprints, sure they had been made by the Blacksmith and
his Indian companion. Ronald suggested that perhaps the evil Frenchman
or the Cree knew how to reach the Island of Yellow Sands, knew the way
better indeed than Nangotook knew it, and had not followed them, but had
come direct.

"If that be true," cried Jean. "If they know the way, and have come
straight here, it means that we are even now on the Island of Yellow
Sands."

"We can find out only by exploring the place," Ronald replied promptly.
"That is the first thing for us to be doing. We must look for the beach
of gold. We can be seeking for some signs of Le Forgeron at the same
time."

Nangotook made no objection that time, and seemed less inclined to hold
back. Nevertheless, he allowed Ronald to take the lead. Going through
the woods by a different route from the one they had followed before,
they came to the level stretch of ground they had seen from the ridge.
They were no longer in the forest, but were obliged to penetrate a thick
and high growth of alders, high-bush cranberries, and other shrubs.
Wherever the bushes left room for them to grow, the little bunchberry or
dwarf cornel plants, with their clusters of red berries, covered the
ground. Beyond the patch of bushes, which was not more than a quarter of
a mile wide, the treasure-seekers hoped to find a sand beach, _the_ sand
beach for which they were searching.

They pushed their way through the growth as rapidly as they could and
soon came out upon a rocky shore that descended straight to the water,
bunchberries, bearberries and other plants growing to the verge. The
disappointment was a bitter one. The lads had fully expected to find a
sand beach there, and their hopes of yellow sands had been high. They
were not ready to give up even then, but followed along the shore until
they reached the high barren rocks at the southern extremity of the
island, where they had been the day before. Not a grain of gold was to
be found.

"No yellow sands on this island," the Ojibwa said, with a shake of his
head, as they turned back from the rocks of the southern end.

"But you said this was the place," cried Jean with impatience. "You said
so when we first saw it from that heap of rocks where we were stranded.
You said it was the island your grandfather saw."

Nangotook did not deign to reply, but Ronald was not yet willing to
abandon the search.

"There is one stretch of shore remaining we know nothing of," he said.
"We must search every inch of it before we can be sure. It may be that
the beach is only a short one, but even a hundred feet of sands of gold
would mean a fortune for us."

So the treasure-seekers returned to the bay, crossed it in the canoe,
and explored the whole northern half of the island. The north end was
quite as discouraging as the south. Everywhere the shore was of rock,
rising in palisades or composed of tumbled heaps of boulders, around and
among which the water washed. In one place the explorers came to a bay
partly protected by a reef, but on its pebble beach there were no golden
grains. The beach they had passed on the day of their arrival the two
boys examined thoroughly, digging up the sand here and there in the hope
of finding some bits of yellow metal, but not a trace could they
discover. Even Ronald gave up at last, forced to admit that they had not
yet reached the island they were seeking. In his disappointment he began
to doubt that the Island of Yellow Sands existed anywhere but in the
Indian's imagination. He confided to Jean that he did not believe
Nangotook's grandfather had ever seen such a place. His discouragement
was the more complete, because, with the exception of the small rocky
islets near at hand, they could get no glimpse of any other land.

Jean, however, clung to the belief that the sought-for island might not
be far off. It was not strange that they could not get sight of it, for
the day remained thick and cloudy, fog on the water shutting off their
view, and blotting out even the rock where they had been storm-bound.

All that day the three, especially the Indian, had kept a lookout for
some trace of their visitors of the night before, but had found no sign.
The boys concluded that Le Forgeron and his companion had not merely
paddled along shore and landed at some other spot, but had left the
island entirely. Where had they gone? Though some of the outlying islets
bore a few trees and bushes, none seemed to afford a sufficient shelter
for a camp. No one would choose such an exposed spot, with a good
camping place close at hand. The disappearance of Le Forgeron further
convinced Jean that there must be other land not far off.

Nangotook was not so sure that the Frenchman had left the island. Though
they had found no further traces of the man, he might be concealed
somewhere. It was evident that the Ojibwa himself had reason to fear Le
Forgeron. Apparently he thought the Blacksmith might return to their
camp again that night and do them some injury, for he proposed that they
move to another spot not so deep in the woods, where they could keep a
better lookout for danger. The lads were more than willing, and he
selected a place at the southern end of the island, on open ground, a
little distance from the woods. There, where they could not be
approached under cover of the trees, the three built another lodge.
While the boys cut balsam for their beds and fire-wood for cooking,
Nangotook went back to the bay, launched the canoe, and paddled it
through the entrance and around the outer shore to the end of the
island. Then they hoisted it up the rocks and carried it to their camp,
where they placed it, bottom side up, close to the wigwam.

Supper that night was a pleasant change from the fish diet of the past
few days. The evening before, the Indian had set some snares, using
fish-line for the nooses, and had caught a hare. To take the place of
the missing kettle, he had made a birch-bark basket in two compartments
between which the water could circulate. Having filled the basket about
half full of water, he placed in one compartment the meat, cut into
small pieces, and some little tubers he had dug. Meanwhile stones had
been heating in the fire. When they were red hot, he lifted them, one at
a time, with two sticks, and carefully immersed them in the water in the
other compartment, setting it to boiling. The tubers he called
waub-es-see-pin. They were a little like potatoes, and, stewed with the
hare meat, the lads found them good.

All night the fire was kept going, and the Indian remained awake and
alert until daylight, when he roused Jean to take his place. There were
no signs that either man or beast had approached the camp.

The weather remained raw and threatening and the lake was hazy with cold
mist. After noon, Ronald, growing restless, set off to hunt and explore.
Etienne had gone to look at his snares, and Jean remained in camp.
Ronald followed the ridge to the bay, then made his way around to the
extreme inner end, where the waters of the bay were separated from the
lake by a narrow strip of land. From there he struck along the lake
shore to the place where the track Etienne had followed the morning
before ended abruptly. The boy's mind was busy with the problem of the
appearance of Le Forgeron on the island and his departure from it. Why
had he come there and where had he disappeared to? The lad went clear to
the northern end. Gulls were everywhere, swimming in the lake, diving
through the waves, flying overhead and resting on the rocks. The place
seemed alive with them. Ronald paused for a few moments to look out over
the water. The sun had broken through the clouds, and they were scudding
before a strong wind. In the distance he could discern the rock that had
sheltered his companions and himself. The clearing weather gave him hope
that they would be able to leave the island soon, and it was in better
spirits that he turned to go.

On the way back, he climbed about on the rocks to get a view down on the
palisaded cliffs, which were not quite like anything he had seen before.
In some places the columns were in two or three rows, one row rising
above another, the lower one starting at water level and running up like
a flight of steps. After he had passed this singular place, he noticed,
as he looked down from the top of a vertical wall of rock, that the
waves, instead of breaking into foam against it, seemed to be passing
under it. "There must be a cave down there," he thought. Balancing
himself on the very edge of the cliff, he leaned forward in an attempt
to see the hole where the water washed in.

Then something struck him suddenly, heavily, on the head and shoulders,
and he toppled over. The blow had taken him wholly by surprise, and
there was nothing to catch hold of. He went down into the lake. His head
struck a rock, and he knew nothing more.




XIII

THE CAMP IN THE CAVE


When Ronald regained consciousness, he found himself in semi-darkness,
and it was several moments before he could make out his surroundings. He
was lying with his body in the water, but his head and shoulders on
shelving rock. Just as he opened his eyes, a wave swept over his breast,
the cold spray striking his face. As the water receded, it seemed to
pull at his legs, but his body was lodged in a shallow rift of the rock,
and the drag of the water was not strong enough to dislodge him. A
little way above his head he could discern in the gloom, a dark rock
ceiling. As soon as he was able to connect his thoughts with what went
before his plunge over the cliff, he realized that he was probably in
one of the caves that he had guessed must penetrate the rock at the
water line.

His head ached, and when he put his hand to his forehead, he felt that
it was wet with something thicker and stickier than lake water. He had
cut his head on a rock when he fell into the water. It was striking the
rock, rather than plunging into the lake, that had made him lose
consciousness. He wondered that he had not been drowned. It was not the
first time in his rather adventurous life that he had come near to
drowning. It was strange, he thought, that he was not strangling and
gasping for breath, his throat, nose and lungs full of water. Surely
his head could not have been under more than a moment. Yet he had been
washed into the hole in the rock.

His limbs were so numb with cold he could scarcely use them, but he
managed to roll over and crawl farther up the slanting shelf on which he
lay. This rock incline was at the inner end of the cave, which, as he
could see in the half light, was small and low. When he was close
against the rear wall he was above the reach of the waves, but he could
not rise to a sitting position without striking his head against the
ceiling.

Then he remembered his gun. He slipped back down the slope and searched
for it as best he could, but failed to find it. Probably it had fallen
out of his hand when he tumbled over the cliff. He was almost out of
ammunition anyway, so the loss was not very serious.

The really serious thing was his situation there in the cave. How was he
to get out? Of course he could swim, breasting the waves that washed
into the opening, but after he had passed the entrance, it would be no
easy feat, with such a sea running, to swim along shore looking for a
place where he could climb up. It would take strenuous exertion to keep
from being dashed against the rocks. His limbs were stiff and numb from
the cold water, his head aching and dizzy, and he felt himself in poor
trim for such a struggle.

Perhaps there was some other opening from the hole. He could see that
the sloping shelf extended part way along the sides. Crawling to the
left, he found the wall continuous. There was no exit on that side. He
rolled over and crawled back and around to the right of where he had
been lying. In the dim light he could discern a black streak just where
the shelf ended. The streak proved to be, as he had hoped, a rift in the
rock. The rear and side walls, running almost at right angles, did not
quite come together, leaving a narrow break he could just squeeze his
body into. The rift was dark, the rock closing overhead, and, as there
was not room for him to stand upright, he was obliged to crawl, but the
bottom sloped sharply upward, and he could see dim light ahead. He hoped
that he had found a way to reach the top of the cliff. He had not
crawled more than fifty feet, however, when he came to the end of the
passage. It did not lead to the top, but opened out on a narrow ledge
about half-way up the side wall of another cave.

This cave was larger and higher than the one he had just left, and on
its farther side there was a pebble beach fifteen or twenty feet wide.
Ronald stared at that stretch of beach in amazement, for there on the
pebbles glowed the live embers of a fire. The boy's eyes searched every
foot of the cavern. It was better lighted than the other hole, for the
entrance, though narrow, was much higher, and even the nooks and corners
were not dim enough to conceal from his keen eyes any one in hiding. Not
a living thing, man, animal or bird, was to be seen. Men had been there
only a short time before, but they had gone and taken their belongings
with them.

To reach the beach Ronald had to let himself down into the water. The
bottom was rock and he succeeded in wading around the cave without going
in above his knees. For some reason the waves did not come into this
cavern so strongly.

On the beach he found that the fire had been made between drift logs
laid close enough together to allow a kettle or pan to rest on them.
Near by was a bed of balsam branches and other traces of a camp. He
remembered that the trail Etienne had followed had ended near this
place. Surely this camp in the cave accounted for the disappearance of
the Frenchman and the Cree. They had been here not later than a few
hours before.

The boy's mind reverted to his plunge over the cliff. He knew well that
he had not merely slipped and fallen. Something had struck him a heavy
blow from behind. He and his comrades had come upon no traces of large
animals on the island. Moreover Ronald did not know of any animal, that,
unprovoked, would be likely to attack a man in such a manner. The
inference was plain. Either Le Forgeron or his Indian companion had
stolen up on him from behind and had knocked him over the cliff. What
reason could the Blacksmith have for such an assault? Revenge
undoubtedly for Ronald's attack on him when he was torturing the poor
old squaw. But surely he had not come all this distance back from the
Sault for a mere act of vengeance. It must be, the lad thought, that Le
Forgeron was following the three adventurers with the intention of
taking the golden sand for himself. If they were near the gold, and he
knew it, he might wish to make away with them before they actually
reached the spot. But if he wanted to get rid of them, why had he not
attacked their camp two nights before, when he had the advantage and
could have slain them all in their sleep? Perhaps he had had such an
intention, but had given it up after falling from the tree, fearing that
Nangotook at least might have heard him. There was also the possibility
that Le Forgeron might not know just where the yellow sands lay, and
that he did not want to destroy all of the party until they had guided
him to the place. He had merely seized the opportunity to get even with
a personal enemy, as he certainly considered Ronald, by making away with
him in a manner that would seem wholly accidental. At any rate Ronald
was convinced that the Frenchman had made a deliberate attempt upon his
life. A glint came into the lad's blue eyes, and his mouth set in a
determined line. Instead of frightening him, the treacherous, cowardly
assault had merely steeled his determination to outwit the Blacksmith
and, in defiance and despite of him, to find and take possession of the
golden sands.

All these thoughts flashed through the lad's mind in the few moments
that he spent in examining the camping place on the pebbles. Then he
commenced to search for a way out of the cave. Except the rift by which
he had come, there was no break anywhere in the rock walls. It was
evident that there was no exit except by water. He must make his attempt
that way.

Exercise had dried his clothes somewhat, but he felt chilled to the
bone. He took off his heavy blanket tunic, and noticed as he did so that
his knife was missing. It had not fallen from the sheath, for the sheath
was gone too, the leather thong that held it to his belt cut cleanly. He
whistled between his teeth at the discovery.

Vigorously he rubbed his limbs, then rolled up the tunic and fastened it
around his neck by the sleeves, leaving his arms free for swimming, and
stepped into the water again. Keeping as close to the wall as he could,
he waded to the entrance of the cave, where he paused, waist deep in
water, to look out. The sky was blue, the wind blowing strongly, and the
waves rolling high, but rocks just outside protected the entrance
somewhat. He could make his start in comparatively smooth water, but a
few strokes either way would bring him out into the force of the waves.
He did not hesitate long, for he must make the attempt sooner or later.
He could not trust to his friends ever finding him in that well hidden
cave. Even if they followed his trail to the place where he had fallen
over, he was not sure that he would hear them, or that, calling from
below, he could make them hear his voice above the noise of the surf.

He was standing at the threshold of the cave, on a ledge across the
entrance. The outer side ran straight down, sheer with the wall above
the opening, and one step would take him into unknown depths. He made
the plunge, but had scarcely taken three strokes, when he saw that he
was close to the rift where the Frenchman and the Cree, according to
the Ojibwa's reckoning, must have lowered their canoe and scrambled down
to it. If they could go up and down there so could he, provided he could
get in without being thrown in forcibly by the water and his brains
dashed out against the walls. The waves were rolling straight into the
rift. He must let himself be carried in, and trust to his strength to
resist being battered against the rocks.

He had scarcely an instant of time to make the decision. He was borne
in, almost grazing the wall, straight towards the place where the foam
dashed to the top of the cliff. He would be thrown against the rock,
battered, stunned. But, as he was carried in, he caught sight of a point
of rock projecting from the wall just above where his head would pass.
Instinctively he threw up his right arm and grasped that rock, his
fingers gripping the tough stem of the stunted, trailing juniper that
grew upon it. With the pull of the water below and the weight of his
soaked garments, it seemed as if his arm would be torn out of the
socket, but he held on, and, with a mighty effort, raised himself up
until he could grasp the rock with his other hand also. Luckily the
strong stem of the juniper and its tough roots, that had penetrated deep
into the cracks and crannies, held fast, and the boy was able at last to
pull himself clear of the water.

He was safe for the moment, but what was he to do next? How was he to
reach the spot, near the head of the rift and beyond the foam-dashed
wall where he could climb to the top? There was no possible way to
reach it, unless he let himself down into the water again, and took the
risk of being carried against the rock by the waves. He gave a little
whistle between his teeth. Apparently he was worse off, much worse off,
than he had been in the cave. He had better have stayed there, but it
was of no use regretting that now.

He turned to examine the cliff behind him. The only possible place of
ascent was just where the point of rock he was clinging to projected
from the wall. There the wall was not quite perpendicular, there were a
few crannies and holes, and from the top another trailing juniper
sprawled part way over and hung down a few feet. It was a dangerous
ascent, but a possible one. He could not remain where he was, inactive,
the cold wind blowing on his soaked clothes, without chilling to the
bone.

Crouched on the projecting rock, he wrung the water out of his clothes
as well as he could without taking them off. There was no room to do
that. Then he crawled along a little, put the fingers of his right hand
into a hole in the cliff, and cautiously pulled himself up to a standing
position, leaning against the wall. Clinging with his fingers and
moccasined toes to every little cranny and hollow, his body sprawled
flat against the rock, he made his way, slowly, carefully up, a few
inches at a time, until he could grasp with his left hand the stout
hanging stem of the juniper. After that it was easier, and he pulled
himself safely over the edge not far from the place where he had fallen
down.

As soon as he was safe again, Ronald became conscious that his head was
throbbing painfully. He had hardly felt it since he came out of the
crack into the larger cavern. He was shivering with cold too, and his
one desire was to get back to camp as soon as possible.

The sun was setting when he came out of the woods at the southern end of
the island. He shouted, and Jean appeared from the other side of the
cabin, where, out of range of the wind, he was getting supper. He waved
his hand in cheery greeting, then stopped and stared at the figure
Ronald presented, his clothes only half dried, his cap gone, his hair
and forehead stained with blood.

"_Ciel!_ What has come to you?" he cried. His startled exclamation
brought the Indian around the hut.

Crouched close to the fire, upon which Jean heaped fuel, Ronald told the
story of his adventures. The others listened, each according to his
nature, Jean with amazed expression and frequent exclamations and
questions, Etienne silently, with grave, stern face.

When Ronald had finished, the Indian made but one comment. "Your
guardian spirit must be very powerful," he said, "or the manito of the
waters favors you." Then, as if remembering suddenly that he was a
Christian, he hastened to add in a devout tone, "The good God above was
indeed watching over you."

"'Tis true I have been miraculously saved," Ronald replied, "but why,
think you, is Le Forgeron on this island? Are we near the Island of
Yellow Sands then? I would that we could resume our search for it."

"We will resume it as soon as this gale blows itself out," replied Jean
confidently. "We are near it I am sure, and now we know which way to
go."

"What do you mean?" cried Ronald. "Have you gained some new knowledge
then?"

"Truly we have," Jean answered springing to his feet. "Look, over
there!" And he pointed across the water to the southwest.

Ronald rose and gazed. The wind had driven away cloud, mist and haze.
Land, for days shut off by thick weather, was distinctly visible.




XIV

LOST IN THE FOG


All that night the wind blew a gale, dashing the waves on the rocks,
where they broke in showers of foam and spray that gleamed white in the
moonlight, for the sky was cloudless and the air clear and cold.

When the gold-seekers looked off across the water next morning they met
with a surprise. Far away to the west stretched a dim blue shape like
the figure of a gigantic man lying on his back.

"The Cape of Nanabozho," exclaimed the Indian in an awe-struck tone.

"The Sleeping Giant himself," the lads cried, and Jean added, "Are we
not then far west of our course? Surely we should not be able to see the
Pointe au Tonnerre."

Nangotook shook his head. "Who knows," he said, "how far the Cape of
Thunder may be seen? Is it not the home of Nanabozho himself? Who knows
that it may not come and go in the sight of men at the will of the
manito?"

"But," objected Ronald, "you said that island on the east shore was the
grave of Nanabozho. What has he to do with the Cape of Thunder?"

Nangotook looked puzzled. "It is true," he said slowly, "my people say
the manito makes his dwelling on that island to the east, but they say
also that the Cape of Thunder is formed in his likeness, and they leave
offerings to him there. It may be," the Ojibwa added, his face clearing,
"that part of the time he lives in one place, part of the time in the
other. Why not? Spirits may be in many places. They do not travel slowly
like men, who creep along with much labor. What do the manitos know of
paddling and of portages? They cross high hills at a stride, and the
land and water are alike to them. Do not the white fathers say that God
is a spirit and that He is everywhere?"

"Hush, hush, Etienne!" cried Jean scandalized. "Would you speak of the
good God and your heathen manitos in the same breath, and even compare
them with Him? And you a Christian! It is sacrilege!"

The Ojibwa looked abashed. "I _am_ a Christian, I worship the one great
spirit as the fathers taught me," he answered somewhat sullenly. He
started to turn away, but Ronald spoke to him.

"Surely," the boy insisted, "we're out of our course. We've been driven
too far to the west, and must seek our island towards the east. Is that
not true?"

"It may be," Nangotook grunted, "if that is the true cape."

"Of course it is the cape. What else could it be?"

"A sign from the manito himself," growled the Indian, and turned his
back.

The lads were not unimpressed by Nangotook's words and manner. The dim
figure, like a great man outstretched in sleep, seemed mysterious and
uncanny enough to their imaginations. Thunder Cape is the eastern
boundary of Thunder Bay on the northwest shore of Superior, and it is
only its highest part that is visible far across the lake, the lower
land sinking entirely out of view and leaving the Giant lying solitary
on the water.

"Etienne says it is a sign," Jean remarked in a low voice. "Does he
think the omen good or bad, I wonder?"

Ronald shook his head. "I doubt if he knows what he thinks, but what is
that to us? If we ever find the gold, we will secure it in spite of all
the Indian devils in the lake." He spoke hotly, eager to prove to
himself as well as to his companion that he had no faith in or respect
for the power of such heathen spirits and demons.

Jean looked a little frightened at his friend's bold tone. Nangotook
turned on him with a stern face. "Speak not so of the manitos of these
waters," he said peremptorily, "lest you rouse their wrath and bring
disaster on us all." And with a glance of scorn at the offending lad, he
walked away.

"Nangotook is but a weak kind of Christian," Ronald remarked sneeringly.
"He still puts his faith in these manitos of his and fears them." The
boy was smarting under the Indian's rebuke.

Jean shook his head doubtfully. "He is a Christian," he replied, "but,
being an Indian, he has seen instances of the power of the spirits of
the lake. I, too, am a Christian, as you very well know, and have no
veneration for such savage gods and devils, but I have heard strange
tales of their doings and of the power of their priests. Father Rene
says the medicine men's gifts are surely of the devil, but that good
Christians who put their faith in a higher power need have no fear of
them. Yet I can see no good in offending the spirits needlessly, and
bringing their enmity upon us by foolish speeches."

To this argument, which indicated that Jean upheld the Indian in his
rebuke, Ronald found no ready answer. Indeed in his heart he was not so
contemptuous of the manito's powers as he appeared, and was just a bit
uneasy over his own defiance. The feeling was not strong enough,
however, to shake his determination to find the wonderful island and to
carry off a goodly sample of its golden sands.

The wind was still blowing so strongly from the west as to make
traveling impossible. Ronald had suffered no ill effects, except a
little stiffness of the muscles, from his soaking and chilling of the
day before, but the wound on his forehead and a lump on the back of his
head pained him considerably, so he did not care to exert himself. He
remained in camp, spending his time mending his clothes and making a
hare skin cap to replace the toque he had lost when he fell over the
cliff. The others fished on the lea side of the island, visited the
snares, and searched for some signs of the man or beast that had
attacked the boy. With the exception of some footprints at the edge of
the cliff, prints made by a larger moccasin than Ronald wore, there was
no trace of the mysterious enemy. The tracks were found in one place
only, where a little earth had lodged on the rock. On the almost bare
rocks round about, no marks were discernible. Jean and Etienne would
have been glad to explore the caves under the cliff, but the high wind
of that day and the following one made it impossible to use the canoe on
that side of the island.

The second evening after Ronald's fall from the cliff, a wonderful
aurora borealis, more brightly colored than any the boys had ever seen,
waved its streamers of green, yellow, orange and flame-red over the
northern sky. Nangotook regarded it with awe, and muttered something in
his own language that the boys could not understand.

The next night the wind went down with the sun, but when the lads crept
into their blankets, the long roll of the waves had not subsided enough
to make launching the canoe safe. Since they had learned of the presence
of an enemy on the island, one or another of the three had kept awake
and watchful all night. When Ronald took his turn before dawn, he left
the wigwam and scrambled down the rocks to get a drink of water. He was
pleased to find that the waves had smoothed out into long, gentle
swells. "We can surely cross to that other land to-day," he thought. He
was too impatient to put off departure, however. Why wait till daylight?
The sun would come up in another hour or two. If they started at once,
they could make the trip before there was any danger of the wind rising
again, and, moreover, their enemies, who might be on the watch
somewhere, would be less likely to see them go.

The lad returned to the shelter, aroused the others and explained his
plan. Jean was eager to go, and Nangotook grunted his assent. The idea
of stealing a march on their enemies appealed to the Indian's love of
strategy. Dawn was just beginning to break, when everything was ready.
But Nangotook suddenly became reluctant to start out. He pointed to the
mist that lay on the water and dimmed the stars. "Fog come soon," he
said.

"'Tis only the morning haze," replied Ronald. "'Tis not thick enough to
hinder us, and it will disappear at sunrise."

"We shall be there by sunrise if we start now," Jean added confidently.
"That land is not far away. An hour's paddling will surely take us
there."

"Better wait and see," said the Ojibwa.

But the boys insisted. They were impatient to be gone, and could not
endure the thought of further delay. Ronald especially was stubbornly
determined. He knew better than to accuse Nangotook openly of cowardice,
but he hinted so plainly that the Indian might be influenced by fear,
that the latter's pride was touched. Suddenly breaking short the
argument, he picked up the canoe, stalked into the water with it, and
held it ready for the lads to step in.

They began their trip in silence. During the stay on the island
Nangotook had whittled out two paddles to replace the ones they had
lost, and now, as was his custom, he took the bow, with Jean in the
stern. In the dim light and the haze they could not make out the land to
which they were going, but they knew the direction, and had no fear of
missing the place unless the mist grew denser.

It did grow denser. The light breeze was almost directly south now and
it brought the fog. Gradually, and at first almost imperceptibly, the
haze thickened. Nangotook and the boys paddled with all their strength
and speed, the latter confident that they would soon reach their
destination, the Indian so silent and stolid that it was impossible to
guess at his thoughts. Then suddenly, all in a moment as it seemed, the
fog folded them in its thick white blanket. Nangotook grunted as if to
say "I told you so," but did not lessen the speed of his stroke. To turn
back was useless. There was better chance of keeping their direction
true if they went ahead, for in turning they would almost inevitably
lose their bearings.

The breeze was driving the fog, and as they went on, Jean and Ronald
were sure, from the angle at which they took the waves and the way the
breeze struck them, that they were keeping the course and would soon
reach land. They strained their ears for the sound of water lapping on
rocks or sand beach, and peered through the thickness for the shadowy,
looming shape of cliffs or trees.

On and on they went. The fog whitened with the coming of dawn, but did
not lessen or disperse. It blew and shifted from time to time, but never
thinned enough to give them a clear view for more than a few feet in any
direction. Either the land they had seen was much farther away than they
had estimated, or they were out of their course. The Indian had nothing
to say, and the lads could not tell whether he had really lost his
bearings and knew it, or believed himself to be going in the right
direction. When they questioned him, he answered only with grunts. They
had scorned his advice, and had hurt his pride by implying that he was
afraid to set out. Now he was letting them take their punishment.

They were certainly being well punished. As they paddled on through the
fog, without a sound or glimpse of anything that suggested land, both
boys grew very uneasy. After all, perhaps Nangotook had been right,
perhaps the sleeping Nanabozho had actually shown himself to them as a
warning to their rashness, or perhaps Ronald's bold speech had really
offended some manito. Neither boy would have admitted to the other that
he had such thoughts, but they lived in a superstitious age, and there
were many strange tales current among the voyageurs of the powers of the
Indian spirits and of their priests or shamans.

The brightening of the fog showed the advance of day. Yet the
adventurers went on and on and on. The thought occurred to both lads
that the land they had seen might not be real at all, but only a mirage
or a false appearance sent by the evil spirits to lure them to their
deaths. There in that dense, chilling mist, cut off as it seemed from
the world of men, and going perhaps into the very middle of the great
lake, whose mysteries neither Indian nor white man had ever fully
penetrated, such thoughts were far from pleasant.

Even fear could not still the pangs of hunger in healthy boys, however,
or make them quite forget that they had had no breakfast. The birch
basket still held the remains of the hare stew from their evening meal,
so Ronald helped himself to a share of it, and then took the stern
paddle while Jean breakfasted. Nangotook, however, refused to give up
his paddle or to eat.

The day wore away, and still the blades dipped with regular rhythm. The
stroke was slower and easier now, for there was no reason, lost as they
were for haste or speed. They paddled merely to keep headway on the
canoe and to strike the waves at the right angle. And still, hour after
hour, they went on and on, Jean and Ronald taking turns at the stern
paddle, the Indian never yielding up his place in the bow.

Ronald was plying his paddle mechanically, a dull apathy having settled
down on his spirit, as the hour of silence and white mist passed, and
Jean, stretched out on the bottom of the canoe, had fallen asleep when
Nangotook, who had been sullenly silent all day, spoke suddenly. "Land,"
he said and jerked his head towards the left.

Ronald woke from his stupor at once. The first thing he noticed was that
the mist was a little less thick, for he could see Nangotook more
distinctly, the next thing he observed was that the water was perfectly
smooth, without even a ripple, and the third and most important was a
dim, scarcely discernible something, a shadow of a shape, on the left
hand. He called to Jean and the latter sat up and stared at the shadow.

At the Indian's order Ronald swerved the canoe in that direction. There
was no sound of surf, yet the approach must be made cautiously, for rock
shores are far more common on Lake Superior than sand beaches. A careful
stroke and paddles lifted, another stroke and paddles lifted again, and
then the bow grated gently. Without hesitation Nangotook stepped over
the side, while Ronald held the canoe stationary with his paddle.




XV

STRANDED


It was not a sand beach the canoe had grated upon, but solid rock. The
three adventurers stepped over the side, and, carrying the canoe, waded
up a slope of rock until they were well above the water line. The fog
was so thick they could see almost nothing of their surroundings.
Scrambling over unfamiliar rocks slippery with moisture, when they could
not see where they were going, was too perilous an undertaking to be
worth attempting. There was nothing to do but wait until the fog
cleared. So they unloaded the canoe, turned it over, propped it up, and
settled themselves on their blankets in its shelter. Waiting was chilly,
dreary work, but they were cheered by the knowledge that the mist was
thinning. They did not have to wait long. Before the veiled sun sank to
its setting, the fog, though it did not disappear, became so thin that
climbing about was no longer dangerous.

The lads were eager to learn what sort of land they had reached. The
place certainly abounded in gulls. The birds welcomed the lifting of the
fog with such a chorus of shrill and whining cries, that the boys feared
they had landed on another mere pile of rocks, one of those desolate and
wind-swept spots where the gulls love to nest. There was always the
chance, however, that the golden sands might lie close by.

Once more Etienne hung back and let Ronald take the lead. The Indian's
superstitious dread of what they might encounter had probably not been
lessened by the Scotch boy's defiance of the manitos or by the
subsequent experience in the fog. No ravenous beast or hideous serpent
appeared to threaten the treasure-seekers, however, no enormous shape
towered out of the mist to warn them back. Only the gulls disputed their
way as they climbed about the rocks. They soon discovered that the place
was either a narrow point or an island. Where they had landed, it was
only a few rods wide. Further exploration proved it to be an island,
about two miles long, and nowhere more than a quarter of a mile broad.
There was no golden sand, only sandstone rock in slanting, overlapping
sheets and blocks with upturned edges. A narrow belt of small trees and
shrubs ran along the highest part. Everywhere were gulls, young and old,
and the remains of their nests. By the time the setting sun had gilded
the mist with red and gold, the three had examined the island very
thoroughly.

After sunset the fog thickened again, and before dark turned into cold
rain. There was nothing on the island to eat, the attempt to fish was
unsuccessful, and the castaways were reluctant to use the handful of
crushed corn they had saved so carefully for an emergency. They would
eat it next day if they could get nothing else, but for that night they
decided to go supperless. Everything on the island was dripping wet, so
they did not attempt to light a fire, but crept under the upturned canoe
and wrapped themselves in their damp blankets. With the rain came wind,
blowing in gusts and squalls.

In spite of hunger and discomfort, the lads went to sleep. They were
awakened suddenly by a terrific blast of wind that blew directly into
the propped up canoe, lifted the light birch craft as if it had been a
dried leaf, and whirled it away in the darkness. In an instant the three
were out of their blankets, up and scrambling over the slippery rocks.
They could not find the canoe again, though they sought everywhere for
it, endangering their necks again and again in the black darkness, wind
and rain. At last, after Ronald had plunged down a steep slope into the
water and narrowly missed drowning, and Jean had stumbled over the
upturned edge of a broken block and wrenched his ankle, they gave up in
despair. If the canoe had not been carried away across the water, they
might find it, or the battered remains of it, in the morning, but to
attempt further search that night would be useless and foolhardy.

The only thing they could do was to crouch down in such shelter as the
belt of trees afforded, and wait for dawn. They could not even search
out a good place, but were compelled to make the best of what was close
at hand. The stunted trees and bushes protected them but little from the
rain and the wind, that came in violent squalls, now from one quarter,
now from another.

It seemed as if the night never would end, but towards morning the wind
steadied and the rain ceased. Breaking through the clouds at the
horizon, the sun rose red in a wind-torn sky. The waves were dashing
their spray up to the very edge of the band of trees, and there was no
sign of the canoe. There were other things to be seen, however. Rocks
and reefs and islets, almost smothered in foam, were visible to east and
south, while to west and north, at a distance of several miles,
stretched what appeared to be continuous land, rising high.

The boys marveled at the sight, and at once questioned the Indian about
the Island of Yellow Sands. "What was it your grandfather said about the
island, Etienne?" Jean asked. "Did he not describe it? Was it large or
small, high or low?"

Etienne shook his head. "That I cannot tell you, little brother," he
replied. "My grandfather told of nothing but the beach with the yellow
sands and the waves rolling high upon it. Whether the island was large
or small, high or low, wooded or barren, I do not remember that he said.
In some of the tales, it is said that fierce beasts came out of the
woods to attack the braves who tried to carry away the sand, but whether
those tales are true or are only told to frighten the white man and keep
him away from the gold, I do not know."

While Etienne was speaking, Ronald had been gazing intently at the
stretch of land hazy and blue in the distance. When the Indian had
finished, the boy said slowly: "I do not believe that land can be the
island we seek. If the Island of Yellow Sands were as large and high and
plainly visible as that, some one would have found and explored it long
ago. No, that is either part of the mainland, or one of the greater
islands that men know. Surely to have escaped the white men's eyes for
so many years, the Island of Yellow Sands must be small and low and
inconspicuous."

"So it would seem indeed," agreed Jean. "That land may be, as you say, a
part of the main shore of the lake, or one of the great islands, Royale,
Philippeau or Ponchartrain. Yet we can scarcely be sure that the island
we seek is not a large one, just because men have not found it. Who,
either white man or red, has ever traveled over all this great lake? The
canoes go along the shores, and even the sailing vessels follow their
regular courses. No man knows what may lie in the center of these
waters. Is that not true, Nangotook?"

The Ojibwa nodded in assent. "Many tales are told," he replied solemnly,
"but they are only tales. No man knows."

"There is one thing certain," said Ronald the practical, "we can't find
out what that land is until we cross to it, and we can't cross until we
have a craft of some kind."

"And even though we had the best of canoes," Jean added, "we could not
go through this sea."

"Then 'tis something to eat we must be seeking first," the younger boy
responded. "I'm hungry indeed, but not quite ready to eat gull, until we
see if we can find other food."

All efforts to obtain anything else eatable failed Fishing from the
rocks, even in those patches quiet water that were sheltered from wind
and waves, brought no result. Nothing edible grew on the island but a
few blueberries and bearberries, and the gulls had stripped the plants
of their fruit. The castaways had to eat bark, leaves and roots, or try
the flesh of the gulls.

They attempted to capture some of the young gulls by creeping up on them
and seizing them or striking them with a canoe paddle, but all the young
were full grown, able to swim and fly, and were so shy and wary that not
even Nangotook succeeded in killing one. Snaring was equally
unsuccessful, and some of the precious ammunition had to be sacrificed.
Ronald was the best shot of the three, so the hunting was entrusted to
him. Every time he fired, the birds rose from the rocks in a screaming
cloud of gray and white, but he was fortunate enough to secure several.
He shot young gulls, thinking they would be tenderer than the old.

The birds were plucked, cut up and boiled, and the two hungry boys and
the Indian devoured every bit of the strong, fishy tasting meat. Their
uninviting meal down, they set about constructing some kind of a craft
to take them away from the island when the waves should go down. The
trees were all small and unsuitable for canoe making. The best the three
could do was to build a raft. They felled the straightest of the little
trees, trimmed them of their branches, and bound them together with
tough roots and strips of bark. So much of the growth on the exposed
rock was stunted and twisted by the winds, that straight trunks were
few. The harsh cries of the gulls seemed to mock at their efforts, but
they finished their task at last, just as the sun was setting. Though
the raft was small, rough and very imperfect, they believed it would
hold them up and enable them to reach the distant shore in calm weather.

They had decided to make directly for that shore. The other islands and
islets, visible from the one where they were stranded, appeared to be
mere heaps of wind and wave-swept rock. It seemed unlikely that any sand
whatever was to be found on the and the danger of trying to coast such
rock piles in a clumsy raft was too great to be risked. If the
gold-seekers could but reach a forested shore, where they could build
another canoe, they might return and explore every island, but they must
have a good boat first.




XVI

ISLAND OR MAINLAND?


To navigate Lake Superior on a raft was a perilous undertaking, but the
attempt had to be made. Hoping to reach their destination before the
wind came up again, the castaways started at dawn, while the mists still
lay on the water and the land to north and west showed shadowy and
indistinct. When the three, with their scanty equipment, had taken their
places, the rude raft had all it would carry. It seemed as if an added
pound or two might easily sink it. Etienne and Ronald knelt one on each
side to ply the paddles, which fortunately had not been blown away,
while Jean, who was of lighter build, sat between them, legs extended.
The course was northwest, for in that direction the land seemed nearest.

All went well at first, but progress was very slow, and, before they had
gone two miles, the wind was rising with the advancing day, and was
threatening to make the raft unmanageable. As the mists cleared away,
the voyageurs discovered that the land in front of them extended as far
as they could see in either direction. On the left, to the southwest, it
curved around and shut off the lake, but did not furnish much
protection, for the shore on that side lay at least ten miles away.
Evidently they were in a large bay, ten or twelve miles long and three
or four broad, protected on the west and north by high land, partly cut
off from the lake by rock islands to the south and southeast, but open
to the northeast, and affording little shelter for small craft. As the
wind rose and the ripples changed to waves, the peril of their position
increased, and Ronald and the Ojibwa had their hands full guiding their
clumsy craft and making headway. Every few moments a wave washed on it
and sometimes over it, and the three were soon wet to their waists. But
they managed to stick to the raft and continued to make some progress
towards land.

The danger increased momentarily, and, as they approached a rocky shore,
they lost control of the raft in the rising wind. The paddles were no
longer of avail in handling the unwieldy thing. Wind and water took it
wherever they would, the Indian and the boys washed and rolled about by
the waves, but clinging with fingers and toes to the roots and bark
ropes that bound the logs together. The boys' only hope was that they
would be carried ashore.

Unluckily rocks off the shore were in the way. A gust of wind bore the
raft full on a jagged, upturned edge of rock, a sharp point penetrated
between two of the slender poles and ripped through the fastenings. The
raft hung suspended at an angle, the waves washing it, the castaways
clinging to the slanting surface. The raft was doomed. It could not last
many minutes without splitting in two. If they were to gain the shore,
they must swim for it. Fortunately it was only a few feet away.

Ronald, who was the best swimmer of the three, went first, his blanket
and the rest of his belongings fastened to his shoulders, Etienne's gun,
for Ronald had lost his own, held over his head with one hand, while he
swam with the other. The waves bore him along, but his greatest danger
was from the rocks, and he had to be on the lookout for a place where he
could land without bruising himself against them. He rounded a
projecting point, which broke the force of the water, and succeeded in
making a landing just beyond. Then, having pulled himself up a steep,
slippery slope, he turned to see how his companions were faring.

Jean and the Ojibwa had left the raft at the same moment, but the
latter, like many Indians, was a poor swimmer. In spite of the fact that
he was not burdened with a gun and could use both arms, he had fallen
behind Jean and was making bad work of the short passage. In safety Jean
passed the point Ronald had gone around, but Etienne, caught by an
unusually large wave, was borne against a rock, striking the side of his
head.

The moment Ronald saw what had happened, he plunged into the water
again, shouting to Jean as he did so. Jean turned back at once, ducking
through an advancing wave like a sea-gull. The Indian had gone under,
and a receding wave had dragged him back from the rock. Just as he was
being washed against it again, Jean, dropping his gun, seized him with
one hand. He was unconscious, and Jean could hardly have managed him
alone in such a heavy sea. Ronald reached him in a moment, however, and
together they towed the inert body to shore, and succeeded in dragging
and hoisting it up the rocks to safety.

It was the blow on the side of the head that had made Nangotook lose
consciousness, for he had not swallowed much water. The boys laid him
face downward and lifted him at the waist to get rid of what little
water he had taken in, but it was several minutes before he came to. He
had nothing to say about the accident and offered no thanks for the
rescue, but it was evident from his changed manner that he was not
unmindful that his companions had saved his life. Ever since Ronald had
defied the manitos and had appeared to question Nangotook's courage, the
latter had been morose, gruff and silent, and had shown plainly that the
Scotch lad had offended him deeply. Now, however, he seemed to think
they were quits, for the angry mood had passed and he was himself again.

The adventurers were disappointed to find they had not reached the
mainland, but were on an island about a mile long and half a mile wide
in its broadest part. It was of irregular shape, two little bays running
into it on the east and west, almost cutting it in two. The island was
covered with trees, among them birches large enough to make the
construction of a canoe possible. Other islands lay near at hand, while
what they took to be the main shore was not more than half a mile away.
Reaching it would be a simple matter, as soon as they had built a canoe.

The most important thing at the moment, however, was food. They had
eaten nothing that day, and nothing the day before but a very
insufficient amount of gull flesh. In a birch bark receptacle wrapped
in Jean's blanket, was the small quantity of corn, not more than two
handfuls, they had saved so carefully. Convinced that they would soon be
able to reach the land to the west, and that there must be game on so
large a tract, they decided to eat this last remnant of their
provisions. Etienne made another bark cooking vessel and prepared a
rather thin soup of the corn. They made way with every drop and hungered
for more.

Then Ronald sought for game while the Indian and Jean began canoe
making. Ronald met with no success. Not a trace of game of any kind
could he find. Apparently there was not even a squirrel on the island,
and no gulls frequented it. He tried fishing from shore and rocks, but
did not get a bite. Once more the wanderers were obliged to lie down for
the night supperless, while from somewhere across the water an owl
hooted derisively.

"If that fellow comes over here where we can get him, he'll be howling
in a different tone," growled Ronald. He was so hungry he would not have
rejected an owl, in spite of its animal diet.

"The great horned one is far too wise to come close enough for us to
catch or shoot him," Jean replied.

All three had worked late by firelight that night. They were expert at
canoe building, and, though they did not appear to hurry, but performed
each step of the operation carefully and thoroughly, they wasted few
motions. Without any ready made materials, however, and no tools except
their axes, knives and a big, strong needle for sewing, the task was
necessarily a slow one and could not be completed in one day. They had
felled suitable trees, white cedar for the frame and birch for the
covering, and had skilfully peeled the birch bark, stripping a trunk in
a single piece and scraping the inner surface as a tanner scrapes
leather. Their ball of wattap and chunk of gum were gone, so they had to
dig small spruce roots and gather spruce gum, soak, peel and split the
roots and twist the strands into cord, and boil the gum to prepare it
for use. Ribs, gunwales, cross pieces and sheathing had to be hewed and
whittled out of the tough, elastic, but light and easily cut cedar wood,
and soaked to render them as pliable as possible.

An open space, with soil deep enough to hold stakes, had been selected,
and the stakes cut and driven in to outline the shape of the canoe.
Within them the frame was formed, large stones being placed on the ribs
to keep them in shape until dry. Slender cross pieces or bars
strengthened and held the ribs in place, and the ends were pointed and
fitted into holes in the rim, then bound with wattap. The pieces of
bark, which had been sewed together, were fitted neatly over this frame,
and wattap was wrapped over and over the gunwale and passed through bark
and ribs. Next to the bark, and held in place by the ribs, strips of
cedar, shaved as thin as the blade of a knife, were placed to form
sheathing. The last process was the gumming of the seams to make them
water-tight. The gum, softened by heat, was applied, and the seams
carefully gone over with a live coal held in a split stick, while, with
the thumb of the other hand, the canoe maker pressed in the sticky
substance.

The boat was done at last, and, though made without saw, hammer, chisel,
plane, nails, boards or paint, was, when completed and put in the water,
a strong, sound, light, graceful, well-balanced craft that satisfied
even the Indian's critical eye. It floated buoyantly, and was water
proof in every seam.

During the boat building, a few small fish had been caught, but no one
had had half enough to eat. As the three paddled away in their new
canoe, they debated whether they had better land at once or skirt the
shore looking for possible beaches. They were not yet fully convinced
that they might not be near the yellow sands. Food, not sand, was the
first necessity, however, and Nangotook and Jean expressed themselves in
favor of landing immediately and looking for game. But Ronald pointed
out that they had scarcely any ammunition left, and that to catch game
with snares and traps would be slow work. They had better try for fish
first, he said, and they could do that while going along shore. Jean at
once agreed, and Nangotook, when he saw the others were both against
him, grunted his assent. So, when close to a gently sloping rock beach,
they turned and paddled northeast, with a fishing line attached to the
stern paddle.

They had gone but a little way, when a pull at the line signaled a bite.
The fish did not make as hard a fight as the lake trout they had caught
before, while fishing in the same manner, and when Jean pulled it over
the side, he was disappointed to find that it was a siskiwit or lake
salmon. Siskiwit are not very good eating for they are very fat and this
was a small one weighing not over three pounds. Hungry as they were,
they decided to try their luck again, in the hope of getting a better
and larger fish, but after paddling for fifteen or twenty minutes and
catching another larger siskiwit, they could wait no longer.

They put in to the rock beach very carefully, stepping out into the
water before the bow grounded, to avoid scraping the new canoe. There on
the rock Ronald and Etienne made a fire of moss, bark and birch wood,
while Jean cleaned the fish. The boiled siskiwit was very fat and oily,
but the three were so nearly starved that it seemed a feast to them. As
they had not been accustomed to use salt with their food they did not
miss that luxury. While the lads were preparing the meal, Etienne had
discovered a well defined hare runway. The boys had to admit that a
supply of food was a prime necessity, and they agreed to camp where they
were until next day and make every attempt to secure game.

After Etienne had gone to set his snares, Ronald and Jean crossed the
sloping rock beach, which was rough and scored. A little back from the
water's edge it was covered more or less thickly, first with lichens,
and then with moss, bearberry plants and creeping evergreens. Looking
for signs of game, they pushed their way through spruce and birch woods,
stopping several times to set snares where hares had made a runway or
squirrels had left a little pile of cone scales, with the seeds neatly
extracted, at the foot of a spruce. The two had been going through the
woods for perhaps half a mile, when they came out suddenly on the shore
of a body of water.

"A bay," exclaimed Jean, "who would have looked for one here?"

"It looks more like a lake," Ronald replied. "The water is brownish like
the little streams we've seen, and there is no opening in sight."

Jean shook his head. "Just because we cannot see an opening is no sign
that there is none," he said. "Shores that look continuous are not
always so, as you well know. Unless we have reached the mainland, this
must be a landlocked bay. It is surely too large for a lake within an
island."

"It looks to me as if we _had_ reached the mainland," Ronald answered.
"See how high the land towers beyond this lake or bay. If this is an
island it must be Minong or Philippeau, and our Island of Yellow Sands
lies far to the east. Let us go back for the canoe and cross this lake
or skirt its shores. We have time enough before darkness comes."




XVII

A CARIBOU HUNT


From the outer shore to the interior bay or lake was not what voyageurs
would call a hard portage, for the distance was less than half a mile
and the ground not very irregular, the hills and ridges being low.
Nangotook and Jean bore the light canoe on their heads, while Ronald
went first to clear the way. The woods of spruce, balsam and birch were
open enough in many places to allow the canoe to go through easily.
Where the growth was more dense, a few strokes of Ronald's ax disposed
of the branches that hindered progress. On the higher ground were open
rock spaces, while in the depressions grew thick patches of alders,
hazels, red osier dogwood, ground pine and the fern-like yew or ground
hemlock. On the red berries of the yew flocks of white-throated sparrows
were feeding, their brightly striped heads conspicuous among the green.

The shore where the explorers launched the canoe was rocky, but
overgrown with small plants and bushes. They paddled northeast at first,
seeking for an opening. Finding the body of water landlocked on the east
and north, they continued on around. The south shore was rather low, but
the north was of a different character. A narrow beach was bordered by
an irregular ridge of boulders and fragments of rock, which looked as if
it might have been pushed up by waves or ice. The beach was composed
principally of pebbles and rock fragments, and there was no indication
of yellow sands. The sun was sinking when the three reached a spot
opposite the place where they had embarked, and they went on only far
enough to make sure that there was no chance of golden sands in that
direction. By the time they had crossed to the southern shore, they were
very sure they were on a lake, not a bay. The southwestern end appeared
to be much narrower than the northeastern and gave no indication of any
opening larger than might be made by a small stream flowing in or out.
They had passed the mouths of several such brooks.

As they neared the shore, they noticed, a little distance away, three
loons, an old one and two young, swimming and diving. Just as the boys
were carrying up the canoe, the old bird rose with a great flapping of
wings and spatting of the water with its feet. Its wild, long drawn cry
rang out like a derisive laugh. "A-hah-weh mocks us," said the Indian.

There were jays and woodpeckers in the woods, but the loons were the
only birds the explorers had seen on the lake, though they had kept a
lookout for ducks. They had caught a good string of little fish,
however, a kind of perch. While Etienne and Ronald carried the canoe
back over the portage, Jean tried his luck in a small stream that issued
from the lake, near where they had first reached its shores, and emptied
into the big lake not far from their camp. He soon had half a dozen
brook trout. On his way back he found a squirrel caught in one of the
snares. So the campers had both fish and meat, a very little meat, for
their evening meal.

After supper the three held a serious council. The middle of September
had come, and the woods were taking on an autumnal appearance. The
birch, aspen and mountain ash leaves were turning and beginning to fall,
the blueberries and raspberries and most of the thimbleberries were
gone, flocks of migrating birds were to be seen nearly every day on
their way south, and the squirrels and chipmunks were busy laying up
stores of cones and alder seeds. When the gold-seekers had left the
Sault, they had fully expected to be on their way back, their canoe
loaded with golden sand, before this. If they were to find the island
they must do it soon, for autumn changes to winter rapidly on Lake
Superior, the return journey would be a long one, and bad weather might
cause much delay. But where should they go? In what direction should
they search? How could they tell in what quarter the Island of Yellow
Sands lay?

Nangotook showed plainly that his first concern was to return to the
shore of the lake. Soon would come storms and cold, he said, and if bad
weather found them on some small island in the middle of the lake they
would starve. The Island of Yellow Sands might be sought in the spring
when there would be more time to look for it. At the present time the
manitos were not favorable to the quest. The lads had offended the
spirits of the lake and islands, especially Nanabozho himself,--and the
Indian looked sternly at Ronald. There was no foretelling what disaster
might come to them if they persisted in the search. Another year the
spirits might be more friendly, but now they had sent warnings. First
there had appeared the cape of Nanabozho and directly afterwards the
northern lights flaming in the sky.

"But," objected Jean, "you said before, several times, that the northern
lights were a good omen. Why do you now call them a warning?"

"There was no red in the lights we saw first," replied Nangotook. "The
last time they were red with anger, the color of blood and of the fire
that destroys the lodge and turns the green forest to black. So will the
manito destroy us if we heed not his warnings."

"Take shame to yourself as a poor Christian, Etienne," cried Jean
indignantly. "Whatever the power of the Indian spirits, and I do not
deny that they have power over heathens, that of the good God is
greater. If we trust in Him and do no evil, we need not fear. We have
started on this quest, and it would be disgrace to us to turn back so
soon. You were as eager as we at first. Surely you will not desert us
now?"

"My little brother knows that I will never desert him," said the Ojibwa
proudly. "Where he goes I will go also. I have given my counsel. I have
warned him. Now I will keep silence." After that he refused to take any
part in the discussion.

Jean and Ronald were agreed on one point. They were determined to
continue their search for the golden sands. Both were almost certain
that the place where they then were was not the one they were seeking.
Ronald believed that they were farther west than they ought to be, on
one of the great islands, Royale, which the Indian called Minong, or the
mythical Philippeau, that the old explorers placed on their maps. He was
in favor of striking out to the east, but Jean admitted that he dreaded
paddling straight out into the lake, without any idea of their location
or where they were going. From the rocky island where they had landed in
the fog, they had not been able, when the weather cleared, to make out
any land to the east except some small islands lying near by and of the
same character as the one where they were. They must explore those
islands to make sure that no golden beaches were to be found there. If
they found nothing, Jean wished, instead of striking out into the lake,
to travel along the shore to the northeast, in the hope of obtaining
some idea of their real situation and some clue to the direction they
should take. Ronald admitted the reasonableness of Jean's plan, but was
reluctant to give up his own. They failed to come to a definite decision
that night.

It was the wind that settled the dispute. The morning was calm, but
before the explorers had skirted the rock shores of all the islands that
defined the southeastern limits of the bay, the wind was blowing strong
and cold from the north. They found crossing the bay to the shelter of
the shore difficult and dangerous enough. Paddling in such a strong side
wind out into the open lake was out of the question. If they went along
shore, however, they would be well protected by high land.

That morning they found two hares caught in the snares. A lynx had
robbed a third snare. Hares seemed plentiful in that vicinity, for
several had come out into the open in plain sight the night before. The
least move towards them startled them back into the thicket, and the
campers did not wish to waste any ammunition as long as they could use
snares. For the boy or man who is not compelled to find his food or his
living in the wilderness, snaring and trapping are cruel and wholly
unnecessary. They are certainly not sport, and there is no excuse for
indulging in them. But Jean and Ronald, brought up in a more brutal age,
were accustomed to consider the trapping of animals as a legitimate and
natural means of livelihood. To set traps was to them the easiest and
best way to obtain food and furs. They were not cruel by nature, but
they had probably never considered for one moment the painful sufferings
of a hare hanging by its neck in a noose. Indeed in their time, animals
were commonly supposed to be so far below man in every way as to have
scarcely any feelings at all.

It was not until afternoon that the adventurers started to paddle along
shore to the northeast. For about two miles they ran between outlying,
wooded islands and the main shore, then along an unprotected coast of
gently sloping dark rock, with many cracks and crevices, but almost no
projecting points of any considerable length. Above the water line, dark
green moss and lichens grew in patches, farther up were juniper and
creeping plants, and beyond them bushes and forest. There were no sands,
and no large bays, coves or harbors. The day was brilliantly bright and
clear, but across the water to the east no sign of land was visible,
even to the Indian's keen eyes.

For nearly two hours the explorers paddled along the rock shore, then,
on rounding a slight projection, came suddenly to an inlet. The place
looked as if it might be the mouth of a river, and curiosity led them to
turn in. Up the inlet they paddled for about a mile, to a spot where a
stream discharged. Beyond the mouth of the stream the cove made a turn
to the left, extending at least another mile in that direction. The
place was a beautiful one, with thickly wooded shores and points, but
the three did not delay longer to investigate it.

As they went on along the rock coast, the wind became more easterly, and
clouds began to fleck the deep blue. Paddling was not so easy, although
they were still fairly well protected. Four or five miles beyond the
inlet, the shore made a sudden turn, and they found themselves going
directly north, with the northwest wind striking them at an angle. As
they proceeded, the water grew rougher and navigation more difficult.
Just as the sun was setting, they were glad to put into another cove
that cut into the land in a westerly direction.

As they were paddling slowly along, undecided whether to make a landing
or turn back and attempt to go on along shore, Jean uttered a sudden low
but surprised exclamation, and pointed to the summit of the high ridge
that stretched along the north side of the cove. There, in an open
space, beyond a twisted jack pine tree and plainly outlined against the
sky, stood an animal with spreading antlers.

"Addick!" whispered the Indian, while Ronald exclaimed, "A caribou!"

There was now no further question of going on. The opportunity to obtain
a store of meat was too good. The wind was blowing from the animal to
the hunters, and it had not caught their scent or heard them, but while
they looked for a landing place, it saw them and moved away to cover. It
went deliberately. Possibly it had never seen a man before, and did not
know enough to be badly frightened. The travelers were too far away for
a shot anyway.

They landed near the head of the bay on a sandy beach, and organized
their hunt. Only one gun remained, for Jean's had been lost when he and
Ronald rescued Etienne from drowning. There was enough ammunition for
four or five shots. It would not do to miss even once, so Ronald was
entrusted with the gun. He was to climb the ridge and make his way
towards the place where they had seen the animal, while the others went
around to head it off and drive it back towards Ronald, if that should
be necessary.

The ridge proved to be about a hundred feet high, steep and rocky on its
south side and scatteringly clothed with aspen and jack pines. When he
reached the top, near the place where the caribou had appeared, Ronald
had some difficulty in finding the animal's tracks on the almost bare
rock. Presently, however, he came across a half eaten clump of reindeer
moss, and the mark of a spreading hoof in a patch of earth in a hollow.
Once on the caribou's trail, he tracked it along the ridge for a little
way, noticing, as he went, a hare runway and some lynx tracks. The trail
led him down into a gully, and through the aspens and birches that grew
there, to the north side of the ridge and into a bog. There in the thick
sphagnum moss, the spreading hoof prints were plain.

With the idea that the bog might be the caribou's refuge when disturbed,
Ronald made his way very cautiously. It was well that he went so
quietly, for suddenly, as he rounded a clump of tamaracks, he came in
plain view of his game, head down, contentedly browsing a bog plant. The
animal was only a few yards away and a perfect mark, but Ronald,
experienced hunter though he was, felt his arm tremble as he raised his
gun. He had never hunted before when so much depended on his aim, or
when his ammunition was so precious. Luckily the caribou had caught
neither sound nor scent of him, and he had time to steady himself before
firing. He did not waste his powder. The animal sprang into the air,
plunged forward a few steps and fell in its tracks.

Ronald set up a shout and sprang forward. His call was not needed, for
the report of his gun was enough to summon his companions. The Ojibwa,
who had been skirting the north side of the ridge, was not far away and
soon made his appearance. Jean was going along the summit and had more
difficulty in locating the sound of the shot, but arrived at the edge
of the gully in time to catch sight of the others making their way
through it with their game.

They had no intention of paddling farther that night. The next thing to
do was make camp, cook themselves a good meal of meat and dry the rest
for future use. With such a supply, they were equipped to start out into
the open lake as soon as they could decide which way to go. Much
encouraged, they selected a place on the flat topped ridge, and set
about their task.




XVIII

MINONG


The caribou meat was cut into thin strips and laid on a frame of poles
and twigs raised a few feet above the ground. Then a fire was kindled
under it, and the meat turned occasionally to dry evenly in the heat and
smoke. Rain was threatening, so a protecting roof of bark, with a few
smoke holes, was raised over the frame, and a wind shield set up on the
east side. The propped up canoe furnished enough shelter for the
campers.

To keep the fire going under the drying frame, and to prevent wild
animals, which might be attracted by the smell of the meat, from
approaching it, the three took turns remaining awake that night. Several
times dark shapes were discerned moving beyond the firelight, and
cat-like eyes gleamed in the shadows of the trees and bushes, but the
lynxes were suspicious of the fire. Whenever the watcher made a
threatening movement, they took fright, and it was not necessary to
waste shots on them.

Before morning rain began to fall, fine and cold, but it ceased after
sunrise. The lake was still rough, the wind a little east of north, the
sky gray with scudding clouds, and the air so cold and raw that,
September though it was, a snowstorm would not have surprised the
voyageurs.

After breakfast the boys set out to explore, curious to learn something
of the lay of the land about them, and hoping that they might come
across another caribou. They descended the north side of the ridge,
crossed the bog, sinking to their ankles in the wet moss and underlying
mud, penetrated the bordering growth of alders, willows and other
bushes, and went through tamaracks and balsams to higher ground. The
country proved to be a succession of ridges and depressions. The
explorers found themselves going up and down almost continually, over
rocky slopes and through deep leaf mould and moss-covered boggy places,
until, after climbing a ridge, they came again to the water, a strait,
as it appeared, of not more than half a mile in width, extending in
either direction. By that time the wind was blowing the clouds away, and
the air was clearing. Beyond the strait the boys could see wooded land
rising up and up in successive ridges.

As they stood looking at the high land across the water, Jean said
thoughtfully, "I feel strongly that we should climb those hills, and try
to get our bearings before we go farther. From there we can surely tell
whether we are on mainland or island. If this is an island, we may be
able to see the shore and find some landmark to show us in what part of
the lake we are. Then we can decide which way to go."

Ronald nodded. "From that island where we were staying so long," he
said, "we saw the Sleeping Giant. If it was really the cape and not the
deceitful appearance of the mirage, we may be able, from that high
place, to see it again. Then truly we shall know that we're not many
miles from the northwest shore, on Royale or one of the other great
islands. I've felt loath to be spending time on such an inland trip, but
there seems no good prospect of going forward by water to-day. By this
time all of our meat must be well enough dried so we need not be keeping
up the fire. We will go back, bring the canoe, cross this stretch of
water and strike inland at once."

The two boys hastened back the way they had come. Etienne agreed to
their plan, but said they must first put their store of meat in a safe
place where the lynxes could not get at it. So it was wrapped tightly in
several large sheets of bark, tied firmly with withes, and suspended by
tough spruce roots, which would not break and could not be easily gnawed
through, from the branch of a gray pine tree. A lynx might crawl out on
the branch and drop down on the swinging bundle, but he would have hard
work to tear it open. As a final protection the Indian had rubbed the
smooth bark covering with caribou fat until it was so slippery that the
surprised cat must slide off the moment he touched it, before he had a
chance to dig his sharp claws in. At least that was what Etienne said
would happen to Besheu, the lynx, if he tried to investigate the
package. Doubtless he would not make the attempt in the daytime anyway,
and they would surely be back before night.

While the lads were away, Etienne, though he had not left the drying
meat for more than a few minutes at a time, had discovered that their
camp was on a cape or promontory. He believed that, by paddling a
little way to the north along shore, they could reach, without
portaging, the strait or bay the boys had found. At least they might
arrive at a spot where they would be separated from that strait by a
point or narrow stretch of land only. Though the head wind was strong,
they decided to make the attempt. To carry the canoe so far through
woods and bogs would be slow, hard work.

Running out of the bay, they headed towards the north. After struggling
against wind and waves for half or three-quarters of a mile, going part
of the time among little rock islets and passing the mouths of several
small bays, the voyageurs reached, as the Indian had foretold, the
stretch of water the boys had come out upon. It was partly protected
from the wind, and they crossed without difficulty. They could see that
the strait extended for several miles at least on either hand, and was
bounded by what appeared to be continuous land on both sides, but they
could not tell positively whether the shores ran together in the
distance or whether there was an opening between them.

The gold-seekers landed on low ground near the mouth of a small stream,
concealed the canoe among the bushes and started inland. At first they
kept to the main direction of the stream, though they did not always
follow it closely, as it made several bends and turns and in some places
its banks were so overgrown that the explorers would have had to cut a
way through. The conditions along the brook seemed to be continually
changing. It made its way through thick forest of spruce, birch and
white cedar, among thickets of alder, dogwood and mountain maple, where
the leaves were turning yellow and red and beginning to fall, it rippled
and foamed over rocks through narrow gullies between steep ridges,
slipped quietly along among aspens and birches, and crept sluggishly
through bogs covered with spongy moss, pitcher plants, labrador tea and
other bog growths. When the stream made a bend to the southwest, the
explorers parted company with it, and struck off to the northwest.

Their way lay over a succession of ridges, but they were reaching higher
and higher ground. Most of the time they traveled through more or less
open woods, but sometimes over steep stretches of bare, rocky hillside.
The forest was principally evergreen, and there was one tract of
towering white pines, some of them with trunks three or four feet in
diameter. As the rise became steeper, the bare rock slopes more
frequent, the three, feeling that they must be near the summit of the
highest ridge, pressed forward eagerly. Even the Indian increased the
speed of his springy, tireless stride, so that the boys, strong and
active though they were, had hard work keeping up with him. He was the
first to climb the final steep slope. The lads could see him standing
motionless gazing towards the west and north. Jean, whose lighter weight
gave him an advantage over Ronald in climbing, scrambled up next, and
uttered a sharp exclamation. Sky and air had cleared while the explorers
were making their way through the woods, and he could see far over the
water.

There, faint and blue, was the Cape of Thunder, the Sleeping Giant, the
rock figure of the manito Nanabozho. The view was not quite the same as
the one from the island where they had been wind-bound so long, but the
outlines were unmistakable. It was not the Giant alone that was visible
in the distance. Farther to the north were misty headlands barely
discernible, while to the south of the Cape was another blue outline. As
Jean was straining his eyes to make out every bit of land visible,
Ronald joined him. Jean turned to his companion excitedly.

"See," he said, pointing first to the blue shape farthest to the south,
then to the others, "the Isle de Pate, the Pointe au Tonnerre, and away
to the north the headlands of the great bay beyond. Now we know where we
are indeed."

"On Minong," said Nangotook conclusively. "Grande Portage over there,"
and he pointed to the west. No shore line was visible, but the boys knew
from the positions of Pic Island, as it is now called in translation of
the French name, and Thunder Cape, that the Portage must be somewhere in
that direction.

"Yes," agreed Ronald, "we're not on the shore, that is certain, and this
is no small island. We must have come fifteen or twenty miles along its
shore, and we've not crossed half-way." He pointed to the land that lay
below them, thick woods and stripes and spots of gleaming water,
stretching for several miles, and beyond that land the open lake. "We're
surely on Minong or Philippeau."

"Minong," insisted the Indian positively. "I have been on this island
before, but it was from the direction of the setting sun we came, not
from the rising sun."

"You landed on the west side then?" asked Jean. "That is why you did not
recognize the place this time?"

"Thought it was Minong all the time," replied Nangotook, "not sure. Sure
now."

"You're certain 'tis not Philippeau?" Ronald questioned.

The Indian nodded. "Been here," he repeated. "Philippeau----" He shook
his head. "Maybe there is such an island, maybe not. I never saw it,
never knew Indian who had seen it."

"But white men have seen it," said Jean. "I never heard of one who had
landed on it, but some have caught sight of it, on clear days, far
across the water. They have put it on their maps, but always east of
Royale, or Minong as you call it. No, we cannot be on Philippeau, but
perhaps we can get a glimpse of it."

Turning, the French boy gazed intently in the other direction, the one
in which they had come. He could see the narrow ribbon of the strait or
harbor they had crossed, wooded islands beyond it, and the open lake
stretching to the horizon, but no faintest shadow of distant land in
that direction. A look of disappointment crossed his face. It was not so
much Philippeau for which he was seeking as the mysterious, the much
desired Island of Yellow Sands.

"Etienne," he said soberly, "do you really believe there is any Island
of Yellow Sands? Do you suppose we shall ever find it?"

"My grandfather saw it," the Ojibwa replied. "I have told you the story.
Whether we shall reach it I know not. The manitos of the lake seem
unfriendly to us. Give up the search, little brother, at least until the
snows have come and gone once more. Be warned in time."

"We will not give it up," cried Ronald hotly. "To be turning back, while
we still have time to find and secure the gold before winter comes,
would be foolish as well as craven. But 'tis of no use to seek it near
here. We're too far south and west, according to Nangotook's own story.
We must travel on to the north end of this island first. From there we
may get a glimpse of the place we seek. If not, we can at least strike
north and east for a day or even a half day's journey. If then we come
not within sight of the isle, it will be time enough to give up the
search. What say you, Jean?"

"I am as loath to give it up as you," Jean replied, "and," he added more
cheerfully, "I think your plan a good one. As you say, we can at least
postpone talk of turning back until we have made one more attempt. Let
us return to our camp and be in readiness to go on. The strait we
crossed is somewhat sheltered. We can go on along it, perhaps to-night,
to-morrow at the latest."

The Indian said nothing. Jean glanced at his impassive face, then
thinking to change the subject, asked, "What came you to the island
for, Etienne? You say you have visited it before."

"For copper, little brother," the Ojibwa answered. "On the northern side
of this island, copper stones can be picked up from the shores and dug
out of the hillsides, sometimes in pieces as large as my hand," holding
out his closed fist, "not in such little bits as this," and he pointed
with his toe to the rock at his feet.

The boys had been too much interested in the distant prospect to notice
the rock on which they stood. Now as they glanced down, Jean uttered an
exclamation, "Look, Ronald, this is copper rock indeed." Scattered here
and there were streaks and flecks of free metal.

Ronald bent to examine it "Truly it is copper," he said, "but in bits
too small to be of any value. Had we time we might prospect and come
upon larger veins. 'Tis like enough that this whole ridge is rich with
it. But we've no time to make a search. We're seeking a far more
precious metal, where it may be gathered easily without the labor of
digging and blasting." And he started to lead the way back over their
trail.

The trip down the ridge and to the shore was made much more quickly than
the upward journey. The explorers had not taken the trouble to blaze
their way, though Nangotook had sliced off a branch here and there with
his ax. In the woods the signs of their passage were clear enough for an
experienced woodsman to follow almost without conscious thought, while
the downward slope of the ground most of the way to the stream, and the
Indian habit of taking swift but sure note of surroundings furnished
them with more than sufficient guidance everywhere. Nangotook led again
and went swiftly and unhesitatingly, scarcely appearing to look about
him.

During the whole trip up and back they saw no caribou tracks, but they
came upon many traces of hares and lynxes, squirrels scolded at them
from the trees, and, as they reached the stream, a mink, that had been
fishing, glided swiftly up the opposite bank. Ronald inquired if the
Indians ever trapped on Minong, but Etienne answered that he had never
heard of any one wintering there. "Too far from mainland," he said. "Too
hard to get across when wind blows and storm comes."

They found the canoe safe, their camping place undisturbed, and the
package of caribou meat untouched. The wind was now directly in the
north, and the harbor or strait was well enough protected by its
northwest shore to make traveling along it safe. Delaying only for a
meal of caribou meat, the three embarked again, with the intention of
going as far as possible before darkness came.




XIX

LE FORGERON TORDU AGAIN


The stretch of water proved to be a long bay, with continuous shore on
its northwest side, and a chain of wooded islands sheltering it from the
southeast. The gold-seekers paddled steadily until nightfall compelled
them to make a landing in a little cove beyond a point. Navigation
through unknown waters, where reefs and shoals might be encountered, was
perilous in the darkness. Though sharp and cold, the night was clear, so
the three did not crawl under the canoe, but lay down in the open with
their feet to the fire. When they woke at dawn, the fire had gone out,
and ground and trees around them were silvered with white frost. The
boys were stiff and chilled, but the exercise of cutting wood, and a
breakfast of hot caribou broth, made from the dried meat boiled in the
birch bark basket, soon warmed them.

Paddling out from the cove, their blades keeping time to

    "L'on, ton, laridon, danee,
    L'on, ton, laridon, dai,"

they continued to the northeast along a rock coast, now rising in steep
cliffs, again sloping gradually to the water, but broken, eaten out,
riven and piled up into all sorts of shapes. The protecting islands, a
half mile or more away, became smaller, farther apart and more barren.
Soon the rock shore terminated in a point, and the travelers turned to
the north, ran past the end of the point, and found themselves crossing
another bay. To left and to right were wooded islands, while ahead
stretched a long, forest-crowned ridge, which appeared to be several
hundred feet high.

"That must be part of the same ridge we climbed," said Ronald eyeing it
with interest.

The Indian grunted an assent. "Runs through whole of Minong," he
replied.

The rising wind, penetrating between the islands, made paddling hard
work, until the voyageurs reached the shelter of the high ridge. There,
turning to the northeast again, they followed a narrow passage between
ridge and islands, where the water was scarcely disturbed by a ripple.
But when they came out from shelter, near the end of a long, high point,
the full force of the wind struck them, and they were glad to turn back
and make a landing on a bit of pebble beach.

Before they turned, however, they saw, as they looked out over the
heaving waves of the lake, a bit of land to the northeast. When they had
carried the canoe up on the beach, the two boys with one accord started
to make their way to the end of the point, in the hope of getting a
better view of the speck of land across the water. They estimated that
it was four or five miles away. It was exactly in the direction they
intended to take in their search for the Island of Yellow Sands. Was it
the long-sought-for island, lying now in plain view?

Nangotook, who had followed the lads, did not think so. "Island we came
from," he said briefly, pointing to it.

"You mean the place where we were wind-bound so long?" Jean asked. "I
cannot think it. That must be farther away. Think how long we traveled
in the fog!"

"May have been going round and round part of the time. No way to tell
after fog got thick. Over there," and Nangotook pointed across the water
to the west of the bit of land, "Nanabozho."

The Sleeping Giant was faintly but unmistakably discernible lying on the
water. When the boys considered his position, and the view they had had
of him from the island, they began to be afraid that Nangotook was
right, that the land to the northeast was only the place where they had
been delayed so long, and not the Island of Golden Sands. They were
loath to give up their new-born hope, however. As Ronald said, the only
way to find out was to go and see. To cross those heaving waves in the
teeth of the strong north wind was out of the question. Once more they
must wait for favorable weather.

They went back to the more sheltered spot where they had landed. There
they came upon something that put their disappointment, at not being
able to cross to the island, out of their heads for the time being.
Farther along the pebble beach they found the ashes of a fire and the
bones and uneatable remains of a hare. Near by was the pole skeleton of
a shelter, resting against the face of a rock. The Indian, after
examining the place closely, concluded that the fire had been burning
and the hare had been dressed and cooked since the rain of two nights
before, but he doubted if the shelter had been occupied the past night.
Probably the campers had not been away from the place over thirty-six
hours at the farthest.

The boys were greatly excited over the find. Was this the camp of Le
Forgeron Tordu and his Indian companion, and were the two still on their
trail? The only way to answer the first question was to find their
tracks. The pebble beach retained no clear traces of moccasined feet,
and the men had doubtless departed by canoe, but back from the beach,
part way up the slope, where the trees stood thick and the rock was
covered with a layer of leaf mold, Jean came upon tracks. Unhesitatingly
Nangotook pronounced the prints those of a man whose right foot turned
out and who threw his weight more heavily upon that foot than upon the
left. Not far away the Ojibwa found other tracks, made by another man.
This trail he succeeded in following through the woods to the top of the
ridge, where, in a narrow rock opening, a hare runway, he discovered the
remains of a snare. The noose had been taken away, but the fence of
twigs, leading to the spot where it had been set, remained.

It now seemed perfectly clear that the Frenchman and his Indian
companion had been camping on the beach not longer ago than the morning
before. Apparently Le Forgeron was still in pursuit of the
gold-seekers. Had he seen them set out from the island before dawn, and
had he followed? Nangotook thought that very unlikely. He did not
believe Le Forgeron had been where he could observe their departure. If
he had been hiding anywhere on the island, it must have been in one of
the caves on the north shore. Yet it did not seem likely that he had
crossed from the island after the lifting of the fog, for the winds had
been strong ever since. Nangotook doubted if the Blacksmith could have
made his way across the stretch of open lake at any time during the past
five days. He came to the conclusion that Le Forgeron must have crossed
before the others left the island, perhaps immediately after he or his
companion had hurled Ronald from the cliff. Ronald, however, pointed out
that the wind and waves had been very unfavorable at that time, and the
Indian was forced to admit that the boy was right. Unable to solve the
problem, he shook his head doubtfully. "Awishtoya evil man," he said,
"very evil. Maybe he can put spell on waters and go when he pleases."

"I have heard it said that he has sold himself to the devil," Jean
replied seriously, "so it may be indeed as you say. He may have seen us
go, though, and if he followed he was caught in the fog too, and may
have reached this place by accident. One thing is certain. He has been
here. Surely it is not so important to know just when he came, as to
discover where he has gone and whether he will return."

"You are right," Ronald agreed. "We must be tracking this enemy of
ours. Unless he's in league with the evil one, he has not crossed to
that island over there within the last two days, that is sure. The wind
and waves have been too high. And if that's the island we came from, he
would have no reason for going back. We had best be searching for him in
the other direction."

"We go in canoe up this water then," and Nangotook pointed along the
channel to the southwest, "and we take all the meat with us. Awishtoya
has taken the apakwas from his wigwam. Yet he may come back. If we leave
anything he will find it."

"That is true," cried Jean. "We must take everything with us, and leave
no trace behind. This is no place for us to camp, if there's a chance
that Le Forgeron may return."

Carefully the Indian erased all signs of their visit to the beach and to
the woods and rocks near by. Stepping backwards, his body bent almost
double, he smoothed out with his hands the tracks he and the boys had
made in the adjacent forest. When he had completed his task, he was sure
no traces remained that might not have been made by some passing animal.

Then the three embarked and paddled back through the quiet channel
between point and islands. They penetrated to the head of a long narrow
bay, that lay parallel to the one they had come through that morning and
the evening before. There were many islands, and the shores were
forested to the water's edge. Though the searchers scanned the rocks and
woods closely, they found no clear signs that a canoe had ever run in
anywhere along either shore or on any of the islands. Several times they
examined likely looking places, but always without definite result. Not
one sure trace of Le Forgeron Tordu or of any human being did they find,
though they made the complete circuit of the shore, reaching at last the
rocky point they had passed that morning. So thorough was their search
that it occupied most of the day.

Though they discovered no more clear signs of their enemy, the trip was
not altogether fruitless, for, as they went along, they caught several
fish, lake trout of smaller size than those they had taken out in the
lake. Near the head of the bay Jean hooked a pickerel, and, at the mouth
of a small stream, several brook trout. The explorers landed on a small,
well wooded island, that lay across a narrow stretch of water from the
inner side of the point to the east of the bay, and cooked their fish
and made camp.

Etienne had almost convinced the boys that the island to the northwest
was the one where they had been wind-bound. Nevertheless they were
anxious to reach it, for they had resolved to strike out from there to
east and north, in one more effort to find the land of golden sands. But
the spirits of the lake were still against them, and four days longer
they were held prisoner on the end of Minong. During most of the time
the open lake was very rough. Traveling several miles across it, against
a head or side wind, was far too perilous to be attempted in so frail a
craft as a bark canoe. Only once for a few hours did the wind swing to a
more favorable quarter, the south, and then it brought thick mist
followed by fine, cold rain, almost as blinding as the fog. A strong
west wind dispersed rain and mist and blew away the clouds, but made
crossing as dangerous as ever.

Impatient as the treasure-seekers were during all that time, they could
do nothing but make the best of the delay. They camped on the small
island, where no enemy could approach under cover, and continued their
search for Le Forgeron Tordu. Climbing to the top of the high ridge,
they looked down another long bay, parallel with the two they were
familiar with, and to wooded land and other stretches of water beyond.
They were determined to explore that bay, but the strong wind and
dangerous, outlying reefs made rounding the long point out of the
question. So they were obliged to carry the canoe up the ridge, a hard
and laborious portage, and with much difficulty take it down the steep
north side. They caught a good supply of fish in that third bay, and
found slight signs on two of the islands that human beings might have
been there not many days before. But there were no clear tracks they
could identify as those of the lame Frenchman. On the farther shore of
the bay, near its head, they thought they had come upon a trail, but
soon made up their minds that it was only the old track of some wild
animal.

Wishing to save their dried meat for emergencies, they made every effort
to obtain enough fresh meat and fish to sustain them. As only three
rounds of ammunition remained for the one gun, Nangotook spent part of
his time making bows and arrows for himself and Jean, leaving the gun to
Ronald, who could be trusted not to waste his powder. The Ojibwa strung
his bow with twisted caribou sinew, braided at the ends. The arrow
shafts he made of serviceberry wood, straightening them by drawing them
through a hole he had bored in a piece of bone. Some of the arrows, with
points of wood hardened in the fire, were intended for shooting birds
and squirrels. Others had heads of bone or chipped stone, let into a
slit or groove in the end of the shaft and bound tight with soaked
sinew, which contracted when dry. Nangotook insisted that the feathers
used must be those of a bird of prey, or else the arrows would not be
sufficiently deadly. Coming one day upon several hawks, which circled
within easy range, as they prepared to dart down on a flock of migrating
small birds that had paused to rest and feed among the alders, Ronald
sacrificed one of his precious charges of ammunition to bring down one
of the marauders. With hawk feathers, carefully cut and placed to give
just the right weight and balance, Nangotook feathered his arrows. When
he had constructed two bark quivers, the primitive hunting equipment was
ready.

The Ojibwa demonstrated the use of the new weapon by shooting a squirrel
and a gull in quick succession, and the boys, admiring his skill, at
once set to work to practice with the other bow. Ronald, who was proud
of his marksmanship, was chagrined to find that not only Nangotook but
Jean could easily outshoot him both in range and accuracy. In his
childhood the French lad had played with bows and arrows made by
Nangotook, who had taught him how to use them, while to Ronald the
weapon was entirely new.

The hide of the caribou was cured and dressed, and part of it made into
new moccasins to replace the wanderers' worn and ragged ones. From a
bone that he had saved for the purpose, Nangotook also made, with much
labor, a knife such as his ancestors must have used before the white men
brought them steel and iron. Ronald's knife had been lost or taken from
him when he fell over the cliff, and the Indian insisted that the lad
take his. He could use the bone one just as well, he said, and when
Ronald hesitated to accept the gift, showed such plain signs of offense,
that the boy hastened to take it to make amends. He guessed that this
was Nangotook's way of expressing gratitude for his rescue from
drowning.




XX

THE NORTHEASTER


Late in the afternoon of the fourth day after the gold-seekers had
reached the long point, the wind went down, and by an hour after sunset
the waves had subsided enough to make crossing to the island to the
northeast possible. So the three set out immediately, and made the
traverse safely. Though twilight was deepening to darkness when they
drew near the land, they had no difficulty in recognizing the place. It
was not their Island of Golden Sands. To find that they must go farther
north and east. It would have been useless to begin their search just
then, however, for clouds were gathering and the night promised to be a
black one. That they might camp nearer the northern end, that was to be
their starting point, they paddled along the southeast shore of the
island to the sand beach beyond the landlocked bay.

Before midnight they were awakened by a rain storm. With that storm
began a period of almost heart-breaking waiting, that roused in the
Indian the most gloomy fears, well-nigh discouraged Jean, and would have
had the same effect on Ronald had he not clung with determined
stubbornness to his purpose. There were times during the week of delay,
when even he was almost ready to give up, but he kept his wavering to
himself, insisting always that they must make one more attempt to find
the golden sands. Not all of the weather that hindered them was of a
kind the boys would ordinarily have called unpleasant. Most of the days
were bright, but the wind blew incessantly, now from one point, now from
another, but always so strongly that to start off into the open lake
would have been the utmost folly. All the voyageurs' strength and skill
must have been spent in keeping the canoe from swamping, and, even if
they had escaped drowning, they could have made almost no headway
towards north and east.

They were anxious to save their precious caribou meat, so they made
every effort to trap and shoot hares and squirrels, and to catch fish,
but their luck was poor. Either there were very few of the little
animals on the island or they had become exceedingly shy, for during the
whole week but one hare and three squirrels were taken. The wind blew so
hard that fishing was possible only in the bay or on the lee side of the
island. From the inner bark of the cedar, softened by soaking, Etienne
and the boys laboriously rolled and twisted enough tough cord for a
small net, and by setting this at night and taking it up in the morning,
they managed to get a few lake herring. But the catches, even with the
net, were scanty, and the best efforts of the three were not sufficient
to supply them with enough game and fish to keep them nourished. They
were forced to eat so much of the dried caribou meat that their supply
disappeared alarmingly.

For future use in lodge building, they prepared several _apakwas_, as
Etienne called them, long strips composed of squares of birch bark
sewed together with the cedar twine. These apakwas could be rolled and
carried in the canoe, and were all ready to be wrapped around the
framework of a wigwam.

During all that week the gold-seekers found no new traces of Le
Forgeron, though they took advantage of an east wind one day to explore
the caves on the northwest side of the island. The withered evergreen
couches and the ashes of the fire were still on the beach in the largest
cave, but there was nothing to indicate that any one had been there
since Ronald's visit.

A favorable day dawned at last, with a light breeze and blue sky,
although a filmy haze lay on the water in the distance. The Ojibwa
feared fog, but Ronald would wait no longer.

"There will never be a morning when something may not happen," he cried
impatiently. "If we fail to take this opportunity, there may not be
another for days to come. We can be turning back any moment danger
threatens, but we must take some chances no matter how good the
conditions. Surely not one of us is fearing a risk, when there's so much
to gain, if we're successful."

Ronald had tried to speak without offense, but the Indian knew that the
boy was making a direct appeal to his courage, and he was too proud to
hesitate longer.

"Come then," he said, "and may the manitos,--and the good God be kind to
us."

Their course of action, as soon as the weather should be favorable, had
been decided long before. From the northern end of the island they
would travel directly east for two hours, then turning north they would
go in that direction for the same length of time, when, if they had not
caught sight of the island they sought, they would turn to the east
again for an hour's paddling, then to the north for another hour and so
on. If by sunset they were not in sight of their destination, Ronald
consented to give up the search, and make for the nearest land, or if no
land was in sight, to steer straight for the north shore. Indeed it
seemed likely that by that time, unless they were hindered by contrary
winds, they might be able to discern the shore and make directly towards
it. The plan was a desperate one. Their only possibility of success, or
even of reaching the north shore alive, lay in the continuance of good
weather, and all three were familiar enough with the uncertainty and
fickleness of Lake Superior winds and storms to realize in some degree
the recklessness of the attempt. But the boys were young and rash. They
had come through many dangers without serious accident. The very fact
that their canoe had outridden the fearful storm on the night when they
left the Rock of the Beaver, encouraged them to believe that they might
get through safely even though the weather should change for the worse.
Whatever the Ojibwa's feelings were, he gave no sign, taking his place
in the canoe in silence, and without a trace of emotion on his impassive
face.

At first all went well, the wind was light, the waves scarcely high
enough to be called waves, and the canoe made good speed to the east. To
the north over the water they could see, among its companion islets,
the rock that had sheltered them from the force of the storm. It was to
the east, however, that they gazed eagerly. They went on in that
direction for the agreed upon two hours, estimating the time by counting
their paddle strokes. No island came into view. So they turned to the
north. For two hours more they traveled steadily, but, though their eyes
searched the water ahead and to either side, they caught no glimpse of
land. The sun was shining and the sky blue overhead, yet a thin haze,
diffused through the air, made it impossible to see any great distance.
After two hours' journey to the north they turned again to the east.
Before they had gone far they noticed that the weather was beginning to
thicken, the blue overhead was turning to gray, the breeze that had been
so light all the morning was freshening, and becoming northeasterly. The
signs made the boys uneasy, but Nangotook gave no indication of noticing
them.

By the time they had traveled their hour to the east and had turned
north again, the wind had strengthened so that paddling at an angle
against it became hard work. The sky had grown lead gray, and, without
the sun to guide them, the boys wondered how they were to keep their
course. The distance was too hazy to afford any chance of discerning the
north shore. They held on doggedly, but they had not been paddling north
an hour when rain began to fall, fine and cold. It was driven from the
northeast by the wind, that grew constantly stronger, penetrating their
heavy clothes with its damp chill. All hope of finding the Island of
Yellow Sands that day vanished from their hearts. Moreover the north
shore must still be far away, and there seemed no chance of gaining it
against a northeast storm that was steadily increasing in fury.

They struggled forward against wind and waves for a little while longer,
but their paddles were of almost no avail to make headway. The most they
could do was to keep the canoe right side up and avoid shipping water
enough to sink it. At last the Indian did the only wise thing he could
do under the circumstances. He gave the order to turn the boat and run
with the wind. They could no longer make way against it, but, if they
could keep the canoe from being swamped by following waves, the gale
might bear them back to Minong and safety. The northwest direction of
the storm was at least favorable to the attempt. The chief danger in
running with the wind would be from the following waves that might
easily overwhelm them. To increase their speed the boys tried to raise a
sail, but a sudden gust, accompanied by sleet, which drove down upon
them with great force, tore the blanket from their hands and blew it
away. They could ill afford to spare their blankets, and they made no
further attempt at sailing.

All their efforts were now devoted to keeping the canoe from being
caught and up-ended or deluged by the waves, and in bailing out the
water that threatened to swamp it. The wind blew a gale, lashing them
with rain and stinging sleet that would have chilled them through if
they had not had to work so hard. As it was they were so wholly taken
up with the struggle to keep from going to the bottom, that they had no
time to think of bodily discomfort, even though their clothes were
soaked, their faces stinging, their hands aching with cold.

In a far shorter time than it had taken them to paddle to the north and
east, the wind bore them back to the southwest. So close to its
northwestern side that they could distinguish its cliffs through the
rain and sleet, they ran by the island they had left a few hours before.
There was no possibility of making a landing, and they began to fear
that they would be borne past Minong also.

The great island extends several miles farther to the westward, however,
and its outlying points and small islands lay directly in their way, too
directly for safety. Their course was a little too westerly to take them
close to the high ridge. They were driven past the land that lay to the
northwest of the ridge, and down among islands and reefs. At no time
since the storm broke had they been in more imminent peril. The gale was
so strong, the waves so high, they could no longer steer their little
craft. They were carried close to reefs and islands, missing by a few
feet or even inches being cast upon the rocks. Yet they found no place
where, with a sudden twist of the paddle, they might shoot through into
shelter.

The thundering of breakers sounded straight ahead. Through the rain and
sleet, land appeared suddenly. Powerless to escape it, they had just
time to lift their paddles from the water, when the surf caught the
canoe and flung it on the beach. Instantly they were over the side,
struggling for a foothold on the slippery pebbles, as the receding wave
tried to drag them back. Grasping the bars of the canoe, they managed to
scramble up the narrow beach with it, but before they could bear it to
safety, another wave caught them and flung them forward on their faces.
Jean lost his hold. But Etienne and Ronald clung to it, and, resisting
the pull of the water, managed to drag the boat forward into a thicket
above the reach of the waves.

The three were safe, though somewhat bruised and battered, but the canoe
was split and shattered by its rough handling, and, what was worse,
everything it had contained had been thrown out into the water. Scarcely
waiting to get their breaths, the castaways set about rescuing what they
could. By running down the narrow, slanting beach and plunging into the
water between waves, they managed to save the gun and one bow. In a
desperate attempt to rescue the package of food, Jean was caught by a
wave and might have been drowned, if Ronald had not seized him in time
and dragged him back. The bark-covered package was carried out to deep
water and disappeared. One of the blankets and the roll of apakwas were
flung high on shore, and caught in a stunted bush that ordinarily would
have been well above water line. Fortunately the three always carried
their light axes, their knives, fishing tackle and other little things
on their persons, so those were saved also. Everything else, including
the other blanket, the caribou hide, and the cedar cord net, was lost.




XXI

COMPELLED TO GIVE UP THE SEARCH


In the woods back from the beach, the castaways built a rough wigwam.
Even in the partial protection of the trees, it was hard work in the
driving rain and sleet, but all three were soaking wet and bitterly
chilled. They had to have shelter and warmth. Fortunately the roll of
apakwas had been saved. Poles were set up, and Nangotook and Jean,
beginning at the bottom, wrapped the apakwas around the framework, each
strip overlapping the one below, so that the water could not run down
between. More poles and branches were tied with withes over the bark
covering to hold it in place.

In the meantime Ronald had been cutting fuel. The wood was wet and
coated with ice. Even the Indian might have striven in vain for a blaze
had he not been lucky enough to find a small, dead birch, that
contained, within its protecting bark, dry heart wood that crumbled to
powder. With this tinder he succeeded in kindling bark and fine
shavings. Then he added dead limbs split into strips, and finally larger
birch wood and resinous spruce. On one side of the fire, which had been
made within the lodge, Ronald piled the wood he had cut, and on the
other the three crouched to dry their soaked clothes and warm their
chilled bodies. They had nothing to eat, and no way of getting anything
in the bitter, driving storm, which was continually growing worse.

A miserable night they spent in that rude shelter, huddled together on
damp evergreen branches, under their one remaining blanket, which they
had dried before the fire. Surf lashed the beach, and the wind roared in
the tree tops, that swayed and clashed together, the trunks creaking as
if they must snap off and be hurled down on the wigwam. Sleet and frozen
snow rattled on the bark covering. It was lucky indeed for the
treasure-seekers that they had been cast ashore before the storm reached
its height. Long before nightfall it had grown so violent that there was
not one chance in a thousand for a canoe to live through it.

The northeaster continued to rage with varying degrees of fury for two
more days. Rain, sleet and snow did not fall constantly, but came in
showers and squalls, with intervals between, while the gale blew
unceasingly, though not always with equal violence, and the sun never
showed itself. In the quieter intervals Nangotook and the boys cut fuel
for the fire and sought for food, but during the more furious spells
they were compelled to remain under shelter. Even if the canoe had not
been too badly damaged to float, they could not have gone on the water
to fish, and all efforts to catch anything from the shore failed. If
there were any animals in the vicinity, they were not abroad in the
storm, but remained snug in their holes and lairs, and, the ground being
covered with icy snow, no tracks revealed their hiding places. Nangotook
dug down through snow and ice for some roots he knew to be edible, and
the boys found a few hazelnuts. It was too late for berries; they had
all fallen or been eaten by birds and animals. So little could the
castaways find that was eatable that they were even glad of alder seeds.
Under-nourished as they were, they felt the chilling cold all the more
severely, and both boys agreed that they had never put through so
miserable a period as those three nights and two days.

It was no wonder that Nangotook felt this to be the final and
unmistakable warning of the manito that they must give up the search for
the treasure that belonged to him. On the second night of the storm he
had a dream that strengthened his conviction. Very seriously and
impressively he related the dream to the lads in the morning.

"While my body slept," he said, "Amik, the Great Beaver, appeared to me.
He was larger than the greatest moose. His body filled the wigwam. There
was no room for his tail, so it stuck out of the door. He looked at me
sternly, and in a voice that drowned the clashing of the trees in the
wind and the rattling of the sleet against the bark, he asked me why I
had not heeded the warnings. I tried to answer, but could not, for my
tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Then he spoke again, and forbade
me, and the white men with me, to go farther out into the lake. We must
turn back to shore, he said, and again he asked why I had not gone back
when I had been warned the first time, and the second time, and the
third time. Then I loosened my tongue from the roof of my mouth, and
answered that the white youths were young and rash and would not turn
back. 'The manitos of the waters and the islands are angry with you,'
Amik replied. 'If the white youths will not turn back, they must be
destroyed. I warn you because you are of my blood. Leave them to their
fate, and return to the shore before it is too late.' But I gathered up
my courage and answered Amik. 'Grandfather,' I said, 'I cannot leave
them. It was I who led them on this adventure, and if I should leave
them and go back without them, I should be a coward and dishonored. If
they must perish, I too must perish.' The Great Beaver looked at me, and
was silent a long time. 'If you will not leave them, make them turn
back,' he said, and his voice was like thunder rolling in the wigwam and
his look was even sterner than before. 'Make them turn back. The manitos
are angry. They lose patience. I have warned you.' And then he
disappeared and I woke, and the flesh stood up in little points all over
my body, and my tongue was dry, and my hair prickled at the roots, and I
knew I must heed Amik's warning. Turn back, my brothers, before it is
too late!"

Even Ronald felt no inclination to laugh at Nangotook's vision. While he
had no faith in such a creature as the Great Beaver, the dream itself
impressed him deeply. Belief in the mysterious character and meaning of
dreams was common among all men at that time. The boy was not less
superstitious than the average man of his period and race. From
childhood he had heard the Scottish tales of dreams and warnings and
second sight, and to these old world superstitions had been added
others native to the new world. He had refused to regard the northern
lights or the sudden appearance of the Sleeping Giant as a warning, but
such a dream as this was a different matter. In spite of its fantastic
form he felt, with the superstitious feeling of the time, that it might
be a real warning or foreshadowing of disaster to come. He strove to
shake off the impression the dream had made upon him, but found he could
not. Indeed it affected him even more than it seemed to affect Jean.

The storm could not last forever, and when, on the third morning, the
castaways found that the wind had abated and the sun was breaking
through the clouds, they were encouraged to believe that the worst was
over. They had thought themselves on a point of the main island, but
soon discovered that their refuge was in reality a narrow island about
two miles long. Other land lay close by, but before they could reach it
or even fish successfully, they must repair the canoe. So Etienne set
about the task, replacing the broken ribs and sheathing, sewing on
patches and gumming the strained seams. During the storm it had been
impossible to do such work in the open, and the hut had been too small
to hold both the canoe and its crew.

While Etienne worked on the canoe, the boys made another search for
food. Through the icy snow, which was disappearing rapidly wherever the
sun could reach it, they tramped and scrambled about among the trees and
along the pebbly beaches, rocks and boulders, but obtained nothing
except a few hazelnuts and one squirrel that Ronald killed with a
stone.

Jean caught sight of the glossy brown, rat-like head of a mink swimming
near shore, saw the head go under suddenly, and waited to see if the
small fisher would secure its prey. In a moment the head reappeared, and
the slim-bodied little animal swam to shore, a small fish in its mouth.
It laid the fish down to kill it by biting it through the neck, but at
that instant Jean sprang forward. A mink is very fierce and brave for
its size, and this one stood over its catch for a moment snarling, then,
with an almost incredibly swift movement, seized the fish, turned and
took to the water. Farther along the bank it landed again, and, like a
brown streak, it was away and out of sight, long before the boy had gone
half-way to its landing place. His plan to frighten it, so it would leave
its catch, had failed completely.

The canoe having been repaired, and a slender meal of squirrel broth and
hazelnuts eaten, the three set out from the south shore of the little
island. To the southwest, separated by a very narrow channel, was more
land. The water was quiet, and they paddled slowly along, fishing lines
out. Soon they discovered that they were in a bay, the land closing in
ahead of them. Lake herring were jumping about them, and, with a bark
scoop attached to a pole, Ronald succeeded in taking a few to be used as
bait for larger fish. The fishermen circled the bay, and rounded a point
almost opposite the southern end of the island where they had been
storm-bound. They found themselves in a very narrow cove, scarcely a
quarter of a mile broad in its widest part and perhaps two miles long.
In that narrow harbor they caught in quick succession, with the herring
bait, three large pickerel, each one giving them a lively fight before
it was landed. Another they lost when it snapped the line. Elated over
their good luck, they returned to their camp to clean and cook their
fish.

The hearty meal put new strength into the boys, and for the first time
since they were cast ashore in the storm they felt equal to making plans
for the future. The prospect was serious enough. October, "the moon of
the falling leaf," as the Ojibwa called it, had come, and the storm and
snow of the last few days had given the wanderers a foretaste of winter.
There might be, probably would be, many good days before winter set in
in earnest, but on the other hand, they knew that genuine winter might
come at any time, for the autumn season on Lake Superior is a very
uncertain one. Real winter might hold off until well into November or
December and give them time to reach the Sault in safety, but it had
been known to arrive in October. They could put little trust in the
weather, and the way back to the River Ste. Marie was long. Moreover if
they were to make the journey with any show of speed, they must be
provisioned for it. The first necessity was a supply of food.

Even Ronald had given up hope of finding the Island of Yellow Sands that
year. They could spend no more time in seeking for it. The risk of the
search, in the autumn storms and rough weather, had become too great
even for him. The adventurers had been almost miraculously saved three
times, from thunder storm, fog and northeaster, but surely it would be
tempting Providence to undertake any more such rash voyages. He did not
admit that Nangotook's dream had anything to do with his decision, but
in reality the dream had not been without influence. Had conditions been
favorable, the warning alone would not have turned him back, though it
might have made him apprehensive and uneasy, but all the conditions were
unfavorable, and common sense and superstition both urged abandonment of
the search.

Nangotook emphatically declared that he would have nothing to do with
any further search for the island that autumn. He could never look
Jean's father in the face again, he said, if he did not take the boy
back safe. The Indian showed such determination that the boys realized
nothing could move him from his decision. He would find some means of
preventing the others from making another attempt, if they showed any
disposition to do so. "He would knock us over the head to keep us quiet,
and paddle off with us in the opposite direction, if he could not handle
us any other way," Ronald confided to Jean later.

So, with reluctance, but from a necessity they could not blind their
eyes to, the boys postponed the search for the golden island, and turned
their thoughts to getting back to the Sault. To strike out directly for
the north shore seemed as perilous as seeking the island. Yet they must
reach the mainland some way. Nangotook counseled that, instead of
traveling to the north, they try to reach the northwest shore, Grande
Portage, if possible, by going west. They were now somewhere on the
northwest side of Minong. A number of years before, Nangotook, with
others of his tribe, had crossed to the island from a point on the shore
a little to the north of Grande Portage. They had steered southeast, he
said, and making the journey between sunrise and noon, had reached
Minong at its lower end. From there they had gone northeast along the
shore of the island to a cove with a narrow entrance, where they had
obtained a store of copper. The band or bracelet, decorated with a
pattern of incised lines, which he wore on his arm, was made from that
copper, he said. Returning the same way, they had again crossed safely.
The leader of the party had said that his tribe, from times long past,
had always taken that route to Minong, because the distance from the
shore was shortest that way. If the weather turned bad, the trip from
the lower end of the island to the cove, where copper was so plentiful,
could be made overland. The Ojibwa advised accordingly that the three
try first to make their way along shore, by water if they could, by land
if necessary, to the southwest end of the island, and then across to
Grande Portage. There they could get a supply of food and ammunition,
blankets and other things for the long trip to the Sault, or, if winter
came early, they might remain at the Portage until spring. His plan
seemed a wise one, and the lads readily agreed to it. There was
something cheering in the thought that the trading post at the Grande
Portage lay no farther away. Surely there was a good chance of reaching
it before winter set in. The Sault de Ste. Marie seemed terribly
remote.




XXII

THE INDIAN MINES


Because of the necessity of obtaining food, it was not likely that the
trip to the southwest end of Minong could be made continuously, but
Nangotook and the boys agreed to start in that direction on the
following morning and go as far as they could. They paddled up the bay
they had named Pickerel Cove, but the fish were not biting. The head of
the cove was separated from the open lake by a narrow bit of land, so
they went ashore and carried the canoe across. Jean remarked that there
was one advantage in having no food or equipment. Portaging was made
easy.

When they reached the lake they found the water rough, but they managed
to go on along the shore, and across the mouth of a small bay. Rounding
a point beyond, they came to the entrance of another larger bay. After
one swift glance about him, Nangotook gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"Know this place," he said over his shoulder. "Place where copper is. We
get some for arrowheads."

The boys were ready to agree to the proposal, especially when the Indian
explained that beyond the bay lay a stretch of steep, continuous cliffs,
affording no shelter and perilous to skirt in the increasing north wind.
Entering the bay was difficult enough, for treacherous reefs and rocks
surrounded and extended into its mouth. Nangotook picked the channel
wisely, however, and piloted the canoe safely through the dangerous
entrance. He had said that copper stones could be picked up from the
beaches, so a landing was made on a stretch of gravel protected by the
point they had just rounded.

The beach was disappointing. Bits and grains of pure copper were strewn
about, both above and below the water line, but they were all so small
that a great many would have to be melted together to make one
arrowhead. After searching for larger pieces and failing to find them,
the Ojibwa shook his head, muttered the one word "Ka-win-ni-shi-shin,"
"no good," and turned back to the canoe.

Jean and Ronald followed him, and they paddled along the beach, rounded
another point and landed on the other side of it, on the north shore of
a little inlet that opened from the large bay and ran at right angles to
it. This place was evidently an old camping ground, for bleached and
decaying lodge-poles were standing a little back from the shore.
Nangotook was sure they were the remains of the wigwam he and his
companions had built on his former visit to the island. After examining
the ground carefully, he said he did not think any one had camped there
since. The summit of the hill, that rose to the north of the camping
ground, had been a good place for hares, he added. He would go and set
some snares, while the boys fished.

The lads were disappointed at not being shown at once the rich stores of
copper that Nangotook had led them to believe were to be found in this
place, but food was always a necessity. When the canoe had been
overturned in the surf, they had saved the gun and one bow, but they had
no ammunition and no arrows. So they went to fishing cheerfully enough.
By the time the Indian returned from setting his snares, they had caught
two small lake trout. They cleaned and cooked their catch, but to their
surprise Nangotook refused to touch the food. He did not want anything
to eat, he said.

After the meal, the three took to the canoe and went on up the bay. It
proved to be a long and narrow cove, which cut at an angle through
alternating wooded ridges and valleys. The long bays they had visited
before had lain _between_ ridges, that stretched parallel with the
waters, but this one occupied a break in the hills, as if it had been
cut through them. Landing on the west side, the Indian led the boys up a
thickly forested ridge. As they neared the top, Jean caught sight of
something that aroused his interest. He turned from Nangotook's trail,
and began pushing through a thicket. Suddenly he gave a sharp cry and
disappeared. Ronald, who was only a few paces ahead of his friend,
turned back at once. Making his way through the underbrush more
cautiously than Jean had done, Ronald found himself balancing on the
very edge of a deep hole. At the bottom Jean was just picking himself
up, more surprised than hurt.

"Tonnerre," he exclaimed indignantly, "who would have looked for such a
pit on the side of a hill? I was going along all right, and then, all
of a sudden, I was down here."

"You are in too much haste to dig for the red metal, little brother,"
Nangotook called to him. The Indian had reached the edge of the hole
almost as quickly as Ronald, and stood grinning down on Jean.

"What do you mean by that, Etienne?" the lad answered, as he began to
climb up the steep and ragged slope. "What has digging for copper to do
with my falling into this pit?"

The Ojibwa made no answer until Jean had reached the top. Then with a
gesture that embraced the hole and its sides, he asked abruptly: "What
think my brothers of this place?"

Puzzled by his question, the boys glanced around. The pit was roughly
oval in shape, and perhaps thirty feet deep. Its steep sides were of
rock, bare in some places, in others clothed with bushes and moss. In
the bottom grew a clump of good sized birch trees, that partly concealed
the opposite side of the depression.

"'Tis a queer looking hole to be found on the side of a hill as Jean
says," Ronald remarked, as his eyes took in the details. "It looks
almost as if it had been dug by the hand of man."

"And so it was," Nangotook replied, "by the hand of man or manito, I
know not which. This is one of the pits where, many winters ago, my
people took out the red metal that the white man calls copper."

"Do you mean this is a savage mine?" cried Jean excitedly. "Surely no
one has worked it for years. See how the trees and bushes have covered
it."

"That is true, little brother. I can show you many such holes on the
hills around this inlet of the waters, and I know of but one where
copper has been taken out either in my time or in my father's. They are
very old, these holes, and no one knows surely who first made them.
There is a tale that they were dug by the manitos of the island. One of
my people, many winters ago, did a service to the manitos, and in return
they showed him how to break up the rock and take out the red metal.
Then they gave to him and to those who should come after him the right
to carry it away. The good fathers say that such tales are not true, but
I know not. This I know, only a certain brotherhood of my people has the
privilege of breaking off the copper, though any one may gather the
pieces that lie about the shores. Of that brotherhood I am a member."

It occurred to Jean to wonder what the manitos, if there were such
beings, would think of Nangotook's bringing to the copper mines two
white men, who according to the Indian opinion had no right whatever to
touch the metal. But he did not put his thought into words. If the idea
had not occurred to Nangotook, the lad certainly did not wish to put it
into his head. Instead he asked: "But how do your people work these
mines without tools?"

The Ojibwa picked up from the edge of the pit a smooth, rounded boulder
and handed it to Jean. It was hard and heavy, weighing about ten pounds.
"This is one of the tools," he remarked briefly.

"You make game of us," Jean retorted. "How can you mine copper by means
of a stone like this?"

"That I will show you to-morrow."

"To-morrow?" cried Ronald. "Why wait so long, when we need copper for
our arrowheads? Isn't there some place about here where we can dig out
or pick up enough at once, so we can be on our way to-morrow?"

The Indian shook his head. "Pieces on the shore all little and no good,"
he said. "I will show you more holes like this. Then we go back to camp.
I will make ready, and to-morrow we come again for copper."

The boys knew from his tone that he had made up his mind, and that
argument would be of no use whatever, so they followed him silently
around the edge of the pit. He led them up the ridge and across the
summit, calling their attention to other holes, varying in size and
depth. Many were mere shallow depressions almost filled with soil, and
all were more or less overgrown with trees and bushes. The boys would
not have recognized most of these places as ancient mines, if Nangotook
had not pointed them out. In some of them grew spruces of a height and
girth to prove that the pits had not been mined for at least a hundred,
perhaps several hundred, years. Round boulders, more or less embedded in
earth and leaf mold, showed here and there among the underbrush, and the
boys dug up several to examine them. They found them all of the same
hard, dark stone. Many were broken and chipped, and the lads concluded
that they must have been used as hammers to break up the rock.

The pits seemed to run in rows across the ridge top, following veins of
metal, and the boys marveled at the patient labor that had been spent on
them. With the primitive tools the savages had used, many, many years
must have been consumed in excavating the holes, especially if, as
Nangotook had said, mining operations had been confined to some one
brotherhood or society of medicine men. It seemed unlikely that even the
chosen clan had ever spent all of its time in mining. Probably its
members only visited the island occasionally and stayed for a few days
or weeks, taking out a little of the metal and carrying it away in their
canoes. Utensils and ornaments of copper were not uncommon among the
Indians, and the metal must have been much more in demand before the
white man introduced iron kettles and steel knives.

The explorers did not go down the other side of the ridge, which was
steep and abrupt, but turned back and descended the more gradual slope
they had come up, finding old pits most of the way to the base. The
place was of great interest to the boys and they were reluctant to leave
it, but Nangotook seemed to have some urgent reason for getting back to
camp. When they arrived there, he borrowed the knife he had given to
Ronald, saying he wanted to make something, and then told the lads that
he wished to be left alone and that they had better go fish.

Understanding that his preparations for mining, whatever they might be,
were of some secret nature, connected undoubtedly with the superstitions
and ritual of the mining clan, Ronald and Jean launched the canoe again
and paddled up the cove. Their fishing was successful, and, after they
had caught enough for supper and breakfast, they decided to explore the
cove to its head. A little beyond the place where they had landed with
Nangotook, Jean called Ronald's attention to a big, white-headed eagle
perched on a dead limb of a tall, isolated pine near the shore. While
they were watching the bird, it suddenly spread its great wings, left
its perch and sailed away. As the boys drew near the spot, they could
see, far up in the tall tree, a solid mass of something. "An eagle's
nest," cried Ronald. "I never had a good look at one." And he turned the
canoe towards shore.

"There will be no young. They have flown long ere this," Jean answered,
"and the nest is only a collection of sticks."

"I'm going to have a look at it though," was Ronald's reply. And he did,
climbing at least fifty feet up the tall pine to examine the nest of
sticks and moss. He found it to be five feet or more across the top and
at least as many deep, and he guessed from its construction that it had
been used for several years, additions having been built on every year.
Before he descended, he took a long look from his high perch over water,
shore and woods. As he glanced about, his eye was arrested by something
that surprised him greatly. From a clump of birches at the foot of a
slope across the cove, a slender thread of smoke was ascending. It was
a very faint wisp of white, as if from a small, clear flamed cooking
fire, but the lad's eyes were keen and he was sure he could not be
deceived. As soon as he had made certain that it was really smoke he
saw, he descended quickly and told Jean of the discovery.

"It may be merely an Indian or two come here for copper," he said.

"And it may be Le Forgeron Tordu still on our track," Jean added.

"If it is, he'll gain nothing by following us now," Ronald replied. "We
shall not lead him to the Island of Yellow Sands this year, that is
certain."

"No," answered Jean with a laugh, "if he is following us for that, we
have cheated him sorely. We may take that much comfort for not having
found the island ourselves. He will be in a fine rage when he discovers
he has had his journey all for nothing."

"He will surely," Ronald chuckled, "but," he added more seriously,
"he'll seek some way to make us smart for the trick we've played him, we
may be sure of that. He'll hate us more deeply, and Le Forgeron's hate
is not to be despised."

"It were best for us to keep out of his way then," the French youth
replied soberly. "It may be that he does not know yet that we are
anywhere near. Instead of going on to the end of this bay, we will
return and tell Etienne what we have seen. If he chooses, he can spy
upon that camp. We had best leave such spying to him, who is more
skilled at it than we are."

For once Ronald agreed to the more cautious course. As they returned
down the cove, they caught a glimpse of three caribou on an open slope,
and the sight almost drove the thought of the Twisted Blacksmith out of
their heads. The hillside was probably a regular feeding ground, for,
even from the water, the light colored patches of reindeer moss could be
seen plainly among the dark green trailing juniper. A caribou would
furnish a good supply of meat for the three, as soon as they had the
means to shoot it. To secure such large game with bow and arrow would
not be easy, for they would have to creep up very close for a good shot,
but they had confidence in Etienne's skill with the bow, if not in their
own.

The lads reached their camping ground just as the sun was setting, eager
to tell the Ojibwa of the wisp of smoke and the caribou, but they did
not have a chance that night. He was nowhere to be seen when they
landed. On searching for him, they came upon a small lodge of bark and
poles concealed behind a clump of birches, several hundred yards from
their camp. The lodge was tightly closed, and steam was issuing in wisps
from little interstices between the bark sheets. The Indian had built a
sweating lodge, and had sealed himself up in it. On red hot stones he
had thrown water to make a steam bath. His tunic, leggings and moccasins
hanging on a tree were further proof of what he was about.

"This is why he would not eat," said Jean. "He was fasting, and now he
is purifying himself after the savage custom. That is what he meant by
preparing for the mining. It is doubtless part of the ceremony
performed by the savage miners whenever they come to Minong."

Ronald shook his head. "If all the savages, who pretend to be
Christians, go back to their old heathen customs whenever occasion
offers, as Etienne does, I fear they're not very well converted," he
said.

Jean nodded. "The good fathers thought him one of the best," he replied,
"and indeed he is. My father says Etienne comes nearer to living a
Christian life than any other savage convert he has ever known. But I am
afraid it takes many years and much care and teaching to purge out the
old heathen notions from the heart of a savage. Their people have been
heathens for so long, you see, and they have so many customs and
ceremonies and traditions that have come down from generation to
generation. Perhaps we need not wonder that they are not made into new
men in a few years."




XXIII

MINING AND HUNTING


When Etienne emerged from the sweating lodge, he took a swift dip in the
lake, but refused to eat, and went at once to his couch of balsam
branches. It was not until morning that the boys told him about the
smoke wisp Ronald had seen and the caribou on the ridge. He made no
comment and again refused food. While the lads were preparing breakfast,
he went to examine his snares, and returned with two hares. The
appearance of the animals was a strong reminder that winter was not far
off, for they had begun to change their grayish-brown summer coats for
the winter white. The feet, ears, nose, front of the head and part of
the legs of one of them were conspicuously white, though the rest of its
fur remained brown. The coats of the others did not show so much change.

After the lads had finished their breakfast, the three launched the
canoe, putting into it a cedar shovel and three large birch buckets the
Indian had made. They went ashore not far from their former place of
landing, and Nangotook led them to the foot of a ridge, where a stream
flowed through a narrow, swampy valley. There they filled the buckets,
and then climbed up a well defined and partly cleared trail to the
summit. Close to the edge they came upon a pit that showed plain signs
of having been worked in recent years. It was without trees or bushes,
though the sides were partly covered with moss and trailing plants. On
the bottom, surrounded by leaves, sticks and earth, and standing in
shallow water, which, that morning, bore a thin coating of ice, was a
detached mass of rock that might have weighed two tons. Even from the
edge of the hole, Jean and Ronald could see that the rock was composed
largely of copper. A primitive ladder, made of a single pole with cross
pieces tied on with strips of rawhide, rested against the side of the
pit. Though grayed and stained by the weather, the ladder seemed
perfectly sound, and the boys scrambled down, eager to examine the rock
mass.

They found that the copper rock rested on poles, and was held away from
the farther wall of the pit by the trunk of a tree wedged behind it.
Around it, in the shallow water and leaves, were many stone hammers,
most of them broken, and heaps of charred and blackened sticks. Jean,
poking about in the rubbish to get out one of the round stones,
uncovered a large bowl of cedar wood, that had been almost entirely
buried. Nangotook had not followed the lads down into the pit. Looking
up, they noticed that he had kindled a small fire almost on the edge,
and was carefully placing something in the flames.

"He is making a sacrifice," whispered Jean to Ronald, "that is what he
brought the fish head for."

Nangotook had carried with him from camp a fish's head carefully wrapped
in a bit of birch bark. From the odor that drifted down to them, the
boys knew he had also offered up some of his precious kinni-kinnik,
tobacco mixed with bearberry leaves. Standing on the edge of the pit as
the burnt offering was consumed, he gazed down at the copper rock and
said a few words in his own language. Then, apparently satisfied that
the required ceremonies had all been performed, he climbed down the
ladder and prepared to begin work.

With the cedar shovel, he scraped off the rubbish that had accumulated
on top of the rock. The pure copper showed plainly in a number of
places, but it was evident that much work had been done on the mass, for
all the knobs and projections had been hammered away, leaving the
surface almost smooth. There seemed to be no place where any of the
metal could be broken off, and the boys wondered how Nangotook would
manage without steel tools. The Indian did not seem concerned, however.
He examined the surface carefully, then ordered the lads to collect
kindling and fuel. One side of the mass was composed of what appeared to
be a thin sheet of dark rock. On top, just where the free copper and
this dark rock came together, Nangotook made a fire, feeding it until it
burned hot and clear. When he thought the surface had been heated
sufficiently, he hastily scraped off the embers, and picking up a bucket
of water he had placed within reach, dashed it quickly over the hot
rock. A cloud of steam arose, there was a sharp, cracking report, and a
thin piece of rock split off from the mass and fell into the puddle
below. Seizing the second pail, which Ronald swung up to him, the Indian
emptied it, then followed with the third. The cold water striking the
hot surface had split off a part of the sheet of dark rock, but had not
exposed enough of the copper to satisfy the Indian miner. Twice he
repeated the process, making a hot fire, raking it off when the rock was
thoroughly heated, and throwing cold water on it. After the third
operation he gave a grunt of satisfaction. A ledge of copper lay
exposed.

Raising one of the heavy stones, he struck it against the exposed metal
and broke off a small corner. Pure copper is a comparatively soft metal,
and heating and dashing with cold water anneals or softens it still
more. With a heavy stone maul and, part of the time, with the aid of a
wedge-shaped piece of hard rock used as a chisel, Nangotook hammered and
split off pieces of the metal. The boys would gladly have helped him
with his laborious mining, but he would not let them take part in the
actual operations. They might carry water from the stream, gather fuel
for the fire, find and hand him another stone sledge when he splintered
the one he was using, but the actual processes of fire making, rock
splitting and beating off copper, he would not permit them to share.
Evidently by Ojibwa tradition, this peculiar mining had something of a
sacred or mysterious character, and, to his mind, must be performed by
one of his own medicine clan, duly appointed, initiated and trained for
the work. The boys knew enough of Indian customs to understand this, so
they did not urge their help upon him, but merely obeyed orders.

Such mining was slow work. The rock had to be heated and cooled several
times, and the wielding of the stone maul was heavy labor, but at last
Nangotook obtained copper enough for his immediate purpose. As they were
returning down the cove, he told the boys that the pit where they had
been working was the same he and his companions had taken metal from on
his previous visit to the island, and the only one he knew of that had
been worked in recent years. Jean had picked up a stone hammer with a
groove around it, and he showed it to the Indian and asked him what the
groove was for. Nangotook answered that a handle of some sort had been
attached to the boulder. One of the party he had come to the island with
had used such a hammer, he remembered, with a withe twisted about it to
hold it by, but he had broken the stone and had thrown it aside.
Nangotook thought this might be the very stone. It was not customary to
use handles, he said, but he did not know why. Ronald asked how the
copper mass came to be in the bottom of the pit. Had it been split off
from the side, or was it found by digging down? Nangotook could not
answer the question. The rock had been in the same place when he was
there before, though then it was well covered with moss and earth, as if
it had not been disturbed for a number of years. The tree trunk wedged
behind it had been there too, but he and his companions had made the
ladder.

No wisp of smoke, was to be seen where Ronald had noticed it the day
before, but caribou were again discovered feeding on the ridge, near the
spot where the lads had caught a glimpse of them.

The rest of the day and evening were spent in bow and arrow making.
Laying a piece of copper on a hard, smooth stone, Nangotook hammered it
out with another stone, heating the metal and plunging it in water from
time to time, to keep it soft enough to be worked without cracking. When
it was hammered out thin at the edge, he could cut it with a knife.
After an arrowhead had been properly shaped, he went over it carefully
with light, quick blows, to harden it as much as possible without
getting it out of shape. Even at the best, copper heads were somewhat
soft, but they did not split and warp like bone tips. Their main
advantage over stone ones was that they could be made in much less time.
Moreover flints suitable for arrowheads were difficult to find.
Nangotook made a few sharp pointed bone tips in addition to the copper
ones. The latter were attached to shafts of serviceberry wood in the
same way as the flint and bone heads, and the shafts were straightened
by being pulled through the hole in the piece of bone the Indian had
used in his former arrow making. A gull, which Jean caught in a snare,
baited with a piece of fish and set on the rocks, furnished feathers for
the arrows. Hawk or eagle feathers would have been better, Nangotook
insisted, but he had no way of obtaining either without ammunition or
finished arrows. He also made another bow, using hare sinew well twisted
and braided.

The weather next day was favorable for continuing the journey, but the
lads were eager for a caribou hunt, not only for the sake of the sport,
but because they sorely needed the nourishing meat. So departure was
postponed. When the three reached the place where the animals had been
seen the day before, they found distinct trails running in two
directions. As they had guessed, the rocky ridge, where the reindeer
lichen grew in abundance, was a favorite caribou resort. The hunters
decided to separate, Nangotook following one trail and the boys the
other. They had only two bows, so Ronald was without a weapon.

Along the top of the ridge, the lads followed the trail, going quietly
and cautiously not to disturb the game, if it should happen to be near
by. As Jean, who was in advance with the bow, rounded a thicket of
leafless bushes, he came upon a place where fire, kindled perhaps by
lightning striking a tree, had swept the ridge summit. Small birches,
alders and low bushes had grown up among the fallen and standing
skeletons of the evergreens, and, scratching about among the underbrush
and fallen leaves, were a flock of birds. With a backward gesture, Jean
motioned to Ronald, who was just behind him, to stand still. Creeping
forward a little to get within range, he fitted an arrow to the string,
drew it back and let fly. So swiftly and noiselessly did the arrow
pierce the bird, that the rest of the flock did not take fright, and
Jean had a chance to make a second shot. That time the whistling of the
shaft alarmed the birds. Some of them ran off into the brush, while
three rose with a loud whirring noise and a swift direct flight that
carried them out of range in a moment. However, Jean had secured two
plump, full grown, sharp-tailed grouse. The hunting expedition had
begun well.

Not far beyond the spot where Jean killed the grouse, the boys came to a
fresh caribou trail, made that morning they were sure, which crossed the
older one. They followed the new track, going more cautiously than ever,
for the beast might be just ahead. The trail led them down the side of
the ridge, and across a bog covered with sphagnum moss stiff with the
frost of the night before. There the animal had stopped several times to
feed. After a somewhat winding course through the bog, it had climbed
another hill beyond.

Jean had a feeling that, when he came to the top of that hill, he would
find his game sunning itself in the open. So he bade Ronald keep back,
and went very carefully. Through a leafless bush he caught sight of
spreading antlers. Cautiously he crept around the bush. He could see the
animal's head and horns above a clump of tiny balsams, but the little
trees hid the body. Moreover the range was too great for Jean's skill
and strength. Etienne might have sent a shaft from that distance with a
strong enough pull to pierce his game, but Jean felt sure that he could
not do so. He must go nearer. Fortunately the wind was blowing towards
the hunter, and the beast was wholly unaware of the danger threatening.
It lowered its head to graze, and Jean crept forward towards the clump
of balsams. He reached them safely, without betraying himself by so much
as a snapped twig or the rustle of a dry leaf. Crouching behind the
little trees, he peeped around them.

The caribou's body was plainly exposed, and so close that the boy felt
he could not miss. Straightening himself suddenly but noiselessly, he
drew back his bowstring and let fly. He struck the beast squarely, but
though he had aimed for the heart, his arrow evidently did not pierce
that vital spot. The caribou felt the sting of the wound, sprang into
the air and was off at a great pace. After it sped Jean, his moccasined
feet scarcely seeming to touch the rocks, moss and intervening low
bushes, as he cleared them.




XXIV

NANGOTOOK'S DISAPPEARANCE


Had the caribou not been badly wounded, pursuit would have been
hopeless, but it was bleeding freely, as its trail showed. Nevertheless
it led the boys a long chase, down the hillside, along thickly wooded,
low ground, through a gap between ridges and to the edge of a brook.
There, exhausted by loss of blood, it sank down among the thick
underbrush. But when it caught sound or scent of the hunters, the beast
struggled to its feet again, and attempted to cross the stream. Jean,
pushing through the bushes, caught sight of it, and let fly another
arrow. He hit his mark, and the caribou fell before it could reach the
other side.

After the lads had recovered their breath, they pulled the dead animal
out of the shallow water. To take such a load up the ridge would be hard
work, and Ronald suggested that they try following the brook.

"It empties into the cove of course," he said. "When we reach there, one
of us can go back along shore for the canoe."

The banks of the brook were thickly covered with trees and bushes. With
their heavy load tied to a pole and carried between them, the boys made
slow progress. More than once they wished they had turned back the other
way. At last they came to a place where the brook rippled down a slope
into a marsh, and joined a larger stream that wound sluggishly, in many
turns and twists, through the tall, ripe grass and sedges. On the
farther side of the larger stream was a dense belt of leafless shrubs
that appeared to stand almost in the water, and beyond them thick cedar
woods.

"Now where are we?" exclaimed Ronald disgustedly. "It seems I guessed
wrong about this little brook. I never thought of its emptying into
another stream."

"I'm not sure you were so very wrong," Jean replied. "We could see when
we paddled up the cove that it was low and swampy at its head. This may
well be the very swamp. If we follow it we can soon discover."

Accordingly, turning to the north, they made their way along the higher
ground. The marsh was roughly triangular in shape and, as they went on
towards its base, they soon found that Jean was right. Beyond a belt of
rushes and other aquatic plants, the waters of the cove came in view.
When the boys reached the shore, Jean offered to go for the canoe while
Ronald kept watch over the game. Ronald did not like inaction, but he
knew his friend was the better woodsman, and could make his way through
the forest and over rough ground almost as rapidly and tirelessly as
Nangotook himself. So the Scotch lad set himself to wait as patiently as
he could.

The cove was longer, and the distance from the head to the place where
the hunters had first landed was considerably farther, than Jean had
thought. He had supposed that he might have half a mile to go, but it
was really two or three times that far. He found the canoe safe, and saw
no sign of the Indian's having returned from the hunt.

To let Nangotook know who had taken the canoe and when, the boy left an
Indian sign. He drove a straight stick in the ground in an open place
and scratched a line in the earth along the shadow the stick cast. When
Nangotook returned, he would be able to tell, from the difference in the
position of the shadow at that time and the mark on the ground, how far
the sun had traveled in the meantime. On a piece of birch bark Jean
scratched with the point of his knife a large J and beneath it two
arrows pointing opposite ways. This bit of bark he pegged to the ground
beside the stick, with one arrow pointing up the cove, the other down,
signs of the way he had gone and that he would return.

When the two lads reached the rendezvous again with their game, they
rather expected to find Nangotook waiting for them. He was not there, so
they decided to go on to camp. Ronald helped Jean to dress and cut up
the caribou. Then, leaving his companion to begin the drying process, he
went back for the Ojibwa.

The hunter had not arrived, and there was nothing to do but wait. Ronald
occupied the time in fishing, paddling about where he would be in plain
sight from shore and could be easily hailed. The afternoon drew to a
close, and still Nangotook did not return.

"He must have followed his game a long way," thought Ronald, "or else he
missed the caribou entirely and is looking for other tracks. We'll have
the laugh on him if he fails to get anything."

The sun had set behind threatening clouds, and, as darkness deepened,
Ronald became a little uneasy. Could anything have happened to
Nangotook, he wondered, but he put the idea out of his head. The Indian
was abundantly able to take care of himself. He had merely gone far in
pursuit of game. It was slow work coming back in the darkness,
especially if he were heavily loaded.

Ronald went ashore, kindled a cooking fire and broiled a fish for his
supper. He was sorry he had not brought some of the fresh meat with him,
but he had not expected to stay so long. After he had finished his meal,
he sat down on a fallen tree beside his little fire and waited as
patiently as he could.

Time dragged slowly. Ronald was meditatively chewing a wintergreen leaf
and thinking back over the search for the golden sands, when he was
startled by an owl that hooted from a tree above his head, the
long-drawn, blood-chilling, hunting cry of the great horned owl. The big
bird swooped down suddenly and flew out over the water with noiseless
wings. A little later he heard its call again from far away. There was a
scratching on the bark of a tall tree near by, and for a moment a red
squirrel broke out in peevish chattering. Ronald half rose from his
seat, thinking the little animal's excitement might mean Nangotook's
approach. But no one appeared and all was silent again, except for the
faint lapping of the water and the monotonous rustling of the spruce
needles in the light breeze.

The night was growing very chilly, and the boy replenished his fire,
regretting that he had not gathered more fuel while he could see to get
it. Clouds covered the sky and the darkness was thick. He fell into a
doze, from which he woke suddenly, as a small, slim, black form glided
by his feet and disappeared in the water. The mink had made no sound,
but its mere presence had somehow served to arouse his suspicious
senses. The fire was almost out. As the boy stooped to put on the last
of his wood, he heard in the distance the snarling, cat-like screech of
a lynx. He made an instinctive movement of disgust. He loathed lynxes
more than any other animal, the treacherous, cruel cats. Most beasts had
something noble about them, however fierce they might be, he thought,
but in the lynx he could see no good whatever. He remembered the time
the cat had fallen through the roof of the shelter, and the scrimmage he
and Jean had had with the beast. That was the night Etienne had heard Le
Forgeron and had found his footprints and those of his companion. Then a
disturbing thought flashed into the boy's mind, and he sat upright on
his log, wide awake.

Could it be that Le Forgeron was preventing Etienne's return? Had it
been the smoke from the Blacksmith's fire he had seen, and had Le
Forgeron by some trick waylaid the Indian and killed him or badly
injured him? Ronald had no doubt of the fight Nangotook would put up if
attacked. But if he had been taken by surprise and attacked two to
one---- A dash of rain interrupted the lad's thoughts. He had no idea
how far advanced the night was, for the stars were all obscured. He
sprang up, groped his way to the canoe, turned it over, propped up one
side with the paddles, and crept under it. By the time he had settled
himself, the rain was coming down hard.

Ronald slept no more that night. His mind was too full of anxiety, his
apprehensions and imagination too wide awake. He tried to convince
himself that Nangotook had gone too far in pursuit of game to get back
before dark, so had camped and waited for daylight. The lad could
convince his reason of all this but not his imagination. It kept
picturing to him how the Ojibwa might have been ambushed or waylaid by
his enemies, and left dead in his tracks. He began to worry about Jean
alone in the camp. If the evil Frenchman had made way with Nangotook,
would not the next move be to steal upon the camp at night and get Jean
also? At that point in his imaginings, common sense reasserted itself.
What possible reason could the Frenchman have for destroying them all?
If he knew why they had come back to the lake, and was following them,
he would surely not want to put them out of the way until they had led
him to the golden sands. "But," whispered his imagination, "he might
work to separate you and get rid of you two boys. He _did_ try to get
rid of _you_ when he knocked you over the cliff. He might think he could
force or bribe Nangotook to lead him to the island." In such manner the
lad's thoughts and feelings argued with one another through the rest of
the night, which seemed to him well-nigh endless.

Dawn came at last, and Ronald crawled out of his shelter. The rain had
ceased, but the morning was cold and raw, and he was stiff and
shivering. He had made up his mind to return to camp first and see if
Jean was safe. Then they would cache their meat supply, come back, and
follow Nangotook's trail, to find out what had become of him.

Ronald paddled back to the camping ground at his best speed. When he
entered the little bay he was relieved to see Jean.

Jean turned at Ronald's shout. Seeing the latter returning alone, he
stared in amazement, and then ran down to the water calling out
questions. When he had heard Ronald's story, his anxiety was even
greater than his comrade's, for Nangotook had always been a devoted
friend to him, and Jean was very fond of the Indian. Hurriedly the two
took the meat from the fire, wrapped it in bark, and hung it in a tree
for safe keeping. Then, waiting only long enough to eat a little of the
broiled meat, they launched the canoe and made speed back to the place
where Ronald had passed the night. Before taking to the trail, however,
they carried the canoe some distance from the landing place, hid it in a
thicket, and did their best to erase all signs that might lead to its
discovery. If Le Forgeron Tordu were anywhere about, the lads had no
intention of letting him steal the canoe while they were searching for
Nangotook.




XXV

THE RED SPOT AMONG THE GREEN


Jean and Ronald went first to the spot on the ridge where the three
hunters had separated. From there they attempted to trace the caribou
trail Nangotook had set out to follow. It was a well traveled track,
which had evidently been much used by the animals, and was not difficult
to follow for a mile or more. Then the boys lost it in a bog, where the
rain of the night before had soaked the spongy moss and had caused it to
expand and blot out all tracks. There were plenty of evidences that
caribou had visited the place more than once. Here and there plants and
bushes had been nibbled and cropped, and small trees had been stripped
of bark and branches far above where hares could reach. Evidently the
caribou had wandered about all over the bog to feed, but had made no
well defined trail through it.

When the lads tried to determine which way the animals had gone, and
Nangotook after them, they encountered a difficult problem. In the woods
that encircled the wetter and more open part of the bog, there were half
a dozen breaks where caribou might have gone through and where the
Indian might have followed their tracks. Jean and Ronald examined all of
the openings, and tried to decide which one Nangotook had probably used.
The ground was still spongy, and the rain had obliterated all
footprints. The trees and bushes around one of the openings showed
signs of recent nibbling, however, and the boys decided to try that one.
But they had not gone far when they lost all trace of the trail, if
trail it really was. There were no more nibbled trees, and no
indications that any animal had ever been through the thick tangle of
standing and fallen cedar and black spruce.

The two retraced their steps to the bog, and tried another of the
openings, to meet with a similar disappointment. The third attempt was
more successful. The track was faint indeed, so faint that Ronald could
never have followed it if he had been alone, but Jean was a better
woodsman, with a surer instinct for a trail. He led the way, through
swamp woods, and up rising ground, partly wooded, partly open, until
they reached a spot where they could look out over the lake to the
north. There, along the ridge, the reindeer lichen had been cropped
close in many places, proving beyond a doubt that caribou had been
there, whether they had come the way the boys had just traveled or not.
From the ridge top the descent to the lake was steep, with broken cliffs
and a rough, inhospitable, stony beach at the base. After Jean had
climbed a jack pine to get a better view of the surroundings, the two
followed along the ridge to the southwest, noting the cropped moss and
nibbled bushes as they went.

Reaching a gully, which bore signs that the animals might have gone that
way, the boys scrambled through it and down over the rocks to the
narrow, stony beach. A rocky, wooded island, perhaps a quarter of a
mile out and almost parallel with the shore, served as a slight
windbreak and had probably aided in the formation of the beach, which
was about a mile in length. Beyond it on either hand the cliffs rose
straight from the water.

Finding nothing to indicate that Nangotook had visited the beach, the
lads climbed up the broken cliffs, and followed the shore to the
northeast for a couple of miles until they came out on a point across
the cove from their camp. There they saw a caribou feeding, but the
beast took alarm before Jean was within range, and made off so rapidly
that pursuit was useless. They had found no trace of Nangotook.

Worried and puzzled, but still hoping that while they were searching for
him, the Indian might have returned to the rendezvous, the two boys made
their way along the west shore of the cove, to the place where they had
left the canoe. The boat was undisturbed, and there were no signs of the
Ojibwa.

All that day and the two following, they searched for Nangotook. They
explored all the tracks and suggestions of tracks that led from the bog
where the caribou fed. They went along the cliffs beyond the gully,
where they had descended to the shore, until they came to an indentation
in the coast line, a great open bay, only partly protected by islands.
Several times they saw caribou, but were not able to approach near
enough for a successful shot.

The two also explored the whole western side of the cove to its head,
and went up the stream to its source, a long, narrow, crook-shaped lake.
On the third day of their search, they examined the east shore of the
harbor, although it did not seem likely that Nangotook had been there.
It was possible, however, that he might, in his pursuit of game, have
been led around the head, across the marsh and stream and down the east
side. The boys crossed the little inlet where their camp lay, and
examined, as thoroughly as they could, both the lower ground and the
ridge that ran at an angle with the cove. Along that ridge, and down its
southeastern slope they came across a number of old pits, but all
overgrown and showing no signs of having been mined for many years.

At the base of the ridge, a little back from the shore, in a grove of
birch trees, the lads found the remains of a camp. It was from this
place that Ronald had seen the thin wisp of smoke ascending. The camp
had evidently been a temporary one, for no lodge had been built.
Probably the campers had used their canoe for shelter, though there were
no marks in the ground to show where it had rested on paddles or poles.
Neither were there any footprints, but that was not surprising, for the
ground was rocky, with only shallow soil that would not take deep
imprints. The ashes and charred sticks of the fire remained, and stumps,
with the ax marks plain upon them, indicated where wood had been cut. A
large birch had been partly stripped of its bark, doubtless for the
purpose of repairing the canoe, or making utensils of some kind. Bones,
bits of skin, fish scales and heads, and the uneatable parts of hares,
squirrels and birds, were strewn about the ground in the Indian manner.
The untidiness did not prove that the camp was necessarily an Indian
one, however, for the white forest-wanderers were usually quite as
careless of neatness and cleanliness as the savages themselves. Jean and
Ronald, who piled fish and game refuse in a heap a little distance from
the camp, and out of sight and smell, were far more particular than most
of the wilderness travelers.

Though they could find no direct evidence, the lads were certain in
their own minds that this camp had belonged to Le Forgeron Tordu and his
Cree companion. They could not have explained why they were so sure, but
they _were_ sure nevertheless. They were convinced, too, that there was
some connection between the camp and the disappearance of Nangotook,
although they had not come upon the slightest evidence of foul play.
After examining the place closely, they concluded that the camp ground
had not been used for several days. Jean thought, from the appearance of
the ashes, that the fire had not been burning since the last rain, and
no rain had fallen since the night Ronald had spent waiting for the
Ojibwa to return from the hunt. There was no discernible trail that led
any distance from the camp. Very likely the campers had come to the spot
by water and had departed in the same way. So the finding of the place,
instead of helping to solve the problem of Nangotook's disappearance,
only increased the boys' perplexity as well as their uneasiness.

Late in the afternoon of the same day, they saw something else that
troubled them. Having searched everywhere for some trace of their
companion, they were in a state of puzzlement over what to do next, but
too restless to remain quiet. So they paddled to the entrance of the
cove, and made their way out among the reefs, and along the base of the
steep cliffs to the southwest. As they were going slowly along, with a
line and hook attached to the stern paddle, Jean, who was in the bow,
caught sight of some bright red thing gleaming among the green of
evergreen trees on an outlying rocky island. With an exclamation, he
pointed out the bright spot to Ronald, who had but a glimpse of it
before it disappeared.

"There's a man on that island," said Jean excitedly. "That was a bit of
his toque."

"It looked like it," Ronald admitted, "but it may have been only the
autumn red of a rowan tree."

"No, no," Jean replied quickly. "That was no mountain ash tree. It would
not have disappeared that way. We should still be able to see it. The
red spot moved quickly and disappeared among the green. Yet there is no
wind. I tell you it is a man. It is Le Forgeron, I am sure."

"That may be true," Ronald answered. "At any rate we must find out. If
we can get on the track of the Blacksmith we may discover what has
become of Etienne. I have little hope that he still lives, but at least
we may find out how he died. We can't be leaving this place to make our
way to the Grande Portage while there's any chance that he may return.
Yet if we do not go soon, winter may catch us and hold us prisoner."

Jean nodded gravely. "We cannot rest till we find out what that red
thing is," he said. "But if it is Le Forgeron's toque, it would not be
wise to approach too closely now. We will go back to our camp again, as
if we had noticed nothing, and after darkness comes, we will paddle
across to that place and look for what we may find."

Ronald agreed at once. Not to excite suspicion if any one was watching
from the island, they went on a little farther before turning, then
paddled slowly back, as if their whole attention were devoted to their
fishing.

After darkness had come, the two lads embarked again, made their way out
among the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and paddled towards the
island. They wielded their blades silently, but darted as rapidly as
they could across the open water. In spite of the fact that the moon had
not yet risen, they were afraid their canoe could be seen by any
keen-eyed person who might be looking that way. As they approached the
island, they watched closely for the gleam of a camp-fire or for any
sign of life, but no light glowed through the trees that clothed the
central part of the rock island, and no movement was visible. Drawing
near to land, the boys slowed their stroke and crept quietly along
shore, searching the shadows for a landing place. A little cove in the
rocks appeared to be a likely place, and, running in, they found a bit
of pebble beach where they succeeded in making a safe landing. They
concealed the canoe in a cleft of the rocks, where the shadows lay
black, and then started to reconnoiter.

Cautiously and noiselessly they climbed the rocks to the patch of woods.
An owl flew out on silent wings, and sailed down so close to Ronald's
head that it startled him for a moment. No sound, but the rustling of
evergreen needles in the light breeze and the low rippling of the water
in the crannies of the rock shore below, disturbed the utter stillness.
With the exception of the ghostly owl, there seemed to be no life
whatever on the island.

In the darkness of the trees and bushes, they had to proceed very
carefully. They did not attempt to go through the center of the wooded
patch, but made their way along its edge, on the alert every moment for
some sign of a camp. So cautiously did they move, stopping every few
paces to listen and peer into the shadows, that it took them a long time
to go the short distance to the southern end of the island, and before
they reached it, the moon had risen and was lighting up the bare rocks
and the water beyond.

So far the two had come upon no traces of either man or beast, but
there, in the moonlight, Jean discovered a bent and broken serviceberry
bush, where something, man or animal, had pushed through. He dropped on
his knees to look for tracks, but could find no trace of footprints in
the thin soil that only partly covered the rock. As he rose to his feet,
he sniffed the air like an animal that catches a scent.

"Smoke," he whispered to Ronald.

Ronald, who had been examining a patch of moss at his feet, trying to
make out whether it had been trodden on or not, turned his head in the
direction of the wind and sniffed also. "Yes," he whispered back, "some
one has a fire over there in the woods. We must be finding out about
it." And stepping in front of Jean, he pushed through the bushes.

As the two made their way among the trees, going very cautiously over
the rough ground, where broken rocks, cropping out everywhere and hidden
in the shadow of the stunted and twisted spruces, made progress
difficult, the smell of smoke came more and more strongly to their
nostrils. Though as yet they could not see it, the camp-fire must be
close at hand, they thought, and they went carefully that no sound might
betray their presence. A faint, crackling noise reached their ears. It
grew rapidly louder. Gleams of red appeared through the tree trunks
ahead. Ronald stopped short, stared a moment, then turned to Jean, who
had come up to him.

"That is no camp-fire," he exclaimed, with a note of alarm in his low
pitched voice.

Jean looked where the other pointed and gave a little gasp. "The woods
are on fire," he whispered. "The canoe, quick! Out of the trees to the
rocks and around that way."




XXVI

THE BURNING WOODS


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 is _Etienne_. 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.

"It _is_ Etienne," 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.




XXVII

NANGOTOOK'S CAPTIVITY


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.




XXVIII

FLEEING FROM LE FORGERON


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
southwesterly 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.




XXIX

NEAR STARVATION


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,"

    "Malbrouk se'n va-t-en guerre,
    Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,"

a song brought from old France many years before, to the purely Canadian
"Petit Rocher de la Haute Montagne."

The two lads had heard the latter song many times and were familiar with
its story, but they had never felt the tragedy of it so strongly before.
It is the death lament of the brave Cadieux, voyageur, trader and
interpreter. Cadieux was living with his Algonquin wife and others of
her tribe at the Portage of Sept-chutes, or Seven Falls, on the Ottawa
River, when news arrived of the approach of a party of Iroquois. The
Iroquois would certainly ambush the portage. The only way of escape lay
through the rapids. Some one must draw the enemy into the woods and far
enough away to give the refugees chance to escape by water unseen.
Cadieux and a young Algonquin volunteered for the perilous service.
Exposing themselves to view, they drew the Iroquois away from the river,
while the rest of the little settlement ran the rapids and escaped.
Cadieux and his Algonquin companion became separated, either by accident
or design, and the Indian was killed. Three days and nights the Iroquois
pursued the white man, who went without sleep all that time. In the
meantime his wife and her companions reached safety. Days passed, and
Cadieux did not rejoin them as he had agreed to. At last three men set
out to seek for him. At Sept-chutes, near the Petit Rocher, or Little
Rock, they found a lodge of branches, and beside it, lying in a shallow
trench with a cross at its head, the wasted body of Cadieux. On his
breast, under his folded hands, was a sheet of birch bark covered with
writing, the words, according to tradition, of his death lament. He had
become lost in his wanderings and had returned to his starting place,
where he had died of exhaustion and starvation.

Suffering from cold and hunger, huddled around the fire in their little
wigwam, the wind roaring through the trees overhead, and the snow and
sleet beating upon the bark, the lads realized as never before the
tragedy of Cadieux's fate. Unless the storm ceased soon and they found
food promptly, they, too, might perish in the wilderness far from human
aid. It was no wonder that Jean's voice, hoarse from cold and weak from
hunger, trembled as he sang the closing lines.

    "Ces done ici que le mond m'abandonne,
    Mais j'ai secours en vous, Sauveur des hommes!
    Tres-Sainte Vierge, ah, m'abandonnez pas,
    Permettez-moi d'mourir entre vos bras!"

    "Here all alone the world abandons me,
    In the Saviour of men may my help still be!
    Most blessed Virgin, let me not forsaken lie,
    But clasped in thine arms, oh allow me to die!"




XXX

THE END OF THE TWISTED BLACKSMITH


Somewhat to the boys' surprise, Nangotook showed no signs, during all
those days of suffering, of the sullen moroseness that had characterized
his behavior in former periods of misfortune. The Ojibwa was no physical
coward, and now that his companions had ceased to defy the spirits of
the lake and had turned towards home, he displayed no more fear or
hesitation. He was unusually talkative and cheerful, and helped to pass
the long hours by relating the interesting experiences of his varied and
adventurous life and all the Ojibwa tales and myths he knew, many of
them devoted to the adventures and mishaps of the great Nanabozho.

The three made use of every device they could think of to keep up their
spirits, but when, at last, the sleet and snow ceased, and morning
dawned clear and bright, the two lads were weak with hunger, and Ronald,
though more heavily dressed than Jean, had a racking cough that shook
him from head to foot. Nangotook showed the effects of privation less
than the other two, though he had scarcely eaten his share of the scanty
food they had been able to collect.

The wind still blew a gale, a bitterly cold gale from the north, and
even the little bay was too rough for travel. Icy snow lay several
inches deep in the woods and loaded the evergreens. All that day the
three searched the woods and ridges for game, but obtained nothing but a
squirrel and two blue jays. There was little indeed to the jays, once
their feathers were off. Nangotook put them into the bark pot with the
squirrel, and added a handful of hazelnuts and some tubers he had dug,
which he called "bear potatoes." The resulting broth was hot and
comforting, if not a very nourishing meal for three starved men.

All the next day the wind continued to blow so hard that the canoe could
not be launched or the net set, but Nangotook and Jean went through the
woods and over the ridges to the trout stream, and caught good strings
of fish. The soup of the night before had made Ronald, in his half
starved condition, ill, and he was so weak and coughed so hard that the
Indian bade him remain in camp and keep warm and dry.

In spite of the cold wind, the snow had melted rapidly where the sun
reached it, and had softened in the woods. By that night the rocks and
open places were bare again. The hunters scanned the softened snow
eagerly for tracks, but found no signs of hare or caribou, nothing but a
few squirrel prints.

All three slept soundly that night, after their meal of broiled trout.
By morning the wind had gone down and the waves had subsided so that the
canoe could be launched. The voyageurs put out from shore at once. After
setting their net in a favorable place, they tried line fishing. While
paddling around a group of three small islands that lay in a direct line
with the point, they caught two good lake trout. They promptly decided
to go ashore, and have breakfast at once. So many rocks sprinkled the
water about the islands that they were difficult to approach. A safe
landing was made, however, on a shelving rock beach, near an upright
heap of boulders with bushes projecting from cracks and crannies.

While Jean was cleaning the fish, Etienne and Ronald, seeking for
fire-wood, rounded the heap of rocks, and came suddenly on the remains
of a camp. Branches slanted against the rock formed a rude shelter, and
near it were the ashes of a fire. Glancing down at the blackened embers,
Ronald touched with the toe of his moccasin a charred bone.

"Those fellows had more meat than we've seen lately," he said. "They
must have killed a caribou."

The Indian was staring down at the bone. He stooped and picked it up,
examined it a moment, and then held it out to Ronald.

"No addick ever had bone like that," he said.

"What was it then, a moose?" asked the boy, holding out his hand for it.
As he looked at it, his expression of curiosity changed to horror. He
glanced up at Nangotook, and saw his own feelings reflected on the
Ojibwa's face. "The leg bone of a man," the lad said chokingly.

Nangotook nodded, then glanced behind him swiftly, as if expecting to
see some evil thing creeping up on him. "Windigo," he said
significantly. It was the name for the mythical, man-eating giants that
figure in Ojibwa and other Algonquian legends, a name the Indians have
extended to apply to all cannibals or men driven by starvation to feed
on other human beings.

There was no mistaking the fact. Among the ashes and strewn about on the
ground were other bones that told the story only too plainly. Moreover
the deed was a recent one, for the fire had been burning in that spot
since the storm cleared, and the charred bones had not lain there long.
It was easy enough to see how the tragedy had occurred. A canoe had been
cast upon the barren island by the storm, or had run against it in the
fog that preceded. There was nothing on the island to eat. Even fuel had
been scarce, for only the stumps of the few trees remained and most of
the bushes had been cut. One of the men had died, or perhaps another
one, crazed with hunger and misery, had murdered him, and the
unfortunate had been cooked and eaten.

The horror of the place destroyed the lads' appetite, and they were in
haste to get away, but Nangotook was not ready to leave until he had
examined the little rock island from end to end. He may have expected to
find the cannibal in hiding somewhere. He did not find the guilty man,
but he found further traces of him and of his victim. When the Ojibwa
rejoined the boys, who, feeling no desire to see more of the island, had
remained near the spot where they had landed, his face wore a look of
disgust and loathing such as they had never seen there before. He had
identified the victim of the cannibal feast.

"Cree killed Awishtoya and ate him," he announced positively.

"Awishtoya, Le Forgeron," cried Jean. "How do you know it was Le
Forgeron?"

"Found his head."

"His head?" gasped both boys.

Nangotook nodded. "Not dead long, only two or three days," he added.
"Found some of his clothes too, all soaked with blood. Cree killed him
with knife. Windigo. Have to watch out for him now." The Ojibwa shared
the belief common among his people that a man who had once tasted human
flesh acquired a desire for it, and would never be satisfied with
anything else. Such men were considered to be only partly human, in
league with evil spirits. They were outlaws, to be feared and abhorred
and killed on sight, like the deadliest snake or the most dangerous of
wild beasts.

Sickened at what they had discovered, the two boys were glad to get away
from the ill-omened place. Le Forgeron Tordu was an evil man and their
enemy. They knew that he would not have hesitated to destroy them in the
most brutal manner, and they could not honestly feel sorrow that he was
dead. But the manner of his death had shocked and nauseated them. Not to
the worst man on earth could they have wished such a fate. Even stronger
was their feeling of horror at the Indian who had done the thing.
Nangotook had said that Le Forgeron abused the Cree. Evidently the
latter had turned at last and had avenged himself. He had not struck in
mere self-defense, however, for the blood-soaked shirt Nangotook had
found proved that the Frenchman had been stabbed in the back.

The Ojibwa was deeply concerned over the escape of the murderer. He must
have gone away by water, so it was evident that he still had a canoe,
probably the one Le Forgeron had stolen from Jean and Ronald, when he
set fire to the woods. Apparently then it had not been the loss of their
boat, but merely the fury of the storm that had held him and his master
prisoners on the little island. If, however, they had been so near to
starvation as the Cree's deed seemed to prove, they must in some way
have lost both the caribou meat the Blacksmith had taken from the boys'
cache, and the remainder of their own stock of provisions. Probably they
had run on the rocky island in the fog, or had been dashed ashore by the
wind, and had lost their provisions and equipment in the wreck, though
managing to save their canoe. There was no evidence that they had built
a new one. Indeed the stumps of the trees they had cut indicated that no
materials fit for canoe making grew on the island.

At any rate the Cree had escaped in some way, and might be at that
moment lying in wait for the others on the shores of the bay or on one
of the islands. They must keep a close lookout for him. The boys, as
well as Nangotook, fully believed that, having once eaten human flesh,
the Cree would, as all such Windigos were supposed to do, hunger for
more. They devoutly hoped that he had no gun. Had it not been for the
fear that he might be well armed, they would have searched the shores
and islands for him, but he would surely have the advantage, as they
must approach his hiding place by water, while he could lie concealed.
If he had a gun, he could easily shoot them from cover. So they decided
to waste no time on what would probably be a fruitless, if not a fatal,
search, but to take advantage of the good weather to go on as rapidly as
possible. Very likely he had left the neighborhood. They might overtake
him, and if they did, a Windigo could expect no mercy from them.

They delayed only long enough to cook and eat their fish and to take up
their net. Before their gruesome discovery, they had intended to remain
at the bay to hunt and fish until the next morning, but so far they had
found the place lacking in game. They would go on along shore as far as
they could that day, and perhaps they might reach a better hunting
ground. At least they would get away from the spot where they had
suffered so much. It had acquired an added horror from the hideous
tragedy on the little island.




XXXI

THE WINDIGO


The weather favored the voyageurs that day, and they were able to make
good time for about twenty miles to a little cove, the mouth of a
stream. There they landed to eat a supper of the fish they had caught on
the way. The boys felt greatly encouraged when Etienne told them they
had almost reached the southern end of Minong. Two or three hours more
travel would bring them to a smaller island lying off the end of the
large one. From there, he said, the weather favoring them, they could
steer a straight course for the northwest shore of the lake and soon
reach the Grande Portage. Deeply disappointed though the lads were at
not finding the riches they had endured so much to gain, they felt a
great sense of relief at the thought that their perilous journey was so
near its end.

By the time they had reached the cove, the boys, who had only partly
recovered from starvation and suffering, were very tired. After their
supper of fish, they were glad to creep into a pile of balsam branches
under the canoe and fall asleep immediately. But the night was cold and
they had no cover but the branches. Several times one of the three had
to crawl out, chilled and stiff, to replenish the fire that burned close
to the raised side of the canoe. Usually it was the Indian who took this
task upon himself, for he slept lightly and little, ready to spring up
at the slightest unusual sound. He did not intend that the Windigo
should creep on their camp without his knowing it.

Just as the stars were fading with the dawn, Nangotook was awakened
suddenly. He lay still and listened. From up the river came faint
sounds, the cracking of twigs, the rustling of branches. Noiselessly the
Indian crept from under the canoe, listened a moment, and then made his
way cautiously in the direction of the sounds. There was a splash in the
stream. In the faint light he could see a black bulk against the water.
Nearer and nearer he crept, until the dark form began to move slowly
towards the opposite bank. Then, knowing he would get no better chance
for a shot, Nangotook let fly an arrow, and then a second and a third in
quick succession. Every arrow hit the mark, the black bulk plunged
forward, wavered and fell sidewise with a great splash. The hunter
sprang into the stream. Luckily the water, where the beast had fallen,
was shallow, and Nangotook soon had his game, a full grown caribou,
ashore. Here was meat in plenty for days to come.

He dragged the caribou back to camp and placed it near the fire. The
boys were sleeping so soundly that his coming did not wake them, and he
crept under the canoe without disturbing them. He did not sleep any more
after that, but kept his eye on the meat. Once he heard the pad of soft
feet beyond the fire, and rose to send an arrow towards a pair of
gleaming eyes. He missed his aim, and the lynx slipped away in the
darkness and did not return.

The boys were surprised and delighted when they saw the result of
Etienne's night hunting, but they were also a little chagrined when they
realized that they had slept so soundly and carelessly that they had
known nothing of what was going on. The day was too windy to permit the
voyageurs to start out across the open lake for the northwest shore.
They might have continued along the coast of Minong, but, as they had
such a short distance to go in that direction, they decided to camp
where they were until the caribou meat was dried. The spot was a
favorable one, and they might not find another so good. Moreover there
might be other game in the neighborhood, and there were certainly fish
in the stream and off the rocks at its mouth. The net they had set the
night before yielded a good catch of whitefish. It was the caribou meat
that tasted best to the boys, however, and put new strength and spirit
into them. The gruesome tragedy they had found traces of the day before
seemed like a bad dream.

The day, which was bright and pleasant, though windy, was spent in
drying the meat, curing the hide, fishing and hunting. The three
proposed to collect as large a supply of food as possible. Bad weather
might come again at any moment, and they did not intend to be caught in
another storm without plenty of food to last them through.

In a marshy place the boys came upon a great flock of wild geese, that
had paused, on their way south, to feed. The birds took alarm at once,
and, with great flapping of wings and excited honks, followed their
leader into the air and away, but Jean succeeded in hitting one as it
left the water. He had to wade out into the cold mud and water to his
waist to secure the bird, but it was a welcome feast to the three that
night. The southward flight of the geese was, however, another reminder
of the approach of winter. Nekah, the goose, knew what he was about,
said the Ojibwa.

The following morning the voyageurs left the little cove. The south wind
was strong enough to make crossing the lake dangerous, but they could go
on along shore with little difficulty. They could at least reach the
island which Nangotook said lay off a bay at the southern end of Minong.
From there the Ojibwa intended, as soon as the weather would permit, to
steer directly for the lake shore.

The travelers had rounded the end of Minong, when they came in sight of
a canoe at some distance across the water. It held only one man, and
they were too far away to make out anything about him, except that he
did not wear the scarlet cap of the Canadian voyageur. Was it the
Windigo? The boys felt a thrill of excitement, not unmingled with dread.
Whether he had seen them or not they could not tell, but they followed
as rapidly as they could make the canoe fly over the water. The lone
traveler was making for some islands ahead. He passed into a channel
between two of them and disappeared.

Without any orders from Nangotook in the bow, Ronald, who was in the
stem, steered in the same direction. He wanted to find out if the man
ahead was really the Cree murderer. He suspected that Nangotook was
ready to kill the Windigo on sight That was the Indian way with such
outlaws. Certainly the boy was not inclined to show any mercy to an
Indian who had killed and eaten a white man. If he had merely killed the
Frenchman,--well, Le Forgeron probably deserved death, and a private
quarrel between him and his companion was the business of no one else,
Ronald thought, but the evidence seemed to prove that the Cree had
treacherously stabbed the white man in the back, for the purpose of
eating him. For such hideous crime there could be no excuse, not even
starvation, and no mercy for the criminal. That was the code of the
Indian, the voyageur and the forest runner.

The pursuers passed through the channel between the two islands, and
came out in view of others, large and small. Instantly Nangotook's keen
eyes caught sight of something on one of the little islands that caused
him to utter a short grunt, raise his paddle from the water, and gaze
intently. Noting his apparent surprise, the boys' eyes followed the
direction of his gaze. From a bare tree on that little island something
white was fluttering. It was not a gull roosting. It was too large, and
too white, and it fluttered and waved in the wind. It was a white rag, a
signal of some kind, a flag of distress.

"Some one is on that island," cried Jean in great excitement. "He is
wrecked or hurt or starving, and he has tied that white thing to the
tree to attract attention. We must go there at once. He may be a white
man. We must rescue him."

"Go slow, little brother," cautioned Nangotook gravely. "Maybe, as you
say, there is a man there wrecked and starving, but what if that white
thing be only a trap? Where is the canoe we have been following? The
Windigo may be trying to get us ashore, so he may murder and eat us."

"If he is, he will be getting the worst of it," declared Ronald
emphatically. "We are three to one, and the only thing we need be
fearing is a gun. If he is decoying us ashore, he will not be firing on
us until we have landed, and even then he will try, I think, to use fair
words and treachery rather than force. In that we are a match for him,
now we are forewarned not to trust him."

"You speak truly, my brother," Nangotook answered. "I meant not to go by
that island, but to be cautious. It may be that the signal is a true
one. We must find out. But we must watch that we are not taken unawares
by the evil Windigo. Now that I have warned you, steer for that island,
and if the Cree is there, let him look to himself."

As they approached the place, the three watched eagerly for some
indication of what they were to find there. Like most of the islands off
Minong, it was rocky, but bore a patch of trees and bushes on its
highest part. There seemed nothing unusual about it, but the white rag
fluttering from a bare limbed birch tree. Not until they were close in,
did Nangotook catch sight of a canoe drawn up on a bit of shelving
pebble beach between two great rocks. Silently he pointed it out to the
boys. They ran their own canoe upon the same beach and stepped out, the
Ojibwa with one hand on his bowstring, an arrow in the other, and his
eyes searching the rocks and woods for signs of ambush. He did not relax
his vigilance when he heard Jean, behind him, utter a low-voiced
exclamation.

The two boys had carried the canoe up the beach, and Jean had turned to
look at the other craft that lay there. "Our own canoe," he whispered to
Jean. "It was the Cree for sure."

Ronald glanced at the boat. There was no mistaking it. The three had
built it themselves, and knew every rib and seam. It was wet, too. It
had not been out of the water more than a few minutes. Though Nangotook
did not turn his head, but still kept running his eyes searchingly over
every bush and rock that might offer concealment to an enemy, he heard
what Jean said. There was no need for him to examine the canoe. Jean's
testimony was sufficient. The Ojibwa went on up the steep bit of beach,
the two lads close behind him, with weapons ready.

Apparently the man who had landed from the canoe had given no thought to
being followed, and had made no attempt to hide his trail. He had gone
up over the rocks and into the bit of woods, and his track was plain to
the Indian. The latter advanced cautiously, the boys equally noiseless,
a short distance behind. They had taken but a few steps among the spruce
trees, when they were arrested by the sound of voices. There was more
than one man on the island then, although there had been but one in the
boat The voices were speaking French, one with the guttural accent of
the Indian, the other in flowing, mellow tones. Even if the three had
not had good evidence that Le Forgeron Tordu was dead, they would never
have taken that rich, deep pitched voice for his rough, cracked one.
Silently but rapidly, Nangotook slipped forward again, the boys
following until he turned and signaled them to halt. After taking a few
more steps among the trees, he stopped also.

The mellow voice was speaking, and the boys could hear it plainly. It
was a pleasing voice of refined accents, and it spoke excellent French,
the French of a man of breeding and education. Even Jean Havard, who was
well educated for a Canadian lad of his time and boasted of his pure
French blood, did not speak like that. He could make out the unseen
man's words distinctly.

"God will surely bless you through all your days," the voice said.
"Moreover I will see to it, if you will take me safely to the Grande
Portage, that you shall be well rewarded in material things as well.
Flour, blankets, traps for your hunting, whatever you need or want of
such things you shall have. But better than all will be the blessing of
God upon you, for saving the life of His servant to carry on His
glorious work, and to labor a little longer for the good of your own
people."

The speaker ceased, and for a moment there was silence. Then the other
man answered, but his words, spoken in a hoarse voice and guttural
accents, were not distinguishable. While the second man was speaking,
Nangotook crept forward again. Carefully he slipped between two spruce
trees and peeped out from among the branches. He saw before him a rude
wigwam in a small natural rock opening. In front of the wigwam stood the
tall, black-gowned form of a Jesuit priest in conversation with an
Indian. The Indian's back was towards Nangotook, but the Ojibwa did not
fail to recognize him.

"Eh bien, I will be ready in a moment," said the priest in his deep,
mellow voice.

He turned to go into the shelter. Instantly the Cree's whole aspect
changed. He crouched, muscles tense, then leaped forward, like a forest
cat, knife raised. But Nangotook was ready for him. His arrow was on his
bowstring. Before the Windigo's knife could reach his unsuspecting
victim, the bowstring twanged, and the flying arrow pierced the
murderer's back a little to the left of the spinal column. He sprang
back as if recoiling, then fell forward on his face.


XXXII

THE UPROOTED TREE


So instantaneous and noiseless were the Windigo's spring and Nangotook's
arrow, that the priest suspected nothing until the thud of the body upon
the ground startled him. He turned to find the Cree lying outstretched,
the arrow sticking from his back, while the fierce face of the Ojibwa
appeared among the spruce branches. Seizing the gold cross that hung on
the breast of his black gown, the priest held it out towards the
newcomer, and gazed at him for a moment with steady and fearless eyes.
Then, without speaking, he knelt beside the fallen Cree. It took him but
a moment to ascertain that the man was dead. His eye fell upon the
outstretched hand clenching the knife. An expression of horror crossed
his fine and sensitive face, and he glanced quickly up at Nangotook,
with a look of doubt and questioning.

The Ojibwa had stepped out from among the trees, his weapon lowered. As
the priest looked at him, the fierceness faded from the Indian's face.
Speaking humbly, like a servant to his master or a child to his teacher,
he addressed the Jesuit. "Blame me not, good Father," he said, "that I
have slain that murderer with an arrow in the back as I might have
killed Maheengun, the wolf, or Besheu, the lynx, when he was mad with
the blood thirst. His knife was out. Before a dead leaf fell from that
birch tree he would have plunged the knife in your body. He is a
Windigo, in league with the evil one and hungering for human flesh.
Already he has killed and eaten one man, an evil man to be sure, but a
white man and his master."

As Nangotook finished speaking, the two boys, came out from the spruces.
Jean sprang forward, pulling off his toque, and knelt before the
missionary for his blessing, while Ronald, Scotch Protestant though he
was, showed his respect by removing his hare skin cap and standing
silent.

When he had given Jean his blessing, and the latter had risen to his
feet, the priest looked searchingly into the lad's face and said
gravely, "Who are you, my son, and these your companions, and how came
you here? Surely you were sent of God to save the humblest of His
servants from death at the hands of this poor, crazed savage."

"It is Etienne you should thank for that, reverend Father," Jean
answered quickly, "but indeed I believe God led us here, and just in
time, for----"

But the priest interrupted him, to speak to the Indian. Nangotook had
squatted down by the body of the Cree, and had turned it over to make
sure the man was dead. Then he had unlocked the Cree's fingers from his
knife, had felt its edge and had just made a motion with the blade
towards the neck of the fallen man, when the Jesuit's quick eye noted
his action.

"My son," he said sternly, "what is it that you would do? Would you
mutilate the body of the man you have killed?"

The Ojibwa looked up into the priest's grave face, and hastened to
excuse and explain his action. "The man is a Windigo, good Father," he
said. "Windigos are in league with the evil one and are hard to kill.
This one seems to have died easily enough, but unless his body is cut to
pieces, he may come to life again at any moment and slay us all."

"Nay, my child," the Jesuit answered less sternly, for he understood
that the Indian's purpose, however mistaken, was a sincere one. He was
not moved merely by a desire to avenge himself on the helpless body of a
foe. "Nay, you need have no fear that the spirit of this poor, misguided
child of the forest will return to animate his body. Already his soul
has gone to other realms to await judgment for its sins. He was
possessed of an evil spirit indeed. Though he spoke fair enough and
promised to take me to the Grande Portage, I saw the madness in his eye
and would not have trusted him, had he not seemed to be sent of God to
deliver me from this desolate place. But even for such as he there may
be forgiveness, when he has suffered his meed of punishment. I forbid
you to mutilate his body. Instead, you and your companions shall kneel
with me and pray for the soul of this poor savage, who has been struck
down in the moment of his sin, without time for repentance."

Nangotook submitted docilely enough, kneeling beside the priest and
remaining reverently silent through the latter's brief prayer.

There was not soil enough on the little island to dig a grave in, so
Nangotook and his companions, at the missionary's command, placed the
body of the Cree in a hole between the rocks, blocked up the opening
with stones and branches, and threw a little earth and leaf mold over
the whole. The simple burial service over, they were about to proceed to
the canoe, when Jean noticed that the priest's face had turned very
white and that he swayed a little and caught at a tree for support.

"You are ill, Father," he exclaimed, and then, guessing the reason for
the other's weakness, he added, "Perhaps you suffer from hunger. If so,
we are amply provided with meat and will prepare some for you at once."

"Thank you, my son," the Jesuit answered with a faint smile. "I do
indeed suffer from hunger, for I have eaten nothing but roots and bark
for several days."

His strength exhausted, he was glad to sink down on the ground in front
of the wigwam, while the boys and Etienne prepared a meal. The
missionary had been too long without hearty food to take anything but a
little caribou broth. After he had eaten, he satisfied the boys'
curiosity by telling them how he came to be in such a desperate
situation.

He had been returning from a trip to an Indian mission on Lake Nipigon,
beyond the head of Nipigon Bay, and was bound for another mission on the
south shore, traveling in a small canoe with three Indians. They had
been delayed by the bad weather, and, anxious to get on, had left their
camping place at the foot of Thunder Cape in the night, after the wind
had gone down. But the fog had caught them. All their landmarks were
blotted out, and the Indians tried to steer by the wind. The air was
unusually still, the light breeze coming in little puffs, which must
have been variable in direction. The travelers went out of their course,
and when the wind rose and began to blow the fog in driving sheets, they
were close to Minong. Driven by the storm, they took refuge on the first
land they sighted, the little island where the priest was now telling
his story. There they remained throughout the northeaster. They were
short of provisions, and one of the Indians, who was sick before they
left Thunder Cape, died. The other two were sullen and more or less
unmanageable. The missionary suspected that they had been tampered with
at Lake Nipigon by a medicine man who hated the priest, for the latter's
teachings were diminishing the Indian shaman's power over his fellows.
Father Bertrand had reason to believe that the medicine man had told the
Indians the "black gown" was an evil magician and would bring disaster
upon them. The bad weather and other misfortunes of the journey and the
sudden, mysterious sickness that had overtaken one of the crew and had
ended in his death, bore out the medicine man's prophecies. Though the
missionary did everything he could to restore his companions'
confidence, they grew more and more sullen and suspicious. To their
superstitious fears was added the hatred felt by one of the men, whom
Father Bertrand had reprimanded for a heavy sin. He worked upon the
fears of the other Indian, to convince him that misfortune would pursue
them as long as they remained in company with the black gown. So it
happened that, the second night after the storm ceased, when the wind
had gone down and traveling was possible, the two Indians stole away
while the priest was sleeping, taking the canoe and the few provisions
that remained, and leaving the missionary without food or weapons.

Father Bertrand was a young man, not many years from France and
unskilled in woodcraft of any kind. But even if he had known how to
build a canoe, he was without knife or ax. Moreover there were no large
birch trees and no white cedars on the island suitable for the purpose.
He tried to fell trees for a raft by burning them at the base, but was
not successful. Indeed he came near to setting the woods on fire and so
destroying his only shelter. There was no game of any kind, not even
gulls, and he had no line or net for fishing. Roots and bark were his
only food. As a flag of distress, he fastened one of his undergarments
to a bare limbed tree. He did not know that the land he could see from
his island was Minong, but supposed himself to be somewhere near the
northwest shore of the lake. Though it was late in the season, he hoped
that some passing voyageur or Indian might see the signal. If no one saw
it, then he knew he must perish, and he resigned himself to God's will,
though he admitted that he could not but feel regret that the work he
had but just begun should be cut off so soon.

When the Cree appeared, Father Bertrand did not like his looks, for
there was a furtive fierceness in his manner that betokened treachery
and a wildness in his eye that suggested madness, but the priest hoped
nevertheless that this doubtful looking savage might prove the
instrument of his rescue. The Cree told him that he was not near the
northwest shore, as he had supposed, but off the island of Minong. On
the offer of a generous reward, he promised to take the missionary to
Grande Portage. But even greed was not strong enough to overcome the
Windigo's appetite. The canoe he had left on the beach contained no
provisions of any kind, so it was evident that he had either consumed
all of his gruesome stock or had lost part of it in some way. The guns
had been lost too, or thrown away as useless when the ammunition was
gone, for he was armed only with a knife.

When the missionary had finished his tale, the two boys told him theirs.
They made no attempt to hide the purpose of their adventure, for they
instinctively trusted the grave, fine faced priest. That he could betray
their trust did not occur even to Ronald who had no particular love for
Jesuits, though he admired their courage and devotion. When Jean related
how the three had been obliged to give up the search at last, and
frankly expressed his regret and sorrow at their failure to find the
golden island, Nangotook interrupted suddenly.

"Nay, little brother," he exclaimed. "You say the journey has failed
because we have not reached the Island of Yellow Sands. It is not so. If
we had not come on this journey, we could not have saved the life of the
good Father, and he would have starved here on this island. Is not the
saving of one good life better than the finding of much gold?"

"You are right, Etienne," replied Jean, flushing, ashamed that the
Indian should have to teach him such a lesson.

The priest smiled in a kindly manner upon them both, then said gravely
to the Ojibwa, "You speak well, my son, and I think you have grasped
somewhat of the teachings of the fathers who gave you your education. It
is true that you have just performed a deed of violence, but it was a
necessary deed, and one that will bring reward and not punishment, for
you slew not in revenge or in lust or even to save your own life, but
the life of another. Rest assured that God will bless you for the deed,
and, as for myself, I will give you such material reward as I am able."

"I want no reward, Father," Etienne answered almost indignantly. "I did
not sell you your life. I only ask," he added more humbly, "that you
will remember a poor Ojibwa in your prayers."

"Rest assured that I shall always do that," Father Bertrand replied
earnestly. "I will pray that God's mercy and blessing and guidance may
be with you and with these two lads, all the days of your lives."

The four were silent for a few minutes, the boys and the Indian deeply
impressed by the Jesuit's words and manner. Then the priest turned to
Jean and said questioningly, "You have not told me, my son, why you and
your companion are so eager to find gold. In youths of your age desire
for honor, achievement and glory seems more natural than a longing for
riches. Take care that you do not let the sin of avarice possess your
souls."

"Indeed it is not avarice, Father," replied Jean. Eager to justify both
himself and his companion, he told of the plans they had made for the
use of the gold.

Father Bertrand listened thoughtfully, and when Jean had finished, said
with a kindly smile that seemed to light up his stern face, "Your
reasons do you credit, especially yours, Jean Havard, since you seek
wealth for others rather than for yourself. But your comrade's ambition
is also a justifiable one, if he use only right means to attain it. Your
dislike of the evil methods of the fur-traders and your hesitation in
following them are a credit to your consciences. It may be that the
trade is necessary and legitimate, but I, myself, have learned, in the
short time that I have been in the Indian country, that there is much in
the manner of carrying on that trade that is wrong and evil and will
bring heavy punishment both on the traders themselves and on the savages
they corrupt. However, it is not of the fur-trade I intended to speak,
but of your own fortunes. You are disappointed that you have not found
the gold, but perhaps I can show you something that may allay that
disappointment, and bring to you some increase of fortune if not the
great riches you have been seeking."

With that the missionary rose and led the way through the patch of woods
towards the farther end of the island, which the lads had not visited.
Curious about his meaning, they followed close at his heels.

That end of the island, which was exposed to the wind and waves of the
open lake, rose high from the water and, except for a cluster of trees
in a depression, was almost bare rock. The clump of trees had fared hard
in the northeaster, for several had been broken off and one, the largest
spruce on the island, had been uprooted and tipped over. The priest
climbed over a tangle of fallen trunks, holding up his black gown that
it might not catch in the branches. The boys followed wondering. He
pointed to the base of the uprooted spruce. The roots had grown about a
large boulder, and, in its fall, the tree had partly overturned the
rock, revealing its under side.

The lads gave gasps of astonishment and dropped on their knees beside
the boulder. The exposed surface was of almost solid copper, but that
was not what caused their exclamation. Through the copper ran two thick
veins of another, lighter colored metal.

"Silver, pure silver," exclaimed Ronald. The veins so recently exposed
had scarcely tarnished, and there was no mistaking the metal.

"Yes," replied the priest. "It is silver and that is not all of it. Look
in the hollow there, and you will find other veins. Indeed I have spent
some time examining these rocks, and I believe there is much of the
metal near the surface. How much there may be underneath no man can
tell. It may be there is wealth here, though not such wealth as your
golden island would yield. What there is is yours, however. I, the
discoverer, will freely make over to you all my rights in it. I know
little of metals. Perhaps it would be well for you to examine this end
of the island for yourselves before you leave it. You will probably be
able to learn more from it than I could."




XXXIII

THE MINE


The two lads made as thorough an examination of the bare end of the
island as they could without pick or drill. A vein with side branches,
which Ronald was sure was composed of pure silver, ran the length of the
barren end. Whether the vein extended under the woods the full length of
the island, they could not tell, but as they traced it to the very edge
of the growth, its further extension seemed almost certain. Through the
clear water off the outer end of the island, they could see on the rock
bottom black patches with a greenish tinge, that Ronald believed marked
the course of the vein in that direction. In the canoe they followed
those patches until the water became so deep that they could trace them
no longer. Both boys were sure they had found a valuable mine, and they
were nearly as excited and enthusiastic as if they had come upon the
Island of Golden Sands itself. Their failure to find the gold, and the
hardships and perils of their long trip, with its heart-breaking delays
and disappointments, were almost forgotten in the joy of this sudden and
unexpected discovery. Silver was not gold to be sure, but it was the
next thing to it, as Jean said. The journey had not been fruitless or in
vain. They had saved the life of Father Bertrand, and, as Nangotook had
said, "the saving of one good life was better than much gold," and
through the priest they had found a rich silver mine. They had come off
well from the adventure, and if they could reach Grande Portage safely,
they would have good cause to be well satisfied and profoundly thankful.
So it was with light hearts that they launched the two canoes and
prepared to put off for the shore of Minong.

The day was too far advanced and the wind too strong to make a start for
Grande Portage advisable, but none of the four wanted to camp on the
little island, where bad weather, if there should be more of it in store
for them, would leave them marooned. As Jean said, they could not eat
silver, no matter how rich the mine might be. So they paddled part way
up a deep harbor that cut into the end of Minong, and camped on its
shore. They found both the fishing and hunting good, and had no
difficulty occupying their time for the rest of the day.

The wind went down in the night, and the next day dawned calm, bright
and frosty, a fine autumn morning, the best possible weather to traverse
the open lake. Firm ice over the shallower water along shore, the
evergreens gleaming with white frost, and the sight of a hare whose coat
was almost wholly white, were warnings to the travelers that real winter
was not far away. Indeed the snow and ice of the last northeaster had
not melted in the shady places, and the weather was constantly growing
colder.

They started early, after a hearty but hasty breakfast. They had
discussed taking both canoes, but had decided they could make better
time with one. So they selected the boat they had made themselves, as it
was better built and slightly larger than the one Le Forgeron and the
Cree had used. Their own boat had been intended for only three people
and was well filled with four, but their baggage took up little space.
Their possessions, besides the supply of dried meat, consisted of
nothing but the caribou hide, some hare skins, their bows and arrows,
and a small bundle containing the priest's vestments and the necessary
articles for celebrating the mass. In high spirits they paddled out into
the open lake, blades keeping time to

    "La fill' du roi d'Espagne,
    Vogue, marinier, vogue."

The fact that all went so well that day Jean laid to the rescue of the
priest and his presence in the canoe. Etienne agreed with this view, but
probably felt also, though he did not give expression to the thought,
that the spirits of the lake had ceased to oppose them, now that they
had definitely given up the search for the golden sands and had turned
towards the shore. Apparently he did not trouble his mind with the
thought that the manitos might feel any concern over the silver mine.

Whatever causes the different members of the party might assign for
their good fortune, everything surely went successfully. The breeze
remained light, the sky blue, during the whole of the trip to the
northwest shore, and along its bays, points and islands to the Grande
Portage. They reached their destination before night, and caused great
surprise when they paddled through the bay and up to the shore in front
of the trading post of the Northwest Fur Company, the same post the two
lads had left, with the fleet bound for Montreal, so many long weeks
before.

The boys had decided before reaching the Portage just how much of their
adventures they would tell, and what they would leave untold.
Accordingly they said nothing whatever of the Island of the Yellow Sands
or of the silver ore they had found. They had made the trip, they
admitted, in search of a rich island mine they had heard of, but, not
knowing its exact location, they had failed to find it. They made no
mention of gold, leaving the others to infer that it was copper or
silver they had been seeking. They told of seeing Le Forgeron Tordu and
his Cree companion and of the fate of both, but did not indicate in any
way that the Frenchman had been in pursuit of them or had tried to
injure them. They left out of their narrative Etienne's captivity and
the burning of the woods on the island. As Ronald said, "The man is dead
and his fate was a horrible one. Why blacken his memory now that it can
do us no good? Unless we should be charged with his death, and that is
not likely, we do not need to be telling the whole of the story."

A swift Indian messenger was leaving the post early next morning with
reports and letters for Montreal, and the boys seized the opportunity to
write to their relatives and tell them of their safety. For the two lads
to accompany the messenger was out of the question, for the Indians and
half-breeds, who made the mail trips for the Company, went at such a
pace and with such tirelessness that no one untrained for the work could
possibly keep up with them. Indeed no one messenger could go the whole
distance at such speed. The mail changed hands at each post, fresh men
carrying it on. Even had the lads not been tired and worn with their
long trip, and with the starvation and exposure they had endured, they
would have found the journey with the messengers impossible. There was
nothing for them to do but to await a more favorable opportunity.

That opportunity did not come. Rain and high winds arrived before a
start could be made, and the bad weather was followed by real winter,
that set in early in November, "the freezing moon," as Nangotook called
it. The lads soon realized that they had made the crossing from Minong
just in time. Had they delayed longer, they could not have reached
Grande Portage until the lake froze over between Minong and the shore.
Some winters solid ice did not form clear across, and even when it did,
crossing on snowshoes, with the winds sweeping the ice, and a blinding
storm liable to come at any moment, was a perilous undertaking. Jean and
Ronald shuddered when they thought what a winter on Minong, without warm
clothes, food supplies or ammunition, would mean. They were lucky indeed
to have reached the trading post.

Father Bertrand was due at an Indian mission on the south shore, and
insisted on trying to reach it. He succeeded in engaging a canoe and
four Indians to make the trip, but he positively refused to take the
boys with him. Even after they reached his destination, it was not
likely, he said, that they could find any one willing to go on with them
to the Sault. The mission was probably not any too well supplied with
food, and he could not carry enough extra, traveling rapidly in his
small canoe, to feed the two lads throughout the winter. The Indians who
wintered near the mission might be well supplied and they might not.
That depended on the fishing and the wild rice crop. Often famine came
upon them before spring. At the Portage there were ample accommodations
and supplies, and the boys would be far better off. Etienne agreed with
the missionary and urged the lads to remain. As far as he was concerned
he would be glad, he said, to accompany them back to the Sault and even
to Montreal, but he counseled them not to attempt the journey, which
would be one of extreme hardship, if they were able to get through at
all. So on his advice, and that of the men at the post, the boys decided
to remain where they were until spring. At the first lull in the bad
weather, the brave priest bade the lads farewell, gave them his blessing
and started on his dangerous journey.

A number of weeks after the departure of the priest, when winter had
settled down in earnest, a half-breed messenger, starved, frozen, almost
dead, arrived with letters from Montreal and the other posts. The man
had had a terrible time getting through, and when the boys heard his
tale they were glad they had remained at the Portage. He brought Jean
letters from his father and mother, and Ronald one from his uncle. Since
the necessity for strenuous action had ceased, the two boys had grown
very homesick, especially Jean, who had been tormented with the fear
that something might have gone wrong with his father, mother or sisters
during his absence. The letters, showing plainly the anxiety those at
home had been enduring for months, served to deepen the two lads' sense
of wrong-doing. When word had arrived of their disappearance from the
Sault, both Ronald's uncle and Jean's father had done everything
possible to find them or learn their fate. They had gone to the Sault,
but had found only one clue. Jean's father learned that Etienne had been
at the post the same day the lads disappeared, and felt a little
comforted, surmising that Jean might have gone away with the Ojibwa on a
hunting expedition or for some other purpose. But he was at a loss to
understand why the lad had kept such a trip secret. Nevertheless the
elder Havard asserted that he was not going to give up hope until he
found the Indian and learned definitely that the boys were not with him.
His search for Nangotook was fruitless, of course, but he became more
and more convinced that they must have left the post together, for what
purpose he could not imagine. Word was sent to all the Northwest
Company's posts to be on the lookout for some trace of the three. Only
one bit of information was obtained, however. An Indian, a Man of the
Woods, and his family, who arrived at the trading station at the Pic
River, told of having met a canoe, going west, with three men who
answered in a general way to the descriptions of Nangotook, Jean and
Ronald. Shortly after the arrival of these Gens de Terre Indians, news
reached the Pic of a deed of violence that had occurred in a small bay
farther to the west. A half-breed trapper had been attacked and his furs
stolen. Two Indians entering the bay late at night had found the body of
a man lodged on a sand-bar. In spite of the fact that he had been
stabbed in several places and then thrown into the water, he was alive,
though unconscious. The Indians had carried him in their canoe to the
Pic, where he had recovered consciousness and had told how he had been
attacked by two men, an Indian and a white man with a twisted leg. From
the half-breed's description, the agent at the Pic was sure the white
man must have been Le Forgeron Tordu, who was wanted by the Company for
breaking his contract and deserting the fleet. When Ronald's uncle, who
had learned from Big Benoit of the lad's fight with Le Forgeron, heard
that the Blacksmith had deserted a few miles beyond the Sault and was
back on Superior, he wondered if there was any connection between that
fact and the disappearance of the boys, and his fears for Ronald were
increased. When week followed week with no further news, the anxious
relatives almost gave up hope, and Jean's mother became ill from grief
and anxiety.

The wrong the boys had done in stealing away secretly on their mad
quest, without telling any one where they were going or leaving some
word to allay the anxiety of those at home, had been strongly impressed
upon them by Father Bertrand. Grateful though he was to them for his
rescue, he did not let that gratitude interfere with a severe reprimand
of their wrong-doing. Because God had brought good out of evil and had
allowed them to serve Him by saving the life of one of His servants,
they need not think, he reminded them sternly, that what they had done
was right or that their sin was forgiven or would be forgiven until they
had made all the amends possible. God had been merciful to them, said
the priest, because they were ignorant, foolish and thoughtless lads,
but if they did not profit in the future by the lesson of this
experience, it was not likely He would be so patient with them again. So
earnestly did he talk to them, that both acknowledged their wrong-doing,
and admitted that they had not deserved to come through their adventure
so well. The letters from home only strengthened their feelings of
regret at what they had done, and Jean especially made up his mind to
make up to his mother, for her suffering on his account, in every way
that a loving son could.

In their letters the lads had told of the discovery of the silver and
Ronald had sent his uncle a bit of the ore, with many injunctions to the
messenger not to lose the little package. In his reply the uncle said
that the bit of metal had proved to be high grade silver, and that from
Ronald's description he thought the mine might be a rich one. He had
talked the matter over with Monsieur Havard, and the latter had agreed
to accompany him to the Grande Portage in the spring. The boys were
instructed to wait for them. The uncle would bring with him an expert in
metals and the necessary tools for prospecting. He would obtain the
Northwest Company's permission to use one of their sailing vessels for
the short trip across to Minong, or, if he failed to get such
permission, they would cross in canoes. They would make a thorough
examination of the little island and its surroundings, and if the
prospects looked good, they would get the necessary government
permission, and form a mining company in which the two Havards, Ronald,
his uncle and the Indian should have the largest shares. They would also
put aside a share of the profits for Father Bertrand, who had so
generously waived all rights to his discovery. If he would not take the
money for his personal needs, he would at least be willing to accept it
to carry on his work among the Indians.

Jean and Ronald were enthusiastic over the plan, and, in spite of the
waves of homesickness that swept over the former every time he looked at
his mother's letter and thought of the many miles of wilderness between
him and his home, the two settled down for the winter with high hopes of
the fortune the spring was to bring. In the meantime they were glad to
be of what help they could to the clerks at the post, while their spare
time could be passed in hunting in the snow-covered woods or fishing
with nets or lines set under the ice. In such ways the winter, though it
looked long ahead of them, would wear away at last, and spring would
bring the returning fleet and with it the other partners in their
mining venture, the exploration of their find, the trip home again and
preparations for working the silver mine. If the winter days dragged
slowly sometimes, there was, at least, much to look forward to.


THE END




THE BOMBA BOOKS

By ROY ROCKWOOD

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With Colored jacket._

_Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._

_Bomba lived far back in the jungles of the Amazon with a half-demented
naturalist who told the lad nothing of his past. The jungle boy was a
lover of birds, and hunted animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty
machete. He had a primitive education in some things, and his daring
adventures will be followed with breathless interest by thousands._


    1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY
    2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN
    3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT
    4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND
    5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY
    6. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL
    7. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF DEATH
    8. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES
    9. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON THE UNDERGROUND RIVER
   10. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE LOST EXPLORERS
   11. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN A STRANGE LAND
   12. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE PYGMIES
   13. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE CANNIBALS
   14. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE PAINTED HUNTERS

These books may be purchased wherever books are sold

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




THE JEWEL SERIES

By AMES THOMPSON

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color._

_Price 50 cents per volume._

_Postage 10 cents additional._

_A series of stories brimming with hardy adventure, vivid and accurate
in detail, and with a good foundation of probability. They take the
reader realistically to the scene of action. Besides being lively and
full of real situations, they are written in a straightforward way very
attractive to boy readers._


1. THE ADVENTURE BOYS _and the_ VALLEY OF DIAMONDS

In this book they form a party of five, and with the aid of a shrewd,
level-headed sailor named Stanley Green, they find a valley of diamonds
in the heart of Africa.


2. THE ADVENTURE BOYS _and the_ RIVER OF EMERALDS

With a guide, they set out to find the River of Emeralds. But masked
foes, emeralds, and falling mountains are all in the day's fun for these
Adventure Boys.


3. THE ADVENTURE BOYS _and the_ LAGOON OF PEARLS

This time the group starts out on a cruise simply for pleasure, but
their adventuresome spirits lead them into the thick of things on a
South Sea cannibal island.


4. THE ADVENTURE BOYS _and the_ TEMPLE OF RUBIES

The Adventure Boys find plenty of thrills when they hit the ruby trail,
and soon discover that they are marked by some sinister influence to
keep them from reaching the Ruby.


5. THE ADVENTURE BOYS _and the_ ISLAND OF SAPPHIRES

The paths of the young jewel hunters lead to a mysterious island where
the treasures are concealed.

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES

By LESTER CHADWICK

[Illustration]

_12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume._

_Postage 10 cents additional._

    1. BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS
        _or The Rivals of Riverside_
    2. BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE
        _or Pitching for the Blue Banner_
    3. BASEBALL JOE AT YALE
        _or Pitching for the College Championship_
    4. BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE
        _or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher_
    5. BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE
        _or A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles_
    6. BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS
        _or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis_
    7. BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES
        _or Pitching for the Championship_
    8. BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD
        _or Pitching on a Grand Tour_
    9. BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING
        _or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record_
   10. BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE
        _or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy_
   11. BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM
        _or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond_
   12. BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE
        _or The Record that was Worth While_
   13. BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER
        _or Putting the Home Town on the Map_
   14. BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD
        _or Triumphs Off and On the Diamond_

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




ADVENTURE STORIES FOR BOYS

By JOHN GABRIEL ROWE

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Colored Jacket._

_Price 50 cents per volume._

_Postage 10 cents additional._

_Every boy who knows the lure of exploring and who loves to rig up huts
and caves and tree-houses to fortify himself against imaginary enemies
will enjoy these books, for they give a vivid chronicle of the doings
and inventions of a group of boys who are ship-wrecked and have to make
themselves snug and safe in tropical islands where the dangers are too
real for play._

1. CRUSOE ISLAND

Dick, Alf and Fred find themselves stranded on an unknown island with
the old seaman Josh, their ship destroyed by fire, their friends lost.

2. THE ISLAND TREASURE

With much ingenuity these boys fit themselves into the wild life of the
island they are cast upon in storm.

3. THE MYSTERY OF THE DERELICT

Their ship and companions perished in tempest at sea, the boys are
adrift in a small open boat when they spy a ship. Such a strange
vessel!--no hand guiding it, no soul on board,--a derelict.

4. THE LIGHTSHIP PIRATES

Modern Pirates, with the ferocity of beasts, attack a lightship
crew;--recounting the adventures that befall the survivors of that
crew--and--"RETRIBUTION."

5. THE SECRET OF THE GOLDEN IDOL

Telling of a mutiny, and how two youngsters were unwillingly involved in
one of the weirdest of treasure hunts,--and--"THE GOLDEN FETISH."

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


Cupples & Leon Company, Publishers      New York




THE BOY HUNTERS SERIES

By CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL

[Illustration]

_12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors. Price 50 cents per volume.
Postage 10 cents additional._

_Captain Ralph Bonehill is one of the best known and most popular
writers for young people. In this series he shows, as no other writer
can, the joy, glory and happiness of outdoor life._

FOUR BOY HUNTERS

_or The Outing of the Gun Club_

A fine, breezy story of the woods and waters, of adventures in search of
game, and of great times around the campfire, told in Captain Bonehill's
best style. In the book are given full directions for camping out.

GUNS AND SNOWSHOES

_or The Winter Outing of the Young Hunters_

In this volume the young hunters leave home for a winter outing on the
shores of a small lake. They hunt and trap to their hearts' content and
have adventures in plenty, all calculated to make boys "sit up and take
notice." A good healthy book; one with the odor of the pine forests and
the glare of the welcome campfire in every chapter.

YOUNG HUNTERS OF THE LAKE

_or Out with Rod and Gun_

Another tale of woods and waters, with some strong hunting scenes and a
good deal of mystery. The three volumes make a splendid outdoor series.

OUT WITH GUN AND CAMERA

_or The Boy Hunters in the Mountains_

Takes up the new fad of photographing wild animals as well as shooting
them. An escaped circus chimpanzee and an escaped lion add to the
interest of the narrative.


_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York





THE BOB DEXTER SERIES

By WILLARD F. BAKER
Author of "THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES"

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in colors. Price 50 cents per volume.
Postage 10 cents additional._

_This is a new line of stories for boys, by the author of the Boy
Ranchers series. The Bob Dexter books are detective stories, yet they
are without the objectionable features of the impossible characters and
absurd situations that mark so many of the books in that class. These
stories deal with the up-to-date adventures of a normal, healthy lad who
has a great desire to solve mysteries, and the volumes relate in an
entertaining way how he does it._

1. BOB DEXTER AND THE CLUB-HOUSE MYSTERY

_or The Missing Golden Eagle_

This story tells how the Boys' Athletic Club was despoiled of its
trophies in a strange manner, and how, among other things stolen, was
the Golden Eagle mascot.

2. BOB DEXTER AND THE BEACON BEACH MYSTERY

_or The Wreck of the Sea Hawk_

When Bob and his chum went to Beacon Beach for their vacation, they were
plunged into a strange series of events, not the least of which was the
sinking of the Sea Hawk.

3. BOB DEXTER AND THE STORM MOUNTAIN MYSTERY

_or The Secret of the Log Cabin_

Bob Dexter came upon a man mysteriously injured and befriended him. This
led the young detective into the swirling midst of a series of strange
events and into the companionship of strange persons.

4. BOB DEXTER AND THE AEROPLANE MYSTERY

_or The Secret of the Jint San_

Bob and his chums witness the mysterious disappearance of an aeroplane
and find excitement in their exploration of an unknown cave. The
adventures which result are packed with thrills.

5. BOB DEXTER AND THE SEAPLANE MYSTERY

_or The Secret of the White Stones_

Bob Dexter, while on a vacation, captures a band of criminals, and
solves a mystery in which millions of dollars in gems and jewelry had
been stolen.

6. BOB DEXTER AND THE RED AUTO MYSTERY

_or The Secret of the Flying Car_

A story of a mysterious red auto is packed with many hair-raising
adventures. Bob comes to the rescue and captures the criminals.


These books may be purchased wherever books are sold

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York





THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES

By CLARENCE YOUNG

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors._

_Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._

_Bright up-to-date stories, full of information as well as of
adventures. Read the first volume and you will want all the others
written by Mr. Young._

    1. THE MOTOR BOYS
    2. THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
    3. THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
    4. THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
    5. THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
    6. THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
    7. THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
    8. THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
    9. THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
   10. THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES
   11. THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN
   12. THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING
   13. THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE
   14. THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
   15. THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA
   16. THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER


_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




Jerry Ford Wonder Stories

By FENWORTH MOORE

[Illustration]

A new series with plenty of action and adventure. It is lively and full
of real situations that relate in an entertaining way how Jerry Ford
overcame his obstacles.

12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors.

Price, per volume, 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional


1. WRECKED ON CANNIBAL ISLAND

Or Jerry Ford's Adventures Among Savages

Jerry Ford's inheritance was stolen by an unscrupulous lawyer, and he
had many thrilling adventures before the thief was finally captured.

2. LOST IN THE CAVES OF GOLD

Or Jerry Ford Among the Mountains of Mystery

The finding of the trunks in which the stolen fortune was hidden, and
the discovery of a Pirate's treasure in some underground caves.

3. CASTAWAY IN THE LAND OF SNOW

Or Jerry Ford Among the Polar Bears

While returning home with the treasure, the ship is captured by pirates
in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Plenty of action and excitement
follows.

4. PRISONERS ON THE PIRATE SHIP

Or Jerry Ford and the Yellow Men

This story offers a thrill in a life time. Jerry Ford, and his pals,
recapture the pirate ship and again secure their missing treasure.


These books may be purchased wherever books are sold

_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES

By WILLARD F. BAKER

AUTHOR OF "THE BOB DEXTER SERIES"

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors._

_Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._

_Stories of the Great West, with cattle ranches as a setting, related in
such a style as to captivate the hearts of all boys. Attention has been
paid to accurate descriptions of western customs, and in each volume
there is, as a background, some definite historical or scientific fact
of value, about which the tales hinge._

    1. THE BOY RANCHERS

    _or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X_

    2. THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP

    _or the Water Fight at Diamond X_

    3. THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL

    _or The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers_

    4. THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS

    _or Trailing the Yaquis_

    5. THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK

    _or Fighting the Sheep Herders_

    6. THE BOY RANCHERS IN THE DESERT

    _or Diamond X and the Lost Mine_

    7. THE BOY RANCHERS ON ROARING RIVER

    _or Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers_

    8. THE BOY RANCHERS IN DEATH VALLEY

    _or Diamond X and the Poison Mystery_

    9. THE BOY RANCHERS IN TERROR CANYON

    _or Diamond X Winning Out_


_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York




THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES

By ROY ROCKWOOD

[Illustration]

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in Colors._

_Price, per volume, 50 cents._

_Postage 10 cents extra._

_Since the days of Jules Verne, tales of flying machines and submarine
boats have enjoyed increasing popularity. Stories of adventures, in
strange places, with peculiar people and queer animals, make this series
noteworthy and popular._

1. THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE

The tale of a wonderful cruise to the frozen north and adventures with a
degree of reality that is almost convincing.

2. UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE

A marvelous trip from Maine to the South Pole, telling of adventures
with the sea-monsters and savages.

3. FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND

A cruise to the center of the earth through an immense hole found at an
island in the ocean.

4. THROUGH SPACE TO MARS

This book tells how the journey was made in a strange craft and what
happened on Mars.

5. LOST ON THE MOON

Strange adventures on the planet which is found to be a land of
desolation and silence.

6. ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD

After a tremendous convulsion of nature the adventurers find themselves
captives on a vast "island in the air."

7. THE CITY BEYOND THE CLOUDS

The City Beyond the Clouds is a weird place, full of surprises, and the
impish Red Dwarfs caused no end of trouble.

8. BY AIR EXPRESS TO VENUS

Our heroes are captured by strange inhabitants of the inside world and
have a series of adventures as wonderful as they are absorbing.


_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers      New York





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Island of Yellow Sands, by
E. C. [Ethel Claire] Brill

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS ***

***** This file should be named 46271.txt or 46271.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/6/2/7/46271/

Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Beth Baran, Rod Crawford,
Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net


Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
  www.gutenberg.org/license.


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.