narrow cove formed by a long, rocky point, almost parallel with the
shore. There, well hidden from the lake among aspen trees and raspberry
and thimbleberry bushes, they boiled their corn and finished the meal
with berries. The thimbleberries, which are common on the shores and
islands of Superior, are first cousins to the ordinary red raspberry,
though the bushes, with their large, handsome leaves and big, white
blossoms, look more like blackberry bushes. The berries are longer in
shape than raspberries, and those the boys gathered that morning, with
the dew on them, were acid and refreshing. Later, when very ripe, they
would become insipid to the taste.
Anxious to take advantage of the good weather, the three delayed only
long enough for a short rest. The sun was bright and a light breeze
rippled the water, when they paddled out from the cove. Jean started a
voyageur's song.
"La fill' du roi d'Espagne,
Vogue, marinier, vogue!
Veut apprendre un metier,
Vogue, marinier!
Veut apprendre un metier.
Vogue, marinier!
"The daughter of the king of Spain,
Row, canoemen, row!
Some handicraft to learn is fain,
Row, canoemen!
Some handicraft to learn is fain,
Row, canoemen."
Ronald joined in the chorus, though his voice, not yet through changing
from boy's to man's, was somewhat cracked and quavering. The Indian
remained silent, but his paddle kept time to the music.
They were still in the shadow of the cliff of Gros Cap, rising abruptly
from the lake, while to the north, eight or ten miles away across the
water, they could see a high point of much the same general appearance,
Goulais Point, marking the northern and western side of a deep bay. The
water was so quiet that, instead of coasting along the shores of Goulais
Bay, they risked running straight across to the point, saving themselves
about fifteen miles of paddling.
The traverse, as the voyageurs called such a short cut across the mouth
of a bay, was made safely, although the wind had risen before the point
was gained. They proceeded along Goulais Point, past the mouth of a
little bay where they caught a glimpse of Indian lodges, and through a
channel between an island and the mainland. The lodges doubtless
belonged to Indians who had camped there to fish, but the travelers
caught no glimpse of them and were glad to escape their notice.
The wind, which was from the west, was steadily rising, and by the time
the point now called Rudderhead was reached, was blowing with such force
that the traverse across the wide entrance to Batchewana Bay was out of
the question. The voyageurs were obliged to take refuge within the mouth
of the bay, running into a horseshoe shaped indentation at the foot of a
high hill. There a landing was made and a meal of mush prepared.
By that time the adventurers were far enough away from the Sault not to
fear discovery. Any one going out from the post in search of them might
easily follow the two boys' trails to the spot where they had met
Etienne. The lads chuckled to think how their aimless wanderings after
that, while they were waiting for darkness, might confuse a search
party. It was unlikely, however, that any one would worry about them or
make any thorough search for them, until several days had passed. They
were now fairly launched on their adventure and their hopes were high.
V
THE GRAVE OF NANABOZHO
The sun set clear in a sky glowing with flame-red and orange, but the
wind blew harder than ever, and forced the adventurers to camp in the
cove. They were tired enough to roll themselves in their blankets as
soon as darkness came, for they had not taken a wink of sleep the night
before. Protected from the wind, they needed no overhead shelter.
When the complaining cries of the gulls waked the lads at dawn, the wind
was still strong, but from a more southerly direction. While the open
lake was rough, the bay might be circled without danger, so, without
waiting for breakfast, the three launched the canoe. Jean, who was in
the stern, baited a hook with a piece of pork, and, fastening the line
to his paddle, let the hook, which was held down by a heavy sinker,
trail through the water, the motion of the paddle keeping the line
moving.
As they were passing a group of submerged rocks at the mouth of a
stream, a sudden pull on the line almost jerked the paddle out of his
hands. The fish made a hard fight, but Etienne handled the canoe
skilfully, giving Jean a chance to play his catch. He finally succeeded
in drawing it close enough so that Ronald, leaning over the side of the
boat, while the Indian balanced by throwing his body the other way,
managed to reach the fish with his knife. It proved to be a lake trout
of about six pounds. Landing on a sandy point that ran out from the
north shore of the bay, the boys prepared breakfast. Broiled trout was a
welcome change from corn, and the three ate every particle that was
eatable.
The wind continuing to blow with force, they camped on the point, and
spent the rest of the day fishing and hunting. Fishing was fairly
successful, but they found no game, not even a squirrel. The only tracks
observed were those of a mink at the edge of a stream. An abundance of
ripe raspberries helped out their evening meal, however. The wind
lessened after sunset, but the lake was too rough for night travel. So
the treasure-seekers laid their blankets on the sand for another good
night's sleep.
Nangotook woke at dawn and roused the boys. The sky, dappled with soft
white clouds and streaked with pink, was reflected in the absolutely
still water. So the three got away at once and, making a traverse of
five or six miles across an indentation in the shore to the end of
another point, were soon out of Batchewana Bay.
Going on up the shore, the travelers rounded Mamainse Point, and ran
among rock islets, some of them bare, some with a tuft of trees or
bushes at the summit. The islands they had passed in the southeast
corner of the lake had been flat and sandy. From Mamainse on, although
many of the larger islands and the margin of the shore continued low,
the general appearance of the land was very different. High cliffs
formed a continuous rampart a little back from the water and were
covered with trees down to the beach, the silvery stems and bright
green of the birches and aspens standing out against the darker colors
of spruce and balsam. This was true north shore country, contrasting
strongly with most of the south shore.
All day the wind was light, and the voyageurs made upwards of forty
miles, reaching Montreal River before dark. As the canoe turned towards
the broad beach where the stream enters the lake, the boys ceased
paddling, leaving Etienne to make the landing. The Indian took a long
stroke, then held his paddle motionless, edge forward and blade pressed
against the side of the boat, until the momentum slackened, made another
stroke, held the blade still again, then a third and rested until the
bow ran gently on the sand. The moment it struck, before the onward
motion ceased, the three rose as with one movement, threw their legs
over the sides, Etienne and Jean to the right, Ronald to the left, and
stepped out into the water without tipping the canoe. Then the boys
lifted it by the cross bars and carried it beyond the water line.
The beach jutted out across the mouth of the river, partly closing it,
while a bar, about six feet below the surface, extended clear across.
Farther back were large trees, and the place was in every way a
satisfactory camping ground.
After the evening meal, the boys, hoping to secure a fish or two for
breakfast, went out in the canoe to set some lines. Trolling had been
unsuccessful that day. In the meanwhile Etienne was examining an old
trail that led up-stream. The deep, clear, brown waters emptied into
the lake through a kind of delta, partly tree covered, but farther up
they raced down with great force through a steep-walled, rock chasm. The
trail, which proved that Indians were in the habit of frequenting the
place, interested Nangotook for it bore signs of recent use. So he
followed it.
Suddenly, as he rounded a clump of birches, he saw two men coming
towards him. Luckily they were both looking in the other direction at
the moment when the Ojibwa caught sight of them. Before they could turn
their heads, he was out of view, squatted in the dark shadow behind an
alder bush. Though he had but a glimpse of them, he recognized one, a
white man with twisted nose and a scar on his chin. The other was an
Indian, a stranger to him. As soon as the two men had passed, Nangotook
rose and followed them cautiously, making his way among trees and bushes
at the edge of the trail. The long twilight was deepening to darkness,
and it was not difficult to keep hidden. The men went on along the trail
for a way, then turned from it and struck off into the woods. Nangotook
did not pursue them farther. Satisfied that they were not headed for the
camp on the beach, he went on rapidly and joined the boys at the fire.
In a few words he told them of the encounter.
The lads were amazed. At first they could scarcely believe it was really
Le Forgeron Tordu Etienne had seen. The Blacksmith had left the Sault
with his brigade for Montreal nearly two weeks before. He must have
deserted below the Sault, have returned past the post and come on to
the northeast shore. Desertion from the fleet was a serious matter, for
the canoemen were under strict contract, and the guilty man was liable
to heavy punishment. Le Forgeron had been a steersman too, and that made
his offense worse. It was scarcely possible that he could have been
discharged voluntarily, but if he had taken the risk of desertion, it
must have been for some very important or desperate purpose.
The knowledge that the evil Frenchman was so near made the lads uneasy.
Remembering the look of bitter hatred the Blacksmith had given him, and
Big Benoit's warning to look to himself, Ronald felt, for the first time
in his life, the chill dread that comes to one who is followed by a
relentless enemy. He pulled himself together in a moment, however. If Le
Forgeron was following them, it could not be merely to obtain vengeance
for the blow the lad had given him. That cause seemed altogether too
slight to account for desertion and the long trip back to Superior. It
was probable that he had heard more of their plans that night at the
Grande Portage than they had believed he could have heard, and was bent
on securing the gold for himself.
While Ronald was pondering these things, Jean was telling Nangotook of
their suspicions that Le Forgeron had overheard them, of his treatment
of the squaw, of Ronald's attack on him and of Big Benoit's fortunate
appearance. Nangotook listened silently, and nodded gravely when the boy
had finished his tale, but the two could not read in his impassive face
whether he shared their fears or not.
From a tree overhead a screech owl uttered its eerie cry, the long drawn
closing tremolo on one note sounding like a threat of disaster. Perhaps
the Indian took the sinister sound for a warning, for he rose from the
log where he was sitting and went down to the water's edge. When he
returned, he said decisively, "Sleep now little while. Then go on in
dark."
The boys concluded he was as anxious as they to get away from the
neighborhood of Le Forgeron.
Ronald could not sleep much that night, and when he did drop off for a
few moments, the slightest sound was enough to arouse him. By midnight
the water was still, and, at Nangotook's command, the boys launched the
canoe. The Indian in the bow, the three paddled noiselessly away from
their camping ground, going slowly at first for fear of striking a bar
or reef. Though they scanned the shore, they could see no sign of Le
Forgeron's camp-fire. Had he gone on ahead of them, they wondered.
All the rest of the night they traveled steadily, and did not make a
landing until the sun had been up for more than an hour. Then they
stopped long enough to boil the kettle and eat their breakfast of corn
and pork.
The wind had come up with the sun, and before they had gone far from the
little island where they had breakfasted, the gale threatened to dash
the canoe on the shore, where breakers were rolling. The travelers were
driven to seek refuge behind a sand-bar at the mouth of a small stream.
Then the wind began to shift about from one point to another. Rain
clouds appeared, and a succession of squalls and showers kept the
impatient gold-seekers on shore until the following morning.
The sky was still cloudy and threatening, but the water was not
dangerously rough, when they put out from the shelter of the sand-bar. A
head wind made progress slow, as they went on up the shore and around
the great cape which some early explorer had named Gargantua, because of
a fancied resemblance to the giant whose adventures were told by
Rabelais, a French writer of the first half of the sixteenth century.
A short distance east of the Cape, Nangotook directed the canoe towards
a small rock island, one of a group. "Land there," he said laconically.
"Why should we be landing on that barren rock?" questioned Ronald in
surprise.
"Grave of great manito, Nanabozho," the Indian answered seriously.
Ronald opened his mouth to speak again, but Jean punched him with his
paddle as a warning to ask no further questions. Nangotook ran the canoe
alongside a ledge of rock only slightly above the water. There he
stepped out. The others followed and lifted the boat up on the ledge.
Without waiting for them, Nangotook climbed swiftly over the rocks.
Ronald would have followed him, but Jean took the Scotch boy by the arm.
"He goes to make an offering to the manito," the French lad said, "and
to ask him to send us fair weather and favorable winds for our voyage."
"But Nangotook says he's a Christian," the other replied. "Why is he
making sacrifices to heathen gods then?"
Jean shrugged his shoulders. "A savage does not so easily forget the
gods of his people," he said. "I have heard of this place before. Let us
look around a bit while he is offering his sacrifices."
The island proved to be a mere rock, barren of everything but moss,
lichens, a few trailing evergreens, and here and there such scattering,
stunted plants as will grow with almost no soil. Part of the rock looked
as if it had been artificially cut off close to the water line, while
the rest ran up steeply to a height of thirty or forty feet. At several
spots the two lads found the remains of offerings made by passing
Indians, strands of sun-dried or decaying tobacco, broken guns, rusty
kettles and knives, bits of scarlet cloth, beads and trinkets. Evidently
the savages reverenced the place deeply and believed that the spirit of
the great manito made it his abode.
What interested the boys more than Indian offerings was several clearly
defined veins of metal running through the rock. Here and there in the
veins were holes indicating that some one, white man or Indian, had made
an attempt to mine. Moss and stunted bushes growing in the holes proved
that the prospecting must have been done a number of years before.
Ronald, who knew a little of geology, said there was certainly copper in
the rock, and he thought there might be lead, and perhaps silver, which,
he explained, was sometimes found in conjunction with copper.
"The man I was telling you about," Ronald concluded, "old Alexander
Henry, who looked for the Island of Yellow Sands, but who went to the
wrong place Etienne says, did some mining along this east and north
shore. Perhaps he opened these veins, but if he did, it must have been
twenty or thirty years ago."
The three did not remain long on the island. Around Cape Gargantua the
shore had become more abrupt and more broken, with sheer cliffs, deep
chasms, ragged points and islands. The rocks were painted with a variety
of tints, caused by the weathering of metallic substances and by lichens
that ranged in color from gray-green to bright orange. It was slow work
paddling in the rough water, but before night the travelers reached a
good camping ground, among birch trees, above a steep, terraced beach in
the shadow of the high cliffs of Cape Choyye.
Near their landing place the boys came upon a broad sheet of red
sandstone sloping gradually into the water. The rock was scored with
shallow, winding channels and peppered with smooth holes, some of them
three or four feet deep. Many of the cavities were nearly round, but one
was in the shape of a cloven hoof. When the Indian saw the place he
looked awed and muttered, "Manito been here." Jean, too, was much
impressed, and hastened to make the sign of the cross over the cloven
footprint, but Ronald laughed at him. The holes were perfectly natural,
he said. He pointed out in many of them loose stones of a much harder
rock, and suggested that, at some previous period when the lake level
must have been much higher, the friction of such stones and boulders
against the softer sandstone, as they were washed and churned about by
the waves, might have ground out the cavities. The shallow channels were
probably chiseled by the grating of sand and small pebbles. Nangotook
paid no attention whatever to Ronald's explanation, and even Jean did
not seem entirely convinced. He shook his head doubtfully over the
cloven hole.
VI
ALONG THE NORTH SHORE
Apparently the great Nanabozho looked upon the treasure-seekers with
favor, for the next morning dawned bright, clear and with a favorable
breeze. They started early to the tune of
"Fringue, fringue, sur la rivière,
Fringue, fringue, sur l'aviron."
"Speed, speed on the river,
Speed, speed with the oar."
Making good time, they continued northward into Michipicoten Bay. On the
Michipicoten River, which empties into the head of the bay, was a
trading station. They did not wish to land there, but hoped to pass
unobserved and to avoid any one going to or coming from the post. It was
late in the season for white men to be traveling towards the western end
of the lake, and questions or even unspoken curiosity might be
embarrassing.
So, on reaching a beach, the only one they noticed along that bold,
steep stretch of shore, they decided to land and wait for darkness
before running past the post.
The manito continued to be kind to them, for during the afternoon a haze
spread over the sky. When the fog on the water became thick enough to
furnish cover, the adventurers set out again, paddling along the steep
shore, gray and indistinct in the mist, the Indian keeping a sharp
lookout for detached rocks. As they neared the mouth of the
Michipicoten, they went farther out, and passed noiselessly, completely
hidden in the fog. Not caring to risk traveling in the thick obscurity
of a foggy night, they made camp before dark a few miles beyond the
river.
The next morning they embarked at dawn and went on under cover of the
fog, but the rising sun soon dispersed it. They were now traveling
directly west. After passing Point Isacor, they could see clearly, ten
or twelve miles to the south, Michipicoten Island or Isle de Maurepas,
as the French named it, after the Comte de Maurepas, minister of marine
under Louis XV. Alexander Henry the elder visited that island, and it
was the Indians who guided him there who told him of another isle
farther to the south, where the sands were yellow and shining. According
to Nangotook, those Indians had deliberately deceived the white man,
taking him intentionally to the wrong island. The boys gazed with new
interest at the high pile of rock and forest, and Jean related to Ronald
a legend that one of the old French missionaries had heard from the
savages more than a century before and had written down.
"The savages told the good Father," began Jean, "that four braves were
lost in a fog one day, and drifted to that island. Wishing to prepare
food, they began to pick up pebbles, intending to heat them in the fire
they had lighted, and then drop them into their basket-ware kettle to
make the water boil. But they were surprised to find that all the
pebbles and slabs on the beach were of pure copper. At once they began
to load their canoe with the copper rocks, when they were startled by a
terrible voice calling out in wrath. 'Who are you,' roared the great
voice, 'you robbers who carry away my papoose cases and the playthings
of my children?' The slabs, it seems, were the cradles, and the round
stones, the toys, of the children of the strange race of manitos or
supernatural beings who dwelt, like mermen and mermaids, in the water
round about the island. The frightful voice terrified the savages so
they dropped the copper stones, and put out from the shore in haste. One
of them died of fright on the way to the mainland. A short time later a
second died, and then, after he had returned to his own people and told
the story, the third. What became of the fourth the savages did not say.
It is said," concluded Jean, "that the island is rich in copper and
other metals, so it well may be, as Etienne suggests, that such tales
were told to frighten the white men and keep them from the place."
That night the eager gold-seekers traveled until after midnight, pausing
at sundown only long enough for supper and a brief rest. As the darkness
deepened, the wavering flames of the aurora borealis, or northern
lights, began to glow in the northern and western sky. From the sharply
defined edge of bank of clouds below, bands and streamers of white and
pale green stretched upwards, flashing, flickering and changeable.
Sometimes glowing spots appeared in the dark band, again streamers of
light shot up to the zenith, the center of brightness constantly
shifting, as the flames died out in one place to flare up in another.
The Ojibwa hailed the "dancing spirits" as a good omen, and the boys
were inclined to agree with him. All the evening the lights flashed and
glowed, but when, after midnight, the travelers rounded the cape known
as Otter's Head, from the upright rock surmounting it, the streaks and
bands were growing faint, and by the time a landing had been made in the
cover beyond, they had faded out entirely.
Whether the aurora borealis was to be considered a good sign or not,
fortune continued to favor the voyageurs the next day. They put up a
blanket sail attached to poles, and ran before a favorable wind most of
the twenty-five miles to the mouth of White Gravel River. There they
remained until nightfall, for they were anxious to avoid another trading
post some twenty miles farther up the shore, near the mouth of the Pic
River.
Glad of exercise after being cramped in the canoe, the boys made their
way along the bank of White Gravel River for about two miles, where they
discovered a round, deep, shaded pool, alive with darting shadows. They
cut fishing poles and had an hour of fine sport. As they were going on
up-stream, they heard the calling and cooing of wood pigeons, and soon
came upon a great flock of the birds. The trees were covered with them,
and the air fairly full of them, flying up, darting down, and wheeling
about in the open spaces, singly and in squads and small flocks. So
plentiful were the pigeons, and so little disturbed by the lads'
presence, that the two might have killed hundreds had they chosen, but
they were not greedy or wanton sportsmen, and shot only as many as they
thought they could eat for supper, reserving the trout for breakfast.