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.