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.