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 Paté, 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."