north again, the wind had strengthened so that paddling at an angle
against it became hard work. The sky had grown lead gray, and, without
the sun to guide them, the boys wondered how they were to keep their
course. The distance was too hazy to afford any chance of discerning the
north shore. They held on doggedly, but they had not been paddling north
an hour when rain began to fall, fine and cold. It was driven from the
northeast by the wind, that grew constantly stronger, penetrating their
heavy clothes with its damp chill. All hope of finding the Island of
Yellow Sands that day vanished from their hearts. Moreover the north
shore must still be far away, and there seemed no chance of gaining it
against a northeast storm that was steadily increasing in fury.
They struggled forward against wind and waves for a little while longer,
but their paddles were of almost no avail to make headway. The most they
could do was to keep the canoe right side up and avoid shipping water
enough to sink it. At last the Indian did the only wise thing he could
do under the circumstances. He gave the order to turn the boat and run
with the wind. They could no longer make way against it, but, if they
could keep the canoe from being swamped by following waves, the gale
might bear them back to Minong and safety. The northwest direction of
the storm was at least favorable to the attempt. The chief danger in
running with the wind would be from the following waves that might
easily overwhelm them. To increase their speed the boys tried to raise a
sail, but a sudden gust, accompanied by sleet, which drove down upon
them with great force, tore the blanket from their hands and blew it
away. They could ill afford to spare their blankets, and they made no
further attempt at sailing.
All their efforts were now devoted to keeping the canoe from being
caught and up-ended or deluged by the waves, and in bailing out the
water that threatened to swamp it. The wind blew a gale, lashing them
with rain and stinging sleet that would have chilled them through if
they had not had to work so hard. As it was they were so wholly taken
up with the struggle to keep from going to the bottom, that they had no
time to think of bodily discomfort, even though their clothes were
soaked, their faces stinging, their hands aching with cold.
In a far shorter time than it had taken them to paddle to the north and
east, the wind bore them back to the southwest. So close to its
northwestern side that they could distinguish its cliffs through the
rain and sleet, they ran by the island they had left a few hours before.
There was no possibility of making a landing, and they began to fear
that they would be borne past Minong also.
The great island extends several miles farther to the westward, however,
and its outlying points and small islands lay directly in their way, too
directly for safety. Their course was a little too westerly to take them
close to the high ridge. They were driven past the land that lay to the
northwest of the ridge, and down among islands and reefs. At no time
since the storm broke had they been in more imminent peril. The gale was
so strong, the waves so high, they could no longer steer their little
craft. They were carried close to reefs and islands, missing by a few
feet or even inches being cast upon the rocks. Yet they found no place
where, with a sudden twist of the paddle, they might shoot through into
shelter.
The thundering of breakers sounded straight ahead. Through the rain and
sleet, land appeared suddenly. Powerless to escape it, they had just
time to lift their paddles from the water, when the surf caught the
canoe and flung it on the beach. Instantly they were over the side,
struggling for a foothold on the slippery pebbles, as the receding wave
tried to drag them back. Grasping the bars of the canoe, they managed to
scramble up the narrow beach with it, but before they could bear it to
safety, another wave caught them and flung them forward on their faces.
Jean lost his hold. But Etienne and Ronald clung to it, and, resisting
the pull of the water, managed to drag the boat forward into a thicket
above the reach of the waves.
The three were safe, though somewhat bruised and battered, but the canoe
was split and shattered by its rough handling, and, what was worse,
everything it had contained had been thrown out into the water. Scarcely
waiting to get their breaths, the castaways set about rescuing what they
could. By running down the narrow, slanting beach and plunging into the
water between waves, they managed to save the gun and one bow. In a
desperate attempt to rescue the package of food, Jean was caught by a
wave and might have been drowned, if Ronald had not seized him in time
and dragged him back. The bark-covered package was carried out to deep
water and disappeared. One of the blankets and the roll of apakwas were
flung high on shore, and caught in a stunted bush that ordinarily would
have been well above water line. Fortunately the three always carried
their light axes, their knives, fishing tackle and other little things
on their persons, so those were saved also. Everything else, including
the other blanket, the caribou hide, and the cedar cord net, was lost.
XXI
COMPELLED TO GIVE UP THE SEARCH
In the woods back from the beach, the castaways built a rough wigwam.
Even in the partial protection of the trees, it was hard work in the
driving rain and sleet, but all three were soaking wet and bitterly
chilled. They had to have shelter and warmth. Fortunately the roll of
apakwas had been saved. Poles were set up, and Nangotook and Jean,
beginning at the bottom, wrapped the apakwas around the framework, each
strip overlapping the one below, so that the water could not run down
between. More poles and branches were tied with withes over the bark
covering to hold it in place.
In the meantime Ronald had been cutting fuel. The wood was wet and
coated with ice. Even the Indian might have striven in vain for a blaze
had he not been lucky enough to find a small, dead birch, that
contained, within its protecting bark, dry heart wood that crumbled to
powder. With this tinder he succeeded in kindling bark and fine
shavings. Then he added dead limbs split into strips, and finally larger
birch wood and resinous spruce. On one side of the fire, which had been
made within the lodge, Ronald piled the wood he had cut, and on the
other the three crouched to dry their soaked clothes and warm their
chilled bodies. They had nothing to eat, and no way of getting anything
in the bitter, driving storm, which was continually growing worse.
A miserable night they spent in that rude shelter, huddled together on
damp evergreen branches, under their one remaining blanket, which they
had dried before the fire. Surf lashed the beach, and the wind roared in
the tree tops, that swayed and clashed together, the trunks creaking as
if they must snap off and be hurled down on the wigwam. Sleet and frozen
snow rattled on the bark covering. It was lucky indeed for the
treasure-seekers that they had been cast ashore before the storm reached
its height. Long before nightfall it had grown so violent that there was
not one chance in a thousand for a canoe to live through it.
The northeaster continued to rage with varying degrees of fury for two
more days. Rain, sleet and snow did not fall constantly, but came in
showers and squalls, with intervals between, while the gale blew
unceasingly, though not always with equal violence, and the sun never
showed itself. In the quieter intervals Nangotook and the boys cut fuel
for the fire and sought for food, but during the more furious spells
they were compelled to remain under shelter. Even if the canoe had not
been too badly damaged to float, they could not have gone on the water
to fish, and all efforts to catch anything from the shore failed. If
there were any animals in the vicinity, they were not abroad in the
storm, but remained snug in their holes and lairs, and, the ground being
covered with icy snow, no tracks revealed their hiding places. Nangotook
dug down through snow and ice for some roots he knew to be edible, and
the boys found a few hazelnuts. It was too late for berries; they had
all fallen or been eaten by birds and animals. So little could the
castaways find that was eatable that they were even glad of alder seeds.
Under-nourished as they were, they felt the chilling cold all the more
severely, and both boys agreed that they had never put through so
miserable a period as those three nights and two days.
It was no wonder that Nangotook felt this to be the final and
unmistakable warning of the manito that they must give up the search for
the treasure that belonged to him. On the second night of the storm he
had a dream that strengthened his conviction. Very seriously and
impressively he related the dream to the lads in the morning.
"While my body slept," he said, "Amik, the Great Beaver, appeared to me.
He was larger than the greatest moose. His body filled the wigwam. There
was no room for his tail, so it stuck out of the door. He looked at me
sternly, and in a voice that drowned the clashing of the trees in the
wind and the rattling of the sleet against the bark, he asked me why I
had not heeded the warnings. I tried to answer, but could not, for my
tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Then he spoke again, and forbade
me, and the white men with me, to go farther out into the lake. We must
turn back to shore, he said, and again he asked why I had not gone back
when I had been warned the first time, and the second time, and the
third time. Then I loosened my tongue from the roof of my mouth, and
answered that the white youths were young and rash and would not turn
back. 'The manitos of the waters and the islands are angry with you,'
Amik replied. 'If the white youths will not turn back, they must be
destroyed. I warn you because you are of my blood. Leave them to their
fate, and return to the shore before it is too late.' But I gathered up
my courage and answered Amik. 'Grandfather,' I said, 'I cannot leave
them. It was I who led them on this adventure, and if I should leave
them and go back without them, I should be a coward and dishonored. If
they must perish, I too must perish.' The Great Beaver looked at me, and
was silent a long time. 'If you will not leave them, make them turn
back,' he said, and his voice was like thunder rolling in the wigwam and
his look was even sterner than before. 'Make them turn back. The manitos
are angry. They lose patience. I have warned you.' And then he
disappeared and I woke, and the flesh stood up in little points all over
my body, and my tongue was dry, and my hair prickled at the roots, and I
knew I must heed Amik's warning. Turn back, my brothers, before it is
too late!"
Even Ronald felt no inclination to laugh at Nangotook's vision. While he
had no faith in such a creature as the Great Beaver, the dream itself
impressed him deeply. Belief in the mysterious character and meaning of
dreams was common among all men at that time. The boy was not less
superstitious than the average man of his period and race. From
childhood he had heard the Scottish tales of dreams and warnings and
second sight, and to these old world superstitions had been added
others native to the new world. He had refused to regard the northern
lights or the sudden appearance of the Sleeping Giant as a warning, but
such a dream as this was a different matter. In spite of its fantastic
form he felt, with the superstitious feeling of the time, that it might
be a real warning or foreshadowing of disaster to come. He strove to
shake off the impression the dream had made upon him, but found he could
not. Indeed it affected him even more than it seemed to affect Jean.
The storm could not last forever, and when, on the third morning, the
castaways found that the wind had abated and the sun was breaking
through the clouds, they were encouraged to believe that the worst was
over. They had thought themselves on a point of the main island, but
soon discovered that their refuge was in reality a narrow island about
two miles long. Other land lay close by, but before they could reach it
or even fish successfully, they must repair the canoe. So Etienne set
about the task, replacing the broken ribs and sheathing, sewing on
patches and gumming the strained seams. During the storm it had been
impossible to do such work in the open, and the hut had been too small
to hold both the canoe and its crew.
While Etienne worked on the canoe, the boys made another search for
food. Through the icy snow, which was disappearing rapidly wherever the
sun could reach it, they tramped and scrambled about among the trees and
along the pebbly beaches, rocks and boulders, but obtained nothing
except a few hazelnuts and one squirrel that Ronald killed with a
stone.
Jean caught sight of the glossy brown, rat-like head of a mink swimming
near shore, saw the head go under suddenly, and waited to see if the
small fisher would secure its prey. In a moment the head reappeared, and
the slim-bodied little animal swam to shore, a small fish in its mouth.
It laid the fish down to kill it by biting it through the neck, but at
that instant Jean sprang forward. A mink is very fierce and brave for
its size, and this one stood over its catch for a moment snarling, then,
with an almost incredibly swift movement, seized the fish, turned and
took to the water. Farther along the bank it landed again, and, like a
brown streak, it was away and out of sight, long before the boy had gone
half-way to its landing place. His plan to frighten it, so it would leave
its catch, had failed completely.
The canoe having been repaired, and a slender meal of squirrel broth and
hazelnuts eaten, the three set out from the south shore of the little
island. To the southwest, separated by a very narrow channel, was more
land. The water was quiet, and they paddled slowly along, fishing lines
out. Soon they discovered that they were in a bay, the land closing in
ahead of them. Lake herring were jumping about them, and, with a bark
scoop attached to a pole, Ronald succeeded in taking a few to be used as
bait for larger fish. The fishermen circled the bay, and rounded a point
almost opposite the southern end of the island where they had been
storm-bound. They found themselves in a very narrow cove, scarcely a
quarter of a mile broad in its widest part and perhaps two miles long.
In that narrow harbor they caught in quick succession, with the herring
bait, three large pickerel, each one giving them a lively fight before
it was landed. Another they lost when it snapped the line. Elated over
their good luck, they returned to their camp to clean and cook their
fish.
The hearty meal put new strength into the boys, and for the first time
since they were cast ashore in the storm they felt equal to making plans
for the future. The prospect was serious enough. October, "the moon of
the falling leaf," as the Ojibwa called it, had come, and the storm and
snow of the last few days had given the wanderers a foretaste of winter.
There might be, probably would be, many good days before winter set in
in earnest, but on the other hand, they knew that genuine winter might
come at any time, for the autumn season on Lake Superior is a very
uncertain one. Real winter might hold off until well into November or
December and give them time to reach the Sault in safety, but it had
been known to arrive in October. They could put little trust in the
weather, and the way back to the River Ste. Marie was long. Moreover if
they were to make the journey with any show of speed, they must be
provisioned for it. The first necessity was a supply of food.
Even Ronald had given up hope of finding the Island of Yellow Sands that
year. They could spend no more time in seeking for it. The risk of the
search, in the autumn storms and rough weather, had become too great
even for him. The adventurers had been almost miraculously saved three
times, from thunder storm, fog and northeaster, but surely it would be
tempting Providence to undertake any more such rash voyages. He did not
admit that Nangotook's dream had anything to do with his decision, but
in reality the dream had not been without influence. Had conditions been
favorable, the warning alone would not have turned him back, though it
might have made him apprehensive and uneasy, but all the conditions were
unfavorable, and common sense and superstition both urged abandonment of
the search.
Nangotook emphatically declared that he would have nothing to do with
any further search for the island that autumn. He could never look
Jean's father in the face again, he said, if he did not take the boy
back safe. The Indian showed such determination that the boys realized
nothing could move him from his decision. He would find some means of
preventing the others from making another attempt, if they showed any
disposition to do so. "He would knock us over the head to keep us quiet,
and paddle off with us in the opposite direction, if he could not handle
us any other way," Ronald confided to Jean later.
So, with reluctance, but from a necessity they could not blind their
eyes to, the boys postponed the search for the golden island, and turned
their thoughts to getting back to the Sault. To strike out directly for
the north shore seemed as perilous as seeking the island. Yet they must
reach the mainland some way. Nangotook counseled that, instead of
traveling to the north, they try to reach the northwest shore, Grande
Portage, if possible, by going west. They were now somewhere on the
northwest side of Minong. A number of years before, Nangotook, with
others of his tribe, had crossed to the island from a point on the shore
a little to the north of Grande Portage. They had steered southeast, he
said, and making the journey between sunrise and noon, had reached
Minong at its lower end. From there they had gone northeast along the
shore of the island to a cove with a narrow entrance, where they had
obtained a store of copper. The band or bracelet, decorated with a
pattern of incised lines, which he wore on his arm, was made from that
copper, he said. Returning the same way, they had again crossed safely.
The leader of the party had said that his tribe, from times long past,
had always taken that route to Minong, because the distance from the
shore was shortest that way. If the weather turned bad, the trip from
the lower end of the island to the cove, where copper was so plentiful,
could be made overland. The Ojibwa advised accordingly that the three
try first to make their way along shore, by water if they could, by land
if necessary, to the southwest end of the island, and then across to
Grande Portage. There they could get a supply of food and ammunition,
blankets and other things for the long trip to the Sault, or, if winter
came early, they might remain at the Portage until spring. His plan
seemed a wise one, and the lads readily agreed to it. There was
something cheering in the thought that the trading post at the Grande
Portage lay no farther away. Surely there was a good chance of reaching
it before winter set in. The Sault de Ste. Marie seemed terribly
remote.
XXII
THE INDIAN MINES
Because of the necessity of obtaining food, it was not likely that the
trip to the southwest end of Minong could be made continuously, but
Nangotook and the boys agreed to start in that direction on the
following morning and go as far as they could. They paddled up the bay
they had named Pickerel Cove, but the fish were not biting. The head of
the cove was separated from the open lake by a narrow bit of land, so
they went ashore and carried the canoe across. Jean remarked that there
was one advantage in having no food or equipment. Portaging was made
easy.
When they reached the lake they found the water rough, but they managed
to go on along the shore, and across the mouth of a small bay. Rounding
a point beyond, they came to the entrance of another larger bay. After
one swift glance about him, Nangotook gave a grunt of satisfaction.
"Know this place," he said over his shoulder. "Place where copper is. We
get some for arrowheads."
The boys were ready to agree to the proposal, especially when the Indian
explained that beyond the bay lay a stretch of steep, continuous cliffs,
affording no shelter and perilous to skirt in the increasing north wind.
Entering the bay was difficult enough, for treacherous reefs and rocks
surrounded and extended into its mouth. Nangotook picked the channel
wisely, however, and piloted the canoe safely through the dangerous
entrance. He had said that copper stones could be picked up from the
beaches, so a landing was made on a stretch of gravel protected by the
point they had just rounded.
The beach was disappointing. Bits and grains of pure copper were strewn
about, both above and below the water line, but they were all so small
that a great many would have to be melted together to make one
arrowhead. After searching for larger pieces and failing to find them,
the Ojibwa shook his head, muttered the one word "Ka-win-ni-shi-shin,"
"no good," and turned back to the canoe.
Jean and Ronald followed him, and they paddled along the beach, rounded
another point and landed on the other side of it, on the north shore of
a little inlet that opened from the large bay and ran at right angles to
it. This place was evidently an old camping ground, for bleached and
decaying lodge-poles were standing a little back from the shore.
Nangotook was sure they were the remains of the wigwam he and his
companions had built on his former visit to the island. After examining
the ground carefully, he said he did not think any one had camped there
since. The summit of the hill, that rose to the north of the camping
ground, had been a good place for hares, he added. He would go and set
some snares, while the boys fished.
The lads were disappointed at not being shown at once the rich stores of
copper that Nangotook had led them to believe were to be found in this
place, but food was always a necessity. When the canoe had been
overturned in the surf, they had saved the gun and one bow, but they had
no ammunition and no arrows. So they went to fishing cheerfully enough.
By the time the Indian returned from setting his snares, they had caught
two small lake trout. They cleaned and cooked their catch, but to their
surprise Nangotook refused to touch the food. He did not want anything
to eat, he said.
After the meal, the three took to the canoe and went on up the bay. It
proved to be a long and narrow cove, which cut at an angle through
alternating wooded ridges and valleys. The long bays they had visited
before had lain _between_ ridges, that stretched parallel with the
waters, but this one occupied a break in the hills, as if it had been
cut through them. Landing on the west side, the Indian led the boys up a
thickly forested ridge. As they neared the top, Jean caught sight of
something that aroused his interest. He turned from Nangotook's trail,
and began pushing through a thicket. Suddenly he gave a sharp cry and
disappeared. Ronald, who was only a few paces ahead of his friend,
turned back at once. Making his way through the underbrush more
cautiously than Jean had done, Ronald found himself balancing on the
very edge of a deep hole. At the bottom Jean was just picking himself
up, more surprised than hurt.
"Tonnerre," he exclaimed indignantly, "who would have looked for such a
pit on the side of a hill? I was going along all right, and then, all
of a sudden, I was down here."
"You are in too much haste to dig for the red metal, little brother,"
Nangotook called to him. The Indian had reached the edge of the hole
almost as quickly as Ronald, and stood grinning down on Jean.
"What do you mean by that, Etienne?" the lad answered, as he began to
climb up the steep and ragged slope. "What has digging for copper to do
with my falling into this pit?"
The Ojibwa made no answer until Jean had reached the top. Then with a
gesture that embraced the hole and its sides, he asked abruptly: "What
think my brothers of this place?"
Puzzled by his question, the boys glanced around. The pit was roughly
oval in shape, and perhaps thirty feet deep. Its steep sides were of
rock, bare in some places, in others clothed with bushes and moss. In
the bottom grew a clump of good sized birch trees, that partly concealed
the opposite side of the depression.