their heavy load tied to a pole and carried between them, the boys made
slow progress. More than once they wished they had turned back the other
way. At last they came to a place where the brook rippled down a slope
into a marsh, and joined a larger stream that wound sluggishly, in many
turns and twists, through the tall, ripe grass and sedges. On the
farther side of the larger stream was a dense belt of leafless shrubs
that appeared to stand almost in the water, and beyond them thick cedar
woods.
"Now where are we?" exclaimed Ronald disgustedly. "It seems I guessed
wrong about this little brook. I never thought of its emptying into
another stream."
"I'm not sure you were so very wrong," Jean replied. "We could see when
we paddled up the cove that it was low and swampy at its head. This may
well be the very swamp. If we follow it we can soon discover."
Accordingly, turning to the north, they made their way along the higher
ground. The marsh was roughly triangular in shape and, as they went on
towards its base, they soon found that Jean was right. Beyond a belt of
rushes and other aquatic plants, the waters of the cove came in view.
When the boys reached the shore, Jean offered to go for the canoe while
Ronald kept watch over the game. Ronald did not like inaction, but he
knew his friend was the better woodsman, and could make his way through
the forest and over rough ground almost as rapidly and tirelessly as
Nangotook himself. So the Scotch lad set himself to wait as patiently as
he could.
The cove was longer, and the distance from the head to the place where
the hunters had first landed was considerably farther, than Jean had
thought. He had supposed that he might have half a mile to go, but it
was really two or three times that far. He found the canoe safe, and saw
no sign of the Indian's having returned from the hunt.
To let Nangotook know who had taken the canoe and when, the boy left an
Indian sign. He drove a straight stick in the ground in an open place
and scratched a line in the earth along the shadow the stick cast. When
Nangotook returned, he would be able to tell, from the difference in the
position of the shadow at that time and the mark on the ground, how far
the sun had traveled in the meantime. On a piece of birch bark Jean
scratched with the point of his knife a large J and beneath it two
arrows pointing opposite ways. This bit of bark he pegged to the ground
beside the stick, with one arrow pointing up the cove, the other down,
signs of the way he had gone and that he would return.
When the two lads reached the rendezvous again with their game, they
rather expected to find Nangotook waiting for them. He was not there, so
they decided to go on to camp. Ronald helped Jean to dress and cut up
the caribou. Then, leaving his companion to begin the drying process, he
went back for the Ojibwa.
The hunter had not arrived, and there was nothing to do but wait. Ronald
occupied the time in fishing, paddling about where he would be in plain
sight from shore and could be easily hailed. The afternoon drew to a
close, and still Nangotook did not return.
"He must have followed his game a long way," thought Ronald, "or else he
missed the caribou entirely and is looking for other tracks. We'll have
the laugh on him if he fails to get anything."
The sun had set behind threatening clouds, and, as darkness deepened,
Ronald became a little uneasy. Could anything have happened to
Nangotook, he wondered, but he put the idea out of his head. The Indian
was abundantly able to take care of himself. He had merely gone far in
pursuit of game. It was slow work coming back in the darkness,
especially if he were heavily loaded.
Ronald went ashore, kindled a cooking fire and broiled a fish for his
supper. He was sorry he had not brought some of the fresh meat with him,
but he had not expected to stay so long. After he had finished his meal,
he sat down on a fallen tree beside his little fire and waited as
patiently as he could.
Time dragged slowly. Ronald was meditatively chewing a wintergreen leaf
and thinking back over the search for the golden sands, when he was
startled by an owl that hooted from a tree above his head, the
long-drawn, blood-chilling, hunting cry of the great horned owl. The big
bird swooped down suddenly and flew out over the water with noiseless
wings. A little later he heard its call again from far away. There was a
scratching on the bark of a tall tree near by, and for a moment a red
squirrel broke out in peevish chattering. Ronald half rose from his
seat, thinking the little animal's excitement might mean Nangotook's
approach. But no one appeared and all was silent again, except for the
faint lapping of the water and the monotonous rustling of the spruce
needles in the light breeze.
The night was growing very chilly, and the boy replenished his fire,
regretting that he had not gathered more fuel while he could see to get
it. Clouds covered the sky and the darkness was thick. He fell into a
doze, from which he woke suddenly, as a small, slim, black form glided
by his feet and disappeared in the water. The mink had made no sound,
but its mere presence had somehow served to arouse his suspicious
senses. The fire was almost out. As the boy stooped to put on the last
of his wood, he heard in the distance the snarling, cat-like screech of
a lynx. He made an instinctive movement of disgust. He loathed lynxes
more than any other animal, the treacherous, cruel cats. Most beasts had
something noble about them, however fierce they might be, he thought,
but in the lynx he could see no good whatever. He remembered the time
the cat had fallen through the roof of the shelter, and the scrimmage he
and Jean had had with the beast. That was the night Etienne had heard Le
Forgeron and had found his footprints and those of his companion. Then a
disturbing thought flashed into the boy's mind, and he sat upright on
his log, wide awake.
Could it be that Le Forgeron was preventing Etienne's return? Had it
been the smoke from the Blacksmith's fire he had seen, and had Le
Forgeron by some trick waylaid the Indian and killed him or badly
injured him? Ronald had no doubt of the fight Nangotook would put up if
attacked. But if he had been taken by surprise and attacked two to
one---- A dash of rain interrupted the lad's thoughts. He had no idea
how far advanced the night was, for the stars were all obscured. He
sprang up, groped his way to the canoe, turned it over, propped up one
side with the paddles, and crept under it. By the time he had settled
himself, the rain was coming down hard.
Ronald slept no more that night. His mind was too full of anxiety, his
apprehensions and imagination too wide awake. He tried to convince
himself that Nangotook had gone too far in pursuit of game to get back
before dark, so had camped and waited for daylight. The lad could
convince his reason of all this but not his imagination. It kept
picturing to him how the Ojibwa might have been ambushed or waylaid by
his enemies, and left dead in his tracks. He began to worry about Jean
alone in the camp. If the evil Frenchman had made way with Nangotook,
would not the next move be to steal upon the camp at night and get Jean
also? At that point in his imaginings, common sense reasserted itself.
What possible reason could the Frenchman have for destroying them all?
If he knew why they had come back to the lake, and was following them,
he would surely not want to put them out of the way until they had led
him to the golden sands. "But," whispered his imagination, "he might
work to separate you and get rid of you two boys. He _did_ try to get
rid of _you_ when he knocked you over the cliff. He might think he could
force or bribe Nangotook to lead him to the island." In such manner the
lad's thoughts and feelings argued with one another through the rest of
the night, which seemed to him well-nigh endless.
Dawn came at last, and Ronald crawled out of his shelter. The rain had
ceased, but the morning was cold and raw, and he was stiff and
shivering. He had made up his mind to return to camp first and see if
Jean was safe. Then they would cache their meat supply, come back, and
follow Nangotook's trail, to find out what had become of him.
Ronald paddled back to the camping ground at his best speed. When he
entered the little bay he was relieved to see Jean.
Jean turned at Ronald's shout. Seeing the latter returning alone, he
stared in amazement, and then ran down to the water calling out
questions. When he had heard Ronald's story, his anxiety was even
greater than his comrade's, for Nangotook had always been a devoted
friend to him, and Jean was very fond of the Indian. Hurriedly the two
took the meat from the fire, wrapped it in bark, and hung it in a tree
for safe keeping. Then, waiting only long enough to eat a little of the
broiled meat, they launched the canoe and made speed back to the place
where Ronald had passed the night. Before taking to the trail, however,
they carried the canoe some distance from the landing place, hid it in a
thicket, and did their best to erase all signs that might lead to its
discovery. If Le Forgeron Tordu were anywhere about, the lads had no
intention of letting him steal the canoe while they were searching for
Nangotook.
XXV
THE RED SPOT AMONG THE GREEN
Jean and Ronald went first to the spot on the ridge where the three
hunters had separated. From there they attempted to trace the caribou
trail Nangotook had set out to follow. It was a well traveled track,
which had evidently been much used by the animals, and was not difficult
to follow for a mile or more. Then the boys lost it in a bog, where the
rain of the night before had soaked the spongy moss and had caused it to
expand and blot out all tracks. There were plenty of evidences that
caribou had visited the place more than once. Here and there plants and
bushes had been nibbled and cropped, and small trees had been stripped
of bark and branches far above where hares could reach. Evidently the
caribou had wandered about all over the bog to feed, but had made no
well defined trail through it.
When the lads tried to determine which way the animals had gone, and
Nangotook after them, they encountered a difficult problem. In the woods
that encircled the wetter and more open part of the bog, there were half
a dozen breaks where caribou might have gone through and where the
Indian might have followed their tracks. Jean and Ronald examined all of
the openings, and tried to decide which one Nangotook had probably used.
The ground was still spongy, and the rain had obliterated all
footprints. The trees and bushes around one of the openings showed
signs of recent nibbling, however, and the boys decided to try that one.
But they had not gone far when they lost all trace of the trail, if
trail it really was. There were no more nibbled trees, and no
indications that any animal had ever been through the thick tangle of
standing and fallen cedar and black spruce.
The two retraced their steps to the bog, and tried another of the
openings, to meet with a similar disappointment. The third attempt was
more successful. The track was faint indeed, so faint that Ronald could
never have followed it if he had been alone, but Jean was a better
woodsman, with a surer instinct for a trail. He led the way, through
swamp woods, and up rising ground, partly wooded, partly open, until
they reached a spot where they could look out over the lake to the
north. There, along the ridge, the reindeer lichen had been cropped
close in many places, proving beyond a doubt that caribou had been
there, whether they had come the way the boys had just traveled or not.
From the ridge top the descent to the lake was steep, with broken cliffs
and a rough, inhospitable, stony beach at the base. After Jean had
climbed a jack pine to get a better view of the surroundings, the two
followed along the ridge to the southwest, noting the cropped moss and
nibbled bushes as they went.
Reaching a gully, which bore signs that the animals might have gone that
way, the boys scrambled through it and down over the rocks to the
narrow, stony beach. A rocky, wooded island, perhaps a quarter of a
mile out and almost parallel with the shore, served as a slight
windbreak and had probably aided in the formation of the beach, which
was about a mile in length. Beyond it on either hand the cliffs rose
straight from the water.
Finding nothing to indicate that Nangotook had visited the beach, the
lads climbed up the broken cliffs, and followed the shore to the
northeast for a couple of miles until they came out on a point across
the cove from their camp. There they saw a caribou feeding, but the
beast took alarm before Jean was within range, and made off so rapidly
that pursuit was useless. They had found no trace of Nangotook.
Worried and puzzled, but still hoping that while they were searching for
him, the Indian might have returned to the rendezvous, the two boys made
their way along the west shore of the cove, to the place where they had
left the canoe. The boat was undisturbed, and there were no signs of the
Ojibwa.
All that day and the two following, they searched for Nangotook. They
explored all the tracks and suggestions of tracks that led from the bog
where the caribou fed. They went along the cliffs beyond the gully,
where they had descended to the shore, until they came to an indentation
in the coast line, a great open bay, only partly protected by islands.
Several times they saw caribou, but were not able to approach near
enough for a successful shot.
The two also explored the whole western side of the cove to its head,
and went up the stream to its source, a long, narrow, crook-shaped lake.
On the third day of their search, they examined the east shore of the
harbor, although it did not seem likely that Nangotook had been there.
It was possible, however, that he might, in his pursuit of game, have
been led around the head, across the marsh and stream and down the east
side. The boys crossed the little inlet where their camp lay, and
examined, as thoroughly as they could, both the lower ground and the
ridge that ran at an angle with the cove. Along that ridge, and down its
southeastern slope they came across a number of old pits, but all
overgrown and showing no signs of having been mined for many years.
At the base of the ridge, a little back from the shore, in a grove of
birch trees, the lads found the remains of a camp. It was from this
place that Ronald had seen the thin wisp of smoke ascending. The camp
had evidently been a temporary one, for no lodge had been built.
Probably the campers had used their canoe for shelter, though there were
no marks in the ground to show where it had rested on paddles or poles.
Neither were there any footprints, but that was not surprising, for the
ground was rocky, with only shallow soil that would not take deep
imprints. The ashes and charred sticks of the fire remained, and stumps,
with the ax marks plain upon them, indicated where wood had been cut. A
large birch had been partly stripped of its bark, doubtless for the
purpose of repairing the canoe, or making utensils of some kind. Bones,
bits of skin, fish scales and heads, and the uneatable parts of hares,
squirrels and birds, were strewn about the ground in the Indian manner.
The untidiness did not prove that the camp was necessarily an Indian
one, however, for the white forest-wanderers were usually quite as
careless of neatness and cleanliness as the savages themselves. Jean and
Ronald, who piled fish and game refuse in a heap a little distance from
the camp, and out of sight and smell, were far more particular than most
of the wilderness travelers.
Though they could find no direct evidence, the lads were certain in
their own minds that this camp had belonged to Le Forgeron Tordu and his
Cree companion. They could not have explained why they were so sure, but
they _were_ sure nevertheless. They were convinced, too, that there was
some connection between the camp and the disappearance of Nangotook,
although they had not come upon the slightest evidence of foul play.
After examining the place closely, they concluded that the camp ground
had not been used for several days. Jean thought, from the appearance of
the ashes, that the fire had not been burning since the last rain, and
no rain had fallen since the night Ronald had spent waiting for the
Ojibwa to return from the hunt. There was no discernible trail that led
any distance from the camp. Very likely the campers had come to the spot
by water and had departed in the same way. So the finding of the place,
instead of helping to solve the problem of Nangotook's disappearance,
only increased the boys' perplexity as well as their uneasiness.
Late in the afternoon of the same day, they saw something else that
troubled them. Having searched everywhere for some trace of their
companion, they were in a state of puzzlement over what to do next, but
too restless to remain quiet. So they paddled to the entrance of the
cove, and made their way out among the reefs, and along the base of the
steep cliffs to the southwest. As they were going slowly along, with a
line and hook attached to the stern paddle, Jean, who was in the bow,
caught sight of some bright red thing gleaming among the green of
evergreen trees on an outlying rocky island. With an exclamation, he
pointed out the bright spot to Ronald, who had but a glimpse of it
before it disappeared.
"There's a man on that island," said Jean excitedly. "That was a bit of
his toque."
"It looked like it," Ronald admitted, "but it may have been only the
autumn red of a rowan tree."
"No, no," Jean replied quickly. "That was no mountain ash tree. It would
not have disappeared that way. We should still be able to see it. The
red spot moved quickly and disappeared among the green. Yet there is no
wind. I tell you it is a man. It is Le Forgeron, I am sure."
"That may be true," Ronald answered. "At any rate we must find out. If
we can get on the track of the Blacksmith we may discover what has
become of Etienne. I have little hope that he still lives, but at least
we may find out how he died. We can't be leaving this place to make our
way to the Grande Portage while there's any chance that he may return.
Yet if we do not go soon, winter may catch us and hold us prisoner."
Jean nodded gravely. "We cannot rest till we find out what that red
thing is," he said. "But if it is Le Forgeron's toque, it would not be
wise to approach too closely now. We will go back to our camp again, as
if we had noticed nothing, and after darkness comes, we will paddle
across to that place and look for what we may find."
Ronald agreed at once. Not to excite suspicion if any one was watching
from the island, they went on a little farther before turning, then
paddled slowly back, as if their whole attention were devoted to their
fishing.
After darkness had come, the two lads embarked again, made their way out
among the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and paddled towards the
island. They wielded their blades silently, but darted as rapidly as
they could across the open water. In spite of the fact that the moon had
not yet risen, they were afraid their canoe could be seen by any
keen-eyed person who might be looking that way. As they approached the
island, they watched closely for the gleam of a camp-fire or for any
sign of life, but no light glowed through the trees that clothed the
central part of the rock island, and no movement was visible. Drawing
near to land, the boys slowed their stroke and crept quietly along
shore, searching the shadows for a landing place. A little cove in the
rocks appeared to be a likely place, and, running in, they found a bit
of pebble beach where they succeeded in making a safe landing. They
concealed the canoe in a cleft of the rocks, where the shadows lay
black, and then started to reconnoiter.
Cautiously and noiselessly they climbed the rocks to the patch of woods.
An owl flew out on silent wings, and sailed down so close to Ronald's
head that it startled him for a moment. No sound, but the rustling of
evergreen needles in the light breeze and the low rippling of the water
in the crannies of the rock shore below, disturbed the utter stillness.
With the exception of the ghostly owl, there seemed to be no life
whatever on the island.
In the darkness of the trees and bushes, they had to proceed very
carefully. They did not attempt to go through the center of the wooded
patch, but made their way along its edge, on the alert every moment for
some sign of a camp. So cautiously did they move, stopping every few
paces to listen and peer into the shadows, that it took them a long time
to go the short distance to the southern end of the island, and before
they reached it, the moon had risen and was lighting up the bare rocks
and the water beyond.
So far the two had come upon no traces of either man or beast, but
there, in the moonlight, Jean discovered a bent and broken serviceberry
bush, where something, man or animal, had pushed through. He dropped on
his knees to look for tracks, but could find no trace of footprints in
the thin soil that only partly covered the rock. As he rose to his feet,
he sniffed the air like an animal that catches a scent.
"Smoke," he whispered to Ronald.
Ronald, who had been examining a patch of moss at his feet, trying to
make out whether it had been trodden on or not, turned his head in the
direction of the wind and sniffed also. "Yes," he whispered back, "some
one has a fire over there in the woods. We must be finding out about
it." And stepping in front of Jean, he pushed through the bushes.
As the two made their way among the trees, going very cautiously over
the rough ground, where broken rocks, cropping out everywhere and hidden
in the shadow of the stunted and twisted spruces, made progress
difficult, the smell of smoke came more and more strongly to their
nostrils. Though as yet they could not see it, the camp-fire must be
close at hand, they thought, and they went carefully that no sound might
betray their presence. A faint, crackling noise reached their ears. It
grew rapidly louder. Gleams of red appeared through the tree trunks
ahead. Ronald stopped short, stared a moment, then turned to Jean, who
had come up to him.
"That is no camp-fire," he exclaimed, with a note of alarm in his low
pitched voice.
Jean looked where the other pointed and gave a little gasp. "The woods
are on fire," he whispered. "The canoe, quick! Out of the trees to the
rocks and around that way."
XXVI
THE BURNING WOODS
As they hastened back through the woods, the boys' one thought was to
reach the canoe. They knew there was no chance of checking the fire,
which apparently had a good start and would sweep the island from end to
end. The wind was north, so, thinking they would be out of the worst of
the heat and smoke on that side, they chose the northwestern or outer
shore, though it was unknown ground to them, for they had come around
the inner side at the edge of the woods. Light though the breeze was,
the fire spread rapidly. The spruces flared up like torches, the flames
running along the limbs and leaping from tree to tree. The resinous
branches and needles made a loud crackling noise as they burned, broken
by an occasional crash, as some tree, fire-eaten at its base, toppled
over and fell against its fellows or broke through and measured its
length on the ground.
The belt of almost bare rock between the lake and the woods was wider on
the outer shore than on the inner, but the rocks, rising steeply from
the water, were extremely rough and broken. Deep cracks had to be
leaped, scrambled through or followed up until they could be crossed. In
a very few minutes the trees, across the narrow open strip from the
boys, were blazing. Though the lads were to the windward of the fire,
the heat scorched them, and the smoke at times was almost suffocating.
Either the wind was becoming variable or the heated air from the burning
caused erratic currents, for frequent puffs and gusts of flame and smoke
were carried towards the refugees. They kept as near the water and as
far from the fire as they could, scrambling over rocks, jumping chasms,
climbing slopes, slipping and falling sometimes, when the waves of
pungent, stinging smoke choked and blinded them.