climb down. Going along its edge, they were led, before they reached a
place narrow enough to be jumped, almost into the burning woods, where
the chasm became a gully, covered with trees and bushes. Confused by the
smoke, Ronald missed his leap, and would have gone to the bottom, if his
hand had not grasped a little spruce growing on the brink. By the time
Jean had pulled him over the edge, the bushes around them were beginning
to burn. As the two boys sprang through, Jean's tunic caught fire, and
he was obliged to tear it off as he ran, and leave it behind. Not until
they were at the very edge of the cliffs, were they clear of the blazing
bushes.
As they scrambled on along the rocks, the two were in less danger, for
the fire had passed through the bordering growth. Trees, bushes and moss
still smouldered and smoked and broke out here and there in flames, but
the worst of the fire seemed to be over in that part of the island. The
smoke was still dense, however, and the rocks so hot in spots that they
scorched the boys' feet through their moccasins. With blackened clothes,
blistered skins, stinging eyes, parched throats and bodies dripping with
perspiration from the heat and excitement, the two lads reached the cove
where they had landed, and made for the place where they had hidden the
canoe.
The canoe was gone! Jean and Ronald could scarcely believe their senses.
The boat had not burned, for the moss and bushes around the crack where
it had been concealed were untouched by the fire. A bare space lay
between the bushes and the edge of the woods, and the fire had not
leaped across. There was no way the canoe could have disappeared except
by human agency. Some one had been on the island when they landed.
Probably he had seen them come ashore, had watched them hide their boat,
and, as soon as they were out of sight and hearing, had taken possession
of it and paddled away. How about the fire then? Had it been accidental,
spreading from a carelessly made cooking fire, or had the man who had
stolen their canoe deliberately set it and then left them, without means
of escape, to perish in the flames, or to die of starvation afterwards?
These thoughts flashed through the heads of both boys as they stood
gazing at the empty space where the canoe had been, but a new peril
suddenly interrupted their speculations. There on the northeast end of
the island, they had thought themselves safe from the fire, but
something, a momentary change of the wind perhaps, caused a clump of
half burned trees at the edge of the woods to blaze up suddenly,
sending sparks far and wide. The sparks leaped the open space, and the
dry bushes and stunted evergreens around the lads were on fire almost
before the two realized what had happened. They had no time to seek for
a place of safety on land. Scrambling down the rocks, the moss and
lichens smouldering and bursting into tiny flames under their feet, the
two plunged into the water not a moment too soon. The bottom shelved
rapidly, and they lost their footing almost immediately. Just ahead of
them a solitary rock rose a little above the surface, and a few strokes
brought them to it.
There they clung, heads turned from the smoke, noses and throats choked,
eyes smarting and blinded, while the fire swept away every bush and
plant that grew about the landing place. At first the cold water felt
grateful to their heated bodies and blistered skins, though no amount of
it seemed to have much effect on their parched and swollen mouths and
throats. The rock was too small and sharp pointed for them to climb up
on it, and, in spite of the hot waves that swept over them from the
fire, they soon began to chill.
After a little the breeze steadied and blew the smoke cloud in the other
direction, and the boys were able to breathe again with some comfort,
but not until the fire had thoroughly swept the rocks about the cove,
did they dare to leave their refuge and swim the few strokes back to
shore. The wildest of the fire was over, for the island was small, and
the flames had swept it very thoroughly. Smoke still rose thickly
though, and here and there parts of standing and fallen trees glowed red
or burst out now and then into crackling tongues of fire. The rocks
where the fire had taken bushes and moss were still warm, and the warmth
was welcome to the lads, who had passed from extreme heat to cold,
soaked as they were from their sojourn in the lake. Huddled in a cranny
where the breeze did not strike them, they wrung the water out of their
clothes, and waited for dawn. Now that the immediate peril seemed over,
they found themselves so weary that they even slept a little.
At the first sign of day, they were up and out of their crack in the
rock. What was to be done next? They had no canoe and nothing to eat. In
their wild trip around the island, Jean had kept hold of his bow and
arrows, but when he had plunged into the lake, he had been obliged to
drop the bow on the shore. It had fallen on a bed of moss, where they
found the blackened remains of the frame. If any animals had survived
the fire, by taking to the water or burying themselves in holes, the
boys had nothing to shoot them with, though they might make snares of
the fishing lines they carried in their pockets. From their first
landing, however, the only sign of life they had seen was the owl that
had flown down over Ronald's head.
As soon as the light was strong enough so they could see to find their
way about, they set out to explore the burned woods, in the hope of
finding a few sound trees for a raft. Luckily neither of them had lost
the knife or small ax he carried attached to his belt. The central part
of the island, though rough with broken rocks, had been green with
spruces, balsams, junipers and moss. Now it was a scene of desolation.
Most of the trees were still standing, but charred and blackened from
base to summit. Enough trunks and branches, many of them crumbling into
charcoal dust and ashes when stepped on, had fallen, however, to make
walking through the burned woods difficult. Thinking they would stand
the best chance of finding sound trees along the edge of the burning on
the north shore of the island, the boys decided to go that way first.
The results of their search were not encouraging, although they marked
with their axes a few standing trunks they thought they could use.
The sun had not yet risen when they reached the opposite end of the
island. Looking off across the water, Ronald was surprised to see
something moving through the light mist. He called Jean, and the two
soon made out a canoe with one man.
"Perhaps that's the man who was on the island last night," Ronald
exclaimed, "and our canoe."
"It may be," Jean replied, "but that is not the man we saw here among
the trees, or, if it is, he has taken off his red toque." There was no
bright color to be seen about the figure in the canoe. "That's not our
canoe either," Jean added. "It is smaller and not so high in the bow."
Then as the boat drew nearer, he cried out, "It is Etienne!"
Ronald shook his head. "He is too far away. You can't tell in the mist.
Besides, it's impossible. How could Etienne have come here,--in a
canoe?"
"It is _Etienne_. I am sure of it," Jean repeated. "But he is not making
for this place. He intends to pass between this island and the shore."
"We must hail him, whoever he is," cried Ronald. "He'll not refuse to
take us off, unless he is Le Forgeron's Indian, and in that case," the
boy's face hardened, "we're two to one."
He opened his mouth to shout, but Jean stopped him and seized his half
raised arm. "We will soon find out if it is Etienne," he said. Then out
across the water, he sent a peculiar, long drawn, wavering cry, not very
loud but high pitched and penetrating. The man in the canoe turned his
head, held himself motionless a moment, his paddle suspended, then sent
back an answering cry, the same except for a falling cadence at the
close, while Jean's call had ended with a rising one.
"It _is_ Etienne," the lad cried, and he sprang down the rocks, waving
his arms, and uttering the queer cry a second time.
Again the man in the canoe answered, then turned and paddled towards the
island. A few strokes and he was near enough so that even Ronald made
sure that it was really the Ojibwa.
If the Indian was surprised to find his two companions on the burned
over island, he gave no expression to the feeling. He came in close to
the shore, but did not get out of the canoe, holding it off from the
rocks with his paddle. "Canoe burned?" he asked briefly.
"Not burned, stolen," Jean replied, and, without explaining how he and
Ronald came to be on the island, he told how they had found the place
where they had hidden their boat, empty, though the fire had not reached
it.
The Indian cut short the boy's explanations by motioning both lads into
the canoe. When they were settled, he said sharply, "Paddle now. Get
back to camp. Talk then."
After a quick look across the water in the direction he had come, he
suited his action to his words, paddling with quick, strong strokes.
Seizing the other blade that lay in the boat, Ronald joined in, and they
made good speed over the almost still water. Now and then Nangotook
looked back over his shoulder. It was evident that he feared pursuit.
They reached the camp just as the sun was rising. Nangotook landed
first, and the boys, as they were carrying up the canoe, heard him give
a grunt, when he rounded a bush and came in view of the lodge. Only its
framework was standing. The bark covering had been stripped off. The
Indian stooped to examine the ground. In the ashes, where the fire had
been, was the print of a moccasined foot, a large foot that turned out
and pressed more heavily on the inner side than on the outer.
"Awishtoya," he growled, and when the boys saw the track they too felt
sure that it had been made by the lame Frenchman. They had not left
anything of value in the wigwam, except a pile of hare skins, which had
disappeared of course. Alarmed for the safety of the dried meat, the
lads ran to the tree where they had hung it. The birch bark package was
gone. No animal would or could have carried it off in its entirety. The
caribou hide, which had been stretched out to cure, had disappeared
also.
"It was Le Forgeron's red toque we saw on that island," said Jean with
conviction. "He was hiding somewhere when we landed. He set the woods on
fire to destroy us. Then he took our canoe, came here and stole our
meat."
"There can be no doubt of it," Ronald agreed.
Nangotook nodded. He was to add his confirmation to Jean's surmises
later. All he said at the time was, "Tell me, my brothers, all that has
happened since we parted. Then we can take council together."
So the boys related how they had searched for him without result, how
they had been led to visit the island, and what had happened to them
there. When they had finished, Nangotook told his story.
XXVII
NANGOTOOK'S CAPTIVITY
Nangotook had followed the caribou trail to the bog the animals were in
the habit of visiting, and there he had wounded a stag so badly that it
fell in its tracks. He ran up to it, and, finding it still alive, was
stooping to give it the death stroke, when something struck him suddenly
on the back of the head, and he knew nothing more. This part of the
story he told somewhat shamefacedly. He was at a loss to understand how
an enemy could have crept up on him, and blamed himself for allowing the
caribou he was stalking to occupy all of his senses, to the exclusion of
everything else.
When his spirit came back to his body, he was lying on his back, legs
and arms bound, beside a fire, in a little open place surrounded by
trees. It was dark, but he could not tell how far advanced the night
was, for no stars were visible. On the opposite side of the fire sat the
Cree Indian he had seen with Le Forgeron Tordu, and over the flames was
a scaffold where meat was drying, the flesh of the caribou he had
killed, as he learned later. Nangotook lay still, and, his head being in
shadow, his open eyes were not noticed by the Cree. Presently a figure
came out of the woods and up to the fire. Nangotook recognized the
strong, squat form and ugly, scarred face of Le Forgeron.
After taking a look at the drying meat, the Frenchman came around the
fire, and, standing directly over Nangotook, looked down at him.
Thinking nothing was to be gained by feigning sleep, the Ojibwa stared
back at Le Forgeron defiantly. He expected the taunt and ridicule that
are usually heaped upon the Indian captive, but Le Forgeron merely
nodded in a friendly manner and sat down beside his prisoner. The reason
for his friendliness was not long in appearing. He had a proposition to
make.
He knew, he said, that Nangotook and his companions were seeking a rich
gold mine, but he, Awishtoya, intended to have that gold for himself.
What could boys like the young Havard and the red-haired Kennedy do with
such a mine, he asked. They were only lads without sense or judgment. If
they found the gold they would go back to Montreal and brag of it, and
other men, wiser and cleverer than they, would get control of the mine.
All that the boys would ever gain from the discovery would be
experience, but no riches. Then what would happen to Nangotook? If he
thought he would share in the wealth of the mine, he was mistaken. The
young are always ungrateful, and the lads would have no use for their
guide once they had found the treasure. But even if they did not prove
ungrateful, it would make no difference. They would be powerless to
reward him, while the rich and clever men, who would take the mine away
from them, would acknowledge no obligation to a poor savage. They would
scorn him and kick him out when he went to plead for his share of the
gold.
While the white man was presenting his argument, Nangotook kept silent,
knowing well what the other was leading up to. At that point, however,
it occurred to him that he might gain time and also learn more about
what Le Forgeron actually knew of their quest, if he appeared to be
influenced by the Frenchman's arguments. So, when the latter described
the treatment the poor Indian would receive at the hands of the men who
would gain control of the mine, the Ojibwa allowed his expression to
change and even gave a little grunt of assent. Thus encouraged, the
Blacksmith began to show his purpose more plainly. He admitted with
apparent frankness that, while he knew in general where to search for
the gold mine, he was not familiar with its exact location. Otherwise he
would not have troubled himself to bring Nangotook to his camp. His evil
smile conveyed the impression that he would merely have struck the
Indian down at the first good opportunity, and so have got him out of
his way. However, he had spared Nangotook's life and had brought him
here, because he had need of him. Undoubtedly he, Awishtoya, could find
the place if he searched closely enough, but the season was getting
late, and he wanted to leave the lake before winter came. So he had
taken this method, a harsh one he admitted, to have an interview with
the Ojibwa and make him a proposition. If Nangotook would abandon his
two companions and lead Le Forgeron to the gold mine, he would promise
him half of all the wealth obtained from it, a generous offer, for the
Indian would share none of the expense of taking out and transporting
the gold.
Le Forgeron paused impressively at this point to let the idea sink in.
Nangotook appeared to consider the proposition for some moments, then,
speaking for the first time, asked what he, a poor Indian, with simple
wants, could do with such great wealth. His question was cleverly framed
to give the impression that he knew the wealth in question would be
indeed very great. He saw a gleam in the Frenchman's eyes that assured
him his shot had struck home.
In answer to the Indian's question, Le Forgeron launched into a long and
vivid description of the delights of wealth and of all the wonderful
things Nangotook could do with it. Though selfish and evil himself, he
was clever enough to realize that the Indian he was dealing with was of
a higher type than most of his fellows. He not only described the
pleasures of personal indulgence that could be bought with riches, but
enlarged upon the opportunity to obtain power and become the greatest
chief of the Ojibwas and of all the Indian tribes, able to deal on terms
of equality with the white men and their chiefs, even with the great
white father across the sea in England and the other white father whom
the men who called themselves Americans served! Nangotook could make his
own people the greatest, the most prosperous, the happiest of all the
Indian nations. He could prevent them from ever knowing famine, or even
hunger again, though the game should disappear from the woods, the fish
from the lakes, and the wild rice from the streams and the marshes, for
he could purchase from the white men great ship loads of flour, pork and
all other articles of food. He could supply his people with the best of
guns and all the ammunition they needed, with an abundance of iron
kettles, utensils and implements of all kinds, the thickest and warmest
of blankets, clothes as good as the richest white men wore and luxuries
and ornaments that would arouse the envy of all the other tribes. The
Ojibwas could tread under their feet their hereditary enemies, the great
Sioux nation.
It was a vivid and, to an Indian, an attractive picture Le Forgeron
painted, and Nangotook admitted that it would have moved him greatly if
he had had any confidence in the good faith and promises of the man
beside him. But he knew Awishtoya, and as he lay looking up into his
face, appearing to drink in his words, he could see, he declared, the
greed and treachery and evil under the innocent expression.
"His words were smooth and sweet to the ear as the maple sap in spring
is to the taste," said Nangotook, "yet I knew that he spoke with a
forked tongue, and in his voice I could hear the hissing of the spotted
snake."
The Ojibwa knew better than to refuse the proposition at once however.
He must play for time until he could find some means of escape. So he
appeared to consider the Blacksmith's offer, but said he could not make
up his mind on such an important matter so quickly. He must have time
to think. Perhaps by the next morning he would be able to give an
answer.
Le Forgeron was familiar with Indian nature and knew he would gain
nothing by arguing farther just then, but might lose some of the
influence he had already acquired. So he dropped the subject, and
leaving his captive's side, ordered the Cree to give "the guest"
something to eat. The Cree did as he was commanded, bringing Nangotook a
large birch bowl of steaming caribou stew, and untying his hands so he
could eat it. After the prisoner had eaten, Le Forgeron offered him some
tobacco. Nangotook did not feel that he could refuse it without exciting
the white man's suspicions. To have smoked it, however, would have been
a sign of peace between them. The Ojibwa, being too honest for that,
managed in the darkness to slip the tobacco into his pouch, and to take
out a little of his own kinni-kinnik instead. After he had smoked, the
Cree tied his hands again, and Nangotook closed his eyes and appeared to
sleep.
He had no chance to escape that night. Even if he had been able to loose
his bonds, he could not have got away, for one or the other of his
captors remained awake to tend the meat on the scaffold. The next
morning he still delayed answering Le Forgeron Tordu's proposition,
making the excuse that, though he had asked for counsel, his totem or
guardian spirit had not signified either in a dream or in any other way
what he should do. Awishtoya's words and promises had sounded good to
him, he said, but the matter was a serious one. He had never deserted a
companion who trusted him, and he was bound especially to Jean Havard by
gratitude to Jean's father, who had saved his life. What would become of
the two white lads if he forsook them, he asked.
Le Forgeron had been expecting that question, and had a ready answer. If
Nangotook would lead him to the gold mine at once, he would then leave
the Ojibwa free to return to the two boys, whom he would pledge himself
not to injure in the meantime. Of course Nangotook must promise not to
reveal to them that he had found the mine. Instead he must tell them
that he could not find the place. Then he must take them away
immediately to Grande Portage. "In that way," said the crafty Frenchman,
"you can fulfill your agreement with me, and at the same time save the
lives of your companions, and return the young Havard to his father."
Again he smiled his evil smile, hinting that if Nangotook did not accept
his proposition, the lives of his comrades would most certainly not be
saved.
Again the Indian read the evil purpose underlying the smooth words. He
was sure that no matter what agreement he made, the Blacksmith would
never, if he could help it, let any of the three escape alive. They knew
too much about his plans and purposes. It would be much simpler for him
to destroy them all, than to risk their telling tales against him if he
found the gold and did not share his fortune with them. The Ojibwa was
convinced that Le Forgeron was not the kind of a man to share anything,
whatever he might promise. He kept his thoughts to himself though, and,
after appearing to consider for some time, answered that he would ask
his totem for counsel again that night, and would give his reply the
following morning. Once more Le Forgeron, used to dealing with savages
who could not be hurried, consented. He had not used all his arguments
yet, but was saving the strongest for the last, and he felt very sure he
should succeed. Apparently, it did not occur to him that his prisoner
might not know just where the gold mine was. He seemed perfectly
confident that the Indian could lead him there speedily if he would, and
Nangotook was careful not to undeceive him. He knew that his life and
that of the two boys hung on the Frenchman's belief that the Ojibwa
could be useful to him.
The task of guarding the captive was left to the Cree that day, and he
proved a careful and zealous guard. Not for one moment did he go out of
sight of his prisoner, and Nangotook, after sounding him cautiously,
decided that he could not be tampered with. His loyalty to, or fear of,
Awishtoya was too great.
There was no drying meat to be watched that night, and the prisoner
hoped for a chance of escape. He had carefully tried his bonds, and had
made up his mind that there was no way of slipping or loosening them. He
must gnaw through the thongs, cut them by drawing them across something
sharp, or burn them by placing them against a live coal. The gnawing
would take a long time, and if he was found with partly severed bonds,
he knew he would be tied more tightly as a result, his hands bound
behind his back probably so that he could not get at them. Up to that
time, though his wrists were firmly fastened together, his arms had not
been tied to his body. No knives or sharp things were within reach, so
he resolved to try burning the thongs.
He lay with his feet to the fire, and to reach it he must roll over and
around. He waited for a good opportunity to make the move, but the
chance was slow in coming. The Cree slept close to him, and slept very
lightly. Every time Nangotook made the slightest movement, the latter
either woke or stirred in his sleep as if about to wake. At last the
captive succeeded in rolling over and turning part way around, but his
guard woke and gave him a brutal kick. It was some time before the Cree
settled down to sleep again. As soon as the latter was breathing deeply,
Nangotook attempted to turn a little farther, but a stick under him
cracked, and the Cree was up in a moment. Probably he suspected what his
prisoner was trying to do, for, after giving him another savage kick, he
replenished the fire and sat close to it, wide awake, the rest of the
night.
Balked in his attempts to escape, Nangotook had to fence for time again.
He thought seriously of appearing to agree to Le Forgeron's proposal,
and leading him somewhere, anywhere. His ankles would have to be unbound
for land traveling, but he knew that he would be forced to go ahead with
a loaded weapon at his back. He might have to travel so far before he
could escape, that it would be difficult to get back to the boys.
Moreover, before they started, either Le Forgeron or the Cree might
waylay and destroy the lads. Why the Blacksmith had not done so before
that, the Ojibwa could scarcely understand.