succeed so well. The Twisted Blacksmith grew angry at the delay and told
him sharply that he could not have another night to make up his mind. He
must decide before sunset, so they might start that evening. The
Frenchman would delay no longer. He thought the time had come to try
threats as well as persuasion, so he told Nangotook that unless he
agreed promptly it would be the worse for him and his friends. He had
the Ojibwa in his power and could do what he willed with him. The two
boys were as good as in his hands. They could not escape him. When the
three were once "out of the way," he would find the gold anyway, he
asserted. He knew the place was near by. A week's search at the farthest
must reveal it to him. Then Nangotook would have sacrificed his life and
his companions' lives all for nothing, when he might have had wealth and
power.
The Indian appeared deeply concerned at these threats, and promised to
make up his mind by nightfall. From the white man's remarks he had
learned two important things, first that Le Forgeron had no definite
idea where the gold mine was, and second that he did not associate it
with the Island of Yellow Sands. Whatever he had heard of the lads'
conversation that night at the Grande Portage, he had not caught
anything that served to connect their search with the island of the
Indian tales, tales he must have heard more than once. He knew merely
that they were seeking some rich deposit of gold, and he had been
following them without any knowledge where they would lead him. It was
evident that he suspected the mine was either on or near the island of
Minong.
Le Forgeron was both restless and ugly that morning, abusing the Cree
until Nangotook wondered the latter did not turn on him. The Indian
appeared to be a sort of slave to the white man, and was in deadly fear
of him. Probably it was the magic power which the Indians, and many of
the whites as well, supposed the Twisted Blacksmith to possess, that his
slave dreaded, rather than his brutality or physical strength.
Some time after the sun had reached its height and had begun to decline
again, Le Forgeron told the Cree sharply to look to his charge. He was
going to leave the island a while he said, but he might be back any
time, and unless he found everything to his satisfaction, the Cree knew
what would happen. Then he cast a threatening glance at Nangotook, and
went limping off among the trees. The captive had suspected from the
appearance of the place that the camp was on a small island, but he had
not been sure until now. The departure of Le Forgeron worried him, for
he feared his enemy might be going to work some evil on the two boys.
The man hated Ronald, and would not be content, the Indian believed,
with merely killing the lad, but would devise some especially cruel way
of getting rid of him. Yet Nangotook could not follow Le Forgeron. Even
if he could escape the watchful eyes of the Cree, or manage in some way
to overpower him, he could not get away until the Blacksmith came back,
for the latter must have taken his canoe. There was nothing for the
captive to do but to remain quiet and feign indifference.
Nangotook did not have to give his decision at sunset, for Le Forgeron
had not returned. Darkness fell and night came on, but still the
Frenchman did not come. The breeze brought the smell of smoke from the
northeast. Nangotook was sure the woods were burning somewhere. The
smoke grew thicker, and the Cree became anxious, but would not leave his
charge even to find out if the fire was on the island.
After a time the smoke thinned, and was hardly perceptible by the time
Le Forgeron returned. Nangotook feigned to be sleeping, and the
Blacksmith did not disturb him. Le Forgeron seemed restless. He would
sit by the fire for a few minutes, then get up and wander off through
the woods. As long as his master was awake, the Cree feared to sleep,
but both of them quieted down at last. As if to make up for their former
wakefulness, they slept with unusual soundness.
When his captors were snoring loudly, Nangotook made another attempt to
reach the fire. That time he succeeded. Lying on his side, he stretched
his arms out over the embers, and held the thongs against a glowing coal
until they were so charred he could pull them apart. He burned his
hands and wrists in the process, but he did not heed the pain. When his
hands were free, he did not untie his feet immediately, but quietly and
slowly, a few inches at a time, dragged himself over the ground, away
from the Cree and into the shadows of the trees. There, behind a bush,
he untied the cords that were about his ankles, rose to his feet and
slipped silently into the woods. The cry of an owl caused him to duck
suddenly. The noise must have disturbed Le Forgeron, for Nangotook heard
him mumble an oath.
The Ojibwa remained motionless, expecting every moment that his absence
would be discovered, and that he would have to run or fight. His bow and
arrows, knife and ax had been taken from him when he was first captured,
before he regained consciousness. But neither Le Forgeron nor the Cree
roused enough to think of the prisoner. He waited a while, until he was
sure from their deep breathing that they were sleeping soundly, then
slipped away, going in the same direction the Frenchman had gone that
morning. The goings and comings of the two had made a clear trail, and
even in the darkness Nangotook had no trouble in keeping it. It led him
to a rocky shore where a canoe lay above water line.
Day was dawning, and the Ojibwa knew he must hurry. Perhaps it was his
haste that prevented him from noticing whether there was another canoe
anywhere near by. Indeed he never thought of there being more than one.
Embarking at once, he paddled away swiftly but without sound. He could
see that the island, where he had been held, was off the main shore of
the big island, to the southwest of the cove mouth, and he made speed
back towards the camp where he had left his comrades. He was steering to
run between the burned island and the shore, when he heard Jean's call
across the water, the Indian call he had taught the lad when he was a
little child. Nangotook not only knew the call, but he recognized Jean's
voice and his way of uttering the syllables.
XXVIII
FLEEING FROM LE FORGERON
After Nangotook had finished his narrative, Ronald asked him how Le
Forgeron had managed to follow them through storm and fog, and yet not
lose track of them. The boys knew that the Indians, among whom he had
lived for many years, regarded him as a great medicine man and believed
him to have magic powers which they respected and feared. Nangotook
answered that the Frenchman had hinted that he had learned of the
gold-seekers' quest in some mysterious way, and had asserted that, from
the first, he had had them in his power. They could not escape him, he
said, no matter how hard they might try. But the Ojibwa knew that all
this might be mere boasting to put his prisoner in awe of him. The fact
that Le Forgeron had not discovered that it was the Island of Yellow
Sands the three were seeking, as well as his betrayal of his dependence
on his captive's leadership, rather destroyed Nangotook's faith in
Awishtoya's magic powers. So, in the white man's absence, he had
questioned the Cree, leading up to the subject so carefully that the
latter had not suspected he was being quizzed.
From what the Cree told him, Nangotook discovered that Le Forgeron had
not tracked the treasure-seeking party as easily or readily as he
pretended. Whether he had overheard them say something about the Rock
of the Beaver, and, knowing the place, had gone there directly, or had
trailed them along the north shore of the lake, Nangotook had not
learned. At any rate it was the smoke of his fire they had seen when
they left the Rock. He had watched them go and had noted their course,
but had not followed until darkness came. He did not wish to be observed
by them, and had trusted that, if he kept to the same course, he would
reach whatever place the gold-seekers were headed for. The Cree
evidently believed that it was by Awishtoya's magic powers alone that
the two had survived the storm and reached land. Instead of being cast
up on a barren rock, as the others had been, they had been driven on the
shore of the island that Nangotook and the boys had reached two days
later. They had narrowly escaped being battered on the rocks at the
northern end, but had managed to avoid wreck, and had found a refuge in
the cave where Ronald had discovered the remains of their camp.
It was Le Forgeron who had knocked Ronald over the cliff. The Cree had
been in the cave at the time, He had gone out in the canoe and had towed
the unconscious boy into the adjoining cavern, where he had taken from
him his gun and knife. Awishtoya had ordered him, the Indian said, to
kill the lad, if he were not already dead, but because of a dream he had
had the night before, which forbade him to take life, even the life of
an animal, that day, the Cree had not given the death stroke. He had
thought the boy would die anyway, for he did not believe he could get
out of the cave without a boat to help him, and he felt sure that his
companions would never find him there. Le Forgeron did not go into the
hole where Ronald was, so he did not discover that his servant had not
carried out his commands. As soon as he had disposed of the lad, the
Indian had paddled to the place where the two were in the habit of
descending the cliff, and had taken his master into the canoe. Then they
had crossed a short stretch of water to a little, outlying, almost
barren island, where they had lain hidden among the few stunted trees
and bushes until nightfall. Before night the weather had cleared, so
they could see the land away to the southwest.
Evidently Le Forgeron had made up his mind that the gold mine was not on
the island where they had been staying. He had doubtless spied on the
three and had seen no evidence of prospecting. After midnight he ordered
the Cree to launch the canoe again, and they made a perilous crossing,
with strong wind and high waves, to Minong. There they waited in the
camp on the point for several days, one or the other of them on watch
day and night for the coming of the gold-seekers' canoe. As the days
passed, the Frenchman grew more and more impatient. He was absent from
camp most of the time, leaving the Indian to watch for the canoe.
Finally Le Forgeron gave up waiting, and the two began a series of
wanderings that the Cree evidently did not understand. To Nangotook,
however, it was plain that the Blacksmith had been searching for the
gold mine. They left the harbor where they had been camping, and
explored the whole northern end of the big island, as well as the little
islands off its shores. They penetrated to the interior of Minong,
traveling along the ridges. In some places they remained for several
days at a time, the Cree minding the camp while his master went off by
himself. The northeaster did not disturb them seriously, for they were
in camp with plenty to eat. At last they reached the cove where the
copper mines were.
This was the sum of what Nangotook, by careful questioning and without
appearing especially curious, had learned from the Cree. It proved to
him that Le Forgeron had not followed the three by any exercise of
mysterious powers. If he had used magic, it had been merely to save
himself and his companion from storm and waves, and in that respect he
had not been any better cared for than Nangotook and the boys. The fog,
which had hidden their coming to Minong and had caused them to land many
miles from Le Forgeron's camp, had put him off their track, so that it
was not until he reached the cove of the copper mines that he found
himself in their neighborhood again. It was then that he discovered that
he still had three persons, not two, to deal with. His anger at his
Indian servant, for not obeying orders and taking Ronald's life, had
been so great that he had threatened to kill the Cree, and might have
done so, had the latter not fled from him and kept away until his
master's fury cooled.
"It would seem," said Jean, when the Indian had finished telling what he
had learned, "that, if Le Forgeron thinks we are seeking gold about
here somewhere, the wisest course for us is to leave at once, and get
as far away as we can before he discovers we have gone. With a good
start, and three paddles to his two, we may easily beat him to the
Grande Portage and be rid of him. If he has deserted from the fleet, I
do not believe he will show himself at any of the Company's posts for
some years to come."
Ronald did not like the idea of running away, as he called it. His fiery
temper had been aroused by the attempt to destroy his comrade and
himself in such a cruel and cowardly way, as well as by the capture of
Nangotook. His first impulse was to seek the Frenchman's camp, and have
it out with him, but, after a brief argument, the wiser and cooler
counsels of Jean and the Ojibwa prevailed. The latter, while he would
have liked well to avenge himself on Le Forgeron, felt responsible for
the two boys, and was reluctant to expose them to a fight with the cruel
and crafty Blacksmith. To be sure they were three to two, but the others
had guns and ammunition, which gave them an overpowering advantage. So
Nangotook was in favor of getting away first, and settling the score
with the Frenchman at some later time. Although he did not say so to the
boys, he was determined to seek out Awishtoya and make him pay that
score, as soon as the two lads had been returned to their friends.
To Nangotook's argument, Jean added the opinion that, if they should
provoke a fight with Le Forgeron, or attack him, they would put
themselves in the wrong, and make themselves liable to punishment for
crime, if either of their enemies should escape from their assault, or
if the matter should become known in any other way. "There is no way we
could punish them except to kill them outright," he said, "and while I
do not doubt Le Forgeron well deserves death, I should be loath to
attack him deliberately and in cold blood. If he should attack us, that
would be different. Then I should have no compunctions."
"He will attack us, that is certain, if he finds a chance," replied
Ronald. "It is open warfare between us, and it seems to me only good
generalship to strike first and get the advantage."
In the end, however, he yielded to the counsels of the others, and they
prepared to leave their camp at once. The Indian had not taken long to
tell his story, and the discussion that followed had lasted but a few
minutes. So the morning was but little advanced when they were ready to
start. If they paddled out of the cove and along shore, they could
hardly hope to escape being seen by their enemies, yet they did not want
to delay until nightfall. So they decided to cross the cove and go
overland, portaging the canoe, to the bay the boys had found when they
were searching for some trace of Nangotook.
They put their plan into execution at once. Paddling across the cove,
they landed in a narrow little bay, climbed to the high ground, carrying
the canoe, and went along at the top of the cliffs. They chose, so far
as they could, ground open enough to allow the canoe to be taken through
easily, but with growth sufficiently large and thick to prevent their
being seen by any one on the water or on the outlying islands.
Conditions on the whole were favorable, and they were able to make good
speed without exposing themselves. They went rapidly, but carefully,
leaving as little trace of their passage as possible, in the hope that
Le Forgeron would not find their trail. The place had been much
frequented by caribou, and a broken branch or a bruised bit of moss or
lichen would naturally be laid to the animals, unless it bore plain
signs of the human. Such plain signs it was their intention to avoid. In
one respect, however, luck was against them, for, though they were in
need of food, they saw but one caribou, and did not get near enough for
a shot. As the boys had been over the ground before, they led the way.
When they came to the rift that led down to the pebble beach, Nangotook,
pointing to the island that lay out from it, said it was there he had
been held a prisoner. He must have been carried down to the beach, while
still unconscious, and taken across in Le Forgeron's canoe.
The refugees launched their boat in a little lake the lads had found,
and, after portaging around a beaver dam, paddled down a narrow stream
to the great bay.
None of the three had had anything to eat since the night before. The
loss of the caribou meat was a serious matter, for, instead of pushing
on rapidly as they wished to do, they must delay to hunt and fish. Among
the reefs and islands of the bay, they succeeded in catching enough fish
for a meal, and, landing on a small island, broiled their catch.
Wishing to leave as few traces as possible for Le Forgeron to find, they
gathered up the fish cleanings, and even the embers and ashes from the
fire, and threw them into the lake. Then Etienne covered the spot where
the ashes had been with dry earth and fallen leaves, so cleverly that no
one would have suspected that a fire had ever been kindled there.
Taking to the canoe, the voyageurs started to go on with their journey,
but, as they paddled out from the shelter of the small island, they
discovered that the wind was blowing a gale from the west. By keeping
close to shore and taking advantage of every bit of shelter that little
islands and points afforded, they managed to make their way through the
bay. When they rounded a long point at the southwestern end, however,
they found the waves rolling so high and the black clouds coming up the
sky so threateningly, that they did not dare to continue along an open
and unprotected shore. They were obliged to turn back into the little
subsidiary harbor they had just skirted, which cut into the land in a
southwesterly direction at the end of the large bay.
In their anxiety to make speed, they would have tried to go on overland,
but the storm broke before they had the canoe out of the water. In the
heavy rain and boisterous wind, traveling over rough and unfamiliar
ground, carrying the canoe was out of the question. They were forced to
crawl under the upturned boat, and wait for the passing of the storm.
The storm was in no haste to pass over. It developed into one of those
cold, driving, wind-lashed, autumn rains that may last any length of
time, from hours to days. The weather-wise Etienne soon decided that
farther travel that day, either by water or land, was out of the
question. The three might as well make themselves as comfortable as they
could. They had one consolation at least. The storm would delay Le
Forgeron as well, if he had succeeded in getting on their track. If he
had not found their trail before the rain began, he would not find it at
all, for all the traces they had left would be completely washed out.
They did not attempt to build a shelter, but cut evergreen branches,
shook the water from them, and covered the ground under the canoe. The
driving rain prevented them from finding food. Not an animal or bird
ventured forth, and fishing from the shore was without result. So the
three went supperless. When their canoe had disappeared from the burning
island, the one remaining blanket had gone with it, for the blankets,
folded or rolled, were always carried in the canoe to kneel upon or lean
against. So the campers had no cover that night but the damp spruce and
balsam branches they burrowed into, in the attempt to keep warm. Jean
was the worst off, for he did not even have a coat.
XXIX
NEAR STARVATION
The next morning was foggy, but the water was calm, so the voyageurs
made an early start. As they had nothing to eat, they did not have to
delay for breakfast. In the thick mist, navigation was difficult,
however, even for the experienced Ojibwa. Disaster came quickly. They
ran too close to an island that lay off the end of the point separating
their camping ground from the open lake, struck upon a sharp, submerged
rock, and tore a bad hole in the bottom of the canoe. The water came in
so rapidly that, to reach shore, Ronald and the Indian had to put all
their strength and speed into their paddling, while Jean bailed as fast
as he could. It was fortunate that they were only a few hundred feet
from the point, or they could not have gained it before the boat filled.
They had no time to choose a landing place, and, striking the rocks,
damaged the canoe still more.
The bark covering was so badly torn that mending it would take
considerable time. So the three decided that breakfast was the first
essential. While Ronald gathered fire-wood and Etienne attempted to coax
a blaze from the wet materials, Jean looked for a place where he could
fish from the shore. From a pool among the rocks, he dipped up some tiny
fish that he could use for bait, but neither he nor Ronald succeeded in
catching anything large enough to be eaten. Finally they breakfasted on
two squirrels that Ronald brought down with stones, scanty fare indeed
for three men who had fasted for nearly twenty-four hours.
After they had finished the last drop of the squirrel stew, the two boys
decided to go back around the shore to the mouth of a stream they had
noticed the day before. There they might be able to catch some brook
trout, while Etienne was repairing the canoe.
Accordingly, the two lads scrambled along the rocky point, to the head
of the narrow little bay where they had spent the night. They knew that
the stream entered the lake at the upper end of another subsidiary bay,
that lay parallel to the one where they were. Instead of going around
the intervening point, they risked losing themselves in the fog, and
struck off through the woods. After climbing a ridge, they came upon the
stream they sought, running through a swampy valley. It was not a
favorable place for trout, so they continued on down the brook to its
mouth, around the end of the little bay, and along higher ground for
about two miles, to another larger and more rapid stream, that
discharged into the lake through a break between the ridges. The fog was
so thick that the lads, had they not been guided by the ridge they
traveled along, might easily have become lost and have failed to find
the stream they were seeking. Indeed they had underestimated the
distance, and had begun to fear they had missed the place, when they
came suddenly to the edge of the ravine where the brown waters flowed
swiftly down to the lake. The little trout were biting so eagerly that
the fishermen soon had fine strings. These were primitive, uneducated
trout that had never been fished for, and did not have to be lured with
bright colored, artificial flies, but were ready to rise to minnows and
even to bare hooks.
The fog was still dense when the boys, well laden with fish, started to
make their way back to their camping place, but when they climbed out of
the ravine, they found it was no longer a motionless curtain of mist
that hung about them, but waves of moisture driven before a raw
northeast wind. Before they reached the point where Etienne was at work
on the canoe, the fog had turned to rain, cold, fine and mist-like.
"Northeaster coming," grunted the Indian, without even glancing at the
strings of trout. "Find better place and make wigwam quick."
Hungry though they were, the three did not even wait to cook their fish,
but, seizing the canoe, made speed back along the point to look for a
sheltered camping spot. The northeast wind swept the whole length of the
bay, and it was not until they reached thick woods at its head, that
they found a good place. A bit of partly open ground surrounded by trees
was hastily cleared and leveled, and a wigwam erected. Not until the hut
was finished and a good supply of fire-wood cut and piled inside, did
Nangotook allow the boys to even clean their fish. By that time the cold
rain was coming down hard, and the wind was bending the tree tops.
Within their bark shelter the three, wet, chilled and painfully hungry,
sat around their little fire and waited impatiently for the fish to
broil. It was well that the lads had brought back long strings, for to
their hunger one little trout was scarcely more than a mouthful.