quite so violent as the one they had passed through a short time before,
but even more long continued. Four days, the cold, driving storm of
rain, wind, sleet and snow lasted, with never a long enough lull to let
the waves, that dashed furiously the length of the big, open bay,
subside so a canoe could be launched. It was a time of misery for the
three wanderers. They had no blankets or furs for covering, but could
only burrow down among evergreen branches to keep out the bitter cold.
Jean did not even have a coat, and his shirt, like Ronald's, was worn
and ragged. Neither boy had a change of clothing left. Their moccasins
were in rags, and they had no deerskin to make new. Fuel was plenty, but
hard to get in the icy storm, and slow to dry so it would burn well
enough to give off anything but smoke.
Their greatest misery, however, was due to lack of food. If there were
any animals in that part of Minong, they kept to their holes and dens.
It was impossible to go out in the canoe, and fishing from the shore
brought little result. Once when the storm lulled slightly, Nangotook
and Ronald tried to reach the stream where the boys had caught the
trout, but before they had fought their way through snow and wind for
half a mile, the storm came on again with such violence that they were
obliged to turn back. In the quieter intervals they sought for anything
eatable that the woods near their wigwam afforded, digging through the
frozen snow for roots, picking every nut and seed and dried berry that
remained on the bushes, and even stripping the tender inner bark of
willows and birches and chewing it. To ease his hunger, Nangotook smoked
incessantly. He was out of tobacco, but used bearberry leaves and willow
bark in his pipe. He spent most of his time, when compelled by the storm
to remain within the lodge, making new bows and arrows and twisting
stout cord from the inner bark of the white cedar to weave into a
fishing net. In this work the boys joined him.
They attempted to forget their suffering in talk. Jean told all the
strange French-Canadian tales and sang all the songs he could remember,
from "Marlborough Has Gone to War,"
"Malbrouk se'n va-t-en guerre,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,"
a song brought from old France many years before, to the purely Canadian
"Petit Rocher de la Haute Montagne."
The two lads had heard the latter song many times and were familiar with
its story, but they had never felt the tragedy of it so strongly before.
It is the death lament of the brave Cadieux, voyageur, trader and
interpreter. Cadieux was living with his Algonquin wife and others of
her tribe at the Portage of Sept-chutes, or Seven Falls, on the Ottawa
River, when news arrived of the approach of a party of Iroquois. The
Iroquois would certainly ambush the portage. The only way of escape lay
through the rapids. Some one must draw the enemy into the woods and far
enough away to give the refugees chance to escape by water unseen.
Cadieux and a young Algonquin volunteered for the perilous service.
Exposing themselves to view, they drew the Iroquois away from the river,
while the rest of the little settlement ran the rapids and escaped.
Cadieux and his Algonquin companion became separated, either by accident
or design, and the Indian was killed. Three days and nights the Iroquois
pursued the white man, who went without sleep all that time. In the
meantime his wife and her companions reached safety. Days passed, and
Cadieux did not rejoin them as he had agreed to. At last three men set
out to seek for him. At Sept-chutes, near the Petit Rocher, or Little
Rock, they found a lodge of branches, and beside it, lying in a shallow
trench with a cross at its head, the wasted body of Cadieux. On his
breast, under his folded hands, was a sheet of birch bark covered with
writing, the words, according to tradition, of his death lament. He had
become lost in his wanderings and had returned to his starting place,
where he had died of exhaustion and starvation.
Suffering from cold and hunger, huddled around the fire in their little
wigwam, the wind roaring through the trees overhead, and the snow and
sleet beating upon the bark, the lads realized as never before the
tragedy of Cadieux's fate. Unless the storm ceased soon and they found
food promptly, they, too, might perish in the wilderness far from human
aid. It was no wonder that Jean's voice, hoarse from cold and weak from
hunger, trembled as he sang the closing lines.
"Ces done ici que le mond m'abandonne,
Mais j'ai secours en vous, Sauveur des hommes!
Tres-Sainte Vierge, ah, m'abandonnez pas,
Permettez-moi d'mourir entre vos bras!"
"Here all alone the world abandons me,
In the Saviour of men may my help still be!
Most blessed Virgin, let me not forsaken lie,
But clasped in thine arms, oh allow me to die!"
XXX
THE END OF THE TWISTED BLACKSMITH
Somewhat to the boys' surprise, Nangotook showed no signs, during all
those days of suffering, of the sullen moroseness that had characterized
his behavior in former periods of misfortune. The Ojibwa was no physical
coward, and now that his companions had ceased to defy the spirits of
the lake and had turned towards home, he displayed no more fear or
hesitation. He was unusually talkative and cheerful, and helped to pass
the long hours by relating the interesting experiences of his varied and
adventurous life and all the Ojibwa tales and myths he knew, many of
them devoted to the adventures and mishaps of the great Nanabozho.
The three made use of every device they could think of to keep up their
spirits, but when, at last, the sleet and snow ceased, and morning
dawned clear and bright, the two lads were weak with hunger, and Ronald,
though more heavily dressed than Jean, had a racking cough that shook
him from head to foot. Nangotook showed the effects of privation less
than the other two, though he had scarcely eaten his share of the scanty
food they had been able to collect.
The wind still blew a gale, a bitterly cold gale from the north, and
even the little bay was too rough for travel. Icy snow lay several
inches deep in the woods and loaded the evergreens. All that day the
three searched the woods and ridges for game, but obtained nothing but a
squirrel and two blue jays. There was little indeed to the jays, once
their feathers were off. Nangotook put them into the bark pot with the
squirrel, and added a handful of hazelnuts and some tubers he had dug,
which he called "bear potatoes." The resulting broth was hot and
comforting, if not a very nourishing meal for three starved men.
All the next day the wind continued to blow so hard that the canoe could
not be launched or the net set, but Nangotook and Jean went through the
woods and over the ridges to the trout stream, and caught good strings
of fish. The soup of the night before had made Ronald, in his half
starved condition, ill, and he was so weak and coughed so hard that the
Indian bade him remain in camp and keep warm and dry.
In spite of the cold wind, the snow had melted rapidly where the sun
reached it, and had softened in the woods. By that night the rocks and
open places were bare again. The hunters scanned the softened snow
eagerly for tracks, but found no signs of hare or caribou, nothing but a
few squirrel prints.
All three slept soundly that night, after their meal of broiled trout.
By morning the wind had gone down and the waves had subsided so that the
canoe could be launched. The voyageurs put out from shore at once. After
setting their net in a favorable place, they tried line fishing. While
paddling around a group of three small islands that lay in a direct line
with the point, they caught two good lake trout. They promptly decided
to go ashore, and have breakfast at once. So many rocks sprinkled the
water about the islands that they were difficult to approach. A safe
landing was made, however, on a shelving rock beach, near an upright
heap of boulders with bushes projecting from cracks and crannies.
While Jean was cleaning the fish, Etienne and Ronald, seeking for
fire-wood, rounded the heap of rocks, and came suddenly on the remains
of a camp. Branches slanted against the rock formed a rude shelter, and
near it were the ashes of a fire. Glancing down at the blackened embers,
Ronald touched with the toe of his moccasin a charred bone.
"Those fellows had more meat than we've seen lately," he said. "They
must have killed a caribou."
The Indian was staring down at the bone. He stooped and picked it up,
examined it a moment, and then held it out to Ronald.
"No addick ever had bone like that," he said.
"What was it then, a moose?" asked the boy, holding out his hand for it.
As he looked at it, his expression of curiosity changed to horror. He
glanced up at Nangotook, and saw his own feelings reflected on the
Ojibwa's face. "The leg bone of a man," the lad said chokingly.
Nangotook nodded, then glanced behind him swiftly, as if expecting to
see some evil thing creeping up on him. "Windigo," he said
significantly. It was the name for the mythical, man-eating giants that
figure in Ojibwa and other Algonquian legends, a name the Indians have
extended to apply to all cannibals or men driven by starvation to feed
on other human beings.
There was no mistaking the fact. Among the ashes and strewn about on the
ground were other bones that told the story only too plainly. Moreover
the deed was a recent one, for the fire had been burning in that spot
since the storm cleared, and the charred bones had not lain there long.
It was easy enough to see how the tragedy had occurred. A canoe had been
cast upon the barren island by the storm, or had run against it in the
fog that preceded. There was nothing on the island to eat. Even fuel had
been scarce, for only the stumps of the few trees remained and most of
the bushes had been cut. One of the men had died, or perhaps another
one, crazed with hunger and misery, had murdered him, and the
unfortunate had been cooked and eaten.
The horror of the place destroyed the lads' appetite, and they were in
haste to get away, but Nangotook was not ready to leave until he had
examined the little rock island from end to end. He may have expected to
find the cannibal in hiding somewhere. He did not find the guilty man,
but he found further traces of him and of his victim. When the Ojibwa
rejoined the boys, who, feeling no desire to see more of the island, had
remained near the spot where they had landed, his face wore a look of
disgust and loathing such as they had never seen there before. He had
identified the victim of the cannibal feast.
"Cree killed Awishtoya and ate him," he announced positively.
"Awishtoya, Le Forgeron," cried Jean. "How do you know it was Le
Forgeron?"
"Found his head."
"His head?" gasped both boys.
Nangotook nodded. "Not dead long, only two or three days," he added.
"Found some of his clothes too, all soaked with blood. Cree killed him
with knife. Windigo. Have to watch out for him now." The Ojibwa shared
the belief common among his people that a man who had once tasted human
flesh acquired a desire for it, and would never be satisfied with
anything else. Such men were considered to be only partly human, in
league with evil spirits. They were outlaws, to be feared and abhorred
and killed on sight, like the deadliest snake or the most dangerous of
wild beasts.
Sickened at what they had discovered, the two boys were glad to get away
from the ill-omened place. Le Forgeron Tordu was an evil man and their
enemy. They knew that he would not have hesitated to destroy them in the
most brutal manner, and they could not honestly feel sorrow that he was
dead. But the manner of his death had shocked and nauseated them. Not to
the worst man on earth could they have wished such a fate. Even stronger
was their feeling of horror at the Indian who had done the thing.
Nangotook had said that Le Forgeron abused the Cree. Evidently the
latter had turned at last and had avenged himself. He had not struck in
mere self-defense, however, for the blood-soaked shirt Nangotook had
found proved that the Frenchman had been stabbed in the back.
The Ojibwa was deeply concerned over the escape of the murderer. He must
have gone away by water, so it was evident that he still had a canoe,
probably the one Le Forgeron had stolen from Jean and Ronald, when he
set fire to the woods. Apparently then it had not been the loss of their
boat, but merely the fury of the storm that had held him and his master
prisoners on the little island. If, however, they had been so near to
starvation as the Cree's deed seemed to prove, they must in some way
have lost both the caribou meat the Blacksmith had taken from the boys'
cache, and the remainder of their own stock of provisions. Probably they
had run on the rocky island in the fog, or had been dashed ashore by the
wind, and had lost their provisions and equipment in the wreck, though
managing to save their canoe. There was no evidence that they had built
a new one. Indeed the stumps of the trees they had cut indicated that no
materials fit for canoe making grew on the island.
At any rate the Cree had escaped in some way, and might be at that
moment lying in wait for the others on the shores of the bay or on one
of the islands. They must keep a close lookout for him. The boys, as
well as Nangotook, fully believed that, having once eaten human flesh,
the Cree would, as all such Windigos were supposed to do, hunger for
more. They devoutly hoped that he had no gun. Had it not been for the
fear that he might be well armed, they would have searched the shores
and islands for him, but he would surely have the advantage, as they
must approach his hiding place by water, while he could lie concealed.
If he had a gun, he could easily shoot them from cover. So they decided
to waste no time on what would probably be a fruitless, if not a fatal,
search, but to take advantage of the good weather to go on as rapidly as
possible. Very likely he had left the neighborhood. They might overtake
him, and if they did, a Windigo could expect no mercy from them.
They delayed only long enough to cook and eat their fish and to take up
their net. Before their gruesome discovery, they had intended to remain
at the bay to hunt and fish until the next morning, but so far they had
found the place lacking in game. They would go on along shore as far as
they could that day, and perhaps they might reach a better hunting
ground. At least they would get away from the spot where they had
suffered so much. It had acquired an added horror from the hideous
tragedy on the little island.
XXXI
THE WINDIGO
The weather favored the voyageurs that day, and they were able to make
good time for about twenty miles to a little cove, the mouth of a
stream. There they landed to eat a supper of the fish they had caught on
the way. The boys felt greatly encouraged when Etienne told them they
had almost reached the southern end of Minong. Two or three hours more
travel would bring them to a smaller island lying off the end of the
large one. From there, he said, the weather favoring them, they could
steer a straight course for the northwest shore of the lake and soon
reach the Grande Portage. Deeply disappointed though the lads were at
not finding the riches they had endured so much to gain, they felt a
great sense of relief at the thought that their perilous journey was so
near its end.
By the time they had reached the cove, the boys, who had only partly
recovered from starvation and suffering, were very tired. After their
supper of fish, they were glad to creep into a pile of balsam branches
under the canoe and fall asleep immediately. But the night was cold and
they had no cover but the branches. Several times one of the three had
to crawl out, chilled and stiff, to replenish the fire that burned close
to the raised side of the canoe. Usually it was the Indian who took this
task upon himself, for he slept lightly and little, ready to spring up
at the slightest unusual sound. He did not intend that the Windigo
should creep on their camp without his knowing it.
Just as the stars were fading with the dawn, Nangotook was awakened
suddenly. He lay still and listened. From up the river came faint
sounds, the cracking of twigs, the rustling of branches. Noiselessly the
Indian crept from under the canoe, listened a moment, and then made his
way cautiously in the direction of the sounds. There was a splash in the
stream. In the faint light he could see a black bulk against the water.
Nearer and nearer he crept, until the dark form began to move slowly
towards the opposite bank. Then, knowing he would get no better chance
for a shot, Nangotook let fly an arrow, and then a second and a third in
quick succession. Every arrow hit the mark, the black bulk plunged
forward, wavered and fell sidewise with a great splash. The hunter
sprang into the stream. Luckily the water, where the beast had fallen,
was shallow, and Nangotook soon had his game, a full grown caribou,
ashore. Here was meat in plenty for days to come.
He dragged the caribou back to camp and placed it near the fire. The
boys were sleeping so soundly that his coming did not wake them, and he
crept under the canoe without disturbing them. He did not sleep any more
after that, but kept his eye on the meat. Once he heard the pad of soft
feet beyond the fire, and rose to send an arrow towards a pair of
gleaming eyes. He missed his aim, and the lynx slipped away in the
darkness and did not return.
The boys were surprised and delighted when they saw the result of
Etienne's night hunting, but they were also a little chagrined when they
realized that they had slept so soundly and carelessly that they had
known nothing of what was going on. The day was too windy to permit the
voyageurs to start out across the open lake for the northwest shore.
They might have continued along the coast of Minong, but, as they had
such a short distance to go in that direction, they decided to camp
where they were until the caribou meat was dried. The spot was a
favorable one, and they might not find another so good. Moreover there
might be other game in the neighborhood, and there were certainly fish
in the stream and off the rocks at its mouth. The net they had set the
night before yielded a good catch of whitefish. It was the caribou meat
that tasted best to the boys, however, and put new strength and spirit
into them. The gruesome tragedy they had found traces of the day before
seemed like a bad dream.
The day, which was bright and pleasant, though windy, was spent in
drying the meat, curing the hide, fishing and hunting. The three
proposed to collect as large a supply of food as possible. Bad weather
might come again at any moment, and they did not intend to be caught in
another storm without plenty of food to last them through.
In a marshy place the boys came upon a great flock of wild geese, that
had paused, on their way south, to feed. The birds took alarm at once,
and, with great flapping of wings and excited honks, followed their
leader into the air and away, but Jean succeeded in hitting one as it
left the water. He had to wade out into the cold mud and water to his
waist to secure the bird, but it was a welcome feast to the three that
night. The southward flight of the geese was, however, another reminder
of the approach of winter. Nekah, the goose, knew what he was about,
said the Ojibwa.
The following morning the voyageurs left the little cove. The south wind
was strong enough to make crossing the lake dangerous, but they could go
on along shore with little difficulty. They could at least reach the
island which Nangotook said lay off a bay at the southern end of Minong.
From there the Ojibwa intended, as soon as the weather would permit, to
steer directly for the lake shore.
The travelers had rounded the end of Minong, when they came in sight of
a canoe at some distance across the water. It held only one man, and
they were too far away to make out anything about him, except that he
did not wear the scarlet cap of the Canadian voyageur. Was it the
Windigo? The boys felt a thrill of excitement, not unmingled with dread.
Whether he had seen them or not they could not tell, but they followed
as rapidly as they could make the canoe fly over the water. The lone
traveler was making for some islands ahead. He passed into a channel
between two of them and disappeared.
Without any orders from Nangotook in the bow, Ronald, who was in the
stem, steered in the same direction. He wanted to find out if the man
ahead was really the Cree murderer. He suspected that Nangotook was
ready to kill the Windigo on sight That was the Indian way with such
outlaws. Certainly the boy was not inclined to show any mercy to an
Indian who had killed and eaten a white man. If he had merely killed the
Frenchman,--well, Le Forgeron probably deserved death, and a private
quarrel between him and his companion was the business of no one else,
Ronald thought, but the evidence seemed to prove that the Cree had
treacherously stabbed the white man in the back, for the purpose of
eating him. For such hideous crime there could be no excuse, not even
starvation, and no mercy for the criminal. That was the code of the
Indian, the voyageur and the forest runner.
The pursuers passed through the channel between the two islands, and
came out in view of others, large and small. Instantly Nangotook's keen
eyes caught sight of something on one of the little islands that caused
him to utter a short grunt, raise his paddle from the water, and gaze
intently. Noting his apparent surprise, the boys' eyes followed the
direction of his gaze. From a bare tree on that little island something
white was fluttering. It was not a gull roosting. It was too large, and
too white, and it fluttered and waved in the wind. It was a white rag, a
signal of some kind, a flag of distress.
"Some one is on that island," cried Jean in great excitement. "He is
wrecked or hurt or starving, and he has tied that white thing to the
tree to attract attention. We must go there at once. He may be a white
man. We must rescue him."
"Go slow, little brother," cautioned Nangotook gravely. "Maybe, as you
say, there is a man there wrecked and starving, but what if that white
thing be only a trap? Where is the canoe we have been following? The
Windigo may be trying to get us ashore, so he may murder and eat us."
"If he is, he will be getting the worst of it," declared Ronald
emphatically. "We are three to one, and the only thing we need be
fearing is a gun. If he is decoying us ashore, he will not be firing on
us until we have landed, and even then he will try, I think, to use fair
words and treachery rather than force. In that we are a match for him,
now we are forewarned not to trust him."
"You speak truly, my brother," Nangotook answered. "I meant not to go by
that island, but to be cautious. It may be that the signal is a true
one. We must find out. But we must watch that we are not taken unawares
by the evil Windigo. Now that I have warned you, steer for that island,
and if the Cree is there, let him look to himself."
As they approached the place, the three watched eagerly for some
indication of what they were to find there. Like most of the islands off
Minong, it was rocky, but bore a patch of trees and bushes on its
highest part. There seemed nothing unusual about it, but the white rag
fluttering from a bare limbed birch tree. Not until they were close in,
did Nangotook catch sight of a canoe drawn up on a bit of shelving
pebble beach between two great rocks. Silently he pointed it out to the
boys. They ran their own canoe upon the same beach and stepped out, the
Ojibwa with one hand on his bowstring, an arrow in the other, and his
eyes searching the rocks and woods for signs of ambush. He did not relax
his vigilance when he heard Jean, behind him, utter a low-voiced
exclamation.
The two boys had carried the canoe up the beach, and Jean had turned to
look at the other craft that lay there. "Our own canoe," he whispered to
Jean. "It was the Cree for sure."
Ronald glanced at the boat. There was no mistaking it. The three had
built it themselves, and knew every rib and seam. It was wet, too. It
had not been out of the water more than a few minutes. Though Nangotook
did not turn his head, but still kept running his eyes searchingly over
every bush and rock that might offer concealment to an enemy, he heard
what Jean said. There was no need for him to examine the canoe. Jean's
testimony was sufficient. The Ojibwa went on up the steep bit of beach,
the two lads close behind him, with weapons ready.