side of the small island. High in the center and heavily wooded, it hid
them completely. Their route led them into the open end of the narrow
strait that cut into the other island where the furs were hidden. They
passed the gap with its two tiny islets, where heretofore they had gone
in and out, and were soon back in the little pond.
“I don’t know whether we are wise to stay here,” Hugh said thoughtfully,
as they drew the boat up on the narrow beach. “We have tried to confuse
our trail, yet if Ohrante tracks us across the high ridge and down to the
water, he will surely search all these islands. This is almost too
perfect a hiding place. If those Indians are familiar with this ‘Bay of
Spirits’ they will think of this place at once. Then we shall be caught
like rats in a trap.”
“You are right to call this the ‘Bay of Spirits,’” Blaise replied. “By
that name Monga and Red Band spoke of it. But I think they have never
been here but that one time. From what they said I think they have always
made their camps on the part of Minong that lies the other side of the
high ridge. And now both Monga and Red Band have great fear of this bay.”
Hugh chuckled. “So has the mighty chief Ohrante. I saw his fear in his
face when I spoke of hearing strange noises. I am wondering, though, if
he should track us here, if he will not suspect a trick.”
“Something more than the voices has frightened them,” Blaise went on.
“The second time I listened to those two, Monga told Red Band of huge
giants at the end of the point.”
“Giants? Did he mean those pillars of rock?”
“No, the giants were alive and moved.”
“Some old superstition, Blaise.”
“Monga said he saw the giants, Hugh, he and others of the band.”
“We spent nearly a day on that point and we saw no giants. If Monga saw
anything there it must have been you and me. I don’t understand how those
fellows in that canoe could have missed seeing us. Blaise,”—a sudden
light of understanding dawned in Hugh’s face,—“Blaise, do you remember
how hot and still it was, and how the haze shimmered on the water? And do
you recall the day we crossed to the Isle Royale, the very same sort of
day? We saw the mirage, high mountains towering up where later we found
there were no real mountains. Do you remember too when we left the Bay of
the Beaver, how we saw coming towards us through the morning mist, what
we thought was a ship, so tall it looked, but when it drew nearer it
shrank to a mere sailboat?”
“I remember those things.” Blaise was staring at Hugh’s excited face.
“Don’t you understand then? Don’t you see how it was that Monga and those
others in that canoe saw giants on the end of the point? On that hot,
still day, as they came across the water and looked through the shimmer
of the heat haze, they saw us there on the open rocks. We ourselves saw
that island far out greater than it really was and distorted. Do you
remember how it shrank afterwards? To those men in that canoe we too were
distorted and loomed up huge and tall like giants. That was what
frightened them. That explains their hasty flight. We were the giants on
the end of the point!”
Blaise was still staring, but his look of puzzlement had given way to one
almost of awe. “It may be as you say,” he replied slowly. “Monga thought
it was Kepoochikan and Nanibozho. I cannot understand it at all, that
enchantment you call mirage that makes men see mountains that are not
there and turns bateaus into ships and men into giants.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Hugh admitted, “and neither did the
captain of the _Athabasca_. He said it was just one of the secrets of
nature that we don’t understand yet. Surely the mirage is nothing to
fear. It has stood us in good stead by frightening away Ohrante’s men and
causing them to stand in terror of this bay. No wonder we scared them
away with the echoes. They must have been frightened when they came in
here. If only their fear is strong enough to keep them away now, we are
safe. But we dare not trust too much to that. We must hide ourselves as
well as we can. The entrance to this little lake is narrow and I think I
see a way to block it so it will look as if no boat could have gone
through. First, though, let us eat something if there is anything left.”
“There is a little corn, if no animal has stolen it,” Blaise replied. “I
too am sore hungry, for I have eaten nothing but a few green bearberries
since I set out in search of you.”
XXIX
THE CEDAR BARRIER
The corn, in its bark wrapping, was found untouched, hanging from the
birch where Blaise had left it. Not daring to kindle a fire for fear the
smoke might betray them, Hugh put the dry, hulled kernels in the kettle
with cold water to soften them. Then he spoke again of his plan to block
the entrance to the pond.
“That cedar that leans far down over the water,” he explained, “looks as
if it was almost ready to fall of its own weight. If we could pull or
push it down, it would go clear across that narrow channel.”
“But then we could not take our bateau through.”
“Oh, we can easily chop out a section when we are ready to go.”
“If anyone is near he will hear the sound of the axe.”
“It is better to risk that, Blaise, than to leave the entrance open. We
will go look at the tree and see what we can do.”
The leaning, top-heavy cedar had tipped so far that several of its roots
had pulled loose from their anchorage, bringing with them a section of
the shallow soil and exposing the rock below. On one side the roots still
held, supplying enough nourishment to the limbs to keep part of them
alive. Some of the thick sprays of foliage were brown and dead, but many
were still green and flourishing. The tree certainly looked as if the
slightest additional strain would tip it the rest of the way. Before
testing it, the boys noted where it would fall. It stood a few feet above
the water and slanted out at an angle across the passageway.
“It will not catch in any tree when it goes down,” Hugh observed. “Fresh
breaks in other trees or bushes would betray how recently it had fallen.
Of course the fact that it is partly green will prove it hasn’t been down
very long.”
“An uprooted tree lying in the water will stay green for many days,”
Blaise replied.
“I think we had better try to push it over,” Hugh decided. “To make a way
out to-night we shall not need to chop through the trunk. This end will
be high enough from the water so, by cutting off a few of the lower
limbs, we can take the boat underneath.”
“If the water is deep enough at this side,” added Blaise.
First attempts to bring down the slanting tree failed, however. It was
not so insecure as it appeared. The tough roots that still held were
stronger anchors than the boys had suspected. Pushing and pulling with
all their might had little effect.
“We must cut away some of the roots that are holding,” Hugh said at last.
“Lend me your hatchet, Blaise. Ohrante has mine.”
The roots were tough, but the little axe was sharp and Hugh’s blows
vigorous. He cut every root he could reach, and the tree trembled, swayed
and tipped, pulling up more rootlets and chunks of soil.
“It will come now. It needs just a little more weight. Here, Blaise.”
Hugh returned the hatchet, jumped upon the leaning trunk and made his way
along it. The tree swayed with the added weight. As he went farther up
and out, the strain on the few roots was too great. With a rending sound
they tore up the shallow soil, and the cedar crashed down across the
channel.
Hugh had expected the tree to go suddenly, and he kept a firm hold, but
he was jarred and drenched in the splash. The trunk, where he was
clinging, did not go under water, and he scrambled quickly back to shore.
All the roots were in the air now, and the tree slanted down from the
butt, instead of up. The crown rested in the shallow water and against
the opposite shore. The entrance to the little pond was both well closed
and effectually concealed.
Hugh uttered a little exclamation of satisfaction. “It must look from out
there,” he said, nodding towards the water beyond, “like a perfectly
natural accident. This old cedar is the best of screens. I don’t believe
anyone coming around that little island and seeing this fallen tree would
guess there was a lake or bay in here. Of course if he came so close he
could peep through the branches, he might be able to see water beyond,
but he would never guess that a boat could go in. If anyone came up here,
though, he would see the freshly upturned earth and the cut ends of the
tree roots. But the bushes hide this spot from the water and there is
nothing to bring anyone ashore here. We shall be better hidden than we
could have hoped.”
“Yes, it was a good thought, my brother. We will go back now and bring
the bateau around to this side of the little lake. Then if anyone looks
through the branches and sees the water beyond, he cannot see the bateau
or us. If he tries to cut a way through, we shall hear him and be warned.
The sun climbs high. We must make haste.”
Without pausing to reply, Hugh led off at once, back to the beach and
around to the spot where the boat lay. Quickly and carefully, the
brothers erased all signs of their camp that might be seen from across
the pond. Hugh gathered up the remains of the fire and was about to throw
them into the water, when Blaise stopped him. The charred sticks might
float across, and betray that someone had camped there. So Hugh carried
the blackened bits back into the woods, and then washed every trace of
ashes from the pebbles and sand. The mast and sail, which had been left
on shore, were laid in the boat, and the lads paddled around to a spot
less than a hundred feet from the end of the blockaded passageway. With
the poplar rollers they had used before, they drew the bateau up on
shore, where it could not be seen by anyone peeping through the barrier.
The sun would soon be directly overhead. Ohrante had had several hours to
find Hugh’s trail. The boy did not believe that the Iroquois would let
him escape without some effort to trace and recapture him. Even now the
Chief of Minong or some of his followers might be near at hand. It would
be wise to lie low and keep very quiet, restricting conversation to
necessary whispers. After chewing, as well as he could, some of the
partly softened corn, Hugh stretched himself out on the narrow beach to
let the sun dry his clothes.
Waiting quietly for Ohrante to come and find him proved nerve wracking.
After what seemed a long period of inaction, he raised himself on his
elbow and hitched nearer his younger brother. The latter was sitting
close to the bateau, his eyes closed, apparently asleep.
“Blaise, I’m going up through the woods to find some spot where I can see
out. Then if anyone comes near our barrier I shall know it.”
The half-breed boy had opened his eyes at the first word. “We must take
great care,” he replied in the softest of whispers. “The cracking of a
twig, the moving of a bush may betray us. Yet I am ready to take the risk
if you are.”
“We’ll both go then, and we’ll not take more risk than we can help.”
Blaise nodded and rose. Slipping into the woods just beyond where the
boat lay, he threaded his way among trees and bushes. Hugh followed quite
as cautiously. It was but a short distance, and after a few steps Blaise
dropped to his hands and knees. Hugh followed his example, and remained
motionless while the other crept ahead and disappeared behind a clump of
balsams.
The older boy waited several minutes, then ventured forward. Beyond the
balsams he paused, but could catch no glimpse of Blaise among the dense
growth. The sunlight between the trees ahead showed him that he must be
close to the margin of the woods. Lying almost flat, he wriggled along
until he could see a patch of water. For a moment he lay still, looking
and listening. Then he crept forward again and took his station behind a
thick mass of cedar needles. In its youth this cedar had been bent almost
double by some weight, a fallen tree probably, and had grown in that
misshapen form, branching and leafing out in dense sprays clear to the
ground. Peeping around the green screen, Hugh found he was but a few feet
from the edge of the water. The sheltered bay was without a ripple, the
sun hot, the woods still, the silence unbroken by even the twitter of a
bird or the hum of an insect.
The boy was about to raise himself for a better view, when, from the
water, a sound came to his ears. The very slightest of sounds it was, but
he lowered his head instantly. He wriggled a little farther back behind
the cedar masses and lay motionless. The sound came again, the slightest
suggestion of rippling water. But the bay was smooth and still. What he
heard was the dipping of a paddle blade, the ripple of water against the
side of a boat.
For a few moments Hugh dared not try to look. Then curiosity got the
better of fear. Raising his head ever so little, he found a peep-hole
between the cedar sprays and put his eye to it. He could see a bit of the
round, wooded islet, a section of the shore opposite and, on the water
between, a birch canoe. It held three men. The bow-man was the tall young
Iroquois who had first taken Hugh prisoner. The man in the middle wore a
red band about his long black hair. As the canoe came nearer, Hugh could
see that the steersman was the squat Ojibwa from whose custody he had
escaped. Ohrante had not killed the guard then, but no doubt some heavy
punishment hung over Monga’s head if he did not find Hugh and bring him
back. He was desperate enough to dare return to the dreaded Bay of
Manitos.
The canoe came slowly, the man in the bow watching the water. It was
shallow between the round islet and the blocked entrance to the little
pond. Would the fallen cedar deceive the Indians or not? Hugh held his
breath.
The bow-man straightened a little, glanced towards the cedar, then looked
back at the water again. Red Band’s eyes were on his paddle. Monga’s head
turned from side to side, as he scanned the shore and the woods for any
sign that the fugitive had been there. His glance swept the barrier. He
twisted his paddle. The canoe swerved nearer to the blocked passage.
The man in the bow uttered a sharp hiss of warning. For an instant Hugh
feared that the fellow had caught sight of him through the leafy screen.
But the warning was of shallows ahead. The steersman dipped his paddle
and swerved the canoe again, this time away from the fallen cedar. He did
not cast another glance in that direction, as the canoe came on past the
barrier. The “tide,” as Hugh had called it, was out. The water was at its
lowest point of fluctuation. No one could suspect a navigable channel
where the uprooted tree lay.
It was plain that the Indians intended to round the little islet. To do
so they must pass close to the shore where Hugh was. He lowered his head
cautiously and lay prone and motionless. He could hear the gentle ripple
of the water as the canoe slipped through it. Then a harsh voice spoke.
So close it seemed that the lad almost jumped, and a shudder of fear
passed through him. In an instant he realized that the voice was Monga’s
and that it came from the water, not from the land. The tall fellow
answered briefly, and Monga grunted an abrupt rejoinder. What they said
Hugh could not guess, for they spoke in Ojibwa.
The slight sounds of dipping paddles and rippling water grew fainter and
fainter, then ceased. Hugh drew a long breath, raised his head a little
and looked through the peep-hole. The canoe was no longer in sight. It
could not be far away, though, so he lay still. He was just wondering
whether it would be safe now to try for another and wider view of the bay
and strait, and had raised his head to reconnoiter, when he caught sight
of a crouching figure slipping swiftly between the trees towards him. For
an instant his heart seemed to stop beating, then he saw that it was
Blaise approaching.
The younger brother dropped down beside the elder. “They are gone,” he
whispered. “Let us go back.”
XXX
THE FLIGHT FROM MINONG
The canoe had gone by, but the boys did not abate their caution and
watchfulness one whit, as they made their way back to the shore of the
pond.
“That danger seems to be over,” Hugh remarked, his voice still lowered to
a whisper, as he came out of the woods near the boat. “Blaise, could you
understand what those two said? Were you near enough to hear?”
“I was but a little way beyond you, my brother. I heard every word. There
is bad blood between Monga and the young Iroquois. It was the Iroquois
who wished to come up this way. They found the ashes of our fire at the
end of that island out there. Monga thinks we went on across the mouth of
this long bay. He wished to seek us in that direction, but when the
Iroquois found the passage between these islands, he forced Monga to come
up here first. He is sure now that we are not in here. So they go the way
Monga wishes.”
“Then we are safe from those three for some hours at least, but I wish we
knew where Ohrante and the others are.”
“Ohrante must hold Monga, and perhaps the Iroquois, to blame for your
escape. If they take you not back, it will go hard with them. It may be
that Ohrante has sent them to seek you and himself waits at the camp, or
he may search in the other direction. Perhaps he will not come into this
Bay of Manitos at all.”
“Very likely he is glad of an excuse to stay out,” returned Hugh with a
grin. “Ohrante may be brave as a lion with other men, but I think he is
not quite so bold with spirits.”
“No man is,” Blaise replied simply. “I am not sure that Ohrante is very
brave. He is cruel and treacherous, but brave in the way our father was?
No, I think he is not brave like that.” The lad gave one of his
characteristic French shrugs.
Hugh made no answer. He discounted his brother’s opinion of Ohrante
somewhat. Blaise was half Ojibwa, of the Algonquin stock, and the ancient
hatred between Algonquin and Iroquois had not died out and probably never
would die. The boy was naturally unwilling to admit any good qualities in
the self-styled “Chief of Minong,” half Mohawk by blood and wholly so by
training. But Ohrante, thought Hugh, must have some unusual qualities,
since, in spite of the ancient hate, he had attracted to his band Ojibwas
as well as Iroquois.
“Yet, we know not,” Blaise went on after a moment, “how near the others
may be, or how soon Monga may return this way. We dare not venture out
until darkness comes.”
Sunset came at last and twilight. The last morsels of the maple sugar and
the soaked corn made up the evening meal. Blaise slipped through the
woods once more, and reported the outer bay and strait empty of all life
except a pair of fish ducks. Then he and Hugh pushed off the bateau and
crossed the pond. No more peaceful spot could be imagined. The still
water reflected the motionless trees and the soft colors of the sky. From
the woods came the clear, plaintive notes of a thrush.
Landing, the lads went directly to the old birch, and were relieved to
find no signs that anyone had been near it. Blaise climbed the tree and
let himself down into the hole. Hugh then followed him up, received the
bales the younger boy handed him and lowered them to the ground.
Squirrels or wood-mice had nibbled the outer wrappings, but had not
penetrated to the pelts. When all the packages were out of the tree, the
two carried them to the shore and stowed them in the boat. Once more they
paddled across the lake and took the sail aboard. They did not set up the
mast, as they wished to push the boat under the fallen cedar. Beaching
the bateau close to the end of the barrier, they set to work to cut a way
through.
They had only the one little axe, and Hugh wielded that, climbing out on
the tree to reach the limbs he wished to cut. Blaise, standing in the
shallow water, trimmed off smaller branches with his stout knife. Working
with skill and speed, they soon had the lower limbs cleared away from the
under side of the trunk. There appeared to be room enough to push the
bateau through, but the water at that spot was very shallow. The boat
grounded on the rock bottom. The lads unloaded most of the furs, and
succeeded in dragging the lightened bateau over the shallows. Then they
had to carry the bales through the woods, and reload. All this work they
were forced to do as quietly as possible. The blows of the axe could not
be muffled, but the two made no noise they could avoid. They did not dare
light a torch, but the sky was clear and the northern twilight long.
Darkness had settled down, however, by the time they were ready to leave
their island of refuge.
In that sheltered place, they were unable to tell whether there was
breeze enough to aid or hinder them, but they had made up their minds to
leave the Bay of Spirits. If possible they would start for the mainland,
by sail if they could, by paddle if they must. If the wind was so strong
against them that they could not cross, they would go on in the other
direction, and find some temporary hiding place farther from the camp of
the Chief of Minong.
Straight out through the quiet water of the narrower channel, shadowed by
the black, wooded masses of the islands to right and left, they paddled.
Darkness and still water made the shallows treacherous, but they had
noted the channel on their way in that morning, and made their way out
again without accident.
Suddenly Blaise in the bow gave a quick, low hiss. Hugh knew that the
alarmed warning meant, not mere shallow water ahead, but some graver
danger. He obeyed the signal and steered into the deep shadow of the
island close by. The boat scraped the rocks and came to a stop. Looking
out from the protecting gloom, across the moonlit lake, Hugh caught sight
of the cause of his brother’s alarm. A canoe, paddled swiftly, was
crossing the open water beyond the islands, going north. Would it turn up
the bay? Hugh sat motionless, his paddle handle gripped tightly. Then he
drew a breath of relief. The canoe had not turned. It went straight on
and disappeared from sight.
Hugh moved forward to speak to Blaise. “The fellows who were after us,”
he whispered, “going back to camp. They have given up the chase.”
“I could make out but two men,” Blaise replied.
“You couldn’t be certain there weren’t three,” Hugh argued, “unless you
can see much better at night than I can.”
Blaise shook his head doubtfully. “The canoe was headed for the long
point. They must be some of Ohrante’s men.”
“None of them was big enough to be Ohrante himself. We could see them
well enough to make sure of that.”
The brothers waited in the shadow for several minutes, then ventured on.
As they came out from the shelter of the islands, a light southeast
breeze, that barely rippled the water, struck them.
“A favorable enough wind, if we want to go direct to the Kaministikwia,”
remarked Hugh, “but do we?”
“It is at the Kaministikwia where we must sell the furs.”
“But how about our revenge on Ohrante? Are we to let him meet those
reinforcements at his Torture Island, and then go on capturing innocent
people and putting them to death for his own pleasure? Ohrante is a
menace to both white men and Ojibwas, Blaise.”
“Yes, I know that,” the younger lad replied slowly, “but what can you and
I alone do against him and his band and the new braves who come to join
him? I am as eager as you to see Ohrante destroyed. I long to avenge my
father by doing the deed with my own hands, but we must plan cautiously.
If we are over rash, we shall fail.”
“What would you do then, Blaise?”
“I would go quickly to the Kaministikwia, leave the furs there, and find
other men to go with us to the Isle of Torture.”
“That will take a long time,” Hugh objected. “We may be too late.”
“Then we will cross to Minong again. We know where his camp is. Oh, we
can find men eager to seek out Ohrante and his wolf pack wherever they
may be, and destroy them like the wolves they are. The X Y agent will
help us to raise a party. Ohrante was brought into this country by the
Old Company. He is a skillful hunter and took to them many pelts.”
“True. The New Company will be glad to help capture the fellow no doubt,”
Hugh agreed.
“But you and I, as our father’s sons, will claim the right to deal with
him.” There was a hard, fierce note in the lad’s voice. Jean Beaupré had
not been a mild man, yet it was not so much the hot-tempered French
father that spoke now in the son, as the fierce, implacable savage.
Bitterly as Hugh hated the giant Mohawk, he sensed something different
and alien in his half-brother’s passion. Through the weeks of constant
association with Blaise, Hugh had ceased ordinarily to think of him as
Indian, but now, for the moment, he was not Blaise Beaupré, but
Attekonse, Ojibwa. Yet it was the white boy who was the most impatient at
the thought of delay in dealing with Ohrante.