THE PROVING OF TAWNY
Ganawa decided that they might as well camp another night on Montreal
Island, because the lake was still somewhat rough with big long swells
beating against the island from the northwest. But on the following
morning the great clear sea lay spread out calm in all its summer glory
under a clear sky. White-throats and song-sparrows were singing in the
spruces on which the sunlight sparkled and was reflected from a myriad
of dewdrops, while the forest on the high mainland toward the east
bounded the clear glittering lake like a dark wall of mystery, and
aroused in both white lads a strong desire to climb these dark,
forested slopes and learn what there might be in the great inland
behind.
Ganawa started early and steered a course which left a group of small
rocky islands now known as Lizard Islands on their right. At a distance
of some twelve miles from Montreal Island they came to another island
about a mile and a half by two miles in size. This is now called Leach
Island.
Ray expressed a wish to land and explore this island. “Are you going to
look for another dog?” asked Bruce. “This one will give us trouble
enough.”
The younger lad replied that he did not want any more dogs. “Do you
think I am so stupid that I think there is a dog on every island?” he
protested vigorously.
Ganawa laughed at the tilt of words between his sons and told them that
this island was much like Montreal Island.
“We shall camp early this evening,” he said, “in a fine little harbor,
and maybe my small son will catch some big fish for our meal.”
After they had passed Leach Island, Ganawa steered the canoe within a
mile or less of the shore, and never had the lads seen a more
magnificent view. They were headed north. To their left lay the endless
blue sea with no land in sight; but to their right stood the big
forested wall of rocks, rising to a height of several hundred or even a
thousand feet within a mile or two of the lake. The sun was now shining
on this great forest so one could see clearly the mixture of spruce,
balsam, fir, and birch, with isolated white pines that were taller and
seemed to belong to an older generation of trees.
It was still early in the afternoon when Ganawa rounded some cliffs to
the right and landed the canoe, as he had promised, in a sheltered bay
of shallow water, now known as Indian Harbor.
“We have come ten leagues,” he said, as he lifted the canoe to a safe
place on land; “it is ten leagues more to the Michipicoten. My big son
and I will make camp. My little son should catch us some trout for our
meal.”
“I do want to catch them,” Ray replied, “but I have no bait.”
Then Ganawa took a piece of red flannel out of his hunting bag. “Here,
my son,” he told the lad, “that will catch them, if they are here.”
Ray was in high spirits. His dog had behaved well. When gulls and
eagles soared rather close to the boat, Tawny did not even lift his
head, and now after the canoe had landed, he showed no inclination to
leave but literally dogged Ray’s footsteps. The fish were biting, too,
and the lad was soon wild with excitement. Never had Ray seen such big
rainbow trout. “Oh, Bruce, come and look,” he called; “they are too
beautiful to eat,” after, with much splashing and yelling, he had
pulled out three of the flashing, jumping fish, weighing from two to
three pounds each.
And then came the climax of the day for the lad. A big five-pounder
took a vicious bite at the red flannel, and pulled with much more
strength than Ray had anticipated. The lad held to his pole but in his
effort to reach the line, he slipped on the rock and tumbled in amongst
the boulders. Tawny uttered just two loud barks before he jumped after
the lad, and when Bruce came rushing to the spot, boy and dog were
struggling in the water and Bruce could not tell which one was trying
to save the other. But in all the excitement Ray held to the line, and
when the giant trout at last flashed his great mass of pink and his red
spots on the rock, Ray fell on the wildly jumping fish, seized him
behind the gills and then ran to the tepee yelling: “Look, Father,
look, I’ve got him! I’ve got him!”
By this time a good fire was blazing near the tepee, and Ray was soon
in dry clothes and as comfortable and warm as if he had never had a
plunge-bath in Lake Superior. When Bruce taunted him with being pulled
in by the big fish, Ray only laughed and said, “The fish was worth a
cold bath, and I should be glad to fall in again if I could catch
another five-pound rainbow trout.”
“My father, this evening I shall make a feast,” Bruce told Ganawa. The
big trout was soon cleaned and now Bruce made use of a piece of bacon
he had bought of a trader at the Soo and taken along as a surprise for
Ray and as a kind of emergency ration, for he knew that even the best
of Indians are likely to trust to luck for their next meal.
Bruce placed a strip of bacon inside the big fish. He slit the meat
along the back and placed a strip of bacon in the cut, and to the
outside of the fish he tied several strips of bacon with fine strips of
willow bark, and he also used a little salt on the inside and outside
of the fish. Then he fastened a smooth clean stick lengthwise through
the fish, and for about fifteen minutes he kept the fish slowly turning
over a hot fire of live coals, while each end of the rod used as a spit
was supported in the fork of a stick set into the ground near the fire.
When the bacon began to sizzle and drip and the fish began to turn
brown, Ray could hardly wait until Bruce declared that the fish was
cooked through and well done.
“It is a good feast,” Ganawa declared as soon as he tasted the dark
pink meat, and how Ray and Bruce liked it was shown by the fact that
nothing was left for Tawny but the head and the bones.
But Tawny did not go hungry at the feast. In addition to several trout,
Ray had also caught a pickerel, which the lad cooked over the coals
before he gave it to Tawny for his feast.
“I don’t like to see him eat a raw pickerel,” Ray declared when Ganawa
told him that dogs in the Indian country would eat anything that is
given them.
When the three campers rolled up in their blankets in the tepee, Tawny
curled up between the entrance and the fire and did not move all night,
although some rabbits thumped outside the tepee and some wild mice
scurried about.
“He is a good dog,” Ganawa said in the morning, “and my little son may
keep him.”