So instantaneous and noiseless were the Windigo’s spring and Nangotook’s arrow, that the priest suspected nothing until the thud of the body upon the ground startled him. He turned to find the Cree lying outstretched, the arrow sticking from his back, while the fierce face of the Ojibwa appeared among the spruce branches. Seizing the gold cross that hung on the breast of his black gown, the priest held it out towards the newcomer, and gazed at him for a moment with steady and fearless eyes. Then, without speaking, he knelt beside the fallen Cree. It took him but a moment to ascertain that the man was dead. His eye fell upon the outstretched hand clenching the knife. An expression of horror crossed his fine and sensitive face, and he glanced quickly up at Nangotook, with a look of doubt and questioning.

The Ojibwa had stepped out from among the trees, his weapon lowered. As the priest looked at him, the fierceness faded from the Indian’s face. Speaking humbly, like a servant to his master or a child to his teacher, he addressed the Jesuit. “Blame me not, good Father,” he said, “that I have slain that murderer with an arrow in the back as I might have killed Maheengun, the wolf, or Besheu, the lynx, when he was mad with the blood thirst. His knife was out. Before a dead leaf fell from that birch tree he would have plunged the knife in your body. He is a Windigo, in league with the evil one and hungering for human flesh. Already he has killed and eaten one man, an evil man to be sure, but a white man and his master.”

As Nangotook finished speaking, the two boys, came out from the spruces. Jean sprang forward, pulling off his toque, and knelt before the missionary for his blessing, while Ronald, Scotch Protestant though he was, showed his respect by removing his hare skin cap and standing silent.

When he had given Jean his blessing, and the latter had risen to his feet, the priest looked searchingly into the lad’s face and said gravely, “Who are you, my son, and these your companions, and how came you here? Surely you were sent of God to save the humblest of His servants from death at the hands of this poor, crazed savage.”

“It is Etienne you should thank for that, reverend Father,” Jean answered quickly, “but indeed I believe God led us here, and just in time, for – ”

But the priest interrupted him, to speak to the Indian. Nangotook had squatted down by the body of the Cree, and had turned it over to make sure the man was dead. Then he had unlocked the Cree’s fingers from his knife, had felt its edge and had just made a motion with the blade towards the neck of the fallen man, when the Jesuit’s quick eye noted his action.

“My son,” he said sternly, “what is it that you would do? Would you mutilate the body of the man you have killed?”

The Ojibwa looked up into the priest’s grave face, and hastened to excuse and explain his action. “The man is a Windigo, good Father,” he said. “Windigos are in league with the evil one and are hard to kill. This one seems to have died easily enough, but unless his body is cut to pieces, he may come to life again at any moment and slay us all.”

“Nay, my child,” the Jesuit answered less sternly, for he understood that the Indian’s purpose, however mistaken, was a sincere one. He was not moved merely by a desire to avenge himself on the helpless body of a foe. “Nay, you need have no fear that the spirit of this poor, misguided child of the forest will return to animate his body. Already his soul has gone to other realms to await judgment for its sins. He was possessed of an evil spirit indeed. Though he spoke fair enough and promised to take me to the Grande Portage, I saw the madness in his eye and would not have trusted him, had he not seemed to be sent of God to deliver me from this desolate place. But even for such as he there may be forgiveness, when he has suffered his meed of punishment. I forbid you to mutilate his body. Instead, you and your companions shall kneel with me and pray for the soul of this poor savage, who has been struck down in the moment of his sin, without time for repentance.”

Nangotook submitted docilely enough, kneeling beside the priest and remaining reverently silent through the latter’s brief prayer.

There was not soil enough on the little island to dig a grave in, so Nangotook and his companions, at the missionary’s command, placed the body of the Cree in a hole between the rocks, blocked up the opening with stones and branches, and threw a little earth and leaf mold over the whole. The simple burial service over, they were about to proceed to the canoe, when Jean noticed that the priest’s face had turned very white and that he swayed a little and caught at a tree for support.

“You are ill, Father,” he exclaimed, and then, guessing the reason for the other’s weakness, he added, “Perhaps you suffer from hunger. If so, we are amply provided with meat and will prepare some for you at once.”

“Thank you, my son,” the Jesuit answered with a faint smile. “I do indeed suffer from hunger, for I have eaten nothing but roots and bark for several days.”

His strength exhausted, he was glad to sink down on the ground in front of the wigwam, while the boys and Etienne prepared a meal. The missionary had been too long without hearty food to take anything but a little caribou broth. After he had eaten, he satisfied the boys’ curiosity by telling them how he came to be in such a desperate situation.

He had been returning from a trip to an Indian mission on Lake Nipigon, beyond the head of Nipigon Bay, and was bound for another mission on the south shore, traveling in a small canoe with three Indians. They had been delayed by the bad weather, and, anxious to get on, had left their camping place at the foot of Thunder Cape in the night, after the wind had gone down. But the fog had caught them. All their landmarks were blotted out, and the Indians tried to steer by the wind. The air was unusually still, the light breeze coming in little puffs, which must have been variable in direction. The travelers went out of their course, and when the wind rose and began to blow the fog in driving sheets, they were close to Minong. Driven by the storm, they took refuge on the first land they sighted, the little island where the priest was now telling his story. There they remained throughout the northeaster. They were short of provisions, and one of the Indians, who was sick before they left Thunder Cape, died. The other two were sullen and more or less unmanageable. The missionary suspected that they had been tampered with at Lake Nipigon by a medicine man who hated the priest, for the latter’s teachings were diminishing the Indian shaman’s power over his fellows. Father Bertrand had reason to believe that the medicine man had told the Indians the “black gown” was an evil magician and would bring disaster upon them. The bad weather and other misfortunes of the journey and the sudden, mysterious sickness that had overtaken one of the crew and had ended in his death, bore out the medicine man’s prophecies. Though the missionary did everything he could to restore his companions’ confidence, they grew more and more sullen and suspicious. To their superstitious fears was added the hatred felt by one of the men, whom Father Bertrand had reprimanded for a heavy sin. He worked upon the fears of the other Indian, to convince him that misfortune would pursue them as long as they remained in company with the black gown. So it happened that, the second night after the storm ceased, when the wind had gone down and traveling was possible, the two Indians stole away while the priest was sleeping, taking the canoe and the few provisions that remained, and leaving the missionary without food or weapons.

Father Bertrand was a young man, not many years from France and unskilled in woodcraft of any kind. But even if he had known how to build a canoe, he was without knife or ax. Moreover there were no large birch trees and no white cedars on the island suitable for the purpose. He tried to fell trees for a raft by burning them at the base, but was not successful. Indeed he came near to setting the woods on fire and so destroying his only shelter. There was no game of any kind, not even gulls, and he had no line or net for fishing. Roots and bark were his only food. As a flag of distress, he fastened one of his undergarments to a bare limbed tree. He did not know that the land he could see from his island was Minong, but supposed himself to be somewhere near the northwest shore of the lake. Though it was late in the season, he hoped that some passing voyageur or Indian might see the signal. If no one saw it, then he knew he must perish, and he resigned himself to God’s will, though he admitted that he could not but feel regret that the work he had but just begun should be cut off so soon.

When the Cree appeared, Father Bertrand did not like his looks, for there was a furtive fierceness in his manner that betokened treachery and a wildness in his eye that suggested madness, but the priest hoped nevertheless that this doubtful looking savage might prove the instrument of his rescue. The Cree told him that he was not near the northwest shore, as he had supposed, but off the island of Minong. On the offer of a generous reward, he promised to take the missionary to Grande Portage. But even greed was not strong enough to overcome the Windigo’s appetite. The canoe he had left on the beach contained no provisions of any kind, so it was evident that he had either consumed all of his gruesome stock or had lost part of it in some way. The guns had been lost too, or thrown away as useless when the ammunition was gone, for he was armed only with a knife.

When the missionary had finished his tale, the two boys told him theirs. They made no attempt to hide the purpose of their adventure, for they instinctively trusted the grave, fine faced priest. That he could betray their trust did not occur even to Ronald who had no particular love for Jesuits, though he admired their courage and devotion. When Jean related how the three had been obliged to give up the search at last, and frankly expressed his regret and sorrow at their failure to find the golden island, Nangotook interrupted suddenly.

“Nay, little brother,” he exclaimed. “You say the journey has failed because we have not reached the Island of Yellow Sands. It is not so. If we had not come on this journey, we could not have saved the life of the good Father, and he would have starved here on this island. Is not the saving of one good life better than the finding of much gold?”

“You are right, Etienne,” replied Jean, flushing, ashamed that the Indian should have to teach him such a lesson.

The priest smiled in a kindly manner upon them both, then said gravely to the Ojibwa, “You speak well, my son, and I think you have grasped somewhat of the teachings of the fathers who gave you your education. It is true that you have just performed a deed of violence, but it was a necessary deed, and one that will bring reward and not punishment, for you slew not in revenge or in lust or even to save your own life, but the life of another. Rest assured that God will bless you for the deed, and, as for myself, I will give you such material reward as I am able.”

“I want no reward, Father,” Etienne answered almost indignantly. “I did not sell you your life. I only ask,” he added more humbly, “that you will remember a poor Ojibwa in your prayers.”

“Rest assured that I shall always do that,” Father Bertrand replied earnestly. “I will pray that God’s mercy and blessing and guidance may be with you and with these two lads, all the days of your lives.”

The four were silent for a few minutes, the boys and the Indian deeply impressed by the Jesuit’s words and manner. Then the priest turned to Jean and said questioningly, “You have not told me, my son, why you and your companion are so eager to find gold. In youths of your age desire for honor, achievement and glory seems more natural than a longing for riches. Take care that you do not let the sin of avarice possess your souls.”

“Indeed it is not avarice, Father,” replied Jean. Eager to justify both himself and his companion, he told of the plans they had made for the use of the gold.

Father Bertrand listened thoughtfully, and when Jean had finished, said with a kindly smile that seemed to light up his stern face, “Your reasons do you credit, especially yours, Jean Havard, since you seek wealth for others rather than for yourself. But your comrade’s ambition is also a justifiable one, if he use only right means to attain it. Your dislike of the evil methods of the fur-traders and your hesitation in following them are a credit to your consciences. It may be that the trade is necessary and legitimate, but I, myself, have learned, in the short time that I have been in the Indian country, that there is much in the manner of carrying on that trade that is wrong and evil and will bring heavy punishment both on the traders themselves and on the savages they corrupt. However, it is not of the fur-trade I intended to speak, but of your own fortunes. You are disappointed that you have not found the gold, but perhaps I can show you something that may allay that disappointment, and bring to you some increase of fortune if not the great riches you have been seeking.”

With that the missionary rose and led the way through the patch of woods towards the farther end of the island, which the lads had not visited. Curious about his meaning, they followed close at his heels.

That end of the island, which was exposed to the wind and waves of the open lake, rose high from the water and, except for a cluster of trees in a depression, was almost bare rock. The clump of trees had fared hard in the northeaster, for several had been broken off and one, the largest spruce on the island, had been uprooted and tipped over. The priest climbed over a tangle of fallen trunks, holding up his black gown that it might not catch in the branches. The boys followed wondering. He pointed to the base of the uprooted spruce. The roots had grown about a large boulder, and, in its fall, the tree had partly overturned the rock, revealing its under side.

The lads gave gasps of astonishment and dropped on their knees beside the boulder. The exposed surface was of almost solid copper, but that was not what caused their exclamation. Through the copper ran two thick veins of another, lighter colored metal.

“Silver, pure silver,” exclaimed Ronald. The veins so recently exposed had scarcely tarnished, and there was no mistaking the metal.

“Yes,” replied the priest. “It is silver and that is not all of it. Look in the hollow there, and you will find other veins. Indeed I have spent some time examining these rocks, and I believe there is much of the metal near the surface. How much there may be underneath no man can tell. It may be there is wealth here, though not such wealth as your golden island would yield. What there is is yours, however. I, the discoverer, will freely make over to you all my rights in it. I know little of metals. Perhaps it would be well for you to examine this end of the island for yourselves before you leave it. You will probably be able to learn more from it than I could.”

XXXIII
THE MINE

The two lads made as thorough an examination of the bare end of the island as they could without pick or drill. A vein with side branches, which Ronald was sure was composed of pure silver, ran the length of the barren end. Whether the vein extended under the woods the full length of the island, they could not tell, but as they traced it to the very edge of the growth, its further extension seemed almost certain. Through the clear water off the outer end of the island, they could see on the rock bottom black patches with a greenish tinge, that Ronald believed marked the course of the vein in that direction. In the canoe they followed those patches until the water became so deep that they could trace them no longer. Both boys were sure they had found a valuable mine, and they were nearly as excited and enthusiastic as if they had come upon the Island of Golden Sands itself. Their failure to find the gold, and the hardships and perils of their long trip, with its heart-breaking delays and disappointments, were almost forgotten in the joy of this sudden and unexpected discovery. Silver was not gold to be sure, but it was the next thing to it, as Jean said. The journey had not been fruitless or in vain. They had saved the life of Father Bertrand, and, as Nangotook had said, “the saving of one good life was better than much gold,” and through the priest they had found a rich silver mine. They had come off well from the adventure, and if they could reach Grande Portage safely, they would have good cause to be well satisfied and profoundly thankful. So it was with light hearts that they launched the two canoes and prepared to put off for the shore of Minong.

The day was too far advanced and the wind too strong to make a start for Grande Portage advisable, but none of the four wanted to camp on the little island, where bad weather, if there should be more of it in store for them, would leave them marooned. As Jean said, they could not eat silver, no matter how rich the mine might be. So they paddled part way up a deep harbor that cut into the end of Minong, and camped on its shore. They found both the fishing and hunting good, and had no difficulty occupying their time for the rest of the day.

The wind went down in the night, and the next day dawned calm, bright and frosty, a fine autumn morning, the best possible weather to traverse the open lake. Firm ice over the shallower water along shore, the evergreens gleaming with white frost, and the sight of a hare whose coat was almost wholly white, were warnings to the travelers that real winter was not far away. Indeed the snow and ice of the last northeaster had not melted in the shady places, and the weather was constantly growing colder.

They started early, after a hearty but hasty breakfast. They had discussed taking both canoes, but had decided they could make better time with one. So they selected the boat they had made themselves, as it was better built and slightly larger than the one Le Forgeron and the Cree had used. Their own boat had been intended for only three people and was well filled with four, but their baggage took up little space. Their possessions, besides the supply of dried meat, consisted of nothing but the caribou hide, some hare skins, their bows and arrows, and a small bundle containing the priest’s vestments and the necessary articles for celebrating the mass. In high spirits they paddled out into the open lake, blades keeping time to

“La fill’ du roi d’Espagne,,
Vogue, marinier, vogue.”

The fact that all went so well that day Jean laid to the rescue of the priest and his presence in the canoe. Etienne agreed with this view, but probably felt also, though he did not give expression to the thought, that the spirits of the lake had ceased to oppose them, now that they had definitely given up the search for the golden sands and had turned towards the shore. Apparently he did not trouble his mind with the thought that the manitos might feel any concern over the silver mine.

Whatever causes the different members of the party might assign for their good fortune, everything surely went successfully. The breeze remained light, the sky blue, during the whole of the trip to the northwest shore, and along its bays, points and islands to the Grande Portage. They reached their destination before night, and caused great surprise when they paddled through the bay and up to the shore in front of the trading post of the Northwest Fur Company, the same post the two lads had left, with the fleet bound for Montreal, so many long weeks before.

The boys had decided before reaching the Portage just how much of their adventures they would tell, and what they would leave untold. Accordingly they said nothing whatever of the Island of the Yellow Sands or of the silver ore they had found. They had made the trip, they admitted, in search of a rich island mine they had heard of, but, not knowing its exact location, they had failed to find it. They made no mention of gold, leaving the others to infer that it was copper or silver they had been seeking. They told of seeing Le Forgeron Tordu and his Cree companion and of the fate of both, but did not indicate in any way that the Frenchman had been in pursuit of them or had tried to injure them. They left out of their narrative Etienne’s captivity and the burning of the woods on the island. As Ronald said, “The man is dead and his fate was a horrible one. Why blacken his memory now that it can do us no good? Unless we should be charged with his death, and that is not likely, we do not need to be telling the whole of the story.”

A swift Indian messenger was leaving the post early next morning with reports and letters for Montreal, and the boys seized the opportunity to write to their relatives and tell them of their safety. For the two lads to accompany the messenger was out of the question, for the Indians and half-breeds, who made the mail trips for the Company, went at such a pace and with such tirelessness that no one untrained for the work could possibly keep up with them. Indeed no one messenger could go the whole distance at such speed. The mail changed hands at each post, fresh men carrying it on. Even had the lads not been tired and worn with their long trip, and with the starvation and exposure they had endured, they would have found the journey with the messengers impossible. There was nothing for them to do but to await a more favorable opportunity.

That opportunity did not come. Rain and high winds arrived before a start could be made, and the bad weather was followed by real winter, that set in early in November, “the freezing moon,” as Nangotook called it. The lads soon realized that they had made the crossing from Minong just in time. Had they delayed longer, they could not have reached Grande Portage until the lake froze over between Minong and the shore. Some winters solid ice did not form clear across, and even when it did, crossing on snowshoes, with the winds sweeping the ice, and a blinding storm liable to come at any moment, was a perilous undertaking. Jean and Ronald shuddered when they thought what a winter on Minong, without warm clothes, food supplies or ammunition, would mean. They were lucky indeed to have reached the trading post.

Father Bertrand was due at an Indian mission on the south shore, and insisted on trying to reach it. He succeeded in engaging a canoe and four Indians to make the trip, but he positively refused to take the boys with him. Even after they reached his destination, it was not likely, he said, that they could find any one willing to go on with them to the Sault. The mission was probably not any too well supplied with food, and he could not carry enough extra, traveling rapidly in his small canoe, to feed the two lads throughout the winter. The Indians who wintered near the mission might be well supplied and they might not. That depended on the fishing and the wild rice crop. Often famine came upon them before spring. At the Portage there were ample accommodations and supplies, and the boys would be far better off. Etienne agreed with the missionary and urged the lads to remain. As far as he was concerned he would be glad, he said, to accompany them back to the Sault and even to Montreal, but he counseled them not to attempt the journey, which would be one of extreme hardship, if they were able to get through at all. So on his advice, and that of the men at the post, the boys decided to remain where they were until spring. At the first lull in the bad weather, the brave priest bade the lads farewell, gave them his blessing and started on his dangerous journey.

A number of weeks after the departure of the priest, when winter had settled down in earnest, a half-breed messenger, starved, frozen, almost dead, arrived with letters from Montreal and the other posts. The man had had a terrible time getting through, and when the boys heard his tale they were glad they had remained at the Portage. He brought Jean letters from his father and mother, and Ronald one from his uncle. Since the necessity for strenuous action had ceased, the two boys had grown very homesick, especially Jean, who had been tormented with the fear that something might have gone wrong with his father, mother or sisters during his absence. The letters, showing plainly the anxiety those at home had been enduring for months, served to deepen the two lads’ sense of wrong-doing. When word had arrived of their disappearance from the Sault, both Ronald’s uncle and Jean’s father had done everything possible to find them or learn their fate. They had gone to the Sault, but had found only one clue. Jean’s father learned that Etienne had been at the post the same day the lads disappeared, and felt a little comforted, surmising that Jean might have gone away with the Ojibwa on a hunting expedition or for some other purpose. But he was at a loss to understand why the lad had kept such a trip secret. Nevertheless the elder Havard asserted that he was not going to give up hope until he found the Indian and learned definitely that the boys were not with him. His search for Nangotook was fruitless, of course, but he became more and more convinced that they must have left the post together, for what purpose he could not imagine. Word was sent to all the Northwest Company’s posts to be on the lookout for some trace of the three. Only one bit of information was obtained, however. An Indian, a Man of the Woods, and his family, who arrived at the trading station at the Pic River, told of having met a canoe, going west, with three men who answered in a general way to the descriptions of Nangotook, Jean and Ronald. Shortly after the arrival of these Gens de Terre Indians, news reached the Pic of a deed of violence that had occurred in a small bay farther to the west. A half-breed trapper had been attacked and his furs stolen. Two Indians entering the bay late at night had found the body of a man lodged on a sand-bar. In spite of the fact that he had been stabbed in several places and then thrown into the water, he was alive, though unconscious. The Indians had carried him in their canoe to the Pic, where he had recovered consciousness and had told how he had been attacked by two men, an Indian and a white man with a twisted leg. From the half-breed’s description, the agent at the Pic was sure the white man must have been Le Forgeron Tordu, who was wanted by the Company for breaking his contract and deserting the fleet. When Ronald’s uncle, who had learned from Big Benoît of the lad’s fight with Le Forgeron, heard that the Blacksmith had deserted a few miles beyond the Sault and was back on Superior, he wondered if there was any connection between that fact and the disappearance of the boys, and his fears for Ronald were increased. When week followed week with no further news, the anxious relatives almost gave up hope, and Jean’s mother became ill from grief and anxiety.

The wrong the boys had done in stealing away secretly on their mad quest, without telling any one where they were going or leaving some word to allay the anxiety of those at home, had been strongly impressed upon them by Father Bertrand. Grateful though he was to them for his rescue, he did not let that gratitude interfere with a severe reprimand of their wrong-doing. Because God had brought good out of evil and had allowed them to serve Him by saving the life of one of His servants, they need not think, he reminded them sternly, that what they had done was right or that their sin was forgiven or would be forgiven until they had made all the amends possible. God had been merciful to them, said the priest, because they were ignorant, foolish and thoughtless lads, but if they did not profit in the future by the lesson of this experience, it was not likely He would be so patient with them again. So earnestly did he talk to them, that both acknowledged their wrong-doing, and admitted that they had not deserved to come through their adventure so well. The letters from home only strengthened their feelings of regret at what they had done, and Jean especially made up his mind to make up to his mother, for her suffering on his account, in every way that a loving son could.

In their letters the lads had told of the discovery of the silver and Ronald had sent his uncle a bit of the ore, with many injunctions to the messenger not to lose the little package. In his reply the uncle said that the bit of metal had proved to be high grade silver, and that from Ronald’s description he thought the mine might be a rich one. He had talked the matter over with Monsieur Havard, and the latter had agreed to accompany him to the Grande Portage in the spring. The boys were instructed to wait for them. The uncle would bring with him an expert in metals and the necessary tools for prospecting. He would obtain the Northwest Company’s permission to use one of their sailing vessels for the short trip across to Minong, or, if he failed to get such permission, they would cross in canoes. They would make a thorough examination of the little island and its surroundings, and if the prospects looked good, they would get the necessary government permission, and form a mining company in which the two Havards, Ronald, his uncle and the Indian should have the largest shares. They would also put aside a share of the profits for Father Bertrand, who had so generously waived all rights to his discovery. If he would not take the money for his personal needs, he would at least be willing to accept it to carry on his work among the Indians.

Jean and Ronald were enthusiastic over the plan, and, in spite of the waves of homesickness that swept over the former every time he looked at his mother’s letter and thought of the many miles of wilderness between him and his home, the two settled down for the winter with high hopes of the fortune the spring was to bring. In the meantime they were glad to be of what help they could to the clerks at the post, while their spare time could be passed in hunting in the snow-covered woods or fishing with nets or lines set under the ice. In such ways the winter, though it looked long ahead of them, would wear away at last, and spring would bring the returning fleet and with it the other partners in their mining venture, the exploration of their find, the trip home again and preparations for working the silver mine. If the winter days dragged slowly sometimes, there was, at least, much to look forward to.