To navigate Lake Superior on a raft was a perilous undertaking, but the attempt had to be made. Hoping to reach their destination before the wind came up again, the castaways started at dawn, while the mists still lay on the water and the land to north and west showed shadowy and indistinct. When the three, with their scanty equipment, had taken their places, the rude raft had all it would carry. It seemed as if an added pound or two might easily sink it. Etienne and Ronald knelt one on each side to ply the paddles, which fortunately had not been blown away, while Jean, who was of lighter build, sat between them, legs extended. The course was northwest, for in that direction the land seemed nearest.

All went well at first, but progress was very slow, and, before they had gone two miles, the wind was rising with the advancing day, and was threatening to make the raft unmanageable. As the mists cleared away, the voyageurs discovered that the land in front of them extended as far as they could see in either direction. On the left, to the southwest, it curved around and shut off the lake, but did not furnish much protection, for the shore on that side lay at least ten miles away. Evidently they were in a large bay, ten or twelve miles long and three or four broad, protected on the west and north by high land, partly cut off from the lake by rock islands to the south and southeast, but open to the northeast, and affording little shelter for small craft. As the wind rose and the ripples changed to waves, the peril of their position increased, and Ronald and the Ojibwa had their hands full guiding their clumsy craft and making headway. Every few moments a wave washed on it and sometimes over it, and the three were soon wet to their waists. But they managed to stick to the raft and continued to make some progress towards land.

The danger increased momentarily, and, as they approached a rocky shore, they lost control of the raft in the rising wind. The paddles were no longer of avail in handling the unwieldy thing. Wind and water took it wherever they would, the Indian and the boys washed and rolled about by the waves, but clinging with fingers and toes to the roots and bark ropes that bound the logs together. The boys’ only hope was that they would be carried ashore.

Unluckily rocks off the shore were in the way. A gust of wind bore the raft full on a jagged, upturned edge of rock, a sharp point penetrated between two of the slender poles and ripped through the fastenings. The raft hung suspended at an angle, the waves washing it, the castaways clinging to the slanting surface. The raft was doomed. It could not last many minutes without splitting in two. If they were to gain the shore, they must swim for it. Fortunately it was only a few feet away.

Ronald, who was the best swimmer of the three, went first, his blanket and the rest of his belongings fastened to his shoulders, Etienne’s gun, for Ronald had lost his own, held over his head with one hand, while he swam with the other. The waves bore him along, but his greatest danger was from the rocks, and he had to be on the lookout for a place where he could land without bruising himself against them. He rounded a projecting point, which broke the force of the water, and succeeded in making a landing just beyond. Then, having pulled himself up a steep, slippery slope, he turned to see how his companions were faring.

Jean and the Ojibwa had left the raft at the same moment, but the latter, like many Indians, was a poor swimmer. In spite of the fact that he was not burdened with a gun and could use both arms, he had fallen behind Jean and was making bad work of the short passage. In safety Jean passed the point Ronald had gone around, but Etienne, caught by an unusually large wave, was borne against a rock, striking the side of his head.

The moment Ronald saw what had happened, he plunged into the water again, shouting to Jean as he did so. Jean turned back at once, ducking through an advancing wave like a sea-gull. The Indian had gone under, and a receding wave had dragged him back from the rock. Just as he was being washed against it again, Jean, dropping his gun, seized him with one hand. He was unconscious, and Jean could hardly have managed him alone in such a heavy sea. Ronald reached him in a moment, however, and together they towed the inert body to shore, and succeeded in dragging and hoisting it up the rocks to safety.

It was the blow on the side of the head that had made Nangotook lose consciousness, for he had not swallowed much water. The boys laid him face downward and lifted him at the waist to get rid of what little water he had taken in, but it was several minutes before he came to. He had nothing to say about the accident and offered no thanks for the rescue, but it was evident from his changed manner that he was not unmindful that his companions had saved his life. Ever since Ronald had defied the manitos and had appeared to question Nangotook’s courage, the latter had been morose, gruff and silent, and had shown plainly that the Scotch lad had offended him deeply. Now, however, he seemed to think they were quits, for the angry mood had passed and he was himself again.

The adventurers were disappointed to find they had not reached the mainland, but were on an island about a mile long and half a mile wide in its broadest part. It was of irregular shape, two little bays running into it on the east and west, almost cutting it in two. The island was covered with trees, among them birches large enough to make the construction of a canoe possible. Other islands lay near at hand, while what they took to be the main shore was not more than half a mile away. Reaching it would be a simple matter, as soon as they had built a canoe.

The most important thing at the moment, however, was food. They had eaten nothing that day, and nothing the day before but a very insufficient amount of gull flesh. In a birch bark receptacle wrapped in Jean’s blanket, was the small quantity of corn, not more than two handfuls, they had saved so carefully. Convinced that they would soon be able to reach the land to the west, and that there must be game on so large a tract, they decided to eat this last remnant of their provisions. Etienne made another bark cooking vessel and prepared a rather thin soup of the corn. They made way with every drop and hungered for more.

Then Ronald sought for game while the Indian and Jean began canoe making. Ronald met with no success. Not a trace of game of any kind could he find. Apparently there was not even a squirrel on the island, and no gulls frequented it. He tried fishing from shore and rocks, but did not get a bite. Once more the wanderers were obliged to lie down for the night supperless, while from somewhere across the water an owl hooted derisively.

“If that fellow comes over here where we can get him, he’ll be howling in a different tone,” growled Ronald. He was so hungry he would not have rejected an owl, in spite of its animal diet.

“The great horned one is far too wise to come close enough for us to catch or shoot him,” Jean replied.

All three had worked late by firelight that night. They were expert at canoe building, and, though they did not appear to hurry, but performed each step of the operation carefully and thoroughly, they wasted few motions. Without any ready made materials, however, and no tools except their axes, knives and a big, strong needle for sewing, the task was necessarily a slow one and could not be completed in one day. They had felled suitable trees, white cedar for the frame and birch for the covering, and had skilfully peeled the birch bark, stripping a trunk in a single piece and scraping the inner surface as a tanner scrapes leather. Their ball of wattap and chunk of gum were gone, so they had to dig small spruce roots and gather spruce gum, soak, peel and split the roots and twist the strands into cord, and boil the gum to prepare it for use. Ribs, gunwales, cross pieces and sheathing had to be hewed and whittled out of the tough, elastic, but light and easily cut cedar wood, and soaked to render them as pliable as possible.

An open space, with soil deep enough to hold stakes, had been selected, and the stakes cut and driven in to outline the shape of the canoe. Within them the frame was formed, large stones being placed on the ribs to keep them in shape until dry. Slender cross pieces or bars strengthened and held the ribs in place, and the ends were pointed and fitted into holes in the rim, then bound with wattap. The pieces of bark, which had been sewed together, were fitted neatly over this frame, and wattap was wrapped over and over the gunwale and passed through bark and ribs. Next to the bark, and held in place by the ribs, strips of cedar, shaved as thin as the blade of a knife, were placed to form sheathing. The last process was the gumming of the seams to make them water-tight. The gum, softened by heat, was applied, and the seams carefully gone over with a live coal held in a split stick, while, with the thumb of the other hand, the canoe maker pressed in the sticky substance.

The boat was done at last, and, though made without saw, hammer, chisel, plane, nails, boards or paint, was, when completed and put in the water, a strong, sound, light, graceful, well-balanced craft that satisfied even the Indian’s critical eye. It floated buoyantly, and was water proof in every seam.

During the boat building, a few small fish had been caught, but no one had had half enough to eat. As the three paddled away in their new canoe, they debated whether they had better land at once or skirt the shore looking for possible beaches. They were not yet fully convinced that they might not be near the yellow sands. Food, not sand, was the first necessity, however, and Nangotook and Jean expressed themselves in favor of landing immediately and looking for game. But Ronald pointed out that they had scarcely any ammunition left, and that to catch game with snares and traps would be slow work. They had better try for fish first, he said, and they could do that while going along shore. Jean at once agreed, and Nangotook, when he saw the others were both against him, grunted his assent. So, when close to a gently sloping rock beach, they turned and paddled northeast, with a fishing line attached to the stern paddle.

They had gone but a little way, when a pull at the line signaled a bite. The fish did not make as hard a fight as the lake trout they had caught before, while fishing in the same manner, and when Jean pulled it over the side, he was disappointed to find that it was a siskiwit or lake salmon. Siskiwit are not very good eating for they are very fat and this was a small one weighing not over three pounds. Hungry as they were, they decided to try their luck again, in the hope of getting a better and larger fish, but after paddling for fifteen or twenty minutes and catching another larger siskiwit, they could wait no longer.

They put in to the rock beach very carefully, stepping out into the water before the bow grounded, to avoid scraping the new canoe. There on the rock Ronald and Etienne made a fire of moss, bark and birch wood, while Jean cleaned the fish. The boiled siskiwit was very fat and oily, but the three were so nearly starved that it seemed a feast to them. As they had not been accustomed to use salt with their food they did not miss that luxury. While the lads were preparing the meal, Etienne had discovered a well defined hare runway. The boys had to admit that a supply of food was a prime necessity, and they agreed to camp where they were until next day and make every attempt to secure game.

After Etienne had gone to set his snares, Ronald and Jean crossed the sloping rock beach, which was rough and scored. A little back from the water’s edge it was covered more or less thickly, first with lichens, and then with moss, bearberry plants and creeping evergreens. Looking for signs of game, they pushed their way through spruce and birch woods, stopping several times to set snares where hares had made a runway or squirrels had left a little pile of cone scales, with the seeds neatly extracted, at the foot of a spruce. The two had been going through the woods for perhaps half a mile, when they came out suddenly on the shore of a body of water.

“A bay,” exclaimed Jean, “who would have looked for one here?”

“It looks more like a lake,” Ronald replied. “The water is brownish like the little streams we’ve seen, and there is no opening in sight.”

Jean shook his head. “Just because we cannot see an opening is no sign that there is none,” he said. “Shores that look continuous are not always so, as you well know. Unless we have reached the mainland, this must be a landlocked bay. It is surely too large for a lake within an island.”

“It looks to me as if we had reached the mainland,” Ronald answered. “See how high the land towers beyond this lake or bay. If this is an island it must be Minong or Philippeau, and our Island of Yellow Sands lies far to the east. Let us go back for the canoe and cross this lake or skirt its shores. We have time enough before darkness comes.”

XVII
A CARIBOU HUNT

From the outer shore to the interior bay or lake was not what voyageurs would call a hard portage, for the distance was less than half a mile and the ground not very irregular, the hills and ridges being low. Nangotook and Jean bore the light canoe on their heads, while Ronald went first to clear the way. The woods of spruce, balsam and birch were open enough in many places to allow the canoe to go through easily. Where the growth was more dense, a few strokes of Ronald’s ax disposed of the branches that hindered progress. On the higher ground were open rock spaces, while in the depressions grew thick patches of alders, hazels, red osier dogwood, ground pine and the fern-like yew or ground hemlock. On the red berries of the yew flocks of white-throated sparrows were feeding, their brightly striped heads conspicuous among the green.

The shore where the explorers launched the canoe was rocky, but overgrown with small plants and bushes. They paddled northeast at first, seeking for an opening. Finding the body of water landlocked on the east and north, they continued on around. The south shore was rather low, but the north was of a different character. A narrow beach was bordered by an irregular ridge of boulders and fragments of rock, which looked as if it might have been pushed up by waves or ice. The beach was composed principally of pebbles and rock fragments, and there was no indication of yellow sands. The sun was sinking when the three reached a spot opposite the place where they had embarked, and they went on only far enough to make sure that there was no chance of golden sands in that direction. By the time they had crossed to the southern shore, they were very sure they were on a lake, not a bay. The southwestern end appeared to be much narrower than the northeastern and gave no indication of any opening larger than might be made by a small stream flowing in or out. They had passed the mouths of several such brooks.

As they neared the shore, they noticed, a little distance away, three loons, an old one and two young, swimming and diving. Just as the boys were carrying up the canoe, the old bird rose with a great flapping of wings and spatting of the water with its feet. Its wild, long drawn cry rang out like a derisive laugh. “A-hah-weh mocks us,” said the Indian.

There were jays and woodpeckers in the woods, but the loons were the only birds the explorers had seen on the lake, though they had kept a lookout for ducks. They had caught a good string of little fish, however, a kind of perch. While Etienne and Ronald carried the canoe back over the portage, Jean tried his luck in a small stream that issued from the lake, near where they had first reached its shores, and emptied into the big lake not far from their camp. He soon had half a dozen brook trout. On his way back he found a squirrel caught in one of the snares. So the campers had both fish and meat, a very little meat, for their evening meal.

After supper the three held a serious council. The middle of September had come, and the woods were taking on an autumnal appearance. The birch, aspen and mountain ash leaves were turning and beginning to fall, the blueberries and raspberries and most of the thimbleberries were gone, flocks of migrating birds were to be seen nearly every day on their way south, and the squirrels and chipmunks were busy laying up stores of cones and alder seeds. When the gold-seekers had left the Sault, they had fully expected to be on their way back, their canoe loaded with golden sand, before this. If they were to find the island they must do it soon, for autumn changes to winter rapidly on Lake Superior, the return journey would be a long one, and bad weather might cause much delay. But where should they go? In what direction should they search? How could they tell in what quarter the Island of Yellow Sands lay?

Nangotook showed plainly that his first concern was to return to the shore of the lake. Soon would come storms and cold, he said, and if bad weather found them on some small island in the middle of the lake they would starve. The Island of Yellow Sands might be sought in the spring when there would be more time to look for it. At the present time the manitos were not favorable to the quest. The lads had offended the spirits of the lake and islands, especially Nanabozho himself, – and the Indian looked sternly at Ronald. There was no foretelling what disaster might come to them if they persisted in the search. Another year the spirits might be more friendly, but now they had sent warnings. First there had appeared the cape of Nanabozho and directly afterwards the northern lights flaming in the sky.

“But,” objected Jean, “you said before, several times, that the northern lights were a good omen. Why do you now call them a warning?”

“There was no red in the lights we saw first,” replied Nangotook. “The last time they were red with anger, the color of blood and of the fire that destroys the lodge and turns the green forest to black. So will the manito destroy us if we heed not his warnings.”

“Take shame to yourself as a poor Christian, Etienne,” cried Jean indignantly. “Whatever the power of the Indian spirits, and I do not deny that they have power over heathens, that of the good God is greater. If we trust in Him and do no evil, we need not fear. We have started on this quest, and it would be disgrace to us to turn back so soon. You were as eager as we at first. Surely you will not desert us now?”

“My little brother knows that I will never desert him,” said the Ojibwa proudly. “Where he goes I will go also. I have given my counsel. I have warned him. Now I will keep silence.” After that he refused to take any part in the discussion.

Jean and Ronald were agreed on one point. They were determined to continue their search for the golden sands. Both were almost certain that the place where they then were was not the one they were seeking. Ronald believed that they were farther west than they ought to be, on one of the great islands, Royale, which the Indian called Minong, or the mythical Philippeau, that the old explorers placed on their maps. He was in favor of striking out to the east, but Jean admitted that he dreaded paddling straight out into the lake, without any idea of their location or where they were going. From the rocky island where they had landed in the fog, they had not been able, when the weather cleared, to make out any land to the east except some small islands lying near by and of the same character as the one where they were. They must explore those islands to make sure that no golden beaches were to be found there. If they found nothing, Jean wished, instead of striking out into the lake, to travel along the shore to the northeast, in the hope of obtaining some idea of their real situation and some clue to the direction they should take. Ronald admitted the reasonableness of Jean’s plan, but was reluctant to give up his own. They failed to come to a definite decision that night.

It was the wind that settled the dispute. The morning was calm, but before the explorers had skirted the rock shores of all the islands that defined the southeastern limits of the bay, the wind was blowing strong and cold from the north. They found crossing the bay to the shelter of the shore difficult and dangerous enough. Paddling in such a strong side wind out into the open lake was out of the question. If they went along shore, however, they would be well protected by high land.

That morning they found two hares caught in the snares. A lynx had robbed a third snare. Hares seemed plentiful in that vicinity, for several had come out into the open in plain sight the night before. The least move towards them startled them back into the thicket, and the campers did not wish to waste any ammunition as long as they could use snares. For the boy or man who is not compelled to find his food or his living in the wilderness, snaring and trapping are cruel and wholly unnecessary. They are certainly not sport, and there is no excuse for indulging in them. But Jean and Ronald, brought up in a more brutal age, were accustomed to consider the trapping of animals as a legitimate and natural means of livelihood. To set traps was to them the easiest and best way to obtain food and furs. They were not cruel by nature, but they had probably never considered for one moment the painful sufferings of a hare hanging by its neck in a noose. Indeed in their time, animals were commonly supposed to be so far below man in every way as to have scarcely any feelings at all.

It was not until afternoon that the adventurers started to paddle along shore to the northeast. For about two miles they ran between outlying, wooded islands and the main shore, then along an unprotected coast of gently sloping dark rock, with many cracks and crevices, but almost no projecting points of any considerable length. Above the water line, dark green moss and lichens grew in patches, farther up were juniper and creeping plants, and beyond them bushes and forest. There were no sands, and no large bays, coves or harbors. The day was brilliantly bright and clear, but across the water to the east no sign of land was visible, even to the Indian’s keen eyes.

For nearly two hours the explorers paddled along the rock shore, then, on rounding a slight projection, came suddenly to an inlet. The place looked as if it might be the mouth of a river, and curiosity led them to turn in. Up the inlet they paddled for about a mile, to a spot where a stream discharged. Beyond the mouth of the stream the cove made a turn to the left, extending at least another mile in that direction. The place was a beautiful one, with thickly wooded shores and points, but the three did not delay longer to investigate it.

As they went on along the rock coast, the wind became more easterly, and clouds began to fleck the deep blue. Paddling was not so easy, although they were still fairly well protected. Four or five miles beyond the inlet, the shore made a sudden turn, and they found themselves going directly north, with the northwest wind striking them at an angle. As they proceeded, the water grew rougher and navigation more difficult. Just as the sun was setting, they were glad to put into another cove that cut into the land in a westerly direction.

As they were paddling slowly along, undecided whether to make a landing or turn back and attempt to go on along shore, Jean uttered a sudden low but surprised exclamation, and pointed to the summit of the high ridge that stretched along the north side of the cove. There, in an open space, beyond a twisted jack pine tree and plainly outlined against the sky, stood an animal with spreading antlers.

“Addick!” whispered the Indian, while Ronald exclaimed, “A caribou!”

There was now no further question of going on. The opportunity to obtain a store of meat was too good. The wind was blowing from the animal to the hunters, and it had not caught their scent or heard them, but while they looked for a landing place, it saw them and moved away to cover. It went deliberately. Possibly it had never seen a man before, and did not know enough to be badly frightened. The travelers were too far away for a shot anyway.

They landed near the head of the bay on a sandy beach, and organized their hunt. Only one gun remained, for Jean’s had been lost when he and Ronald rescued Etienne from drowning. There was enough ammunition for four or five shots. It would not do to miss even once, so Ronald was entrusted with the gun. He was to climb the ridge and make his way towards the place where they had seen the animal, while the others went around to head it off and drive it back towards Ronald, if that should be necessary.

The ridge proved to be about a hundred feet high, steep and rocky on its south side and scatteringly clothed with aspen and jack pines. When he reached the top, near the place where the caribou had appeared, Ronald had some difficulty in finding the animal’s tracks on the almost bare rock. Presently, however, he came across a half eaten clump of reindeer moss, and the mark of a spreading hoof in a patch of earth in a hollow. Once on the caribou’s trail, he tracked it along the ridge for a little way, noticing, as he went, a hare runway and some lynx tracks. The trail led him down into a gully, and through the aspens and birches that grew there, to the north side of the ridge and into a bog. There in the thick sphagnum moss, the spreading hoof prints were plain.

With the idea that the bog might be the caribou’s refuge when disturbed, Ronald made his way very cautiously. It was well that he went so quietly, for suddenly, as he rounded a clump of tamaracks, he came in plain view of his game, head down, contentedly browsing a bog plant. The animal was only a few yards away and a perfect mark, but Ronald, experienced hunter though he was, felt his arm tremble as he raised his gun. He had never hunted before when so much depended on his aim, or when his ammunition was so precious. Luckily the caribou had caught neither sound nor scent of him, and he had time to steady himself before firing. He did not waste his powder. The animal sprang into the air, plunged forward a few steps and fell in its tracks.

Ronald set up a shout and sprang forward. His call was not needed, for the report of his gun was enough to summon his companions. The Ojibwa, who had been skirting the north side of the ridge, was not far away and soon made his appearance. Jean was going along the summit and had more difficulty in locating the sound of the shot, but arrived at the edge of the gully in time to catch sight of the others making their way through it with their game.

They had no intention of paddling farther that night. The next thing to do was make camp, cook themselves a good meal of meat and dry the rest for future use. With such a supply, they were equipped to start out into the open lake as soon as they could decide which way to go. Much encouraged, they selected a place on the flat topped ridge, and set about their task.