The caribou meat was cut into thin strips and laid on a frame of poles and twigs raised a few feet above the ground. Then a fire was kindled under it, and the meat turned occasionally to dry evenly in the heat and smoke. Rain was threatening, so a protecting roof of bark, with a few smoke holes, was raised over the frame, and a wind shield set up on the east side. The propped up canoe furnished enough shelter for the campers.

To keep the fire going under the drying frame, and to prevent wild animals, which might be attracted by the smell of the meat, from approaching it, the three took turns remaining awake that night. Several times dark shapes were discerned moving beyond the firelight, and cat-like eyes gleamed in the shadows of the trees and bushes, but the lynxes were suspicious of the fire. Whenever the watcher made a threatening movement, they took fright, and it was not necessary to waste shots on them.

Before morning rain began to fall, fine and cold, but it ceased after sunrise. The lake was still rough, the wind a little east of north, the sky gray with scudding clouds, and the air so cold and raw that, September though it was, a snowstorm would not have surprised the voyageurs.

After breakfast the boys set out to explore, curious to learn something of the lay of the land about them, and hoping that they might come across another caribou. They descended the north side of the ridge, crossed the bog, sinking to their ankles in the wet moss and underlying mud, penetrated the bordering growth of alders, willows and other bushes, and went through tamaracks and balsams to higher ground. The country proved to be a succession of ridges and depressions. The explorers found themselves going up and down almost continually, over rocky slopes and through deep leaf mould and moss-covered boggy places, until, after climbing a ridge, they came again to the water, a strait, as it appeared, of not more than half a mile in width, extending in either direction. By that time the wind was blowing the clouds away, and the air was clearing. Beyond the strait the boys could see wooded land rising up and up in successive ridges.

As they stood looking at the high land across the water, Jean said thoughtfully, “I feel strongly that we should climb those hills, and try to get our bearings before we go farther. From there we can surely tell whether we are on mainland or island. If this is an island, we may be able to see the shore and find some landmark to show us in what part of the lake we are. Then we can decide which way to go.”

Ronald nodded. “From that island where we were staying so long,” he said, “we saw the Sleeping Giant. If it was really the cape and not the deceitful appearance of the mirage, we may be able, from that high place, to see it again. Then truly we shall know that we’re not many miles from the northwest shore, on Royale or one of the other great islands. I’ve felt loath to be spending time on such an inland trip, but there seems no good prospect of going forward by water to-day. By this time all of our meat must be well enough dried so we need not be keeping up the fire. We will go back, bring the canoe, cross this stretch of water and strike inland at once.”

The two boys hastened back the way they had come. Etienne agreed to their plan, but said they must first put their store of meat in a safe place where the lynxes could not get at it. So it was wrapped tightly in several large sheets of bark, tied firmly with withes, and suspended by tough spruce roots, which would not break and could not be easily gnawed through, from the branch of a gray pine tree. A lynx might crawl out on the branch and drop down on the swinging bundle, but he would have hard work to tear it open. As a final protection the Indian had rubbed the smooth bark covering with caribou fat until it was so slippery that the surprised cat must slide off the moment he touched it, before he had a chance to dig his sharp claws in. At least that was what Etienne said would happen to Besheu, the lynx, if he tried to investigate the package. Doubtless he would not make the attempt in the daytime anyway, and they would surely be back before night.

While the lads were away, Etienne, though he had not left the drying meat for more than a few minutes at a time, had discovered that their camp was on a cape or promontory. He believed that, by paddling a little way to the north along shore, they could reach, without portaging, the strait or bay the boys had found. At least they might arrive at a spot where they would be separated from that strait by a point or narrow stretch of land only. Though the head wind was strong, they decided to make the attempt. To carry the canoe so far through woods and bogs would be slow, hard work.

Running out of the bay, they headed towards the north. After struggling against wind and waves for half or three-quarters of a mile, going part of the time among little rock islets and passing the mouths of several small bays, the voyageurs reached, as the Indian had foretold, the stretch of water the boys had come out upon. It was partly protected from the wind, and they crossed without difficulty. They could see that the strait extended for several miles at least on either hand, and was bounded by what appeared to be continuous land on both sides, but they could not tell positively whether the shores ran together in the distance or whether there was an opening between them.

The gold-seekers landed on low ground near the mouth of a small stream, concealed the canoe among the bushes and started inland. At first they kept to the main direction of the stream, though they did not always follow it closely, as it made several bends and turns and in some places its banks were so overgrown that the explorers would have had to cut a way through. The conditions along the brook seemed to be continually changing. It made its way through thick forest of spruce, birch and white cedar, among thickets of alder, dogwood and mountain maple, where the leaves were turning yellow and red and beginning to fall, it rippled and foamed over rocks through narrow gullies between steep ridges, slipped quietly along among aspens and birches, and crept sluggishly through bogs covered with spongy moss, pitcher plants, labrador tea and other bog growths. When the stream made a bend to the southwest, the explorers parted company with it, and struck off to the northwest.

Their way lay over a succession of ridges, but they were reaching higher and higher ground. Most of the time they traveled through more or less open woods, but sometimes over steep stretches of bare, rocky hillside. The forest was principally evergreen, and there was one tract of towering white pines, some of them with trunks three or four feet in diameter. As the rise became steeper, the bare rock slopes more frequent, the three, feeling that they must be near the summit of the highest ridge, pressed forward eagerly. Even the Indian increased the speed of his springy, tireless stride, so that the boys, strong and active though they were, had hard work keeping up with him. He was the first to climb the final steep slope. The lads could see him standing motionless gazing towards the west and north. Jean, whose lighter weight gave him an advantage over Ronald in climbing, scrambled up next, and uttered a sharp exclamation. Sky and air had cleared while the explorers were making their way through the woods, and he could see far over the water.

There, faint and blue, was the Cape of Thunder, the Sleeping Giant, the rock figure of the manito Nanabozho. The view was not quite the same as the one from the island where they had been wind-bound so long, but the outlines were unmistakable. It was not the Giant alone that was visible in the distance. Farther to the north were misty headlands barely discernible, while to the south of the Cape was another blue outline. As Jean was straining his eyes to make out every bit of land visible, Ronald joined him. Jean turned to his companion excitedly.

“See,” he said, pointing first to the blue shape farthest to the south, then to the others, “the Isle de Paté] the Pointe au Tonnerre, and away to the north the headlands of the great bay beyond. Now we know where we are indeed.”

“On Minong,” said Nangotook conclusively. “Grande Portage over there,” and he pointed to the west. No shore line was visible, but the boys knew from the positions of Pic Island, as it is now called in translation of the French name, and Thunder Cape, that the Portage must be somewhere in that direction.

“Yes,” agreed Ronald, “we’re not on the shore, that is certain, and this is no small island. We must have come fifteen or twenty miles along its shore, and we’ve not crossed half-way.” He pointed to the land that lay below them, thick woods and stripes and spots of gleaming water, stretching for several miles, and beyond that land the open lake. “We’re surely on Minong or Philippeau.”

“Minong,” insisted the Indian positively. “I have been on this island before, but it was from the direction of the setting sun we came, not from the rising sun.”

“You landed on the west side then?” asked Jean. “That is why you did not recognize the place this time?”

“Thought it was Minong all the time,” replied Nangotook, “not sure. Sure now.”

“You’re certain ’tis not Philippeau?” Ronald questioned.

The Indian nodded. “Been here,” he repeated. “Philippeau – ” He shook his head. “Maybe there is such an island, maybe not. I never saw it, never knew Indian who had seen it.”

“But white men have seen it,” said Jean. “I never heard of one who had landed on it, but some have caught sight of it, on clear days, far across the water. They have put it on their maps, but always east of Royale, or Minong as you call it. No, we cannot be on Philippeau, but perhaps we can get a glimpse of it.”

Turning, the French boy gazed intently in the other direction, the one in which they had come. He could see the narrow ribbon of the strait or harbor they had crossed, wooded islands beyond it, and the open lake stretching to the horizon, but no faintest shadow of distant land in that direction. A look of disappointment crossed his face. It was not so much Philippeau for which he was seeking as the mysterious, the much desired Island of Yellow Sands.

“Etienne,” he said soberly, “do you really believe there is any Island of Yellow Sands? Do you suppose we shall ever find it?”

“My grandfather saw it,” the Ojibwa replied. “I have told you the story. Whether we shall reach it I know not. The manitos of the lake seem unfriendly to us. Give up the search, little brother, at least until the snows have come and gone once more. Be warned in time.”

“We will not give it up,” cried Ronald hotly. “To be turning back, while we still have time to find and secure the gold before winter comes, would be foolish as well as craven. But ’tis of no use to seek it near here. We’re too far south and west, according to Nangotook’s own story. We must travel on to the north end of this island first. From there we may get a glimpse of the place we seek. If not, we can at least strike north and east for a day or even a half day’s journey. If then we come not within sight of the isle, it will be time enough to give up the search. What say you, Jean?”

“I am as loath to give it up as you,” Jean replied, “and,” he added more cheerfully, “I think your plan a good one. As you say, we can at least postpone talk of turning back until we have made one more attempt. Let us return to our camp and be in readiness to go on. The strait we crossed is somewhat sheltered. We can go on along it, perhaps to-*night, to-morrow at the latest.”

The Indian said nothing. Jean glanced at his impassive face, then thinking to change the subject, asked, “What came you to the island for, Etienne? You say you have visited it before.”

“For copper, little brother,” the Ojibwa answered. “On the northern side of this island, copper stones can be picked up from the shores and dug out of the hillsides, sometimes in pieces as large as my hand,” holding out his closed fist, “not in such little bits as this,” and he pointed with his toe to the rock at his feet.

The boys had been too much interested in the distant prospect to notice the rock on which they stood. Now as they glanced down, Jean uttered an exclamation, “Look, Ronald, this is copper rock indeed.” Scattered here and there were streaks and flecks of free metal.

Ronald bent to examine it “Truly it is copper,” he said, “but in bits too small to be of any value. Had we time we might prospect and come upon larger veins. ’Tis like enough that this whole ridge is rich with it. But we’ve no time to make a search. We’re seeking a far more precious metal, where it may be gathered easily without the labor of digging and blasting.” And he started to lead the way back over their trail.

The trip down the ridge and to the shore was made much more quickly than the upward journey. The explorers had not taken the trouble to blaze their way, though Nangotook had sliced off a branch here and there with his ax. In the woods the signs of their passage were clear enough for an experienced woodsman to follow almost without conscious thought, while the downward slope of the ground most of the way to the stream, and the Indian habit of taking swift but sure note of surroundings furnished them with more than sufficient guidance everywhere. Nangotook led again and went swiftly and unhesitatingly, scarcely appearing to look about him.

During the whole trip up and back they saw no caribou tracks, but they came upon many traces of hares and lynxes, squirrels scolded at them from the trees, and, as they reached the stream, a mink, that had been fishing, glided swiftly up the opposite bank. Ronald inquired if the Indians ever trapped on Minong, but Etienne answered that he had never heard of any one wintering there. “Too far from mainland,” he said. “Too hard to get across when wind blows and storm comes.”

They found the canoe safe, their camping place undisturbed, and the package of caribou meat untouched. The wind was now directly in the north, and the harbor or strait was well enough protected by its northwest shore to make traveling along it safe. Delaying only for a meal of caribou meat, the three embarked again, with the intention of going as far as possible before darkness came.

XIX
LE FORGERON TORDU AGAIN

The stretch of water proved to be a long bay, with continuous shore on its northwest side, and a chain of wooded islands sheltering it from the southeast. The gold-seekers paddled steadily until nightfall compelled them to make a landing in a little cove beyond a point. Navigation through unknown waters, where reefs and shoals might be encountered, was perilous in the darkness. Though sharp and cold, the night was clear, so the three did not crawl under the canoe, but lay down in the open with their feet to the fire. When they woke at dawn, the fire had gone out, and ground and trees around them were silvered with white frost. The boys were stiff and chilled, but the exercise of cutting wood, and a breakfast of hot caribou broth, made from the dried meat boiled in the birch bark basket, soon warmed them.

Paddling out from the cove, their blades keeping time to they continued to the northeast along a rock coast, now rising in steep cliffs, again sloping gradually to the water, but broken, eaten out, riven and piled up into all sorts of shapes. The protecting islands, a half mile or more away, became smaller, farther apart and more barren. Soon the rock shore terminated in a point, and the travelers turned to the north, ran past the end of the point, and found themselves crossing another bay. To left and to right were wooded islands, while ahead stretched a long, forest-crowned ridge, which appeared to be several hundred feet high.

“L’on, ton, laridon, danée,
L’on, ton, laridon, dai,”

“That must be part of the same ridge we climbed,” said Ronald eyeing it with interest.

The Indian grunted an assent. “Runs through whole of Minong,” he replied.

The rising wind, penetrating between the islands, made paddling hard work, until the voyageurs reached the shelter of the high ridge. There, turning to the northeast again, they followed a narrow passage between ridge and islands, where the water was scarcely disturbed by a ripple. But when they came out from shelter, near the end of a long, high point, the full force of the wind struck them, and they were glad to turn back and make a landing on a bit of pebble beach.

Before they turned, however, they saw, as they looked out over the heaving waves of the lake, a bit of land to the northeast. When they had carried the canoe up on the beach, the two boys with one accord started to make their way to the end of the point, in the hope of getting a better view of the speck of land across the water. They estimated that it was four or five miles away. It was exactly in the direction they intended to take in their search for the Island of Yellow Sands. Was it the long-sought-for island, lying now in plain view?

Nangotook, who had followed the lads, did not think so. “Island we came from,” he said briefly, pointing to it.

“You mean the place where we were wind-bound so long?” Jean asked. “I cannot think it. That must be farther away. Think how long we traveled in the fog!”

“May have been going round and round part of the time. No way to tell after fog got thick. Over there,” and Nangotook pointed across the water to the west of the bit of land, “Nanabozho.”

The Sleeping Giant was faintly but unmistakably discernible lying on the water. When the boys considered his position, and the view they had had of him from the island, they began to be afraid that Nangotook was right, that the land to the northeast was only the place where they had been delayed so long, and not the Island of Golden Sands. They were loath to give up their new-born hope, however. As Ronald said, the only way to find out was to go and see. To cross those heaving waves in the teeth of the strong north wind was out of the question. Once more they must wait for favorable weather.

They went back to the more sheltered spot where they had landed. There they came upon something that put their disappointment, at not being able to cross to the island, out of their heads for the time being. Farther along the pebble beach they found the ashes of a fire and the bones and uneatable remains of a hare. Near by was the pole skeleton of a shelter, resting against the face of a rock. The Indian, after examining the place closely, concluded that the fire had been burning and the hare had been dressed and cooked since the rain of two nights before, but he doubted if the shelter had been occupied the past night. Probably the campers had not been away from the place over thirty-six hours at the farthest.

The boys were greatly excited over the find. Was this the camp of Le Forgeron Tordu and his Indian companion, and were the two still on their trail? The only way to answer the first question was to find their tracks. The pebble beach retained no clear traces of moccasined feet, and the men had doubtless departed by canoe, but back from the beach, part way up the slope, where the trees stood thick and the rock was covered with a layer of leaf mold, Jean came upon tracks. Unhesitatingly Nangotook pronounced the prints those of a man whose right foot turned out and who threw his weight more heavily upon that foot than upon the left. Not far away the Ojibwa found other tracks, made by another man. This trail he succeeded in following through the woods to the top of the ridge, where, in a narrow rock opening, a hare runway, he discovered the remains of a snare. The noose had been taken away, but the fence of twigs, leading to the spot where it had been set, remained.

It now seemed perfectly clear that the Frenchman and his Indian companion had been camping on the beach not longer ago than the morning before. Apparently Le Forgeron was still in pursuit of the gold-seekers. Had he seen them set out from the island before dawn, and had he followed? Nangotook thought that very unlikely. He did not believe Le Forgeron had been where he could observe their departure. If he had been hiding anywhere on the island, it must have been in one of the caves on the north shore. Yet it did not seem likely that he had crossed from the island after the lifting of the fog, for the winds had been strong ever since. Nangotook doubted if the Blacksmith could have made his way across the stretch of open lake at any time during the past five days. He came to the conclusion that Le Forgeron must have crossed before the others left the island, perhaps immediately after he or his companion had hurled Ronald from the cliff. Ronald, however, pointed out that the wind and waves had been very unfavorable at that time, and the Indian was forced to admit that the boy was right. Unable to solve the problem, he shook his head doubtfully. “Awishtoya evil man,” he said, “very evil. Maybe he can put spell on waters and go when he pleases.”

“I have heard it said that he has sold himself to the devil,” Jean replied seriously, “so it may be indeed as you say. He may have seen us go, though, and if he followed he was caught in the fog too, and may have reached this place by accident. One thing is certain. He has been here. Surely it is not so important to know just when he came, as to discover where he has gone and whether he will return.”

“You are right,” Ronald agreed. “We must be tracking this enemy of ours. Unless he’s in league with the evil one, he has not crossed to that island over there within the last two days, that is sure. The wind and waves have been too high. And if that’s the island we came from, he would have no reason for going back. We had best be searching for him in the other direction.”

“We go in canoe up this water then,” and Nangotook pointed along the channel to the southwest, “and we take all the meat with us. Awishtoya has taken the apakwas from his wigwam. Yet he may come back. If we leave anything he will find it.”

“That is true,” cried Jean. “We must take everything with us, and leave no trace behind. This is no place for us to camp, if there’s a chance that Le Forgeron may return.”

Carefully the Indian erased all signs of their visit to the beach and to the woods and rocks near by. Stepping backwards, his body bent almost double, he smoothed out with his hands the tracks he and the boys had made in the adjacent forest. When he had completed his task, he was sure no traces remained that might not have been made by some passing animal.

Then the three embarked and paddled back through the quiet channel between point and islands. They penetrated to the head of a long narrow bay, that lay parallel to the one they had come through that morning and the evening before. There were many islands, and the shores were forested to the water’s edge. Though the searchers scanned the rocks and woods closely, they found no clear signs that a canoe had ever run in anywhere along either shore or on any of the islands. Several times they examined likely looking places, but always without definite result. Not one sure trace of Le Forgeron Tordu or of any human being did they find, though they made the complete circuit of the shore, reaching at last the rocky point they had passed that morning. So thorough was their search that it occupied most of the day.

Though they discovered no more clear signs of their enemy, the trip was not altogether fruitless, for, as they went along, they caught several fish, lake trout of smaller size than those they had taken out in the lake. Near the head of the bay Jean hooked a pickerel, and, at the mouth of a small stream, several brook trout. The explorers landed on a small, well wooded island, that lay across a narrow stretch of water from the inner side of the point to the east of the bay, and cooked their fish and made camp.

Etienne had almost convinced the boys that the island to the northwest was the one where they had been wind-bound. Nevertheless they were anxious to reach it, for they had resolved to strike out from there to east and north, in one more effort to find the land of golden sands. But the spirits of the lake were still against them, and four days longer they were held prisoner on the end of Minong. During most of the time the open lake was very rough. Traveling several miles across it, against a head or side wind, was far too perilous to be attempted in so frail a craft as a bark canoe. Only once for a few hours did the wind swing to a more favorable quarter, the south, and then it brought thick mist followed by fine, cold rain, almost as blinding as the fog. A strong west wind dispersed rain and mist and blew away the clouds, but made crossing as dangerous as ever.

Impatient as the treasure-seekers were during all that time, they could do nothing but make the best of the delay. They camped on the small island, where no enemy could approach under cover, and continued their search for Le Forgeron Tordu. Climbing to the top of the high ridge, they looked down another long bay, parallel with the two they were familiar with, and to wooded land and other stretches of water beyond. They were determined to explore that bay, but the strong wind and dangerous, outlying reefs made rounding the long point out of the question. So they were obliged to carry the canoe up the ridge, a hard and laborious portage, and with much difficulty take it down the steep north side. They caught a good supply of fish in that third bay, and found slight signs on two of the islands that human beings might have been there not many days before. But there were no clear tracks they could identify as those of the lame Frenchman. On the farther shore of the bay, near its head, they thought they had come upon a trail, but soon made up their minds that it was only the old track of some wild animal.

Wishing to save their dried meat for emergencies, they made every effort to obtain enough fresh meat and fish to sustain them. As only three rounds of ammunition remained for the one gun, Nangotook spent part of his time making bows and arrows for himself and Jean, leaving the gun to Ronald, who could be trusted not to waste his powder. The Ojibwa strung his bow with twisted caribou sinew, braided at the ends. The arrow shafts he made of serviceberry wood, straightening them by drawing them through a hole he had bored in a piece of bone. Some of the arrows, with points of wood hardened in the fire, were intended for shooting birds and squirrels. Others had heads of bone or chipped stone, let into a slit or groove in the end of the shaft and bound tight with soaked sinew, which contracted when dry. Nangotook insisted that the feathers used must be those of a bird of prey, or else the arrows would not be sufficiently deadly. Coming one day upon several hawks, which circled within easy range, as they prepared to dart down on a flock of migrating small birds that had paused to rest and feed among the alders, Ronald sacrificed one of his precious charges of ammunition to bring down one of the marauders. With hawk feathers, carefully cut and placed to give just the right weight and balance, Nangotook feathered his arrows. When he had constructed two bark quivers, the primitive hunting equipment was ready.

The Ojibwa demonstrated the use of the new weapon by shooting a squirrel and a gull in quick succession, and the boys, admiring his skill, at once set to work to practice with the other bow. Ronald, who was proud of his marksmanship, was chagrined to find that not only Nangotook but Jean could easily outshoot him both in range and accuracy. In his childhood the French lad had played with bows and arrows made by Nangotook, who had taught him how to use them, while to Ronald the weapon was entirely new.

The hide of the caribou was cured and dressed, and part of it made into new moccasins to replace the wanderers’ worn and ragged ones. From a bone that he had saved for the purpose, Nangotook also made, with much labor, a knife such as his ancestors must have used before the white men brought them steel and iron. Ronald’s knife had been lost or taken from him when he fell over the cliff, and the Indian insisted that the lad take his. He could use the bone one just as well, he said, and when Ronald hesitated to accept the gift, showed such plain signs of offense, that the boy hastened to take it to make amends. He guessed that this was Nangotook’s way of expressing gratitude for his rescue from drowning.