Part 6

Curiously enough it was the Indian who hung back and wanted to delay exploration until the weather cleared. He did not give any good reason for waiting, but his disinclination to begin the search was so plain, that the boys grew impatient and told him if he did not want to go he could stay behind. They were going to see what was on the other side of the woods. When he found they were determined, he joined them, but, contrary to his usual custom, he did not lead the way. It was the Scotch boy who took the lead.

Striking through the woods where they had landed, they went up the ridge. As they climbed, the way became steep and rocky. The spruces and balsams stood less thickly on the summit, and, if the weather had been clear, the adventurers might have obtained a good view of their surroundings, but the rain was falling so thick and fine, more like a dense mist than rain, that they could see only a few feet beyond where they stood. It was quite impossible to tell what sort of shore lay beyond and below the woods.

"It is scarcely worth while to seek for golden sands or anything else in this thick weather," Jean remarked. "We must wait until it passes."

"Go back to bay, make camp, catch some fish," said Etienne, in his brief, abrupt way.

Ronald was reluctant to give up, but there seemed nothing else to do, and the mention of fish reminded him he was very hungry, so he yielded, not very good-naturedly. It was the Ojibwa that led the way this time, and a steep, dripping, slippery way it was, down through the woods to the bay.

Probably that bay had never been fished by any creature but the gulls that swooped down on the small fishes that swam too near the surface. The water abounded in little fish, but they were lake herring, which are really not herring at all, and will not take a hook. The lads had no net, and failing to catch anything in the bay, were obliged to go out through the channel. There, above a sunken reef, they secured three good sized lake trout.

In the meantime Etienne had found and made ready a camping place, and had built a small bark lodge. The rain continued steadily, and the three spent the rest of the day under shelter.

Rain was still coming down the next morning, and the weather had turned so cold that the boys would not have been surprised if snow had fallen, though it was still early in September. By the time another supply of fish had been caught and fire-wood cut, they were glad to seek the wigwam. There they remained most of the day, resting on couches of balsam and spruce, covered with blankets, and passing the time talking, mending their moccasins and dozing. In the center of the wigwam they kept a small fire going, the smoke finding its way out through a hole in the roof. The lads tried to persuade Nangotook to tell of his adventures and exploits, but he seemed disinclined to talk, and passed the day in morose and sullen silence. Jean could not imagine what had come over the usually good-natured Ojibwa.

Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and Jean and Ronald climbed up over their trail of the day before. Nangotook only grunted when they proposed the trip, and did not accompany them. The sky was still overcast and the distance hazy, but from the top of the ridge, a hundred feet or more above the lake, the two lads could look down upon a rocky shore to their left and across a stretch of lower land to the right. What the shore was like beyond that low land they could not tell. There might be, indeed it seemed probable from the lay of the land that there was, a beach on that side of the island. Ahead of them the trees obstructed the view.

They made their way along the ridge, a rough way, over slippery rocks, along the verge of steep declivities, among spruce and balsam trees, until they came out from woods on almost bare rocks. They had reached the southern end of the island, where rock walls and slopes descended to the water, vertically in some places, more gently in others. Everywhere there was rock, no beaches, no sand.

The sun had set behind heavy clouds, and the gray sky shed little light. No land was visible across the water, in the growing darkness and haze of the gloomy, sullen evening. Depressed and silent, the two lads stumbled back along their trail, finding it with difficulty in the blackness of the woods. Their confidence was dwindling, though they tried to comfort themselves with the thought that they had not explored all of the island yet. The shore beyond the lower land to the west of the ridge was their only real hope.

That night Jean dreamed that he went to that shore by night, and found the golden sands gleaming in the moonlight. Then, just as he stooped to gather up a handful, there came a strange, rustling sound over his head. He looked up, and an enormous bird with open beak and fiery eyes was swooping down on him. He tried to run, to wave his arms, to shout, but not a muscle could he move, not a sound could he make. The bird's great wing brushed his head. He made a tremendous effort and broke the spell that bound him. With a little cry he sprang out of his blanket and on to his feet, just as some heavy, furry, spitting object grazed his shoulder and landed in the bed he had left.

The animal was as badly frightened as the boy. It uttered a shrill screech, and sprang for the patch of dim light that marked the entrance to the shelter. Unfortunately Ronald was lying directly across its path. Aroused by the screech, he raised himself up. The heavy ball of fur struck him full in the body, knocking him flat again. The impact broke the beast's leap, and it fell sprawling across the lad's breast. Its vicious, cat-like snarl was close to his ear, he felt its hot breath on his face. Too terrified to cry out, he upheaved his body in an effort to throw off the creature. Its sharp claws tore through his blanket coat, and he tried to get a hold on its throat.

Just at that moment, Jean precipitated himself full upon both Ronald and the animal. The attack was too much for the fierce cat. It slipped out from between the two and sprang clear of the entrance, before Jean's knife could find it.

The boys disentangled themselves from the blankets and balsam branches, each assuring the other that he was not seriously hurt. Although dawn had come, darkness still lingered in the heavily shaded shelter. The fire was out, but, with sparks from his flint and steel, Jean lighted a roll of dry birch bark. As it flared up, they could see the hole in the roof of branches where the animal had fallen through.

"It was attracted by the fish," said Ronald. "A lynx----"

With a startled exclamation, Jean interrupted him. "Where is Nangotook?"

Nangotook had disappeared. His blanket lay on his balsam couch, his gun beside it, but he was gone. In the light of their flickering birch torch, the two lads stared at one another. The Ojibwa had not run away from the cat, of course. He had left his blanket before the beast came through the roof, and had stepped over Ronald without waking him. What could have moved him to steal away without arousing them?

"Do you think he has deserted us?" Ronald asked.

"That is impossible," Jean replied emphatically. "Nangotook is loyal. He would not desert us, whatever might befall us."

"I should have been saying the same two days ago," agreed his companion, "but now I'm not so sure. He was acting strangely all day yesterday. I think he begins to regret this voyage and to dread what lies before us."

"He has not been like himself since we landed in this place," Jean admitted. "I know not what has come over him, unless it is fear of the manitos of the lake and the islands. He thinks perhaps that the spirits send storm and disaster to keep us from the golden sands. Either he loses faith in his charm, or fears it will protect him only, not you and me."

"What is his charm? Do you know? Have you ever seen it?"

"I think I saw it yesterday. Once when I came into the lodge, he was sitting by the fire looking at something he held in his hand. In the firelight it looked like a nugget of copper. It was a queer shape, something like a fish, but one end was like a beaver's tail, and it was rubbed bright. As I moved nearer for a better look, he heard me, closed his hand over the piece of copper, and glanced around. Then he slipped it into a little deerskin bag, his medicine bag, I suppose, without giving me another glimpse of it. You know the beaver is his totem. But even if he fears his charm will fail him, I am sure he would not desert us."

"I scarcely believe myself that he would," Ronald returned. "Where would he go? He would not be starting across the water on such a threatening night."

"He will return before long. I am sure of it," was Jean's confident assertion.

XI

NANGOTOOK RECONNOITERS

The cat-like tracks of the animal that had attacked the lads were plainly marked in the rain-softened earth and leaf mould. They were the prints of a lynx of unusual size. It was lucky for Ronald that he had slept in his heavy coat, or the beast's claws might have injured him seriously. As it was, they had torn through his clothes, and had inflicted a shallow but painful scratch on his breast.

The boys cut more fuel and broiled their fish for breakfast. They were just finishing the meal, when the bushes parted suddenly and Nangotook stood before them.

Jean rose to his feet. "Where have you been, Nangotook?" he exclaimed. "We were just about to follow your trail to see if any evil had overtaken you."

"Little brother need have no fear," Nangotook answered with more amiability than he had shown the night before. "The Ojibwa brave can take care of himself--with other men," he added, after a moment's pause. Perhaps he was not so sure of being able to hold his own with spirits or supernatural beings.

Knowing that he would tell them what he had been doing when he was ready to speak, and not before, the lads forbore to question him. Instead they told him of the beast that had fallen into the lodge. Nangotook examined the tracks with interest. "Big lynx," he said. "We track him and find where he lives."

"'Tis hardly worth while to be doing that," objected Ronald. "His pelt is not at its best now, and anyway we're not hunting for pelts. We must examine every yard of the shore of this island. I feel sure there's a beach beyond the lower ground, and it may be the one we're looking for."

"Yes," agreed Jean, "we must go over there at once."

The Indian made no reply, but continued to eat his fish in silence. When he had finished, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said briefly. "I show you tracks not made by lynx."

He led the boys behind the wigwam and a little way through the thick woods. There he stopped and pointed to some marks in the soft ground under a spruce tree.

"A man," Jean exclaimed, dropping on his knees to examine the prints.

"Two men," corrected Nangotook.

"What are they? Did you follow them?" cried Ronald. "How did you come upon their trail?"

In the brief, abrupt manner in which he usually gave information when action impended, Nangotook explained that he had waked in the night with the feeling that some strange thing or person was near by. He had lain quiet, listening. From a big cedar that overhung the lodge, he had heard the faint rustle of foliage, the creaking of a limb. There was little wind, and that sixth sense, by which an Indian distinguishes sounds, told the Ojibwa that the noises were made by animal or man. Something warned him of danger. As he lay listening, his suspicions were confirmed. He heard a scraping as if some hard substance rubbed the bark of the tree. Then the branches creaked more loudly, and there came a thud as of something heavy striking the ground. But that was not all. Just as the heavy thing struck the earth, the Indian's keen ears detected a whispered exclamation, an oath in French. That sound must have dispelled from his mind the fear, if he had felt it, that the thing in the tree might be some supernatural being. Indian manitos, spirits or fiends would not be apt to swear in French.

The full, slow breathing of the two boys indicated that they had not been disturbed. Lying perfectly still, Nangotook also breathed deeply and regularly, so that any one listening might think that all three slept soundly. He did not want the spy, whoever he was, to suspect that any one was awake and listening. The Indian heard no more rustlings or scrapings, however. There was nothing to suggest that the man approached nearer.

For a long time Nangotook lay perfectly still. Then, feeling sure that the spy had taken himself off, he rose noiselessly, cast away his blanket, and, knife in hand, stepped over Ronald and out of the lodge. It was useless to try to track the uninvited visitor in the darkness. It was the canoe the Ojibwa was anxious about. Making his way to the place where it was hidden, he found it safe and undisturbed.

On the bay, and along the edge of the woods that grew down to it, there was more light, for day was dawning. As Nangotook started to turn back towards camp, he caught sight of something floating on the water near by. He crawled out on the leaning tree trunk where he and his companions had landed two days before, reached for the thing and secured it. It was a small piece of deerskin, such as travelers usually carried for moccasin patches. It did not belong to him or to either of the boys, and it had not been in the water long, for it was scarcely wet. To the Indian it was sure proof that the night visitor had come by water. He looked for the place where the man's canoe had come in, and soon found the spot, under a thick, overhanging tangle of trees and bushes, where he would not have noticed signs of landing had he not been searching for them.

Returning to his own hidden canoe, he put it in the water, shoved off, and paddled noiselessly along close to shore. He had not gone far, when he heard, from the direction of the camp, the sharp screech of a lynx, but he paid no heed. It was the cry of a real lynx, not a human imitation, and the thought that the two boys might be in any danger from that fierce, but, as far as man is concerned, cowardly animal, never occurred to him. He was seeking to discover whether the stranger's canoe had come from somewhere on the bay or through the channel. The depth of the water enabled him to keep close in to the shore, which he eyed keenly in the half light of the gray, gloomy dawn. He skirted the higher land, then the low ground opposite the entrance, finding nothing to indicate that a boat had ever run in anywhere.

It was not until he had gone more than half-way around and had come to rising ground again, that he observed a suspicious looking spot. He paused to examine it, and found a landing place, with a distinct trail leading away from it. The tracks showed that two men had come and gone that way. Probably they had carried their canoe with them, for he did not find it hidden anywhere, though he sought for it. The tracks had been made since the rain, and there had been no attempt to obliterate them. Nangotook followed them across to the north shore of the island, where he had not been before.

There, among the rocks, the trail ended abruptly. He searched, but could find no more tracks. Finally he became convinced that the men must have lowered the canoe down a cleft in the rock wall to the water.

Where had they gone? He had no way of telling. The outlying rocks were wave washed, and afforded no shelter. There was no other land visible. A short distance out, the morning mists lay thick on the lake. There might be hidden land off there somewhere, or the canoe might have gone along shore, but which way or how far he could not guess. So he turned back the way he had come.

He paddled across the bay, and landed at the place near the camp where the two men had come ashore. From there they had proceeded very cautiously, and had left little trace of their passage through the woods. It was with considerable difficulty that the Ojibwa tracked them to the tall spruce. The spruce was at least a hundred and fifty feet from the hut, but the men must have climbed it and made their way, as squirrels might, from one tree to another until they reached the cedar that overhung the shelter. The thick growth made such a feat possible for active men. One of them, however, had missed his hold in the darkness, and had fallen from the cedar. A hollow in the soft leaf mould showed where he had struck the ground. It was then he had uttered the exclamation in French that had convinced Nangotook the spy was neither animal nor spirit. He had climbed the tree again, for there were no other tracks to be found, and had gone back in the same way. Perhaps only one man had made the trip from tree to tree, the other waiting for him at the tall spruce.

With intense interest and excitement the boys listened to the Ojibwa's story. The spies might be wandering Indians who had come to the island in search of copper. It was said that many of the islands of the lake bore copper in loose pieces that could be picked up on the shores. One of the visitors, however, had uttered an oath in French.

"Can you make any guess who those men are?" Ronald asked, anxiously, when the Ojibwa had finished his tale.

Nangotook nodded gravely. "One Indian, Cree, I think," he said, "the other Awishtoya."

"Are you sure? How can you tell?" cried both boys.

Nangotook pointed to the tracks. "One man lame," he said. "Walk heavier with right foot, and foot turn out. Some places, across the bay there, tracks show it plain. Following us for something. Bad man, Awishtoya."

XII

OVER THE CLIFFS

Le Forgeron Tordu, or Awishtoya, as the Indians called him, had surely been following the gold-seekers. Was it the smoke of his fire they had seen when they were leaving the Rock of the Beaver? He might have watched them start out and have noted their course, but they had seen no canoe in pursuit. How could he have followed in darkness, wind and rain? It seemed incredible that he had been able to do so, and had come safe through the storm to the island where they now were. Yet Nangotook was sure of the footprints, sure they had been made by the Blacksmith and his Indian companion. Ronald suggested that perhaps the evil Frenchman or the Cree knew how to reach the Island of Yellow Sands, knew the way better indeed than Nangotook knew it, and had not followed them, but had come direct.

"If that be true," cried Jean. "If they know the way, and have come straight here, it means that we are even now on the Island of Yellow Sands."

"We can find out only by exploring the place," Ronald replied promptly. "That is the first thing for us to be doing. We must look for the beach of gold. We can be seeking for some signs of Le Forgeron at the same time."

Nangotook made no objection that time, and seemed less inclined to hold back. Nevertheless, he allowed Ronald to take the lead. Going through the woods by a different route from the one they had followed before, they came to the level stretch of ground they had seen from the ridge. They were no longer in the forest, but were obliged to penetrate a thick and high growth of alders, high-bush cranberries, and other shrubs. Wherever the bushes left room for them to grow, the little bunchberry or dwarf cornel plants, with their clusters of red berries, covered the ground. Beyond the patch of bushes, which was not more than a quarter of a mile wide, the treasure-seekers hoped to find a sand beach, _the_ sand beach for which they were searching.

They pushed their way through the growth as rapidly as they could and soon came out upon a rocky shore that descended straight to the water, bunchberries, bearberries and other plants growing to the verge. The disappointment was a bitter one. The lads had fully expected to find a sand beach there, and their hopes of yellow sands had been high. They were not ready to give up even then, but followed along the shore until they reached the high barren rocks at the southern extremity of the island, where they had been the day before. Not a grain of gold was to be found.

"No yellow sands on this island," the Ojibwa said, with a shake of his head, as they turned back from the rocks of the southern end.

"But you said this was the place," cried Jean with impatience. "You said so when we first saw it from that heap of rocks where we were stranded. You said it was the island your grandfather saw."

Nangotook did not deign to reply, but Ronald was not yet willing to abandon the search.

"There is one stretch of shore remaining we know nothing of," he said. "We must search every inch of it before we can be sure. It may be that the beach is only a short one, but even a hundred feet of sands of gold would mean a fortune for us."

So the treasure-seekers returned to the bay, crossed it in the canoe, and explored the whole northern half of the island. The north end was quite as discouraging as the south. Everywhere the shore was of rock, rising in palisades or composed of tumbled heaps of boulders, around and among which the water washed. In one place the explorers came to a bay partly protected by a reef, but on its pebble beach there were no golden grains. The beach they had passed on the day of their arrival the two boys examined thoroughly, digging up the sand here and there in the hope of finding some bits of yellow metal, but not a trace could they discover. Even Ronald gave up at last, forced to admit that they had not yet reached the island they were seeking. In his disappointment he began to doubt that the Island of Yellow Sands existed anywhere but in the Indian's imagination. He confided to Jean that he did not believe Nangotook's grandfather had ever seen such a place. His discouragement was the more complete, because, with the exception of the small rocky islets near at hand, they could get no glimpse of any other land.

Jean, however, clung to the belief that the sought-for island might not be far off. It was not strange that they could not get sight of it, for the day remained thick and cloudy, fog on the water shutting off their view, and blotting out even the rock where they had been storm-bound.

All that day the three, especially the Indian, had kept a lookout for some trace of their visitors of the night before, but had found no sign. The boys concluded that Le Forgeron and his companion had not merely paddled along shore and landed at some other spot, but had left the island entirely. Where had they gone? Though some of the outlying islets bore a few trees and bushes, none seemed to afford a sufficient shelter for a camp. No one would choose such an exposed spot, with a good camping place close at hand. The disappearance of Le Forgeron further convinced Jean that there must be other land not far off.

Nangotook was not so sure that the Frenchman had left the island. Though they had found no further traces of the man, he might be concealed somewhere. It was evident that the Ojibwa himself had reason to fear Le Forgeron. Apparently he thought the Blacksmith might return to their camp again that night and do them some injury, for he proposed that they move to another spot not so deep in the woods, where they could keep a better lookout for danger. The lads were more than willing, and he selected a place at the southern end of the island, on open ground, a little distance from the woods. There, where they could not be approached under cover of the trees, the three built another lodge. While the boys cut balsam for their beds and fire-wood for cooking, Nangotook went back to the bay, launched the canoe, and paddled it through the entrance and around the outer shore to the end of the island. Then they hoisted it up the rocks and carried it to their camp, where they placed it, bottom side up, close to the wigwam.