Part 8

The next night the wind went down with the sun, but when the lads crept into their blankets, the long roll of the waves had not subsided enough to make launching the canoe safe. Since they had learned of the presence of an enemy on the island, one or another of the three had kept awake and watchful all night. When Ronald took his turn before dawn, he left the wigwam and scrambled down the rocks to get a drink of water. He was pleased to find that the waves had smoothed out into long, gentle swells. "We can surely cross to that other land to-day," he thought. He was too impatient to put off departure, however. Why wait till daylight? The sun would come up in another hour or two. If they started at once, they could make the trip before there was any danger of the wind rising again, and, moreover, their enemies, who might be on the watch somewhere, would be less likely to see them go.

The lad returned to the shelter, aroused the others and explained his plan. Jean was eager to go, and Nangotook grunted his assent. The idea of stealing a march on their enemies appealed to the Indian's love of strategy. Dawn was just beginning to break, when everything was ready. But Nangotook suddenly became reluctant to start out. He pointed to the mist that lay on the water and dimmed the stars. "Fog come soon," he said.

"'Tis only the morning haze," replied Ronald. "'Tis not thick enough to hinder us, and it will disappear at sunrise."

"We shall be there by sunrise if we start now," Jean added confidently. "That land is not far away. An hour's paddling will surely take us there."

"Better wait and see," said the Ojibwa.

But the boys insisted. They were impatient to be gone, and could not endure the thought of further delay. Ronald especially was stubbornly determined. He knew better than to accuse Nangotook openly of cowardice, but he hinted so plainly that the Indian might be influenced by fear, that the latter's pride was touched. Suddenly breaking short the argument, he picked up the canoe, stalked into the water with it, and held it ready for the lads to step in.

They began their trip in silence. During the stay on the island Nangotook had whittled out two paddles to replace the ones they had lost, and now, as was his custom, he took the bow, with Jean in the stern. In the dim light and the haze they could not make out the land to which they were going, but they knew the direction, and had no fear of missing the place unless the mist grew denser.

It did grow denser. The light breeze was almost directly south now and it brought the fog. Gradually, and at first almost imperceptibly, the haze thickened. Nangotook and the boys paddled with all their strength and speed, the latter confident that they would soon reach their destination, the Indian so silent and stolid that it was impossible to guess at his thoughts. Then suddenly, all in a moment as it seemed, the fog folded them in its thick white blanket. Nangotook grunted as if to say "I told you so," but did not lessen the speed of his stroke. To turn back was useless. There was better chance of keeping their direction true if they went ahead, for in turning they would almost inevitably lose their bearings.

The breeze was driving the fog, and as they went on, Jean and Ronald were sure, from the angle at which they took the waves and the way the breeze struck them, that they were keeping the course and would soon reach land. They strained their ears for the sound of water lapping on rocks or sand beach, and peered through the thickness for the shadowy, looming shape of cliffs or trees.

On and on they went. The fog whitened with the coming of dawn, but did not lessen or disperse. It blew and shifted from time to time, but never thinned enough to give them a clear view for more than a few feet in any direction. Either the land they had seen was much farther away than they had estimated, or they were out of their course. The Indian had nothing to say, and the lads could not tell whether he had really lost his bearings and knew it, or believed himself to be going in the right direction. When they questioned him, he answered only with grunts. They had scorned his advice, and had hurt his pride by implying that he was afraid to set out. Now he was letting them take their punishment.

They were certainly being well punished. As they paddled on through the fog, without a sound or glimpse of anything that suggested land, both boys grew very uneasy. After all, perhaps Nangotook had been right, perhaps the sleeping Nanabozho had actually shown himself to them as a warning to their rashness, or perhaps Ronald's bold speech had really offended some manito. Neither boy would have admitted to the other that he had such thoughts, but they lived in a superstitious age, and there were many strange tales current among the voyageurs of the powers of the Indian spirits and of their priests or shamans.

The brightening of the fog showed the advance of day. Yet the adventurers went on and on and on. The thought occurred to both lads that the land they had seen might not be real at all, but only a mirage or a false appearance sent by the evil spirits to lure them to their deaths. There in that dense, chilling mist, cut off as it seemed from the world of men, and going perhaps into the very middle of the great lake, whose mysteries neither Indian nor white man had ever fully penetrated, such thoughts were far from pleasant.

Even fear could not still the pangs of hunger in healthy boys, however, or make them quite forget that they had had no breakfast. The birch basket still held the remains of the hare stew from their evening meal, so Ronald helped himself to a share of it, and then took the stern paddle while Jean breakfasted. Nangotook, however, refused to give up his paddle or to eat.

The day wore away, and still the blades dipped with regular rhythm. The stroke was slower and easier now, for there was no reason, lost as they were for haste or speed. They paddled merely to keep headway on the canoe and to strike the waves at the right angle. And still, hour after hour, they went on and on, Jean and Ronald taking turns at the stern paddle, the Indian never yielding up his place in the bow.

Ronald was plying his paddle mechanically, a dull apathy having settled down on his spirit, as the hour of silence and white mist passed, and Jean, stretched out on the bottom of the canoe, had fallen asleep when Nangotook, who had been sullenly silent all day, spoke suddenly. "Land," he said and jerked his head towards the left.

Ronald woke from his stupor at once. The first thing he noticed was that the mist was a little less thick, for he could see Nangotook more distinctly, the next thing he observed was that the water was perfectly smooth, without even a ripple, and the third and most important was a dim, scarcely discernible something, a shadow of a shape, on the left hand. He called to Jean and the latter sat up and stared at the shadow.

At the Indian's order Ronald swerved the canoe in that direction. There was no sound of surf, yet the approach must be made cautiously, for rock shores are far more common on Lake Superior than sand beaches. A careful stroke and paddles lifted, another stroke and paddles lifted again, and then the bow grated gently. Without hesitation Nangotook stepped over the side, while Ronald held the canoe stationary with his paddle.

XV

STRANDED

It was not a sand beach the canoe had grated upon, but solid rock. The three adventurers stepped over the side, and, carrying the canoe, waded up a slope of rock until they were well above the water line. The fog was so thick they could see almost nothing of their surroundings. Scrambling over unfamiliar rocks slippery with moisture, when they could not see where they were going, was too perilous an undertaking to be worth attempting. There was nothing to do but wait until the fog cleared. So they unloaded the canoe, turned it over, propped it up, and settled themselves on their blankets in its shelter. Waiting was chilly, dreary work, but they were cheered by the knowledge that the mist was thinning. They did not have to wait long. Before the veiled sun sank to its setting, the fog, though it did not disappear, became so thin that climbing about was no longer dangerous.

The lads were eager to learn what sort of land they had reached. The place certainly abounded in gulls. The birds welcomed the lifting of the fog with such a chorus of shrill and whining cries, that the boys feared they had landed on another mere pile of rocks, one of those desolate and wind-swept spots where the gulls love to nest. There was always the chance, however, that the golden sands might lie close by.

Once more Etienne hung back and let Ronald take the lead. The Indian's superstitious dread of what they might encounter had probably not been lessened by the Scotch boy's defiance of the manitos or by the subsequent experience in the fog. No ravenous beast or hideous serpent appeared to threaten the treasure-seekers, however, no enormous shape towered out of the mist to warn them back. Only the gulls disputed their way as they climbed about the rocks. They soon discovered that the place was either a narrow point or an island. Where they had landed, it was only a few rods wide. Further exploration proved it to be an island, about two miles long, and nowhere more than a quarter of a mile broad. There was no golden sand, only sandstone rock in slanting, overlapping sheets and blocks with upturned edges. A narrow belt of small trees and shrubs ran along the highest part. Everywhere were gulls, young and old, and the remains of their nests. By the time the setting sun had gilded the mist with red and gold, the three had examined the island very thoroughly.

After sunset the fog thickened again, and before dark turned into cold rain. There was nothing on the island to eat, the attempt to fish was unsuccessful, and the castaways were reluctant to use the handful of crushed corn they had saved so carefully for an emergency. They would eat it next day if they could get nothing else, but for that night they decided to go supperless. Everything on the island was dripping wet, so they did not attempt to light a fire, but crept under the upturned canoe and wrapped themselves in their damp blankets. With the rain came wind, blowing in gusts and squalls.

In spite of hunger and discomfort, the lads went to sleep. They were awakened suddenly by a terrific blast of wind that blew directly into the propped up canoe, lifted the light birch craft as if it had been a dried leaf, and whirled it away in the darkness. In an instant the three were out of their blankets, up and scrambling over the slippery rocks. They could not find the canoe again, though they sought everywhere for it, endangering their necks again and again in the black darkness, wind and rain. At last, after Ronald had plunged down a steep slope into the water and narrowly missed drowning, and Jean had stumbled over the upturned edge of a broken block and wrenched his ankle, they gave up in despair. If the canoe had not been carried away across the water, they might find it, or the battered remains of it, in the morning, but to attempt further search that night would be useless and foolhardy.

The only thing they could do was to crouch down in such shelter as the belt of trees afforded, and wait for dawn. They could not even search out a good place, but were compelled to make the best of what was close at hand. The stunted trees and bushes protected them but little from the rain and the wind, that came in violent squalls, now from one quarter, now from another.

It seemed as if the night never would end, but towards morning the wind steadied and the rain ceased. Breaking through the clouds at the horizon, the sun rose red in a wind-torn sky. The waves were dashing their spray up to the very edge of the band of trees, and there was no sign of the canoe. There were other things to be seen, however. Rocks and reefs and islets, almost smothered in foam, were visible to east and south, while to west and north, at a distance of several miles, stretched what appeared to be continuous land, rising high.

The boys marveled at the sight, and at once questioned the Indian about the Island of Yellow Sands. "What was it your grandfather said about the island, Etienne?" Jean asked. "Did he not describe it? Was it large or small, high or low?"

Etienne shook his head. "That I cannot tell you, little brother," he replied. "My grandfather told of nothing but the beach with the yellow sands and the waves rolling high upon it. Whether the island was large or small, high or low, wooded or barren, I do not remember that he said. In some of the tales, it is said that fierce beasts came out of the woods to attack the braves who tried to carry away the sand, but whether those tales are true or are only told to frighten the white man and keep him away from the gold, I do not know."

While Etienne was speaking, Ronald had been gazing intently at the stretch of land hazy and blue in the distance. When the Indian had finished, the boy said slowly: "I do not believe that land can be the island we seek. If the Island of Yellow Sands were as large and high and plainly visible as that, some one would have found and explored it long ago. No, that is either part of the mainland, or one of the greater islands that men know. Surely to have escaped the white men's eyes for so many years, the Island of Yellow Sands must be small and low and inconspicuous."

"So it would seem indeed," agreed Jean. "That land may be, as you say, a part of the main shore of the lake, or one of the great islands, Royale, Philippeau or Ponchartrain. Yet we can scarcely be sure that the island we seek is not a large one, just because men have not found it. Who, either white man or red, has ever traveled over all this great lake? The canoes go along the shores, and even the sailing vessels follow their regular courses. No man knows what may lie in the center of these waters. Is that not true, Nangotook?"

The Ojibwa nodded in assent. "Many tales are told," he replied solemnly, "but they are only tales. No man knows."

"There is one thing certain," said Ronald the practical, "we can't find out what that land is until we cross to it, and we can't cross until we have a craft of some kind."

"And even though we had the best of canoes," Jean added, "we could not go through this sea."

"Then 'tis something to eat we must be seeking first," the younger boy responded. "I'm hungry indeed, but not quite ready to eat gull, until we see if we can find other food."

All efforts to obtain anything else eatable failed Fishing from the rocks, even in those patches quiet water that were sheltered from wind and waves, brought no result. Nothing edible grew on the island but a few blueberries and bearberries, and the gulls had stripped the plants of their fruit. The castaways had to eat bark, leaves and roots, or try the flesh of the gulls.

They attempted to capture some of the young gulls by creeping up on them and seizing them or striking them with a canoe paddle, but all the young were full grown, able to swim and fly, and were so shy and wary that not even Nangotook succeeded in killing one. Snaring was equally unsuccessful, and some of the precious ammunition had to be sacrificed. Ronald was the best shot of the three, so the hunting was entrusted to him. Every time he fired, the birds rose from the rocks in a screaming cloud of gray and white, but he was fortunate enough to secure several. He shot young gulls, thinking they would be tenderer than the old.

The birds were plucked, cut up and boiled, and the two hungry boys and the Indian devoured every bit of the strong, fishy tasting meat. Their uninviting meal down, they set about constructing some kind of a craft to take them away from the island when the waves should go down. The trees were all small and unsuitable for canoe making. The best the three could do was to build a raft. They felled the straightest of the little trees, trimmed them of their branches, and bound them together with tough roots and strips of bark. So much of the growth on the exposed rock was stunted and twisted by the winds, that straight trunks were few. The harsh cries of the gulls seemed to mock at their efforts, but they finished their task at last, just as the sun was setting. Though the raft was small, rough and very imperfect, they believed it would hold them up and enable them to reach the distant shore in calm weather.

They had decided to make directly for that shore. The other islands and islets, visible from the one where they were stranded, appeared to be mere heaps of wind and wave-swept rock. It seemed unlikely that any sand whatever was to be found on the and the danger of trying to coast such rock piles in a clumsy raft was too great to be risked. If the gold-seekers could but reach a forested shore, where they could build another canoe, they might return and explore every island, but they must have a good boat first.

XVI

ISLAND OR MAINLAND?

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.