Chapter VIII: Part 8

There was no drying meat to be watched that night, and the prisoner hoped for a chance of escape. He had carefully tried his bonds, and had made up his mind that there was no way of slipping or loosening them. He must gnaw through the thongs, cut them by drawing them across something sharp, or burn them by placing them against a live coal. The gnawing would take a long time, and if he was found with partly severed bonds, he knew he would be tied more tightly as a result, his hands bound behind his back probably so that he could not get at them. Up to that time, though his wrists were firmly fastened together, his arms had not been tied to his body. No knives or sharp things were within reach, so he resolved to try burning the thongs.

He lay with his feet to the fire, and to reach it he must roll over and around. He waited for a good opportunity to make the move, but the chance was slow in coming. The Cree slept close to him, and slept very lightly. Every time Nangotook made the slightest movement, the latter either woke or stirred in his sleep as if about to wake. At last the captive succeeded in rolling over and turning part way around, but his guard woke and gave him a brutal kick. It was some time before the Cree settled down to sleep again. As soon as the latter was breathing deeply, Nangotook attempted to turn a little farther, but a stick under him cracked, and the Cree was up in a moment. Probably he suspected what his prisoner was trying to do, for, after giving him another savage kick, he replenished the fire and sat close to it, wide awake, the rest of the night.

Balked in his attempts to escape, Nangotook had to fence for time again. He thought seriously of appearing to agree to Le Forgeron's proposal, and leading him somewhere, anywhere. His ankles would have to be unbound for land traveling, but he knew that he would be forced to go ahead with a loaded weapon at his back. He might have to travel so far before he could escape, that it would be difficult to get back to the boys. Moreover, before they started, either Le Forgeron or the Cree might waylay and destroy the lads. Why the Blacksmith had not done so before that, the Ojibwa could scarcely understand.

Once more he tried to put Le Forgeron off, but this time he did not succeed so well. The Twisted Blacksmith grew angry at the delay and told him sharply that he could not have another night to make up his mind. He must decide before sunset, so they might start that evening. The Frenchman would delay no longer. He thought the time had come to try threats as well as persuasion, so he told Nangotook that unless he agreed promptly it would be the worse for him and his friends. He had the Ojibwa in his power and could do what he willed with him. The two boys were as good as in his hands. They could not escape him. When the three were once "out of the way," he would find the gold anyway, he asserted. He knew the place was near by. A week's search at the farthest must reveal it to him. Then Nangotook would have sacrificed his life and his companions' lives all for nothing, when he might have had wealth and power.

The Indian appeared deeply concerned at these threats, and promised to make up his mind by nightfall. From the white man's remarks he had learned two important things, first that Le Forgeron had no definite idea where the gold mine was, and second that he did not associate it with the Island of Yellow Sands. Whatever he had heard of the lads' conversation that night at the Grande Portage, he had not caught anything that served to connect their search with the island of the Indian tales, tales he must have heard more than once. He knew merely that they were seeking some rich deposit of gold, and he had been following them without any knowledge where they would lead him. It was evident that he suspected the mine was either on or near the island of Minong.

Le Forgeron was both restless and ugly that morning, abusing the Cree until Nangotook wondered the latter did not turn on him. The Indian appeared to be a sort of slave to the white man, and was in deadly fear of him. Probably it was the magic power which the Indians, and many of the whites as well, supposed the Twisted Blacksmith to possess, that his slave dreaded, rather than his brutality or physical strength.

Some time after the sun had reached its height and had begun to decline again, Le Forgeron told the Cree sharply to look to his charge. He was going to leave the island a while he said, but he might be back any time, and unless he found everything to his satisfaction, the Cree knew what would happen. Then he cast a threatening glance at Nangotook, and went limping off among the trees. The captive had suspected from the appearance of the place that the camp was on a small island, but he had not been sure until now. The departure of Le Forgeron worried him, for he feared his enemy might be going to work some evil on the two boys. The man hated Ronald, and would not be content, the Indian believed, with merely killing the lad, but would devise some especially cruel way of getting rid of him. Yet Nangotook could not follow Le Forgeron. Even if he could escape the watchful eyes of the Cree, or manage in some way to overpower him, he could not get away until the Blacksmith came back, for the latter must have taken his canoe. There was nothing for the captive to do but to remain quiet and feign indifference.

Nangotook did not have to give his decision at sunset, for Le Forgeron had not returned. Darkness fell and night came on, but still the Frenchman did not come. The breeze brought the smell of smoke from the northeast. Nangotook was sure the woods were burning somewhere. The smoke grew thicker, and the Cree became anxious, but would not leave his charge even to find out if the fire was on the island.

After a time the smoke thinned, and was hardly perceptible by the time Le Forgeron returned. Nangotook feigned to be sleeping, and the Blacksmith did not disturb him. Le Forgeron seemed restless. He would sit by the fire for a few minutes, then get up and wander off through the woods. As long as his master was awake, the Cree feared to sleep, but both of them quieted down at last. As if to make up for their former wakefulness, they slept with unusual soundness.

When his captors were snoring loudly, Nangotook made another attempt to reach the fire. That time he succeeded. Lying on his side, he stretched his arms out over the embers, and held the thongs against a glowing coal until they were so charred he could pull them apart. He burned his hands and wrists in the process, but he did not heed the pain. When his hands were free, he did not untie his feet immediately, but quietly and slowly, a few inches at a time, dragged himself over the ground, away from the Cree and into the shadows of the trees. There, behind a bush, he untied the cords that were about his ankles, rose to his feet and slipped silently into the woods. The cry of an owl caused him to duck suddenly. The noise must have disturbed Le Forgeron, for Nangotook heard him mumble an oath.

The Ojibwa remained motionless, expecting every moment that his absence would be discovered, and that he would have to run or fight. His bow and arrows, knife and ax had been taken from him when he was first captured, before he regained consciousness. But neither Le Forgeron nor the Cree roused enough to think of the prisoner. He waited a while, until he was sure from their deep breathing that they were sleeping soundly, then slipped away, going in the same direction the Frenchman had gone that morning. The goings and comings of the two had made a clear trail, and even in the darkness Nangotook had no trouble in keeping it. It led him to a rocky shore where a canoe lay above water line.

Day was dawning, and the Ojibwa knew he must hurry. Perhaps it was his haste that prevented him from noticing whether there was another canoe anywhere near by. Indeed he never thought of there being more than one. Embarking at once, he paddled away swiftly but without sound. He could see that the island, where he had been held, was off the main shore of the big island, to the southwest of the cove mouth, and he made speed back towards the camp where he had left his comrades. He was steering to run between the burned island and the shore, when he heard Jean's call across the water, the Indian call he had taught the lad when he was a little child. Nangotook not only knew the call, but he recognized Jean's voice and his way of uttering the syllables.

XXVIII

FLEEING FROM LE FORGERON

After Nangotook had finished his narrative, Ronald asked him how Le Forgeron had managed to follow them through storm and fog, and yet not lose track of them. The boys knew that the Indians, among whom he had lived for many years, regarded him as a great medicine man and believed him to have magic powers which they respected and feared. Nangotook answered that the Frenchman had hinted that he had learned of the gold-seekers' quest in some mysterious way, and had asserted that, from the first, he had had them in his power. They could not escape him, he said, no matter how hard they might try. But the Ojibwa knew that all this might be mere boasting to put his prisoner in awe of him. The fact that Le Forgeron had not discovered that it was the Island of Yellow Sands the three were seeking, as well as his betrayal of his dependence on his captive's leadership, rather destroyed Nangotook's faith in Awishtoya's magic powers. So, in the white man's absence, he had questioned the Cree, leading up to the subject so carefully that the latter had not suspected he was being quizzed.

From what the Cree told him, Nangotook discovered that Le Forgeron had not tracked the treasure-seeking party as easily or readily as he pretended. Whether he had overheard them say something about the Rock of the Beaver, and, knowing the place, had gone there directly, or had trailed them along the north shore of the lake, Nangotook had not learned. At any rate it was the smoke of his fire they had seen when they left the Rock. He had watched them go and had noted their course, but had not followed until darkness came. He did not wish to be observed by them, and had trusted that, if he kept to the same course, he would reach whatever place the gold-seekers were headed for. The Cree evidently believed that it was by Awishtoya's magic powers alone that the two had survived the storm and reached land. Instead of being cast up on a barren rock, as the others had been, they had been driven on the shore of the island that Nangotook and the boys had reached two days later. They had narrowly escaped being battered on the rocks at the northern end, but had managed to avoid wreck, and had found a refuge in the cave where Ronald had discovered the remains of their camp.

It was Le Forgeron who had knocked Ronald over the cliff. The Cree had been in the cave at the time, He had gone out in the canoe and had towed the unconscious boy into the adjoining cavern, where he had taken from him his gun and knife. Awishtoya had ordered him, the Indian said, to kill the lad, if he were not already dead, but because of a dream he had had the night before, which forbade him to take life, even the life of an animal, that day, the Cree had not given the death stroke. He had thought the boy would die anyway, for he did not believe he could get out of the cave without a boat to help him, and he felt sure that his companions would never find him there. Le Forgeron did not go into the hole where Ronald was, so he did not discover that his servant had not carried out his commands. As soon as he had disposed of the lad, the Indian had paddled to the place where the two were in the habit of descending the cliff, and had taken his master into the canoe. Then they had crossed a short stretch of water to a little, outlying, almost barren island, where they had lain hidden among the few stunted trees and bushes until nightfall. Before night the weather had cleared, so they could see the land away to the southwest.

Evidently Le Forgeron had made up his mind that the gold mine was not on the island where they had been staying. He had doubtless spied on the three and had seen no evidence of prospecting. After midnight he ordered the Cree to launch the canoe again, and they made a perilous crossing, with strong wind and high waves, to Minong. There they waited in the camp on the point for several days, one or the other of them on watch day and night for the coming of the gold-seekers' canoe. As the days passed, the Frenchman grew more and more impatient. He was absent from camp most of the time, leaving the Indian to watch for the canoe. Finally Le Forgeron gave up waiting, and the two began a series of wanderings that the Cree evidently did not understand. To Nangotook, however, it was plain that the Blacksmith had been searching for the gold mine. They left the harbor where they had been camping, and explored the whole northern end of the big island, as well as the little islands off its shores. They penetrated to the interior of Minong, traveling along the ridges. In some places they remained for several days at a time, the Cree minding the camp while his master went off by himself. The northeaster did not disturb them seriously, for they were in camp with plenty to eat. At last they reached the cove where the copper mines were.

This was the sum of what Nangotook, by careful questioning and without appearing especially curious, had learned from the Cree. It proved to him that Le Forgeron had not followed the three by any exercise of mysterious powers. If he had used magic, it had been merely to save himself and his companion from storm and waves, and in that respect he had not been any better cared for than Nangotook and the boys. The fog, which had hidden their coming to Minong and had caused them to land many miles from Le Forgeron's camp, had put him off their track, so that it was not until he reached the cove of the copper mines that he found himself in their neighborhood again. It was then that he discovered that he still had three persons, not two, to deal with. His anger at his Indian servant, for not obeying orders and taking Ronald's life, had been so great that he had threatened to kill the Cree, and might have done so, had the latter not fled from him and kept away until his master's fury cooled.

"It would seem," said Jean, when the Indian had finished telling what he had learned, "that, if Le Forgeron thinks we are seeking gold about here somewhere, the wisest course for us is to leave at once, and get as far away as we can before he discovers we have gone. With a good start, and three paddles to his two, we may easily beat him to the Grande Portage and be rid of him. If he has deserted from the fleet, I do not believe he will show himself at any of the Company's posts for some years to come."

Ronald did not like the idea of running away, as he called it. His fiery temper had been aroused by the attempt to destroy his comrade and himself in such a cruel and cowardly way, as well as by the capture of Nangotook. His first impulse was to seek the Frenchman's camp, and have it out with him, but, after a brief argument, the wiser and cooler counsels of Jean and the Ojibwa prevailed. The latter, while he would have liked well to avenge himself on Le Forgeron, felt responsible for the two boys, and was reluctant to expose them to a fight with the cruel and crafty Blacksmith. To be sure they were three to two, but the others had guns and ammunition, which gave them an overpowering advantage. So Nangotook was in favor of getting away first, and settling the score with the Frenchman at some later time. Although he did not say so to the boys, he was determined to seek out Awishtoya and make him pay that score, as soon as the two lads had been returned to their friends.

To Nangotook's argument, Jean added the opinion that, if they should provoke a fight with Le Forgeron, or attack him, they would put themselves in the wrong, and make themselves liable to punishment for crime, if either of their enemies should escape from their assault, or if the matter should become known in any other way. "There is no way we could punish them except to kill them outright," he said, "and while I do not doubt Le Forgeron well deserves death, I should be loath to attack him deliberately and in cold blood. If he should attack us, that would be different. Then I should have no compunctions."

"He will attack us, that is certain, if he finds a chance," replied Ronald. "It is open warfare between us, and it seems to me only good generalship to strike first and get the advantage."

In the end, however, he yielded to the counsels of the others, and they prepared to leave their camp at once. The Indian had not taken long to tell his story, and the discussion that followed had lasted but a few minutes. So the morning was but little advanced when they were ready to start. If they paddled out of the cove and along shore, they could hardly hope to escape being seen by their enemies, yet they did not want to delay until nightfall. So they decided to cross the cove and go overland, portaging the canoe, to the bay the boys had found when they were searching for some trace of Nangotook.

They put their plan into execution at once. Paddling across the cove, they landed in a narrow little bay, climbed to the high ground, carrying the canoe, and went along at the top of the cliffs. They chose, so far as they could, ground open enough to allow the canoe to be taken through easily, but with growth sufficiently large and thick to prevent their being seen by any one on the water or on the outlying islands. Conditions on the whole were favorable, and they were able to make good speed without exposing themselves. They went rapidly, but carefully, leaving as little trace of their passage as possible, in the hope that Le Forgeron would not find their trail. The place had been much frequented by caribou, and a broken branch or a bruised bit of moss or lichen would naturally be laid to the animals, unless it bore plain signs of the human. Such plain signs it was their intention to avoid. In one respect, however, luck was against them, for, though they were in need of food, they saw but one caribou, and did not get near enough for a shot. As the boys had been over the ground before, they led the way. When they came to the rift that led down to the pebble beach, Nangotook, pointing to the island that lay out from it, said it was there he had been held a prisoner. He must have been carried down to the beach, while still unconscious, and taken across in Le Forgeron's canoe.

The refugees launched their boat in a little lake the lads had found, and, after portaging around a beaver dam, paddled down a narrow stream to the great bay.

None of the three had had anything to eat since the night before. The loss of the caribou meat was a serious matter, for, instead of pushing on rapidly as they wished to do, they must delay to hunt and fish. Among the reefs and islands of the bay, they succeeded in catching enough fish for a meal, and, landing on a small island, broiled their catch. Wishing to leave as few traces as possible for Le Forgeron to find, they gathered up the fish cleanings, and even the embers and ashes from the fire, and threw them into the lake. Then Etienne covered the spot where the ashes had been with dry earth and fallen leaves, so cleverly that no one would have suspected that a fire had ever been kindled there.

Taking to the canoe, the voyageurs started to go on with their journey, but, as they paddled out from the shelter of the small island, they discovered that the wind was blowing a gale from the west. By keeping close to shore and taking advantage of every bit of shelter that little islands and points afforded, they managed to make their way through the bay. When they rounded a long point at the southwestern end, however, they found the waves rolling so high and the black clouds coming up the sky so threateningly, that they did not dare to continue along an open and unprotected shore. They were obliged to turn back into the little subsidiary harbor they had just skirted, which cut into the land in a southwesterly direction at the end of the large bay.

In their anxiety to make speed, they would have tried to go on overland, but the storm broke before they had the canoe out of the water. In the heavy rain and boisterous wind, traveling over rough and unfamiliar ground, carrying the canoe was out of the question. They were forced to crawl under the upturned boat, and wait for the passing of the storm.

The storm was in no haste to pass over. It developed into one of those cold, driving, wind-lashed, autumn rains that may last any length of time, from hours to days. The weather-wise Etienne soon decided that farther travel that day, either by water or land, was out of the question. The three might as well make themselves as comfortable as they could. They had one consolation at least. The storm would delay Le Forgeron as well, if he had succeeded in getting on their track. If he had not found their trail before the rain began, he would not find it at all, for all the traces they had left would be completely washed out.

They did not attempt to build a shelter, but cut evergreen branches, shook the water from them, and covered the ground under the canoe. The driving rain prevented them from finding food. Not an animal or bird ventured forth, and fishing from the shore was without result. So the three went supperless. When their canoe had disappeared from the burning island, the one remaining blanket had gone with it, for the blankets, folded or rolled, were always carried in the canoe to kneel upon or lean against. So the campers had no cover that night but the damp spruce and balsam branches they burrowed into, in the attempt to keep warm. Jean was the worst off, for he did not even have a coat.

XXIX

NEAR STARVATION

The next morning was foggy, but the water was calm, so the voyageurs made an early start. As they had nothing to eat, they did not have to delay for breakfast. In the thick mist, navigation was difficult, however, even for the experienced Ojibwa. Disaster came quickly. They ran too close to an island that lay off the end of the point separating their camping ground from the open lake, struck upon a sharp, submerged rock, and tore a bad hole in the bottom of the canoe. The water came in so rapidly that, to reach shore, Ronald and the Indian had to put all their strength and speed into their paddling, while Jean bailed as fast as he could. It was fortunate that they were only a few hundred feet from the point, or they could not have gained it before the boat filled. They had no time to choose a landing place, and, striking the rocks, damaged the canoe still more.

The bark covering was so badly torn that mending it would take considerable time. So the three decided that breakfast was the first essential. While Ronald gathered fire-wood and Etienne attempted to coax a blaze from the wet materials, Jean looked for a place where he could fish from the shore. From a pool among the rocks, he dipped up some tiny fish that he could use for bait, but neither he nor Ronald succeeded in catching anything large enough to be eaten. Finally they breakfasted on two squirrels that Ronald brought down with stones, scanty fare indeed for three men who had fasted for nearly twenty-four hours.

After they had finished the last drop of the squirrel stew, the two boys decided to go back around the shore to the mouth of a stream they had noticed the day before. There they might be able to catch some brook trout, while Etienne was repairing the canoe.

Accordingly, the two lads scrambled along the rocky point, to the head of the narrow little bay where they had spent the night. They knew that the stream entered the lake at the upper end of another subsidiary bay, that lay parallel to the one where they were. Instead of going around the intervening point, they risked losing themselves in the fog, and struck off through the woods. After climbing a ridge, they came upon the stream they sought, running through a swampy valley. It was not a favorable place for trout, so they continued on down the brook to its mouth, around the end of the little bay, and along higher ground for about two miles, to another larger and more rapid stream, that discharged into the lake through a break between the ridges. The fog was so thick that the lads, had they not been guided by the ridge they traveled along, might easily have become lost and have failed to find the stream they were seeking. Indeed they had underestimated the distance, and had begun to fear they had missed the place, when they came suddenly to the edge of the ravine where the brown waters flowed swiftly down to the lake. The little trout were biting so eagerly that the fishermen soon had fine strings. These were primitive, uneducated trout that had never been fished for, and did not have to be lured with bright colored, artificial flies, but were ready to rise to minnows and even to bare hooks.

The fog was still dense when the boys, well laden with fish, started to make their way back to their camping place, but when they climbed out of the ravine, they found it was no longer a motionless curtain of mist that hung about them, but waves of moisture driven before a raw northeast wind. Before they reached the point where Etienne was at work on the canoe, the fog had turned to rain, cold, fine and mist-like.

"Northeaster coming," grunted the Indian, without even glancing at the strings of trout. "Find better place and make wigwam quick."

Hungry though they were, the three did not even wait to cook their fish, but, seizing the canoe, made speed back along the point to look for a sheltered camping spot. The northeast wind swept the whole length of the bay, and it was not until they reached thick woods at its head, that they found a good place. A bit of partly open ground surrounded by trees was hastily cleared and leveled, and a wigwam erected. Not until the hut was finished and a good supply of fire-wood cut and piled inside, did Nangotook allow the boys to even clean their fish. By that time the cold rain was coming down hard, and the wind was bending the tree tops. Within their bark shelter the three, wet, chilled and painfully hungry, sat around their little fire and waited impatiently for the fish to broil. It was well that the lads had brought back long strings, for to their hunger one little trout was scarcely more than a mouthful.

Nangotook's prophecy was correct. Another northeaster was upon them, not quite so violent as the one they had passed through a short time before, but even more long continued. Four days, the cold, driving storm of rain, wind, sleet and snow lasted, with never a long enough lull to let the waves, that dashed furiously the length of the big, open bay, subside so a canoe could be launched. It was a time of misery for the three wanderers. They had no blankets or furs for covering, but could only burrow down among evergreen branches to keep out the bitter cold. Jean did not even have a coat, and his shirt, like Ronald's, was worn and ragged. Neither boy had a change of clothing left. Their moccasins were in rags, and they had no deerskin to make new. Fuel was plenty, but hard to get in the icy storm, and slow to dry so it would burn well enough to give off anything but smoke.

Their greatest misery, however, was due to lack of food. If there were any animals in that part of Minong, they kept to their holes and dens. It was impossible to go out in the canoe, and fishing from the shore brought little result. Once when the storm lulled slightly, Nangotook and Ronald tried to reach the stream where the boys had caught the trout, but before they had fought their way through snow and wind for half a mile, the storm came on again with such violence that they were obliged to turn back. In the quieter intervals they sought for anything eatable that the woods near their wigwam afforded, digging through the frozen snow for roots, picking every nut and seed and dried berry that remained on the bushes, and even stripping the tender inner bark of willows and birches and chewing it. To ease his hunger, Nangotook smoked incessantly. He was out of tobacco, but used bearberry leaves and willow bark in his pipe. He spent most of his time, when compelled by the storm to remain within the lodge, making new bows and arrows and twisting stout cord from the inner bark of the white cedar to weave into a fishing net. In this work the boys joined him.

They attempted to forget their suffering in talk. Jean told all the strange French-Canadian tales and sang all the songs he could remember, from "Marlborough Has Gone to War,"

"Malbrouk se'n va-t-en guerre,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,"

a song brought from old France many years before, to the purely Canadian "Petit Rocher de la Haute Montagne."

The two lads had heard the latter song many times and were familiar with its story, but they had never felt the tragedy of it so strongly before. It is the death lament of the brave Cadieux, voyageur, trader and interpreter. Cadieux was living with his Algonquin wife and others of her tribe at the Portage of Sept-chutes, or Seven Falls, on the Ottawa River, when news arrived of the approach of a party of Iroquois. The Iroquois would certainly ambush the portage. The only way of escape lay through the rapids. Some one must draw the enemy into the woods and far enough away to give the refugees chance to escape by water unseen. Cadieux and a young Algonquin volunteered for the perilous service. Exposing themselves to view, they drew the Iroquois away from the river, while the rest of the little settlement ran the rapids and escaped. Cadieux and his Algonquin companion became separated, either by accident or design, and the Indian was killed. Three days and nights the Iroquois pursued the white man, who went without sleep all that time. In the meantime his wife and her companions reached safety. Days passed, and Cadieux did not rejoin them as he had agreed to. At last three men set out to seek for him. At Sept-chutes, near the Petit Rocher, or Little Rock, they found a lodge of branches, and beside it, lying in a shallow trench with a cross at its head, the wasted body of Cadieux. On his breast, under his folded hands, was a sheet of birch bark covered with writing, the words, according to tradition, of his death lament. He had become lost in his wanderings and had returned to his starting place, where he had died of exhaustion and starvation.

Suffering from cold and hunger, huddled around the fire in their little wigwam, the wind roaring through the trees overhead, and the snow and sleet beating upon the bark, the lads realized as never before the tragedy of Cadieux's fate. Unless the storm ceased soon and they found food promptly, they, too, might perish in the wilderness far from human aid. It was no wonder that Jean's voice, hoarse from cold and weak from hunger, trembled as he sang the closing lines.

"Ces done ici que le mond m'abandonne,
Mais j'ai secours en vous, Sauveur des hommes!
Tres-Sainte Vierge, ah, m'abandonnez pas,
Permettez-moi d'mourir entre vos bras!"

"Here all alone the world abandons me,
In the Saviour of men may my help still be!
Most blessed Virgin, let me not forsaken lie,
But clasped in thine arms, oh allow me to die!"

XXX

THE END OF THE TWISTED BLACKSMITH

Somewhat to the boys' surprise, Nangotook showed no signs, during all those days of suffering, of the sullen moroseness that had characterized his behavior in former periods of misfortune. The Ojibwa was no physical coward, and now that his companions had ceased to defy the spirits of the lake and had turned towards home, he displayed no more fear or hesitation. He was unusually talkative and cheerful, and helped to pass the long hours by relating the interesting experiences of his varied and adventurous life and all the Ojibwa tales and myths he knew, many of them devoted to the adventures and mishaps of the great Nanabozho.

The three made use of every device they could think of to keep up their spirits, but when, at last, the sleet and snow ceased, and morning dawned clear and bright, the two lads were weak with hunger, and Ronald, though more heavily dressed than Jean, had a racking cough that shook him from head to foot. Nangotook showed the effects of privation less than the other two, though he had scarcely eaten his share of the scanty food they had been able to collect.

The wind still blew a gale, a bitterly cold gale from the north, and even the little bay was too rough for travel. Icy snow lay several inches deep in the woods and loaded the evergreens. All that day the three searched the woods and ridges for game, but obtained nothing but a squirrel and two blue jays. There was little indeed to the jays, once their feathers were off. Nangotook put them into the bark pot with the squirrel, and added a handful of hazelnuts and some tubers he had dug, which he called "bear potatoes." The resulting broth was hot and comforting, if not a very nourishing meal for three starved men.

All the next day the wind continued to blow so hard that the canoe could not be launched or the net set, but Nangotook and Jean went through the woods and over the ridges to the trout stream, and caught good strings of fish. The soup of the night before had made Ronald, in his half starved condition, ill, and he was so weak and coughed so hard that the Indian bade him remain in camp and keep warm and dry.

In spite of the cold wind, the snow had melted rapidly where the sun reached it, and had softened in the woods. By that night the rocks and open places were bare again. The hunters scanned the softened snow eagerly for tracks, but found no signs of hare or caribou, nothing but a few squirrel prints.

All three slept soundly that night, after their meal of broiled trout. By morning the wind had gone down and the waves had subsided so that the canoe could be launched. The voyageurs put out from shore at once. After setting their net in a favorable place, they tried line fishing. While paddling around a group of three small islands that lay in a direct line with the point, they caught two good lake trout. They promptly decided to go ashore, and have breakfast at once. So many rocks sprinkled the water about the islands that they were difficult to approach. A safe landing was made, however, on a shelving rock beach, near an upright heap of boulders with bushes projecting from cracks and crannies.

While Jean was cleaning the fish, Etienne and Ronald, seeking for fire-wood, rounded the heap of rocks, and came suddenly on the remains of a camp. Branches slanted against the rock formed a rude shelter, and near it were the ashes of a fire. Glancing down at the blackened embers, Ronald touched with the toe of his moccasin a charred bone.

"Those fellows had more meat than we've seen lately," he said. "They must have killed a caribou."

The Indian was staring down at the bone. He stooped and picked it up, examined it a moment, and then held it out to Ronald.

"No addick ever had bone like that," he said.

"What was it then, a moose?" asked the boy, holding out his hand for it. As he looked at it, his expression of curiosity changed to horror. He glanced up at Nangotook, and saw his own feelings reflected on the Ojibwa's face. "The leg bone of a man," the lad said chokingly.

Nangotook nodded, then glanced behind him swiftly, as if expecting to see some evil thing creeping up on him. "Windigo," he said significantly. It was the name for the mythical, man-eating giants that figure in Ojibwa and other Algonquian legends, a name the Indians have extended to apply to all cannibals or men driven by starvation to feed on other human beings.

There was no mistaking the fact. Among the ashes and strewn about on the ground were other bones that told the story only too plainly. Moreover the deed was a recent one, for the fire had been burning in that spot since the storm cleared, and the charred bones had not lain there long. It was easy enough to see how the tragedy had occurred. A canoe had been cast upon the barren island by the storm, or had run against it in the fog that preceded. There was nothing on the island to eat. Even fuel had been scarce, for only the stumps of the few trees remained and most of the bushes had been cut. One of the men had died, or perhaps another one, crazed with hunger and misery, had murdered him, and the unfortunate had been cooked and eaten.

The horror of the place destroyed the lads' appetite, and they were in haste to get away, but Nangotook was not ready to leave until he had examined the little rock island from end to end. He may have expected to find the cannibal in hiding somewhere. He did not find the guilty man, but he found further traces of him and of his victim. When the Ojibwa rejoined the boys, who, feeling no desire to see more of the island, had remained near the spot where they had landed, his face wore a look of disgust and loathing such as they had never seen there before. He had identified the victim of the cannibal feast.

"Cree killed Awishtoya and ate him," he announced positively.

"Awishtoya, Le Forgeron," cried Jean. "How do you know it was Le Forgeron?"

"Found his head."

"His head?" gasped both boys.

Nangotook nodded. "Not dead long, only two or three days," he added. "Found some of his clothes too, all soaked with blood. Cree killed him with knife. Windigo. Have to watch out for him now." The Ojibwa shared the belief common among his people that a man who had once tasted human flesh acquired a desire for it, and would never be satisfied with anything else. Such men were considered to be only partly human, in league with evil spirits. They were outlaws, to be feared and abhorred and killed on sight, like the deadliest snake or the most dangerous of wild beasts.

Sickened at what they had discovered, the two boys were glad to get away from the ill-omened place. Le Forgeron Tordu was an evil man and their enemy. They knew that he would not have hesitated to destroy them in the most brutal manner, and they could not honestly feel sorrow that he was dead. But the manner of his death had shocked and nauseated them. Not to the worst man on earth could they have wished such a fate. Even stronger was their feeling of horror at the Indian who had done the thing. Nangotook had said that Le Forgeron abused the Cree. Evidently the latter had turned at last and had avenged himself. He had not struck in mere self-defense, however, for the blood-soaked shirt Nangotook had found proved that the Frenchman had been stabbed in the back.

The Ojibwa was deeply concerned over the escape of the murderer. He must have gone away by water, so it was evident that he still had a canoe, probably the one Le Forgeron had stolen from Jean and Ronald, when he set fire to the woods. Apparently then it had not been the loss of their boat, but merely the fury of the storm that had held him and his master prisoners on the little island. If, however, they had been so near to starvation as the Cree's deed seemed to prove, they must in some way have lost both the caribou meat the Blacksmith had taken from the boys' cache, and the remainder of their own stock of provisions. Probably they had run on the rocky island in the fog, or had been dashed ashore by the wind, and had lost their provisions and equipment in the wreck, though managing to save their canoe. There was no evidence that they had built a new one. Indeed the stumps of the trees they had cut indicated that no materials fit for canoe making grew on the island.

At any rate the Cree had escaped in some way, and might be at that moment lying in wait for the others on the shores of the bay or on one of the islands. They must keep a close lookout for him. The boys, as well as Nangotook, fully believed that, having once eaten human flesh, the Cree would, as all such Windigos were supposed to do, hunger for more. They devoutly hoped that he had no gun. Had it not been for the fear that he might be well armed, they would have searched the shores and islands for him, but he would surely have the advantage, as they must approach his hiding place by water, while he could lie concealed. If he had a gun, he could easily shoot them from cover. So they decided to waste no time on what would probably be a fruitless, if not a fatal, search, but to take advantage of the good weather to go on as rapidly as possible. Very likely he had left the neighborhood. They might overtake him, and if they did, a Windigo could expect no mercy from them.

They delayed only long enough to cook and eat their fish and to take up their net. Before their gruesome discovery, they had intended to remain at the bay to hunt and fish until the next morning, but so far they had found the place lacking in game. They would go on along shore as far as they could that day, and perhaps they might reach a better hunting ground. At least they would get away from the spot where they had suffered so much. It had acquired an added horror from the hideous tragedy on the little island.

XXXI

THE WINDIGO

The weather favored the voyageurs that day, and they were able to make good time for about twenty miles to a little cove, the mouth of a stream. There they landed to eat a supper of the fish they had caught on the way. The boys felt greatly encouraged when Etienne told them they had almost reached the southern end of Minong. Two or three hours more travel would bring them to a smaller island lying off the end of the large one. From there, he said, the weather favoring them, they could steer a straight course for the northwest shore of the lake and soon reach the Grande Portage. Deeply disappointed though the lads were at not finding the riches they had endured so much to gain, they felt a great sense of relief at the thought that their perilous journey was so near its end.

By the time they had reached the cove, the boys, who had only partly recovered from starvation and suffering, were very tired. After their supper of fish, they were glad to creep into a pile of balsam branches under the canoe and fall asleep immediately. But the night was cold and they had no cover but the branches. Several times one of the three had to crawl out, chilled and stiff, to replenish the fire that burned close to the raised side of the canoe. Usually it was the Indian who took this task upon himself, for he slept lightly and little, ready to spring up at the slightest unusual sound. He did not intend that the Windigo should creep on their camp without his knowing it.

Just as the stars were fading with the dawn, Nangotook was awakened suddenly. He lay still and listened. From up the river came faint sounds, the cracking of twigs, the rustling of branches. Noiselessly the Indian crept from under the canoe, listened a moment, and then made his way cautiously in the direction of the sounds. There was a splash in the stream. In the faint light he could see a black bulk against the water. Nearer and nearer he crept, until the dark form began to move slowly towards the opposite bank. Then, knowing he would get no better chance for a shot, Nangotook let fly an arrow, and then a second and a third in quick succession. Every arrow hit the mark, the black bulk plunged forward, wavered and fell sidewise with a great splash. The hunter sprang into the stream. Luckily the water, where the beast had fallen, was shallow, and Nangotook soon had his game, a full grown caribou, ashore. Here was meat in plenty for days to come.

He dragged the caribou back to camp and placed it near the fire. The boys were sleeping so soundly that his coming did not wake them, and he crept under the canoe without disturbing them. He did not sleep any more after that, but kept his eye on the meat. Once he heard the pad of soft feet beyond the fire, and rose to send an arrow towards a pair of gleaming eyes. He missed his aim, and the lynx slipped away in the darkness and did not return.

The boys were surprised and delighted when they saw the result of Etienne's night hunting, but they were also a little chagrined when they realized that they had slept so soundly and carelessly that they had known nothing of what was going on. The day was too windy to permit the voyageurs to start out across the open lake for the northwest shore. They might have continued along the coast of Minong, but, as they had such a short distance to go in that direction, they decided to camp where they were until the caribou meat was dried. The spot was a favorable one, and they might not find another so good. Moreover there might be other game in the neighborhood, and there were certainly fish in the stream and off the rocks at its mouth. The net they had set the night before yielded a good catch of whitefish. It was the caribou meat that tasted best to the boys, however, and put new strength and spirit into them. The gruesome tragedy they had found traces of the day before seemed like a bad dream.

The day, which was bright and pleasant, though windy, was spent in drying the meat, curing the hide, fishing and hunting. The three proposed to collect as large a supply of food as possible. Bad weather might come again at any moment, and they did not intend to be caught in another storm without plenty of food to last them through.

In a marshy place the boys came upon a great flock of wild geese, that had paused, on their way south, to feed. The birds took alarm at once, and, with great flapping of wings and excited honks, followed their leader into the air and away, but Jean succeeded in hitting one as it left the water. He had to wade out into the cold mud and water to his waist to secure the bird, but it was a welcome feast to the three that night. The southward flight of the geese was, however, another reminder of the approach of winter. Nekah, the goose, knew what he was about, said the Ojibwa.

The following morning the voyageurs left the little cove. The south wind was strong enough to make crossing the lake dangerous, but they could go on along shore with little difficulty. They could at least reach the island which Nangotook said lay off a bay at the southern end of Minong. From there the Ojibwa intended, as soon as the weather would permit, to steer directly for the lake shore.

The travelers had rounded the end of Minong, when they came in sight of a canoe at some distance across the water. It held only one man, and they were too far away to make out anything about him, except that he did not wear the scarlet cap of the Canadian voyageur. Was it the Windigo? The boys felt a thrill of excitement, not unmingled with dread. Whether he had seen them or not they could not tell, but they followed as rapidly as they could make the canoe fly over the water. The lone traveler was making for some islands ahead. He passed into a channel between two of them and disappeared.

Without any orders from Nangotook in the bow, Ronald, who was in the stem, steered in the same direction. He wanted to find out if the man ahead was really the Cree murderer. He suspected that Nangotook was ready to kill the Windigo on sight That was the Indian way with such outlaws. Certainly the boy was not inclined to show any mercy to an Indian who had killed and eaten a white man. If he had merely killed the Frenchman,--well, Le Forgeron probably deserved death, and a private quarrel between him and his companion was the business of no one else, Ronald thought, but the evidence seemed to prove that the Cree had treacherously stabbed the white man in the back, for the purpose of eating him. For such hideous crime there could be no excuse, not even starvation, and no mercy for the criminal. That was the code of the Indian, the voyageur and the forest runner.

The pursuers passed through the channel between the two islands, and came out in view of others, large and small. Instantly Nangotook's keen eyes caught sight of something on one of the little islands that caused him to utter a short grunt, raise his paddle from the water, and gaze intently. Noting his apparent surprise, the boys' eyes followed the direction of his gaze. From a bare tree on that little island something white was fluttering. It was not a gull roosting. It was too large, and too white, and it fluttered and waved in the wind. It was a white rag, a signal of some kind, a flag of distress.