Chapter XXI: The Grinning Indian

When Hugh passed out of the narrow channel into the wider one, he ran his eyes searchingly along the opposite shore, alert for any signs of human beings. Then he looked to the right and left, up and down the channel and the shores of the small islands. He saw nothing to cause him apprehension. Putting more strength into his paddle strokes, he crossed as quickly as he could, and ran the bateau in beside a leaning cedar tree with branches that swept the water. The bow touched the shore, and Hugh climbed out and made the boat fast. He felt sure it would be concealed from down channel by the thick foliage of the cedar. From up channel the bateau was not so well hidden, but this place seemed to be the only spot that offered any concealment whatever, so he was forced to be content. He would not be gone long anyway, and he was well satisfied that Ohrante and his band would not return soon to the Bay of Manitos.

This was by no means the first time Hugh had been through untracked woods and over rough ground, yet he found the trip to the ridge top longer and more difficult than he had expected. The growth, principally of evergreens, was dense and often troublesome to push through. The bedrock, a few feet from shore, was covered deeply with soft leaf mould and decayed wood and litter, forming a treacherous footing. Sometimes he found it firm beneath his feet, again he would sink half-way to his knees. Wherever a tree had fallen, lightening the dense shade, tangles of ground yew had sprung up. The rise on this side of the point was gradual compared with the abrupt cliffs of the northwest side, but the slope proved to be, not an unbroken grade, but an irregular succession of low ridges with shallow gullies between. By the general upward trend, occasional glimpses of the water behind him, and the angle at which the sunlight came through the trees, Hugh kept his main direction, going in as straight a line as he could. Under ordinary circumstances he would have used his hatchet to blaze his way, so that he might be sure of returning by the same route, but he hesitated to leave so plain a trail. It was not likely that Ohrante would come across the track, but Hugh was taking no chances. If the giant Iroquois should come down the channel and find the bateau, a blazed trail into the woods would make pursuit altogether too easy. Though he was in too great a hurry to take any particular care to avoid leaving footprints, Hugh did not mark his trail intentionally and even refrained from cutting his way through the thick places. The whole distance from the shore to the summit of the highest ridge probably did not exceed a mile, and did not actually take as long as it seemed in the climbing.

He hoped that he might come out in a bare spot where he could see across the water, but he was disappointed. The ridge was almost flat topped and trees cut off his view in every direction. Going on across the summit, however, he pushed his way among the growth, to find himself standing on the very rim of an almost vertical descent. He looked directly down upon the tops of the sturdy trees and shrubs that clung to the rock by thrusting their roots far into holes and crannies. Beyond stretched the lake, rich blue under a clear sky. A little to his left, a projecting block of rock a few feet below offered a chance for a better view. He let himself down on the rock and took an observation. The lake was not too rough to venture out upon, when the need of crossing was so great. He noted with satisfaction that the breeze was only moderate. The direction, a little east of north, was not unfavorable for reaching the mainland, though steering a straight course for the Kaministikwia would be impossible.

Hugh turned to climb back the way he had come down. He gave a gasp, almost lost his footing, and seized a sturdy juniper root to keep himself from falling. Directly above him, on the verge of the ridge, stood a strange man, from his features, dark skin and long black hair evidently an Indian,—but not Ohrante. It flashed through Hugh’s mind that on level ground he might be a match for this fellow. They were not on level ground though. The Indian had the advantage of position. Moreover Hugh’s only arms were the hatchet and knife in his belt. The Indian carried a musket ready in his hand. That he realized to the full his advantage was proved by the malicious grin on his bronze face. There was no friendliness in that grin, only malevolence and vindictiveness.

Hugh knew himself to be in a bad position. Probably the Indian was one of Ohrante’s followers, and they were a wild crew, outlaws and renegades, their hand against every man and every man’s hand against them. The picture of the prisoner being tortured in the firelight crossed the boy’s mind in a vivid flash, and a shudder crept up his back. Then the grin on the Indian’s face sent a wave of anger over Hugh that steadied him. He must be cool at all costs and not show fear.

Moving a step, to a more secure footing, he looked the fellow straight in the eyes. “Bo jou,” Hugh said, using the corruption of the French “Bon jour” common among traders and Indians.

“Bo jou, white man,” the other replied in French.

Both were silent for a moment. Hugh did not know what to say next and the Indian seemed content to say nothing. Suddenly Hugh made up his mind, resolving on a bold course.

“What is this place?” he asked. “Is it island or mainland?”

“Ne compr’ney,” was the only answer.

Hugh took the phrase to be an attempt to say that the other did not understand. He repeated his questions in French, then tried English, but the Indian merely stared at him, the sardonic grin still distorting his lips, and replied in the same manner. Either he really did not understand, the two French phrases being all the white man’s speech he knew, or he did not wish to talk. Yet Hugh made another attempt at conversation.

“I was driven here in the storm last night,” he volunteered, “and my canoe wrecked and my companion drowned. We were on our way down shore from the New Fort with our winter supplies, but they are all lost. What is this place? I never saw it before and I do not like it. This morning I heard strange sounds, unlike any I ever heard made by man or animal. The devil was at large I think,” and he crossed himself in the French manner.

During the speech Hugh had kept his eyes closely fixed on the Indian’s face. He thought when he mentioned the strange sounds that he detected a quiver of interest, but it was gone in an instant. The fellow merely repeated his singsong “Ne compr’ney.” There was no use saying more. Determined not to show that he expected or feared any violence, Hugh started to climb up the projecting rock. Somewhat to the boy’s surprise, the Indian made no move to stop him. However, he kept his gun ready for instant use.

After gaining the top Hugh was in a quandary how to proceed. He did not believe the man’s intentions were friendly. Would it be wise to strike first? At the thought, his hand, almost unconsciously, sought his knife. Before he could grasp the handle, the Indian made a swift movement, and the end of the musket barrel rested against Hugh’s chest. The flint-lock musket was primed and cocked, ready to fire. Resistance was useless. Hugh stood motionless, looked the fellow in the eye and feigned anger.

“What do you mean?” he cried, trying to make his meaning plain by his voice and manner even though his captor could not understand the words. “What do you mean by threatening me, a white man, with your musket?”

The gun was moved back a trifle, but the bronze face continued to grin maliciously. To show that he was not afraid, Hugh took a step forward, and opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were not uttered. As his weight shifted to his forward foot, he was seized from behind, and thrown sidewise, his head crashing against the trunk of a tree.