Large 12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE SECRET CACHE
SOUTH FROM HUDSON BAY
THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS
Copyright, 1932, by
Cupples & Leon Company
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
Copyright, 1932, by
Cupples & Leon Company
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
[I The New Land] 9 [II Fort York] 14 [III The Selkirk Colony and the Rival Fur Traders] 24 [IV The Start from Fort York] 32 [V The Black Murray] 39 [VI Toiling Up Stream] 45 [VII Norway House] 53 [VIII The Missing Pemmican] 61 [IX Hunger and Cold] 67 [X The Red River at Last] 74 [XI Fort Douglas] 81 [XII By Cart Train to Pembina] 89 [XIII The Red-Headed Scotch Boy] 97 [XIV Pembina] 108 [XV The Ojibwa Hunter] 118 [XVI Letters from Fort Douglas] 124 [XVII Christmas at Pembina] 134 [XVIII Mirage of the Prairie] 140 [XIX Blizzard] 147 [XX A Night Attack] 154 [XXI The Burned Cabin] 161 [XXII The Painted Buffalo Skull] 167 [XXIII Unwelcome Visitors] 176 [XXIV A Sore Hand] 186 [XXV The Travelers without Snowshoes] 193 [XXVI Elise’s Story] 200 [XXVII Why the Periers Came to Pembina] 207 [XXVIII The Land to the South] 214 [XXIX The Coming of the Sioux] 225 [XXX With the Buffalo Hunters] 231 [XXXI The Charging Buffalo] 239 [XXXII To the Sheyenne River] 245 [XXXIII A Lonely Camp] 253 [XXXIV Danger] 261 [XXXV In the Chief’s Tipi] 270 [XXXVI The White Trader] 280 [XXXVII Flight] 289 [XXXVIII The Fight at the Bois des Sioux] 299 [XXXIX Safe] 309 [XL Conclusion] 316
I
THE NEW LAND
Before Walter Rossel was wholly awake, even before he opened his eyes, he realized that the ship was unusually quiet. There was only a slight rolling motion from side to side, a dead roll. Was she caught in the ice again, or had she reached Fort York at last? Could it be that the long voyage was really over? Walter hurried into the few clothes he had taken off, and ran up on deck, hoping to see land close by.
He was disappointed. He could see nothing but gray water, a line of white where waves were breaking on a long bar, and the dim, shadowy forms of the other ships, hulls, masts, and spars veiled in dense fog. There was no ice in sight, yet all three vessels were riding at anchor.
Eagerly the boy turned to a sailor who was scrubbing the deck. Walter’s native tongue was French, but he had picked up a little English during the voyage, enough to ask why the ships were at anchor, and to understand part of the man’s reply. They had crossed the bar in the night, the sailor said, and were lying in the shallow water of York Flats. Over there to the south, hidden in the fog, was the shore.