“A bay,” exclaimed Jean, “who would have looked for one here?”
“It looks more like a lake,” Ronald replied. “The water is brownish like the little streams we’ve seen, and there is no opening in sight.”
Jean shook his head. “Just because we cannot see an opening is no sign that there is none,” he said. “Shores that look continuous are not always so, as you well know. Unless we have reached the mainland, this must be a landlocked bay. It is surely too large for a lake within an island.”
“It looks to me as if we had reached the mainland,” Ronald answered. “See how high the land towers beyond this lake or bay. If this is an island it must be Minong or Philippeau, and our Island of Yellow Sands lies far to the east. Let us go back for the canoe and cross this lake or skirt its shores. We have time enough before darkness comes.”
[XVII]
A CARIBOU HUNT
From the outer shore to the interior bay or lake was not what voyageurs would call a hard portage, for the distance was less than half a mile and the ground not very irregular, the hills and ridges being low. Nangotook and Jean bore the light canoe on their heads, while Ronald went first to clear the way. The woods of spruce, balsam and birch were open enough in many places to allow the canoe to go through easily. Where the growth was more dense, a few strokes of Ronald’s ax disposed of the branches that hindered progress. On the higher ground were open rock spaces, while in the depressions grew thick patches of alders, hazels, red osier dogwood, ground pine and the fern-like yew or ground hemlock. On the red berries of the yew flocks of white-throated sparrows were feeding, their brightly striped heads conspicuous among the green.
The shore where the explorers launched the canoe was rocky, but overgrown with small plants and bushes. They paddled northeast at first, seeking for an opening. Finding the body of water landlocked on the east and north, they continued on around. The south shore was rather low, but the north was of a different character. A narrow beach was bordered by an irregular ridge of boulders and fragments of rock, which looked as if it might have been pushed up by waves or ice. The beach was composed principally of pebbles and rock fragments, and there was no indication of yellow sands. The sun was sinking when the three reached a spot opposite the place where they had embarked, and they went on only far enough to make sure that there was no chance of golden sands in that direction. By the time they had crossed to the southern shore, they were very sure they were on a lake, not a bay. The southwestern end appeared to be much narrower than the northeastern and gave no indication of any opening larger than might be made by a small stream flowing in or out. They had passed the mouths of several such brooks.
As they neared the shore, they noticed, a little distance away, three loons, an old one and two young, swimming and diving. Just as the boys were carrying up the canoe, the old bird rose with a great flapping of wings and spatting of the water with its feet. Its wild, long drawn cry rang out like a derisive laugh. “A-hah-weh mocks us,” said the Indian.
There were jays and woodpeckers in the woods, but the loons were the only birds the explorers had seen on the lake, though they had kept a lookout for ducks. They had caught a good string of little fish, however, a kind of perch. While Etienne and Ronald carried the canoe back over the portage, Jean tried his luck in a small stream that issued from the lake, near where they had first reached its shores, and emptied into the big lake not far from their camp. He soon had half a dozen brook trout. On his way back he found a squirrel caught in one of the snares. So the campers had both fish and meat, a very little meat, for their evening meal.