Etienne had almost convinced the boys that the island to the northwest was the one where they had been wind-bound. Nevertheless they were anxious to reach it, for they had resolved to strike out from there to east and north, in one more effort to find the land of golden sands. But the spirits of the lake were still against them, and four days longer they were held prisoner on the end of Minong. During most of the time the open lake was very rough. Traveling several miles across it, against a head or side wind, was far too perilous to be attempted in so frail a craft as a bark canoe. Only once for a few hours did the wind swing to a more favorable quarter, the south, and then it brought thick mist followed by fine, cold rain, almost as blinding as the fog. A strong west wind dispersed rain and mist and blew away the clouds, but made crossing as dangerous as ever.
Impatient as the treasure-seekers were during all that time, they could do nothing but make the best of the delay. They camped on the small island, where no enemy could approach under cover, and continued their search for Le Forgeron Tordu. Climbing to the top of the high ridge, they looked down another long bay, parallel with the two they were familiar with, and to wooded land and other stretches of water beyond. They were determined to explore that bay, but the strong wind and dangerous, outlying reefs made rounding the long point out of the question. So they were obliged to carry the canoe up the ridge, a hard and laborious portage, and with much difficulty take it down the steep north side. They caught a good supply of fish in that third bay, and found slight signs on two of the islands that human beings might have been there not many days before. But there were no clear tracks they could identify as those of the lame Frenchman. On the farther shore of the bay, near its head, they thought they had come upon a trail, but soon made up their minds that it was only the old track of some wild animal.
Wishing to save their dried meat for emergencies, they made every effort to obtain enough fresh meat and fish to sustain them. As only three rounds of ammunition remained for the one gun, Nangotook spent part of his time making bows and arrows for himself and Jean, leaving the gun to Ronald, who could be trusted not to waste his powder. The Ojibwa strung his bow with twisted caribou sinew, braided at the ends. The arrow shafts he made of serviceberry wood, straightening them by drawing them through a hole he had bored in a piece of bone. Some of the arrows, with points of wood hardened in the fire, were intended for shooting birds and squirrels. Others had heads of bone or chipped stone, let into a slit or groove in the end of the shaft and bound tight with soaked sinew, which contracted when dry. Nangotook insisted that the feathers used must be those of a bird of prey, or else the arrows would not be sufficiently deadly. Coming one day upon several hawks, which circled within easy range, as they prepared to dart down on a flock of migrating small birds that had paused to rest and feed among the alders, Ronald sacrificed one of his precious charges of ammunition to bring down one of the marauders. With hawk feathers, carefully cut and placed to give just the right weight and balance, Nangotook feathered his arrows. When he had constructed two bark quivers, the primitive hunting equipment was ready.
The Ojibwa demonstrated the use of the new weapon by shooting a squirrel and a gull in quick succession, and the boys, admiring his skill, at once set to work to practice with the other bow. Ronald, who was proud of his marksmanship, was chagrined to find that not only Nangotook but Jean could easily outshoot him both in range and accuracy. In his childhood the French lad had played with bows and arrows made by Nangotook, who had taught him how to use them, while to Ronald the weapon was entirely new.
The hide of the caribou was cured and dressed, and part of it made into new moccasins to replace the wanderers’ worn and ragged ones. From a bone that he had saved for the purpose, Nangotook also made, with much labor, a knife such as his ancestors must have used before the white men brought them steel and iron. Ronald’s knife had been lost or taken from him when he fell over the cliff, and the Indian insisted that the lad take his. He could use the bone one just as well, he said, and when Ronald hesitated to accept the gift, showed such plain signs of offense, that the boy hastened to take it to make amends. He guessed that this was Nangotook’s way of expressing gratitude for his rescue from drowning.
[XX]
THE NORTHEASTER
Late in the afternoon of the fourth day after the gold-seekers had reached the long point, the wind went down, and by an hour after sunset the waves had subsided enough to make crossing to the island to the northeast possible. So the three set out immediately, and made the traverse safely. Though twilight was deepening to darkness when they drew near the land, they had no difficulty in recognizing the place. It was not their Island of Golden Sands. To find that they must go farther north and east. It would have been useless to begin their search just then, however, for clouds were gathering and the night promised to be a black one. That they might camp nearer the northern end, that was to be their starting point, they paddled along the southeast shore of the island to the sand beach beyond the landlocked bay.
Before midnight they were awakened by a rain storm. With that storm began a period of almost heart-breaking waiting, that roused in the Indian the most gloomy fears, well-nigh discouraged Jean, and would have had the same effect on Ronald had he not clung with determined stubbornness to his purpose. There were times during the week of delay, when even he was almost ready to give up, but he kept his wavering to himself, insisting always that they must make one more attempt to find the golden sands. Not all of the weather that hindered them was of a kind the boys would ordinarily have called unpleasant. Most of the days were bright, but the wind blew incessantly, now from one point, now from another, but always so strongly that to start off into the open lake would have been the utmost folly. All the voyageurs’ strength and skill must have been spent in keeping the canoe from swamping, and, even if they had escaped drowning, they could have made almost no headway towards north and east.
They were anxious to save their precious caribou meat, so they made every effort to trap and shoot hares and squirrels, and to catch fish, but their luck was poor. Either there were very few of the little animals on the island or they had become exceedingly shy, for during the whole week but one hare and three squirrels were taken. The wind blew so hard that fishing was possible only in the bay or on the lee side of the island. From the inner bark of the cedar, softened by soaking, Etienne and the boys laboriously rolled and twisted enough tough cord for a small net, and by setting this at night and taking it up in the morning, they managed to get a few lake herring. But the catches, even with the net, were scanty, and the best efforts of the three were not sufficient to supply them with enough game and fish to keep them nourished. They were forced to eat so much of the dried caribou meat that their supply disappeared alarmingly.