“That may be true,” Ronald answered. “At any rate we must find out. If we can get on the track of the Blacksmith we may discover what has become of Etienne. I have little hope that he still lives, but at least we may find out how he died. We can’t be leaving this place to make our way to the Grande Portage while there’s any chance that he may return. Yet if we do not go soon, winter may catch us and hold us prisoner.”
Jean nodded gravely. “We cannot rest till we find out what that red thing is,” he said. “But if it is Le Forgeron’s toque, it would not be wise to approach too closely now. We will go back to our camp again, as if we had noticed nothing, and after darkness comes, we will paddle across to that place and look for what we may find.”
Ronald agreed at once. Not to excite suspicion if any one was watching from the island, they went on a little farther before turning, then paddled slowly back, as if their whole attention were devoted to their fishing.
After darkness had come, the two lads embarked again, made their way out among the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and paddled towards the island. They wielded their blades silently, but darted as rapidly as they could across the open water. In spite of the fact that the moon had not yet risen, they were afraid their canoe could be seen by any keen-eyed person who might be looking that way. As they approached the island, they watched closely for the gleam of a camp-fire or for any sign of life, but no light glowed through the trees that clothed the central part of the rock island, and no movement was visible. Drawing near to land, the boys slowed their stroke and crept quietly along shore, searching the shadows for a landing place. A little cove in the rocks appeared to be a likely place, and, running in, they found a bit of pebble beach where they succeeded in making a safe landing. They concealed the canoe in a cleft of the rocks, where the shadows lay black, and then started to reconnoiter.
Cautiously and noiselessly they climbed the rocks to the patch of woods. An owl flew out on silent wings, and sailed down so close to Ronald’s head that it startled him for a moment. No sound, but the rustling of evergreen needles in the light breeze and the low rippling of the water in the crannies of the rock shore below, disturbed the utter stillness. With the exception of the ghostly owl, there seemed to be no life whatever on the island.
In the darkness of the trees and bushes, they had to proceed very carefully. They did not attempt to go through the center of the wooded patch, but made their way along its edge, on the alert every moment for some sign of a camp. So cautiously did they move, stopping every few paces to listen and peer into the shadows, that it took them a long time to go the short distance to the southern end of the island, and before they reached it, the moon had risen and was lighting up the bare rocks and the water beyond.
So far the two had come upon no traces of either man or beast, but there, in the moonlight, Jean discovered a bent and broken serviceberry bush, where something, man or animal, had pushed through. He dropped on his knees to look for tracks, but could find no trace of footprints in the thin soil that only partly covered the rock. As he rose to his feet, he sniffed the air like an animal that catches a scent.
“Smoke,” he whispered to Ronald.
Ronald, who had been examining a patch of moss at his feet, trying to make out whether it had been trodden on or not, turned his head in the direction of the wind and sniffed also. “Yes,” he whispered back, “some one has a fire over there in the woods. We must be finding out about it.” And stepping in front of Jean, he pushed through the bushes.
As the two made their way among the trees, going very cautiously over the rough ground, where broken rocks, cropping out everywhere and hidden in the shadow of the stunted and twisted spruces, made progress difficult, the smell of smoke came more and more strongly to their nostrils. Though as yet they could not see it, the camp-fire must be close at hand, they thought, and they went carefully that no sound might betray their presence. A faint, crackling noise reached their ears. It grew rapidly louder. Gleams of red appeared through the tree trunks ahead. Ronald stopped short, stared a moment, then turned to Jean, who had come up to him.