The Secret Cache: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

by Ethel C. Brill

Before starting back the way they had come, the brothers had to have provisions. Early the next morning they went up the St. Louis River. Beyond the bar the river widened to two miles or more. In midstream the current was strong, but Hugh steered into the more sluggish water just outside the lily pads, reeds and grass of the low shore. About three miles above the mouth, a village of bark lodges was passed, where sharp-nosed dogs ran out to yelp and growl at the canoe.

A short distance beyond the Indian village stood the log fort and trading post of the Old Northwest Company’s Fond du Lac station, one of several posts that were still maintained in United States territory. The two boys landed and attempted to buy provisions. Blaise was not known to the clerk in charge, and Hugh, when asked, gave his middle name of MacNair. Jean Beaupré had passed this post on his way down the river, and the lads did not know what conversation or controversy he might have had with the Old Company’s men. So they thought it wise to say nothing of their relationship to the elder Beaupré. Brought up to be truthful and straightforward, Hugh found it difficult to evade the clerk’s questions. The older boy left most of the talking to the younger, who had his share of the Indian’s wiliness and secretiveness. Blaise saw nothing wrong in deceiving enemies and strangers in any way he found convenient. To Hugh, brother and comrade, Blaise would have scorned to lie, but he did not scruple to let the Northwest Company’s man think that he and Hugh were on their way from the south shore to the Kaministikwia in the hope of taking service with the Old Company.

The post could spare but little in the way of provisions. Less than a half bushel of hulled corn, a few pounds of wild rice, left from the supply brought the preceding autumn from the south shore, and a very small piece of salt pork were all the clerk could be persuaded to part with. As they were leaving he gave the boys a friendly warning.

“Watch out,” he said, “for an Iroquois villain and his band. They are reported to be lingering along the north shore and they are a bad lot. He used to be a hunter for the company, but he murdered a white man and is an outcast now, a fugitive from justice. The rascal is called Ohrante. If you catch sight of a huge giant of an Indian, lie low and get out of his way as soon and as fast as you can.”

On the way back to the river mouth, the lads stopped at the Indian village. After much bargaining in Ojibwa, Blaise secured a strip of dried venison, as hard as a board, and a bark basket of sugar. To these people the lad spoke of the warning the clerk had given him, but they could tell him no more of the movements of Ohrante than he already knew.

The brothers were glad to get away from the Indian encampment and out on the river again. The village was unkempt, and disgustingly dirty and ill smelling. It was evident that most of the men and some of the squaws were just recovering from a debauch on the liquor they had obtained from the traders.

“They are ruining the Ojibwa people, those traders,” Blaise said angrily, after the two had paddled a short distance down-stream. “Once an Ojibwa gets the habit of strong drink, he will give all he has for it. The rival companies contend for the furs, and each promises more and stronger liquor than the other. So the evil grows worse and worse. In the end, as our father said, it will ruin the Ojibwa altogether.”

Hugh did not reply for a moment, then he said hesitatingly, “Did father buy pelts with drink?”

“Not the way most of the others do,” Blaise replied promptly. “Liquor he had to give sometimes, as all traders must, now the custom is started, but our father gave only a little at a time and not strong. Whenever he could he bought his furs with other things. Always he was a friend to the Ojibwa. He became one of us when he married into the nation, and he was a good son, not like some white men who take Ojibwa wives. Many friends he had, and some enemies, but few dared stand against him. He was a strong man and a true one.”

Blaise spoke proudly. Once again Hugh, though glad to hear so much good of his adventurous father, felt a pang of jealousy that the half-breed boy should have known and loved him so well.