“Yet it may be part of the wreck washed from some outer rock and cast here by that last hard blow,” reasoned the older boy.
“That is possible. If we could find more of it, the part that bears the sign——”
“What sign? You told me of no sign. I have often wondered how, if we found a wrecked boat, we should know whether it was the right one.”
“Surely I told you of the sign. The board that bears the hole for the mast is painted with vermilion, and on it in black is our father’s sign, the figure that means his Ojibwa name, ‘man with the bright eyes, the eyes that make sparks.’ Twice the sign is there, once on each side of the mast.”
Hugh was staring at his younger brother. Black figures on a vermilion ground! Where had he seen such a thing, seen it recently, since he left the Sault? Then he remembered. “Show me, Blaise,” he cried, “what that figure looks like, that means father’s Indian name.”
Blaise picked up a smooth gray flake and with a bit of softer, dark red stone scratched the figure.
“That is it,” Hugh exclaimed. “I have seen that wrecked boat, a bateau with the thwart painted red and that very same figure drawn in black.”
“You have seen it?” The younger brother looked at the elder wonderingly. “In your dreams?”
“No, I was wide awake, but it was a long way from here and before ever I saw you, Blaise.” Rapidly Hugh related how he and Baptiste had examined the old bateau in the cleft of the rocks of the Isle Royale.