The Island of Yellow Sands: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

by Ethel C. Brill

  VII

  THE ROCK OF THE BEAVER

  The next morning at dawn the sky was mottled with scudding clouds drivenby an east wind. The prospect was not promising, but the wind was in theright direction for sailing, and the voyageurs put out in haste, riggingtheir blanket sail. It was their intention to pass outside the islandsthat almost block the entrance to Nipigon Bay. They made good timebefore the breeze, though the waves followed the frail craft perilously,and the three were soon well soaked with cold spray. But the windchanged to the southeast, and dark blue clouds, with slanting lines ofrain below them, began to roll up. The sail had to be lowered, and, asthe wind increased and blew in gusts and squalls, it took all thecanoemen's skill to keep from swamping before they gained the easternend of the great Island of St. Ignace.

  There they were glad to run into a long bay or cove, protected by highpeaks and ridges on either side and by a small island at the entranceand another large one, now known as Simpson's Island, across a narrowchannel to the east. To the head of the cove, where a small streamentered it, they paddled, and found a landing place. There they stowedthe supplies under the canoe, placing them on poles and paddles to keepthem off the wet ground, for rain had begun to fall.

  Making camp in the rain is an unpleasant task, but they needed a bettershelter than the small canoe would afford. So they left the beach, andexplored the woods for a good spot where they could build a lodge in theIndian fashion. A considerable distance back from the water, Etiennefound, at last, a spot level and open enough.

  Ronald and Jean cleared the ground, while the Indian cut young birchtrees and stripped larger ones of their bark. Ronald was expert with anax and wasted no blows. Bending a sapling over with his left hand, hegave it a sharp clip, then bending it the other way, another quickstroke, and it was down. Bushes were cut or pulled up, loose rocksthrown to one side, troublesome roots grubbed up, and hummocks leveledwith vigorous strokes of the back of the ax. In an incredibly short timethe camping ground was fairly smooth and level. Then Nangotook set up aframe, thrusting the butts of the trees he had cut into the ground, andbending together and interlacing the tops. This framework he and theboys covered with sheets of birch bark, "wig-wass" Nangotook called thebark. They did not take time to sew the pieces together, but overlappedthem and placed more poles against them to keep them in place. Theground within the lodge, or "wigwam," as the Ojibwa called it, washastily strewn with spruce branches. The shelter was completed none toosoon. Just as Jean was carrying in an armful of the gray moss or lichenthat almost covered many of the spruce trees, hanging down from them andgiving them the appearance of being bearded with age, there came a wildburst of rain and hail that rattled on the bark walls like bullets.

  The rest of that day and night and most of the next day rain fell withscarcely a pause. The disgusted gold-seekers were compelled to remainwithin shelter, going out only long enough to cut wood for the fire andto catch a few fish.

  Late in the afternoon the rain ceased, and the gray clouds showed signsof breaking. Hares seemed to be plentiful on the island, and Etiennewent out to set some snares, while the two boys climbed up through thedripping woods, over slippery moss and rocks, to a spot where they couldsee out over the lake. The water was still rough, but the wind hadshifted to the north and gave promise of clearing weather. They hopedthey might be able to go on by morning. According to Etienne the Rock ofthe Beaver was only a half day's journey away.

  On their way back to camp they came suddenly within range of a plumphare that was feeding on a large red mushroom. Ronald, who was on thelookout for game, made a lucky shot. Though hare flesh is not at itsbest while the animal still wears his gray-brown summer coat, the freshmeat was more than welcome to the voyageurs. There was other game on theisland, for they saw tracks, half washed out by the rain, that Jean wassure were those of caribou, and the Indian said there were moose printsin a boggy place near where he set his snares. When the boys went downto the bay for water, they found signs that both mink and marten hadbeen there before them, and in the night they were awakened severaltimes by the sharp, cat-like snarl of a lynx. They found no indicationsthat any one had trapped in the vicinity the winter before, however.

  The next morning dawned fair with a light breeze, and the adventurershastened down to the shore where the canoe lay. Jean gave a cry ofdismay when he turned over the boat. Under it they had left most of theammunition and all of the food supplies they did not want to useimmediately. Now everything, except the paddles and the poles, was gone.

  "Stolen," cried Jean in great excitement. "Le Forgeron Tordu has beenhere, the fiend! It is some of his evil work."

  "It is evil work, surely," Ronald answered more quietly, but his blueeyes hardened and his square jaw set. To break into another man's cacheor steal his provisions was the most serious of offenses in thewilderness among white men and Indians alike, an offense that might evenbe punished with death.

  Nangotook, after one glance under the canoe, had set himself toexamining the tracks that led to the water. "One man," he remarkedbriefly, "two trips. Other man stay in canoe. Last night or this dayearly." The footprints had been made since the rain. There were no signsthat a canoe had been brought ashore, so the Ojibwa inferred that theboat had remained on the water with at least one man to handle it. Totrack the thieves was impossible, for, as the Indian said disgustedly,"Canoe leave no trail."

  There was no way to prove that the Frenchman and his companion were thethieves. The things might have been taken by some wandering Indians, butit would have been difficult to convince either Ronald or Jean of such aprobability.

  The loss of supplies was very serious, and made it all the morenecessary for the treasure-seekers to make haste to the Island of YellowSands. Fate continued to be against them, however. By the time theyreached the mouth of the cove, the wind, that had been so light at dawn,had come up and was blowing hard from the worst of directions for them,the southwest, rolling great waves against the outer rocks of theisland. If they kept to their intended course, they would have to paddlein the trough. It seemed as if Nanabozho had repented of his formerkindness, and was trying to keep them from their goal as long as hecould.

  Etienne took one look out across the water. Then, with a grunt, hesignaled Ronald to turn and run north, up the channel between the end ofSt. Ignace and its neighbor island. Once on the north side of St.Ignace, they would find protection from the wind, though to go that waywould add at least fifteen miles to their journey.

  Well sheltered by the high cliffs, that rose steeply from the water, andthe peaks and ridges beyond, the adventurers made good time, and theirhopes rose. Their course led them about twenty miles along the steep andcontinuous north wall of the island. Then, at the western end of St.Ignace, they turned into a narrow strait between that island and theeast cliffs of the long point that forms the western boundary ofNipigon Bay. Through the strait, with high walls and forest clad slopeson either side, they paddled for eight or ten miles farther, until thechannel divided into two, at the end of an island. They took the righthand passage, but, as its opening was towards the southwest, the waveswere running into it so strongly, that they could not go far, and weresoon obliged to seek shelter in a little bay. The boys were disgusted atthe delay, but Etienne's assurance that the Rock of the Beaver wasscarcely more than an hour's travel away raised their spirits.

  When, late in the afternoon, the wind and waves having gone downsomewhat, they launched the canoe once more and paddled on down thechannel, their hearts were as light as if the Island of Yellow Sands layin sight. Careless whether Le Forgeron might be somewhere withinhearing, Jean started to sing:

  "M'en revenant de Saint Andre, J'ai vu le loup, le r'nard passer."

  "As I was returning from St. Andre, I saw the wolf and the fox pass by."

  Ronald joined in the chorus,

  "L'on, ton, laridon danee, L'on, ton, laridon dai,"

  but the Indian as usual kept silence.

  Coming out fro
m the strait, they rounded the point of an island, andfound themselves among small islands and islets. Towards one of theislets Nangotook directed that the canoe be steered. There was no beach,so the landing had to be made with extreme care. To keep the canoe frombeing battered on the rocks, two of the poles, that lay along thebottom, were taken up and lashed, one to the bow, the other to thestern. The larger ends of the poles were placed on a ledge and weighteddown with slabs of rock. In this way the canoe was held safe and steadyin deep water.

  As soon as the boat was made fast, Nangotook led the eager lads acrossthe islet to the outer shore. There he paused and pointed dramaticallyto a great rock that towered above their heads. On its gray face was thecrude outline of an animal done in some dull red pigment. The shape ofthe figure and especially its trowel-like tail showed plainly that itwas intended to represent a beaver. This was the Rock of the Beaver, thepoint from which they were to start south over the open lake.

  Nangotook seemed to hold the rough drawing in great respect andveneration. The Ojibwa nation, like other Indian races, is divided intoa number of clans or families, each supposed to be descended from andunder the protection of some mythical, magical beast or bird. Nangotookbelonged to the Amik or Beaver Clan, and his totem, his protectingspirit, was the Great Beaver. The figure on the rock was very old, hesaid. It had been there in his grandfather's youth, and, although it wasexposed to wind and rain, it had never been obliterated. Ronald thoughtit showed signs of having been retouched not long before, for the paintin some parts was much brighter and fresher than in others, the tailbeing particularly distinct. When he pointed this out to Nangotook, thelatter admitted that some of the lines, when they began to grow faint,might have been repainted from time to time by medicine men.

  A little way out from the end of the island another rock rose from thewater. Nangotook explained that, in starting across the lake, thetravelers must keep the outer rock and the one that bore the figure ofthe beaver directly in line as long as they could be distinguished, andgo on in the same direction, until the Island of Yellow Sands came inview. In order to keep the course true, it would be necessary to steerby the stars, so the trip must be made by night, a clear, calm, starlitnight.

  That night was not favorable, for the waves were still too high, so thethree camped on another and more hospitable island, a short distancefrom the Island of the Beaver.