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

by Ethel C. Brill

  XXXI

  THE WINDIGO

  The weather favored the voyageurs that day, and they were able to makegood time for about twenty miles to a little cove, the mouth of astream. There they landed to eat a supper of the fish they had caught onthe way. The boys felt greatly encouraged when Etienne told them theyhad almost reached the southern end of Minong. Two or three hours moretravel would bring them to a smaller island lying off the end of thelarge one. From there, he said, the weather favoring them, they couldsteer a straight course for the northwest shore of the lake and soonreach the Grande Portage. Deeply disappointed though the lads were atnot finding the riches they had endured so much to gain, they felt agreat sense of relief at the thought that their perilous journey was sonear its end.

  By the time they had reached the cove, the boys, who had only partlyrecovered from starvation and suffering, were very tired. After theirsupper of fish, they were glad to creep into a pile of balsam branchesunder the canoe and fall asleep immediately. But the night was cold andthey had no cover but the branches. Several times one of the three hadto crawl out, chilled and stiff, to replenish the fire that burned closeto the raised side of the canoe. Usually it was the Indian who took thistask upon himself, for he slept lightly and little, ready to spring upat the slightest unusual sound. He did not intend that the Windigoshould creep on their camp without his knowing it.

  Just as the stars were fading with the dawn, Nangotook was awakenedsuddenly. He lay still and listened. From up the river came faintsounds, the cracking of twigs, the rustling of branches. Noiselessly theIndian crept from under the canoe, listened a moment, and then made hisway cautiously in the direction of the sounds. There was a splash in thestream. In the faint light he could see a black bulk against the water.Nearer and nearer he crept, until the dark form began to move slowlytowards the opposite bank. Then, knowing he would get no better chancefor a shot, Nangotook let fly an arrow, and then a second and a third inquick succession. Every arrow hit the mark, the black bulk plungedforward, wavered and fell sidewise with a great splash. The huntersprang into the stream. Luckily the water, where the beast had fallen,was shallow, and Nangotook soon had his game, a full grown caribou,ashore. Here was meat in plenty for days to come.

  He dragged the caribou back to camp and placed it near the fire. Theboys were sleeping so soundly that his coming did not wake them, and hecrept under the canoe without disturbing them. He did not sleep any moreafter that, but kept his eye on the meat. Once he heard the pad of softfeet beyond the fire, and rose to send an arrow towards a pair ofgleaming eyes. He missed his aim, and the lynx slipped away in thedarkness and did not return.

  The boys were surprised and delighted when they saw the result ofEtienne's night hunting, but they were also a little chagrined when theyrealized that they had slept so soundly and carelessly that they hadknown nothing of what was going on. The day was too windy to permit thevoyageurs to start out across the open lake for the northwest shore.They might have continued along the coast of Minong, but, as they hadsuch a short distance to go in that direction, they decided to campwhere they were until the caribou meat was dried. The spot was afavorable one, and they might not find another so good. Moreover theremight be other game in the neighborhood, and there were certainly fishin the stream and off the rocks at its mouth. The net they had set thenight before yielded a good catch of whitefish. It was the caribou meatthat tasted best to the boys, however, and put new strength and spiritinto them. The gruesome tragedy they had found traces of the day beforeseemed like a bad dream.

  The day, which was bright and pleasant, though windy, was spent indrying the meat, curing the hide, fishing and hunting. The threeproposed to collect as large a supply of food as possible. Bad weathermight come again at any moment, and they did not intend to be caught inanother storm without plenty of food to last them through.

  In a marshy place the boys came upon a great flock of wild geese, thathad paused, on their way south, to feed. The birds took alarm at once,and, with great flapping of wings and excited honks, followed theirleader into the air and away, but Jean succeeded in hitting one as itleft the water. He had to wade out into the cold mud and water to hiswaist to secure the bird, but it was a welcome feast to the three thatnight. The southward flight of the geese was, however, another reminderof the approach of winter. Nekah, the goose, knew what he was about,said the Ojibwa.

  The following morning the voyageurs left the little cove. The south windwas strong enough to make crossing the lake dangerous, but they could goon along shore with little difficulty. They could at least reach theisland which Nangotook said lay off a bay at the southern end of Minong.From there the Ojibwa intended, as soon as the weather would permit, tosteer directly for the lake shore.

  The travelers had rounded the end of Minong, when they came in sight ofa canoe at some distance across the water. It held only one man, andthey were too far away to make out anything about him, except that hedid not wear the scarlet cap of the Canadian voyageur. Was it theWindigo? The boys felt a thrill of excitement, not unmingled with dread.Whether he had seen them or not they could not tell, but they followedas rapidly as they could make the canoe fly over the water. The lonetraveler was making for some islands ahead. He passed into a channelbetween two of them and disappeared.

  Without any orders from Nangotook in the bow, Ronald, who was in thestem, steered in the same direction. He wanted to find out if the manahead was really the Cree murderer. He suspected that Nangotook wasready to kill the Windigo on sight That was the Indian way with suchoutlaws. Certainly the boy was not inclined to show any mercy to anIndian who had killed and eaten a white man. If he had merely killed theFrenchman,--well, Le Forgeron probably deserved death, and a privatequarrel between him and his companion was the business of no one else,Ronald thought, but the evidence seemed to prove that the Cree hadtreacherously stabbed the white man in the back, for the purpose ofeating him. For such hideous crime there could be no excuse, not evenstarvation, and no mercy for the criminal. That was the code of theIndian, the voyageur and the forest runner.

  The pursuers passed through the channel between the two islands, andcame out in view of others, large and small. Instantly Nangotook's keeneyes caught sight of something on one of the little islands that causedhim to utter a short grunt, raise his paddle from the water, and gazeintently. Noting his apparent surprise, the boys' eyes followed thedirection of his gaze. From a bare tree on that little island somethingwhite was fluttering. It was not a gull roosting. It was too large, andtoo white, and it fluttered and waved in the wind. It was a white rag, asignal of some kind, a flag of distress.

  "Some one is on that island," cried Jean in great excitement. "He iswrecked or hurt or starving, and he has tied that white thing to thetree to attract attention. We must go there at once. He may be a whiteman. We must rescue him."

  "Go slow, little brother," cautioned Nangotook gravely. "Maybe, as yousay, there is a man there wrecked and starving, but what if that whitething be only a trap? Where is the canoe we have been following? TheWindigo may be trying to get us ashore, so he may murder and eat us."

  "If he is, he will be getting the worst of it," declared Ronaldemphatically. "We are three to one, and the only thing we need befearing is a gun. If he is decoying us ashore, he will not be firing onus until we have landed, and even then he will try, I think, to use fairwords and treachery rather than force. In that we are a match for him,now we are forewarned not to trust him."

  "You speak truly, my brother," Nangotook answered. "I meant not to go bythat island, but to be cautious. It may be that the signal is a trueone. We must find out. But we must watch that we are not taken unawaresby the evil Windigo. Now that I have warned you, steer for that island,and if the Cree is there, let him look to himself."

  As they approached the place, the three watched eagerly for someindication of what they were to find there. Like most of the islands offMinong, it was rocky, but bore a patch of trees and bushes on itshighest part. There seemed nothing unus
ual about it, but the white ragfluttering from a bare limbed birch tree. Not until they were close in,did Nangotook catch sight of a canoe drawn up on a bit of shelvingpebble beach between two great rocks. Silently he pointed it out to theboys. They ran their own canoe upon the same beach and stepped out, theOjibwa with one hand on his bowstring, an arrow in the other, and hiseyes searching the rocks and woods for signs of ambush. He did not relaxhis vigilance when he heard Jean, behind him, utter a low-voicedexclamation.

  The two boys had carried the canoe up the beach, and Jean had turned tolook at the other craft that lay there. "Our own canoe," he whispered toJean. "It was the Cree for sure."

  Ronald glanced at the boat. There was no mistaking it. The three hadbuilt it themselves, and knew every rib and seam. It was wet, too. Ithad not been out of the water more than a few minutes. Though Nangotookdid not turn his head, but still kept running his eyes searchingly overevery bush and rock that might offer concealment to an enemy, he heardwhat Jean said. There was no need for him to examine the canoe. Jean'stestimony was sufficient. The Ojibwa went on up the steep bit of beach,the two lads close behind him, with weapons ready.

  Apparently the man who had landed from the canoe had given no thought tobeing followed, and had made no attempt to hide his trail. He had goneup over the rocks and into the bit of woods, and his track was plain tothe Indian. The latter advanced cautiously, the boys equally noiseless,a short distance behind. They had taken but a few steps among the sprucetrees, when they were arrested by the sound of voices. There was morethan one man on the island then, although there had been but one in theboat The voices were speaking French, one with the guttural accent ofthe Indian, the other in flowing, mellow tones. Even if the three hadnot had good evidence that Le Forgeron Tordu was dead, they would neverhave taken that rich, deep pitched voice for his rough, cracked one.Silently but rapidly, Nangotook slipped forward again, the boysfollowing until he turned and signaled them to halt. After taking a fewmore steps among the trees, he stopped also.

  The mellow voice was speaking, and the boys could hear it plainly. Itwas a pleasing voice of refined accents, and it spoke excellent French,the French of a man of breeding and education. Even Jean Havard, who waswell educated for a Canadian lad of his time and boasted of his pureFrench blood, did not speak like that. He could make out the unseenman's words distinctly.

  "God will surely bless you through all your days," the voice said."Moreover I will see to it, if you will take me safely to the GrandePortage, that you shall be well rewarded in material things as well.Flour, blankets, traps for your hunting, whatever you need or want ofsuch things you shall have. But better than all will be the blessing ofGod upon you, for saving the life of His servant to carry on Hisglorious work, and to labor a little longer for the good of your ownpeople."

  The speaker ceased, and for a moment there was silence. Then the otherman answered, but his words, spoken in a hoarse voice and gutturalaccents, were not distinguishable. While the second man was speaking,Nangotook crept forward again. Carefully he slipped between two sprucetrees and peeped out from among the branches. He saw before him a rudewigwam in a small natural rock opening. In front of the wigwam stood thetall, black-gowned form of a Jesuit priest in conversation with anIndian. The Indian's back was towards Nangotook, but the Ojibwa did notfail to recognize him.

  "Eh bien, I will be ready in a moment," said the priest in his deep,mellow voice.

  He turned to go into the shelter. Instantly the Cree's whole aspectchanged. He crouched, muscles tense, then leaped forward, like a forestcat, knife raised. But Nangotook was ready for him. His arrow was on hisbowstring. Before the Windigo's knife could reach his unsuspectingvictim, the bowstring twanged, and the flying arrow pierced themurderer's back a little to the left of the spinal column. He sprangback as if recoiling, then fell forward on his face.

  XXXII

  THE UPROOTED TREE

  So instantaneous and noiseless were the Windigo's spring and Nangotook'sarrow, that the priest suspected nothing until the thud of the body uponthe ground startled him. He turned to find the Cree lying outstretched,the arrow sticking from his back, while the fierce face of the Ojibwaappeared among the spruce branches. Seizing the gold cross that hung onthe breast of his black gown, the priest held it out towards thenewcomer, and gazed at him for a moment with steady and fearless eyes.Then, without speaking, he knelt beside the fallen Cree. It took him buta moment to ascertain that the man was dead. His eye fell upon theoutstretched hand clenching the knife. An expression of horror crossedhis fine and sensitive face, and he glanced quickly up at Nangotook,with a look of doubt and questioning.

  The Ojibwa had stepped out from among the trees, his weapon lowered. Asthe priest looked at him, the fierceness faded from the Indian's face.Speaking humbly, like a servant to his master or a child to his teacher,he addressed the Jesuit. "Blame me not, good Father," he said, "that Ihave slain that murderer with an arrow in the back as I might havekilled Maheengun, the wolf, or Besheu, the lynx, when he was mad withthe blood thirst. His knife was out. Before a dead leaf fell from thatbirch tree he would have plunged the knife in your body. He is aWindigo, in league with the evil one and hungering for human flesh.Already he has killed and eaten one man, an evil man to be sure, but awhite man and his master."

  As Nangotook finished speaking, the two boys, came out from the spruces.Jean sprang forward, pulling off his toque, and knelt before themissionary for his blessing, while Ronald, Scotch Protestant though hewas, showed his respect by removing his hare skin cap and standingsilent.

  When he had given Jean his blessing, and the latter had risen to hisfeet, the priest looked searchingly into the lad's face and saidgravely, "Who are you, my son, and these your companions, and how cameyou here? Surely you were sent of God to save the humblest of Hisservants from death at the hands of this poor, crazed savage."

  "It is Etienne you should thank for that, reverend Father," Jeananswered quickly, "but indeed I believe God led us here, and just intime, for----"

  But the priest interrupted him, to speak to the Indian. Nangotook hadsquatted down by the body of the Cree, and had turned it over to makesure the man was dead. Then he had unlocked the Cree's fingers from hisknife, had felt its edge and had just made a motion with the bladetowards the neck of the fallen man, when the Jesuit's quick eye notedhis action.

  "My son," he said sternly, "what is it that you would do? Would youmutilate the body of the man you have killed?"

  The Ojibwa looked up into the priest's grave face, and hastened toexcuse and explain his action. "The man is a Windigo, good Father," hesaid. "Windigos are in league with the evil one and are hard to kill.This one seems to have died easily enough, but unless his body is cut topieces, he may come to life again at any moment and slay us all."

  "Nay, my child," the Jesuit answered less sternly, for he understoodthat the Indian's purpose, however mistaken, was a sincere one. He wasnot moved merely by a desire to avenge himself on the helpless body of afoe. "Nay, you need have no fear that the spirit of this poor, misguidedchild of the forest will return to animate his body. Already his soulhas gone to other realms to await judgment for its sins. He waspossessed of an evil spirit indeed. Though he spoke fair enough andpromised to take me to the Grande Portage, I saw the madness in his eyeand would not have trusted him, had he not seemed to be sent of God todeliver me from this desolate place. But even for such as he there maybe forgiveness, when he has suffered his meed of punishment. I forbidyou to mutilate his body. Instead, you and your companions shall kneelwith me and pray for the soul of this poor savage, who has been struckdown in the moment of his sin, without time for repentance."

  Nangotook submitted docilely enough, kneeling beside the priest andremaining reverently silent through the latter's brief prayer.

  There was not soil enough on the little island to dig a grave in, soNangotook and his companions, at the missionary's command, placed thebody of the Cree in a hole between the rocks, blocked up the openingwith stones and bran
ches, and threw a little earth and leaf mold overthe whole. The simple burial service over, they were about to proceed tothe canoe, when Jean noticed that the priest's face had turned verywhite and that he swayed a little and caught at a tree for support.

  "You are ill, Father," he exclaimed, and then, guessing the reason forthe other's weakness, he added, "Perhaps you suffer from hunger. If so,we are amply provided with meat and will prepare some for you at once."

  "Thank you, my son," the Jesuit answered with a faint smile. "I doindeed suffer from hunger, for I have eaten nothing but roots and barkfor several days."

  His strength exhausted, he was glad to sink down on the ground in frontof the wigwam, while the boys and Etienne prepared a meal. Themissionary had been too long without hearty food to take anything but alittle caribou broth. After he had eaten, he satisfied the boys'curiosity by telling them how he came to be in such a desperatesituation.

  He had been returning from a trip to an Indian mission on Lake Nipigon,beyond the head of Nipigon Bay, and was bound for another mission on thesouth shore, traveling in a small canoe with three Indians. They hadbeen delayed by the bad weather, and, anxious to get on, had left theircamping place at the foot of Thunder Cape in the night, after the windhad gone down. But the fog had caught them. All their landmarks wereblotted out, and the Indians tried to steer by the wind. The air wasunusually still, the light breeze coming in little puffs, which musthave been variable in direction. The travelers went out of their course,and when the wind rose and began to blow the fog in driving sheets, theywere close to Minong. Driven by the storm, they took refuge on the firstland they sighted, the little island where the priest was now tellinghis story. There they remained throughout the northeaster. They wereshort of provisions, and one of the Indians, who was sick before theyleft Thunder Cape, died. The other two were sullen and more or lessunmanageable. The missionary suspected that they had been tampered withat Lake Nipigon by a medicine man who hated the priest, for the latter'steachings were diminishing the Indian shaman's power over his fellows.Father Bertrand had reason to believe that the medicine man had told theIndians the "black gown" was an evil magician and would bring disasterupon them. The bad weather and other misfortunes of the journey and thesudden, mysterious sickness that had overtaken one of the crew and hadended in his death, bore out the medicine man's prophecies. Though themissionary did everything he could to restore his companions'confidence, they grew more and more sullen and suspicious. To theirsuperstitious fears was added the hatred felt by one of the men, whomFather Bertrand had reprimanded for a heavy sin. He worked upon thefears of the other Indian, to convince him that misfortune would pursuethem as long as they remained in company with the black gown. So ithappened that, the second night after the storm ceased, when the windhad gone down and traveling was possible, the two Indians stole awaywhile the priest was sleeping, taking the canoe and the few provisionsthat remained, and leaving the missionary without food or weapons.

  Father Bertrand was a young man, not many years from France andunskilled in woodcraft of any kind. But even if he had known how tobuild a canoe, he was without knife or ax. Moreover there were no largebirch trees and no white cedars on the island suitable for the purpose.He tried to fell trees for a raft by burning them at the base, but wasnot successful. Indeed he came near to setting the woods on fire and sodestroying his only shelter. There was no game of any kind, not evengulls, and he had no line or net for fishing. Roots and bark were hisonly food. As a flag of distress, he fastened one of his undergarmentsto a bare limbed tree. He did not know that the land he could see fromhis island was Minong, but supposed himself to be somewhere near thenorthwest shore of the lake. Though it was late in the season, he hopedthat some passing voyageur or Indian might see the signal. If no one sawit, then he knew he must perish, and he resigned himself to God's will,though he admitted that he could not but feel regret that the work hehad but just begun should be cut off so soon.

  When the Cree appeared, Father Bertrand did not like his looks, forthere was a furtive fierceness in his manner that betokened treacheryand a wildness in his eye that suggested madness, but the priest hopednevertheless that this doubtful looking savage might prove theinstrument of his rescue. The Cree told him that he was not near thenorthwest shore, as he had supposed, but off the island of Minong. Onthe offer of a generous reward, he promised to take the missionary toGrande Portage. But even greed was not strong enough to overcome theWindigo's appetite. The canoe he had left on the beach contained noprovisions of any kind, so it was evident that he had either consumedall of his gruesome stock or had lost part of it in some way. The gunshad been lost too, or thrown away as useless when the ammunition wasgone, for he was armed only with a knife.

  When the missionary had finished his tale, the two boys told him theirs.They made no attempt to hide the purpose of their adventure, for theyinstinctively trusted the grave, fine faced priest. That he could betraytheir trust did not occur even to Ronald who had no particular love forJesuits, though he admired their courage and devotion. When Jean relatedhow the three had been obliged to give up the search at last, andfrankly expressed his regret and sorrow at their failure to find thegolden island, Nangotook interrupted suddenly.

  "Nay, little brother," he exclaimed. "You say the journey has failedbecause we have not reached the Island of Yellow Sands. It is not so. Ifwe had not come on this journey, we could not have saved the life of thegood Father, and he would have starved here on this island. Is not thesaving of one good life better than the finding of much gold?"

  "You are right, Etienne," replied Jean, flushing, ashamed that theIndian should have to teach him such a lesson.

  The priest smiled in a kindly manner upon them both, then said gravelyto the Ojibwa, "You speak well, my son, and I think you have graspedsomewhat of the teachings of the fathers who gave you your education. Itis true that you have just performed a deed of violence, but it was anecessary deed, and one that will bring reward and not punishment, foryou slew not in revenge or in lust or even to save your own life, butthe life of another. Rest assured that God will bless you for the deed,and, as for myself, I will give you such material reward as I am able."

  "I want no reward, Father," Etienne answered almost indignantly. "I didnot sell you your life. I only ask," he added more humbly, "that youwill remember a poor Ojibwa in your prayers."

  "Rest assured that I shall always do that," Father Bertrand repliedearnestly. "I will pray that God's mercy and blessing and guidance maybe with you and with these two lads, all the days of your lives."

  The four were silent for a few minutes, the boys and the Indian deeplyimpressed by the Jesuit's words and manner. Then the priest turned toJean and said questioningly, "You have not told me, my son, why you andyour companion are so eager to find gold. In youths of your age desirefor honor, achievement and glory seems more natural than a longing forriches. Take care that you do not let the sin of avarice possess yoursouls."

  "Indeed it is not avarice, Father," replied Jean. Eager to justify bothhimself and his companion, he told of the plans they had made for theuse of the gold.

  Father Bertrand listened thoughtfully, and when Jean had finished, saidwith a kindly smile that seemed to light up his stern face, "Yourreasons do you credit, especially yours, Jean Havard, since you seekwealth for others rather than for yourself. But your comrade's ambitionis also a justifiable one, if he use only right means to attain it. Yourdislike of the evil methods of the fur-traders and your hesitation infollowing them are a credit to your consciences. It may be that thetrade is necessary and legitimate, but I, myself, have learned, in theshort time that I have been in the Indian country, that there is much inthe manner of carrying on that trade that is wrong and evil and willbring heavy punishment both on the traders themselves and on the savagesthey corrupt. However, it is not of the fur-trade I intended to speak,but of your own fortunes. You are disappointed that you have not foundthe gold, but perhaps I can show you something that may allay thatdisappointment, and
bring to you some increase of fortune if not thegreat riches you have been seeking."

  With that the missionary rose and led the way through the patch of woodstowards the farther end of the island, which the lads had not visited.Curious about his meaning, they followed close at his heels.

  That end of the island, which was exposed to the wind and waves of theopen lake, rose high from the water and, except for a cluster of treesin a depression, was almost bare rock. The clump of trees had fared hardin the northeaster, for several had been broken off and one, the largestspruce on the island, had been uprooted and tipped over. The priestclimbed over a tangle of fallen trunks, holding up his black gown thatit might not catch in the branches. The boys followed wondering. Hepointed to the base of the uprooted spruce. The roots had grown about alarge boulder, and, in its fall, the tree had partly overturned therock, revealing its under side.

  The lads gave gasps of astonishment and dropped on their knees besidethe boulder. The exposed surface was of almost solid copper, but thatwas not what caused their exclamation. Through the copper ran two thickveins of another, lighter colored metal.

  "Silver, pure silver," exclaimed Ronald. The veins so recently exposedhad scarcely tarnished, and there was no mistaking the metal.

  "Yes," replied the priest. "It is silver and that is not all of it. Lookin the hollow there, and you will find other veins. Indeed I have spentsome time examining these rocks, and I believe there is much of themetal near the surface. How much there may be underneath no man cantell. It may be there is wealth here, though not such wealth as yourgolden island would yield. What there is is yours, however. I, thediscoverer, will freely make over to you all my rights in it. I knowlittle of metals. Perhaps it would be well for you to examine this endof the island for yourselves before you leave it. You will probably beable to learn more from it than I could."