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

Dawn came at last, and Ronald crawled out of his shelter. The rain had ceased, but the morning was cold and raw, and he was stiff and shivering. He had made up his mind to return to camp first and see if Jean was safe. Then they would cache their meat supply, come back, and follow Nangotook’s trail, to find out what had become of him.

Ronald paddled back to the camping ground at his best speed. When he entered the little bay he was relieved to see Jean.

Jean turned at Ronald’s shout. Seeing the latter returning alone, he stared in amazement, and then ran down to the water calling out questions. When he had heard Ronald’s story, his anxiety was even greater than his comrade’s, for Nangotook had always been a devoted friend to him, and Jean was very fond of the Indian. Hurriedly the two took the meat from the fire, wrapped it in bark, and hung it in a tree for safe keeping. Then, waiting only long enough to eat a little of the broiled meat, they launched the canoe and made speed back to the place where Ronald had passed the night. Before taking to the trail, however, they carried the canoe some distance from the landing place, hid it in a thicket, and did their best to erase all signs that might lead to its discovery. If Le Forgeron Tordu were anywhere about, the lads had no intention of letting him steal the canoe while they were searching for Nangotook.

XXV

THE RED SPOT AMONG THE GREEN

Jean and Ronald went first to the spot on the ridge where the three hunters had separated. From there they attempted to trace the caribou trail Nangotook had set out to follow. It was a well traveled track, which had evidently been much used by the animals, and was not difficult to follow for a mile or more. Then the boys lost it in a bog, where the rain of the night before had soaked the spongy moss and had caused it to expand and blot out all tracks. There were plenty of evidences that caribou had visited the place more than once. Here and there plants and bushes had been nibbled and cropped, and small trees had been stripped of bark and branches far above where hares could reach. Evidently the caribou had wandered about all over the bog to feed, but had made no well defined trail through it.

When the lads tried to determine which way the animals had gone, and Nangotook after them, they encountered a difficult problem. In the woods that encircled the wetter and more open part of the bog, there were half a dozen breaks where caribou might have gone through and where the Indian might have followed their tracks. Jean and Ronald examined all of the openings, and tried to decide which one Nangotook had probably used. The ground was still spongy, and the rain had obliterated all footprints. The trees and bushes around one of the openings showed signs of recent nibbling, however, and the boys decided to try that one. But they had not gone far when they lost all trace of the trail, if trail it really was. There were no more nibbled trees, and no indications that any animal had ever been through the thick tangle of standing and fallen cedar and black spruce.

The two retraced their steps to the bog, and tried another of the openings, to meet with a similar disappointment. The third attempt was more successful. The track was faint indeed, so faint that Ronald could never have followed it if he had been alone, but Jean was a better woodsman, with a surer instinct for a trail. He led the way, through swamp woods, and up rising ground, partly wooded, partly open, until they reached a spot where they could look out over the lake to the north. There, along the ridge, the reindeer lichen had been cropped close in many places, proving beyond a doubt that caribou had been there, whether they had come the way the boys had just traveled or not. From the ridge top the descent to the lake was steep, with broken cliffs and a rough, inhospitable, stony beach at the base. After Jean had climbed a jack pine to get a better view of the surroundings, the two followed along the ridge to the southwest, noting the cropped moss and nibbled bushes as they went.

Reaching a gully, which bore signs that the animals might have gone that way, the boys scrambled through it and down over the rocks to the narrow, stony beach. A rocky, wooded island, perhaps a quarter of a mile out and almost parallel with the shore, served as a slight windbreak and had probably aided in the formation of the beach, which was about a mile in length. Beyond it on either hand the cliffs rose straight from the water.

Finding nothing to indicate that Nangotook had visited the beach, the lads climbed up the broken cliffs, and followed the shore to the northeast for a couple of miles until they came out on a point across the cove from their camp. There they saw a caribou feeding, but the beast took alarm before Jean was within range, and made off so rapidly that pursuit was useless. They had found no trace of Nangotook.

Worried and puzzled, but still hoping that while they were searching for him, the Indian might have returned to the rendezvous, the two boys made their way along the west shore of the cove, to the place where they had left the canoe. The boat was undisturbed, and there were no signs of the Ojibwa.

All that day and the two following, they searched for Nangotook. They explored all the tracks and suggestions of tracks that led from the bog where the caribou fed. They went along the cliffs beyond the gully, where they had descended to the shore, until they came to an indentation in the coast line, a great open bay, only partly protected by islands. Several times they saw caribou, but were not able to approach near enough for a successful shot.

The two also explored the whole western side of the cove to its head, and went up the stream to its source, a long, narrow, crook-shaped lake. On the third day of their search, they examined the east shore of the harbor, although it did not seem likely that Nangotook had been there. It was possible, however, that he might, in his pursuit of game, have been led around the head, across the marsh and stream and down the east side. The boys crossed the little inlet where their camp lay, and examined, as thoroughly as they could, both the lower ground and the ridge that ran at an angle with the cove. Along that ridge, and down its southeastern slope they came across a number of old pits, but all overgrown and showing no signs of having been mined for many years.

At the base of the ridge, a little back from the shore, in a grove of birch trees, the lads found the remains of a camp. It was from this place that Ronald had seen the thin wisp of smoke ascending. The camp had evidently been a temporary one, for no lodge had been built. Probably the campers had used their canoe for shelter, though there were no marks in the ground to show where it had rested on paddles or poles. Neither were there any foot-*prints, but that was not surprising, for the ground was rocky, with only shallow soil that would not take deep imprints. The ashes and charred sticks of the fire remained, and stumps, with the ax marks plain upon them, indicated where wood had been cut. A large birch had been partly stripped of its bark, doubtless for the purpose of repairing the canoe, or making utensils of some kind. Bones, bits of skin, fish scales and heads, and the uneatable parts of hares, squirrels and birds, were strewn about the ground in the Indian manner. The untidiness did not prove that the camp was necessarily an Indian one, however, for the white forest-wanderers were usually quite as careless of neatness and cleanliness as the savages themselves. Jean and Ronald, who piled fish and game refuse in a heap a little distance from the camp, and out of sight and smell, were far more particular than most of the wilderness travelers.

Though they could find no direct evidence, the lads were certain in their own minds that this camp had belonged to Le Forgeron Tordu and his Cree companion. They could not have explained why they were so sure, but they were sure nevertheless. They were convinced, too, that there was some connection between the camp and the disappearance of Nangotook, although they had not come upon the slightest evidence of foul play. After examining the place closely, they concluded that the camp ground had not been used for several days. Jean thought, from the appearance of the ashes, that the fire had not been burning since the last rain, and no rain had fallen since the night Ronald had spent waiting for the Ojibwa to return from the hunt. There was no discernible trail that led any distance from the camp. Very likely the campers had come to the spot by water and had departed in the same way. So the finding of the place, instead of helping to solve the problem of Nangotook’s disappearance, only increased the boys’ perplexity as well as their uneasiness.

Late in the afternoon of the same day, they saw something else that troubled them. Having searched everywhere for some trace of their companion, they were in a state of puzzlement over what to do next, but too restless to remain quiet. So they paddled to the entrance of the cove, and made their way out among the reefs, and along the base of the steep cliffs to the southwest. As they were going slowly along, with a line and hook attached to the stern paddle, Jean, who was in the bow, caught sight of some bright red thing gleaming among the green of evergreen trees on an outlying rocky island. With an exclamation, he pointed out the bright spot to Ronald, who had but a glimpse of it before it disappeared.

“There’s a man on that island,” said Jean excitedly. “That was a bit of his toque.”

“It looked like it,” Ronald admitted, “but it may have been only the autumn red of a rowan tree.”

“No, no,” Jean replied quickly. “That was no mountain ash tree. It would not have disappeared that way. We should still be able to see it. The red spot moved quickly and disappeared among the green. Yet there is no wind. I tell you it is a man. It is Le Forgeron, I am sure.”

“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.

“That is no camp-fire,” he exclaimed, with a note of alarm in his low pitched voice.

Jean looked where the other pointed and gave a little gasp. “The woods are on fire,” he whispered. “The canoe, quick! Out of the trees to the rocks and around that way.”

XXVI

THE BURNING WOODS

As they hastened back through the woods, the boys’ one thought was to reach the canoe. They knew there was no chance of checking the fire, which apparently had a good start and would sweep the island from end to end. The wind was north, so, thinking they would be out of the worst of the heat and smoke on that side, they chose the northwestern or outer shore, though it was unknown ground to them, for they had come around the inner side at the edge of the woods. Light though the breeze was, the fire spread rapidly. The spruces flared up like torches, the flames running along the limbs and leaping from tree to tree. The resinous branches and needles made a loud crackling noise as they burned, broken by an occasional crash, as some tree, fire-eaten at its base, toppled over and fell against its fellows or broke through and measured its length on the ground.

The belt of almost bare rock between the lake and the woods was wider on the outer shore than on the inner, but the rocks, rising steeply from the water, were extremely rough and broken. Deep cracks had to be leaped, scrambled through or followed up until they could be crossed. In a very few minutes the trees, across the narrow open strip from the boys, were blazing. Though the lads were to the windward of the fire, the heat scorched them, and the smoke at times was almost suffocating. Either the wind was becoming variable or the heated air from the burning caused erratic currents, for frequent puffs and gusts of flame and smoke were carried towards the refugees. They kept as near the water and as far from the fire as they could, scrambling over rocks, jumping chasms, climbing slopes, slipping and falling sometimes, when the waves of pungent, stinging smoke choked and blinded them.

One crack was so wide they could not jump it, so steep they could not climb down. Going along its edge, they were led, before they reached a place narrow enough to be jumped, almost into the burning woods, where the chasm became a gully, covered with trees and bushes. Confused by the smoke, Ronald missed his leap, and would have gone to the bottom, if his hand had not grasped a little spruce growing on the brink. By the time Jean had pulled him over the edge, the bushes around them were beginning to burn. As the two boys sprang through, Jean’s tunic caught fire, and he was obliged to tear it off as he ran, and leave it behind. Not until they were at the very edge of the cliffs, were they clear of the blazing bushes.

As they scrambled on along the rocks, the two were in less danger, for the fire had passed through the bordering growth. Trees, bushes and moss still smouldered and smoked and broke out here and there in flames, but the worst of the fire seemed to be over in that part of the island. The smoke was still dense, however, and the rocks so hot in spots that they scorched the boys’ feet through their moccasins. With blackened clothes, blistered skins, stinging eyes, parched throats and bodies dripping with perspiration from the heat and excitement, the two lads reached the cove where they had landed, and made for the place where they had hidden the canoe.

The canoe was gone! Jean and Ronald could scarcely believe their senses. The boat had not burned, for the moss and bushes around the crack where it had been concealed were untouched by the fire. A bare space lay between the bushes and the edge of the woods, and the fire had not leaped across. There was no way the canoe could have disappeared except by human agency. Some one had been on the island when they landed. Probably he had seen them come ashore, had watched them hide their boat, and, as soon as they were out of sight and hearing, had taken possession of it and paddled away. How about the fire then? Had it been accidental, spreading from a carelessly made cooking fire, or had the man who had stolen their canoe deliberately set it and then left them, without means of escape, to perish in the flames, or to die of starvation afterwards?

These thoughts flashed through the heads of both boys as they stood gazing at the empty space where the canoe had been, but a new peril suddenly interrupted their speculations. There on the northeast end of the island, they had thought themselves safe from the fire, but something, a momentary change of the wind perhaps, caused a clump of half burned trees at the edge of the woods to blaze up suddenly, sending sparks far and wide. The sparks leaped the open space, and the dry bushes and stunted evergreens around the lads were on fire almost before the two realized what had happened. They had no time to seek for a place of safety on land. Scrambling down the rocks, the moss and lichens smouldering and bursting into tiny flames under their feet, the two plunged into the water not a moment too soon. The bottom shelved rapidly, and they lost their footing almost immediately. Just ahead of them a solitary rock rose a little above the surface, and a few strokes brought them to it.

There they clung, heads turned from the smoke, noses and throats choked, eyes smarting and blinded, while the fire swept away every bush and plant that grew about the landing place. At first the cold water felt grateful to their heated bodies and blistered skins, though no amount of it seemed to have much effect on their parched and swollen mouths and throats. The rock was too small and sharp pointed for them to climb up on it, and, in spite of the hot waves that swept over them from the fire, they soon began to chill.

After a little the breeze steadied and blew the smoke cloud in the other direction, and the boys were able to breathe again with some comfort, but not until the fire had thoroughly swept the rocks about the cove, did they dare to leave their refuge and swim the few strokes back to shore. The wildest of the fire was over, for the island was small, and the flames had swept it very thoroughly. Smoke still rose thickly though, and here and there parts of standing and fallen trees glowed red or burst out now and then into crackling tongues of fire. The rocks where the fire had taken bushes and moss were still warm, and the warmth was welcome to the lads, who had passed from extreme heat to cold, soaked as they were from their sojourn in the lake. Huddled in a cranny where the breeze did not strike them, they wrung the water out of their clothes, and waited for dawn. Now that the immediate peril seemed over, they found themselves so weary that they even slept a little.

At the first sign of day, they were up and out of their crack in the rock. What was to be done next? They had no canoe and nothing to eat. In their wild trip around the island, Jean had kept hold of his bow and arrows, but when he had plunged into the lake, he had been obliged to drop the bow on the shore. It had fallen on a bed of moss, where they found the blackened remains of the frame. If any animals had survived the fire, by taking to the water or burying themselves in holes, the boys had nothing to shoot them with, though they might make snares of the fishing lines they carried in their pockets. From their first landing, however, the only sign of life they had seen was the owl that had flown down over Ronald’s head.

As soon as the light was strong enough so they could see to find their way about, they set out to explore the burned woods, in the hope of finding a few sound trees for a raft. Luckily neither of them had lost the knife or small ax he carried attached to his belt. The central part of the island, though rough with broken rocks, had been green with spruces, balsams, junipers and moss. Now it was a scene of desolation. Most of the trees were still standing, but charred and blackened from base to summit. Enough trunks and branches, many of them crumbling into charcoal dust and ashes when stepped on, had fallen, however, to make walking through the burned woods difficult. Thinking they would stand the best chance of finding sound trees along the edge of the burning on the north shore of the island, the boys decided to go that way first. The results of their search were not encouraging, although they marked with their axes a few standing trunks they thought they could use.

The sun had not yet risen when they reached the opposite end of the island. Looking off across the water, Ronald was surprised to see something moving through the light mist. He called Jean, and the two soon made out a canoe with one man.

“Perhaps that’s the man who was on the island last night,” Ronald exclaimed, “and our canoe.”

“It may be,” Jean replied, “but that is not the man we saw here among the trees, or, if it is, he has taken off his red toque.” There was no bright color to be seen about the figure in the canoe. “That’s not our canoe either,” Jean added. “It is smaller and not so high in the bow.” Then as the boat drew nearer, he cried out, “It is Etienne!”

Ronald shook his head. “He is too far away. You can’t tell in the mist. Besides, it’s impossible. How could Etienne have come here, – in a canoe?”

“It is Etienne. I am sure of it,” Jean repeated. “But he is not making for this place. He intends to pass between this island and the shore.”

“We must hail him, whoever he is,” cried Ronald. “He’ll not refuse to take us off, unless he is Le Forgeron’s Indian, and in that case,” the boy’s face hardened, “we’re two to one.”

He opened his mouth to shout, but Jean stopped him and seized his half raised arm. “We will soon find out if it is Etienne,” he said. Then out across the water, he sent a peculiar, long drawn, wavering cry, not very loud but high pitched and penetrating. The man in the canoe turned his head, held himself motionless a moment, his paddle suspended, then sent back an answering cry, the same except for a falling cadence at the close, while Jean’s call had ended with a rising one.

“It is Etienne,” the lad cried, and he sprang down the rocks, waving his arms, and uttering the queer cry a second time.