The Secret Cache: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

The plaintive crying of gulls waked Hugh just as the sun was coming up from the water, a great red ball in the morning mist. “I don’t like this place,” he said as he sat up. “We can be seen plainly from the lake.”

“Yes,” Blaise agreed, “but we can see far across the lake. If a boat comes, we shall see it while it is yet a long way off. I think we need not fear anything from that direction. No, the only way an enemy can draw near unseen is from the land, from the woods farther back there.”

“The water is absolutely still,” Hugh went on. “There isn’t a capful of wind to fill our sail, and we can’t paddle this loaded boat clear across to the mainland. We must find a better place than this, though, to wait for a breeze. I am going to look around a bit.”

The lads soon found that they were near the end of a point, a worn, wave-eaten, rock point, bare except for a few scraggly bushes, clumps of dwarfed white cedar and such mosses and lichens as could cling to the surface. Farther back were woods, mostly evergreen. The two felt that they must find a spot where they could wait for a wind without being visible from the woods. Yet they wanted to remain where they could watch the weather and get away at the first opportunity. At the very tip of the point, the slate-gray rocks were abrupt, slightly overhanging indeed, but in one spot there lay exposed at the base a few feet of low, shelving, wave-smoothed shore, which must be under water in rough weather. On this calm day the lower rock shore was dry. There, in the shelter of the overhanging masses, the boys would be entirely concealed from the land side. A little farther along on the end of the point, rose an abrupt, rounded tower of rock. Between the rock tower and the place they had selected for themselves was a narrow inlet where the bateau would be fairly well hidden. They shoved the boat out from between the boulders, where it had lain safe while they slept, and paddled around to the little inlet. On the wave-smoothed, low rock shore, they kindled a tiny fire of dry sticks gathered at the edge of the woods, and hung the kettle from a pole slanted over the flames from a cranny in the steep rock at the rear.

The wind did not come up as the sun rose higher, as the lads had hoped it would. The delay was trying, especially to the impetuous Hugh. They had found the cache, secured the furs and the packet, and had got safely away with them, only to be stuck here on the end of this point for hours of idle waiting. Yet even Hugh did not want to start across the lake under the present conditions. Paddling the bateau had been laborious enough when it was empty, but now, laden almost to the water-line, the boat was far worse to handle. Propelling it was not merely hard work, but progress would be so slow that the journey across to the mainland would be a long one, with always the chance that the wind, when it did come, might blow from the wrong quarter. The bateau would not sail against the wind. To attempt to paddle it against wind and waves would invite disaster. Sailing the clumsy craft, heavy laden as it was, across the open water with a fair wind would be quite perilous enough. There was nothing to do but wait, and this seemed as good a place in which to wait as any they were likely to find.

XVIII

THE FLEEING CANOE

As the morning advanced, the sun grew hot, beating down on the water and radiating heat from the rocks. Scarcely a ripple wrinkled the blue surface of the lake, and the distance was hazy and shimmering. An island with steep, straight sides, four or five miles northeast of the point, was plainly visible, but Thunder Cape to the west was so dim it could barely be discerned. The day was much like the one on which the lads had come across from the mainland.

Hugh grew more and more restless. Several times he climbed the only climbable place on the overhanging rock and peeped between the branches of a dwarfed cedar bush. He could see across to the edge of the woods, but he discovered nothing to either interest or alarm him. By the time the sun had passed the zenith, he could stand inaction no longer. He was not merely restless. He had become vaguely uneasy. The boat was hidden from his view by the rocks between. In such a lonely place he would have had no fear for the furs, had it not been for the shot and the call he and Blaise had heard.

“Someone might slip out of the woods and down to the boat without our catching a glimpse of him,” Hugh remarked at last. “I’m going over there to see if everything is all right.”

To reach the boat, he was obliged to climb to his peeping place and pull himself up the rest of the way, or else go around and across the top of the steep rocks. He chose the latter route. The boat and furs he found unharmed. The only trespasser was a gull that had alighted on one of the bales and was trying with its strong, sharp beak to pick a hole in the wrapping. He frightened the bird away, then stopped to drink from his cupped palm.

A low cry from Blaise startled him. He glanced up just in time to see his brother, who had followed him to the top of the rocks, drop flat. Curiosity getting the better of caution, Hugh sprang up the slope. One glance towards the west, and he followed the younger lad’s example and dropped on his face.

“A canoe! They must have seen us.”

Cautiously Hugh raised his head for another look. The canoe was some distance away. When he had first glimpsed it, it had been headed towards the point. Now, to his surprise, it was going in the opposite direction, going swiftly, paddles flashing in the sun.

“They have turned about, Blaise. Is it possible they didn’t see us?”

“Truly they saw us. My back was that way. I turned my head and there they were. My whole body was in clear view. Then you came, and they must have seen you also. They are running away from us.”

“It would seem so indeed, but what do they fear? There are four men in that canoe, and we are but two.”

“They know not how many we are. They may have enemies on Minong, though I never heard that any man lived here.”

“Something has certainly frightened them away. They are making good speed to the west, towards the mainland.”

The boys remained stretched out upon the rock, only their heads raised as they watched the departing canoe.

“They turn to the southwest now,” Blaise commented after a time. “They go not to the mainland, but are bound for some other part of Minong.”

“They were bound for this point when we first saw them,” was Hugh’s reply. “We don’t know what made them change their minds, but we have cause to be grateful to it whatever – What was that?”

He sprang to his feet and turned quickly.

“Lie down,” commanded Blaise. “They will see you.”

Hugh, unheeding, plunged down to the bateau. It was undisturbed. Not a living creature was in sight. Yet something rattling down and falling with a splash into the water had startled him. He looked about for an explanation. A fresh scar at the top of the slope showed where a piece of rock had chipped off. Undoubtedly that was what he had heard. His own foot, as he lay outstretched, had dislodged the loose, crumbling flake.

Reminded of caution, Hugh crawled back up the slope instead of going upright. The canoe was still in sight going southwest. Both boys remained lying flat until it had disappeared beyond the low point. Then they returned to the low shore beneath the overhanging rock. For the present at least there seemed to be nothing to be feared from that canoe, but would it return, and where was the man who had fired the shot and later sent that call ringing through the woods? Did he belong with the canoe party? Had he gone away with them, or was he, with companions perhaps, somewhere on the wooded ridges? The boys did not know whether to remain where they were or go somewhere else.

The weather finally brought them to a decision. All day they had hoped for a breeze, but when it came it brought with it threatening gray and white clouds. Rough, dark green patches on the water, that had been so calm all day, denoted the passing of squalls. Thunder began to rumble threateningly, and the gray, streaked sky to the north and west indicated that rain was falling there. The island to the northeast shrank to about half its former height and changed its shape. It grew dimmer and grayer, as the horizon line crept gradually nearer.

“Fog,” remarked Blaise briefly.

“It is coming in,” Hugh agreed, “and this is not a good place to be caught in a thick fog. Shall we go back into the woods?”

“I think we had best take the bateau and go along the other side of this point. We cannot start for the mainland to-night, and we shall need a sheltered place for our camp.”

The fog did not seem to be coming in very rapidly, but by the time the bateau had been shoved off, the island across the water had disappeared. The breeze came in gusts only and was not available for sailing. So the lads were obliged to take up their paddles again.

Beyond the tower-like rock there was a short stretch of shelving shore, followed by abrupt, dark rocks of roughly pillared formation. Then came a gradual slope, rough, seamed and uneven of surface. It looked indeed as if composed of pillars, the tops of which had been sliced off with a downward sweep of the giant Kepoochikan’s knife. The shore ahead was of a yellowish gray color, as if bleached by the sun, slanting to the water, with trees growing as far down as they could find anchorage and sustenance. These sloping rocks were in marked contrast to those of the opposite side of the point, along which the boys had come the night before, where the cliffs and ridges rose so abruptly from the lake.

After a few minutes of paddling, the brothers found themselves passing along a channel thickly wooded to the water-line. The land on the right was a part of the same long point, but on the left were islands with short stretches of water between, across which still other islands beyond could be seen. The fog, though not so dense in this protected channel as on the open lake, was thickening, and the boys kept a lookout for a camping place.

When an opening on the left revealed what appeared to be a sheltered bay, they turned in. Between two points lay two tiny islets, one so small it could hold but five or six little trees. Paddling between the nearer point and islet, the boys found themselves in another much narrower channel, open to the northeast, but apparently closed in the other direction. Going on between the thickly forested shores, – a dense mass of spruce, balsam, white cedar, birch and mountain ash, – they saw that what they had taken for the end of the bay was in reality an almost round islet so thickly wooded that the shaggy-barked trunks of its big white cedars leaned far out over the water. The explorers rounded the islet to find that the shores beyond did not quite come together, leaving a very narrow opening. Paddling slowly and taking care to avoid the rocks that rose nearly to the surface and left a channel barely wide enough for the bateau to pass through, they entered a little landlocked bay, as secluded and peaceful as an inland pond.

“We couldn’t find a better place,” said Hugh, looking around the wooded shores with satisfaction, “to wait for the weather to clear. We are well hidden from any canoe that might chance to come along that outer channel.”

The little pond was shallow. The boat had to be paddled cautiously to avoid grounding. Below the thick fringe of trees and alders, the prow was run up on the pebbles.

“We might as well leave the furs in the boat,” Hugh remarked.

“No.” Blaise shook his head emphatically. “We cannot be sure no one will come in here. The furs we can hide. We ourselves can take to the woods, but this heavy bateau we cannot hide.”

“I’m not afraid anyone will find us here.”

“We thought there was no one on Minong at all. Yet we have heard a shot and a call and have seen a canoe.”

“You’re right. We can’t be too cautious.”

While Hugh unloaded the bales, Blaise went in search of a hiding place. Returning in a few minutes, he was surprised to find the boat, the prow of which had just touched the beach, now high and dry on the pebbles for half its length. Hugh had not pulled the boat up. The water had receded.

“There is a big old birch tree there in the woods and it is hollow,” Blaise reported. “It has been struck by lightning and is broken. We can hide the furs there.”

“Won’t squirrels or wood-mice get at them?”

“We will put bark beneath and over them, and we shall not leave them there long.”

“I hope not surely.”

Blaise lifted a bale and started into the woods. Hugh, with another bale, was about to follow, when Blaise halted him.

“Walk not too close to me. Go farther over there. If we go the same way, we shall make a beaten trail that no one could overlook. We must keep apart and go and come different ways.”

Hugh grasped the wisdom of this plan at once. He kept considerably to the left of Blaise until he neared the old birch, and on his return followed still another route. He was surprised to find that the water had come up again. The pebbles that had been exposed so short a time before were now under water once more. The bow of the bateau was afloat and he had to pull it farther up.

“There is a sort of tide in here,” he remarked as Blaise came out of the woods. “It isn’t a real tide, for it comes and goes too frequently. Do you know what causes it?”

“No, though I have seen the water come and go that way in some of the bays of the mainland.”

“It isn’t a true tide, of course,” Hugh repeated, “but a sort of current.”

Going lightly in their soft moccasins, the two made the trips necessary to transport the furs. They left scarcely any traces of their passage that might not have been made by some wild animal. Hugh climbed the big, hollow tree which still stood firm enough to bear his weight. Down into the great hole in the trunk he lowered a sheet of birch bark that Blaise had stripped from a fallen tree some distance away. Then Hugh dropped down the bales, and put another piece of bark on top. The furs were well hidden. From the ground no one could see anything unusual about the old tree.

Returning to the shore, the two pushed off the boat and paddled to another spot several hundred yards away. There Hugh felled a small poplar and cut the slender trunk into rollers which he used to pull the heavy bateau well up on shore where it would be almost hidden by the alders.

Night was approaching and the wooded shores of the little lake were still veiled in fog. The water was calm and the damp air spicy with the scent of balsam and sweet with the odor of the dainty pink twin-flowers. On the whole of the big island the boys could scarcely have found a more peaceful spot. The woods were so thick there seemed to be no open spaces convenient for camping, so the brothers kindled their supper fire on the pebbles above the water-line, and lay down to sleep in the boat.

XIX

THE BAY OF MANITOS

The night passed quietly, unbroken by any sound of beast, bird or man, until the crying of the gulls woke the sleepers in the fog-gray dawn. Chilled and stiff, they threw off their damp blankets and climbed out of the bateau. By dint of much patience and a quantity of finely shredded birch bark, a slow fire of damp wood was kindled, the flame growing brighter as the wood dried out.

After he had swallowed his last spoonful of corn, Hugh remarked, “If we are held here to-day, we must try for food of some kind. We haven’t hunted or fished since we left the mainland, and our supplies are going fast.”

Blaise nodded. “We need fire no shots to fish.”

Fishing in the little pond did not appear promising. When the boys attempted to paddle through the passageway, they ran aground, and were forced to wait for the water to rise and float the boat. The same fluctuation they had noticed the day before was still going on. Luck did not prove good in the narrow channel, and they went on into the wider one between the long point and the row of islands. The fog was almost gone, though the sky was still gray. Would the weather permit a start for the mainland?

Turning to the northeast, they went the way they had come the preceding afternoon. As they approached the end of the last island, they realized that this was no time to attempt a crossing. Wind there was now, too much wind. It came from the northwest, and the lake, a deep green under the gray sky, was heaving with big waves, their tips touched with foam. The bateau would not sail against that wind. To try to paddle the heavily-laden boat across those waves would be the worst sort of folly.

Turning again, they went slowly back through the protected channel, Hugh wielding the blade while Blaise fished. Luck was still against them. Either there were no fish in the channel or they were not hungry. On beyond the entrance to the hiding place, the two paddled. Passing the abrupt end of an island, they came to a wider expanse of water. They were still sheltered by the high, wooded ridges to their right, where dark evergreens and bright-leaved birches rose in tiers. In the other direction, they could see, between scattered islands, the open lake to the horizon line. Misty blue hills in the distance ahead, beyond islands and forested shores, indicated another bay, longer and wider than the one the Otter had entered.

Blaise, who was paddling now, raised his blade and looked questioningly at Hugh. The latter answered the unspoken query. “I am for going on. We have seen no signs of human beings since that canoe, and we need fish.”

Blaise nodded and dipped his paddle again. As they drew near a reef running out from the end of a small island, Hugh felt his line tighten. Fishing from the bateau was much less precarious than from a canoe. Without endangering the balance of the boat, Hugh hauled in his line quickly, swung in his fish, a lake trout of eight or ten pounds, and rapped it smartly on the head with his paddle handle. He then gave the line to Blaise and took another turn at the paddle. In less than ten minutes, Blaise had a pink-fleshed trout somewhat smaller than Hugh’s.

Then luck deserted them again. Not another fish responded to the lure of the hook, though they paddled back and forth beside the reef several times. They went on along the little island and up the bay for another mile or more without a nibble. It was a wonderful place, that lonely bay, fascinating in its wild beauty. Down steep, densely wooded ridges, the deep green spires of the spruces and balsams, interspersed with paler, round-topped birches, descended in close ranks. Between the ridges, the clear, transparent water was edged with gray-green cedars, white-flowered mountain ashes, alders and other bushes, and dotted with wooded islands. Far beyond the head of the bay blue hills rose against the sky. The fishing, however, was disappointing, and paddling the bateau was tiresome work, so the lads turned back.

As they passed close to an island, the younger boy’s quick eye caught a movement in a dogwood near the water. A long-legged hare went leaping across an opening.

“If we cannot get fish enough, we will eat rabbit,” said the boy, turning the boat into a shallow curve in the shore of the little island. “I will set some snares. If we are delayed another day, we will come in the morning to take our catch.”

Tying the boat to an overhanging cedar tree, the brothers went ashore. On the summit of the island, in the narrowest places along a sort of runway evidently frequented by hares, Blaise set several snares of cedar bark cord. While the younger brother was placing his last snare, Hugh returned to the boat. He startled a gull perched upon the prow, and the bird rose with a harsh cry of protest at being disturbed. Immediately the cry was repeated twice, a little more faintly each time. Hugh looked about for the birds that had answered. No other gulls were in sight. Then he realized that what he had heard was a double echo, unusually loud and clear. Forgetting caution he let out a loud, “Oh – O.” It came back promptly, “Oh – o, o – o.”

“Be quiet!” The words were hissed in a low voice, as Blaise leaped out from among the trees. “Canoes are coming. We must hide.”

He darted back into the woods, Hugh following. Swiftly they made their way to the summit of the island. The growth was thin along the irregular rock lane. Blaise dropped down and crawled, Hugh after him. Lying flat in a patch of creeping bearberry, the younger lad raised his head a little. Hugh wriggled to his side, and, peeping through a serviceberry bush, looked out across the water.

The warning had been justified. Two canoes, several men in each, were coming up the bay. The nearest canoe was not too far away for Hugh to make out in the center a man who towered, tall and broad, above the others. The boy remembered the gigantic Indian outlined against the sky, as his canoe passed in the early dawn. He saw him again, standing motionless, with folded arms, in the red light of the fire.

Blaise, close beside him, whispered in his ear, “Ohrante himself. What shall we do?”

If the canoes came down the side of the island where the bateau was, discovery was inevitable. For a moment, Hugh’s mind refused to work. A gull circled out over the water, screaming shrilly. Like a ray of light a plan flashed into the boy’s head.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “Keep still. Remember the ‘Bay of Spirits.’”

Swiftly Hugh wriggled back and darted down through the woods to the spot where the bateau lay. He crouched behind an alder bush, drew a long breath, and sent a loud, shrill cry across the water. Immediately it was repeated once, twice, ringing back across the channel from the islands and steep shore beyond. Before the final echo had died away, he sent his voice forth again, this time in a hoarse bellow. Then, in rapid succession, he hooted like an owl, barked like a dog, howled like a wolf, whistled piercingly with two fingers in his mouth, imitated the mocking laughter of the loon, growled and roared and hissed and screamed in every manner he could devise and with all the power of his strong young lungs. The roughened and cracked tones of his voice, not yet through turning from boy’s to man’s, made his yells and howls and groans the more weird and demoniac. And each sound was repeated once and again, producing a veritable pandemonium of unearthly noises which seemed to come from every side.

Pausing to take breath, Hugh was himself startled by another voice, not an echo of his own, which rang out from somewhere above him, loud and shrill. It spoke words he did not understand, and no echo came back. A second time the voice cried out, still in the same strange language, but now Hugh recognized the names Ohrante and Minong and then, to his amazement, that of his own father Jean Beaupré. For an instant the lad almost believed that this was indeed a “Bay of Spirits.” Who but a spirit could be calling the name of Jean Beaupré in this remote place? Who but Blaise, Beaupré’s other son? It was Blaise of course, crying out in Ojibwa from up there at the top of the island. He had uttered some threat against Ohrante.

Suddenly recalling his own part in the game, Hugh sent out another hollow, threatening owl call, “Hoot-ti-toot, toot, hoot-toot!” The ghostly voices repeated it, once, twice. Then he wailed and roared and tried to scream like a lynx. He was in the midst of the maniacal loon laugh, when Blaise slipped through the trees to his side.

“They run away, my brother.” The quick, flashing smile that marked him as Jean Beaupré’s son crossed the boy’s face. “They have turned their canoes and paddle full speed. The manitos you called up have frightened them away. For a moment, before I understood what you were about, those spirit cries frightened me also.”

“And you frightened me,” Hugh confessed frankly, “when you shouted from up there.”

A grim expression replaced the lad’s smile. “The farther canoe had turned, but the first still came on, with Ohrante urging his braves. Then I too played spirit! But let us go back and see if they still run away.”

Hugh sent out another hoarse-voiced roar or two and Blaise added a war whoop and a very good imitation of the angry cat scream of a lynx. Then both slipped hurriedly through the trees to the top of the island and sought the spot where they had first watched the approaching canoes. The canoes were still visible, but farther away and moving rapidly down the bay.

“They think this a bay of demons,” Hugh chuckled. “The echoes served us well. But what was it you said to them, Blaise?”