CHAPTER IX
Nearly the whole winter was before them, but it was none too long atime to consider their plans. Horace had found diamonds, it is true,but they had been found miles apart, one at a time, in the rivergravel. This is not the natural home of diamonds, which are alwaysfound native to the peculiar formation known in South Africa as "blueclay." Nobody had ever found a trace of blue clay in Ontario, yetHorace felt certain that the blue-clay beds must exist. They were theonly thing worth looking for. To poke over the river gravel in hopesof finding a chance stone would be sheer waste of time. Hundreds ofmen had done it without lighting on a single diamond.
Horace was a trained geologist, and that winter he spent much time instudy, without saying a word even to Fred as to what he was meditating.He pored over geological surveys, and went to Ottawa to consult thedepartmental maps at the Legislative Library. By slow degrees he wasworking out a theory, and at last, one February evening, he came intohis brother's room.
"Just look at this, Fred, and see what you think of it," he remarkedcasually.
It was a large pen-and-ink map, skillfully drawn, for Horace was apracticed map-maker.
"It's the country of the Abitibi and Missanabie Rivers," Horaceexplained. "These red crosses show where I found my diamonds--see, inthe Whitefish River, the Smoke River, and another river that hasn't anyname, so far as I know. Right here is the trappers' cabin where youboys found me. My bones might have been up there now but for you, oldboy!"
And he thumped Fred's back affectionately.
"If you hadn't come along when you did I'm pretty certain our boneswould be there, anyway," said Fred.
"Well, let's hope we all saved one another. But see, most of thesediamonds were found many miles apart. They didn't grow where I foundthem. They must have been washed down, perhaps from the veryheadwaters of the river. Now look at the map. Do you see, all thesethree rivers rise in pretty much the same region."
"So they do," said Fred, his eyes fixed on the paper. "Then youthink--"
"The stones were probably all washed down from that region. Theblue-clay beds, the diamond field, must be up there, somewhere withinthis black circle I've drawn."
Fred's heart began to throb with excitement.
"But some prospector would have hit on them before now," he said.
"I doubt if any prospector has ever gone in there. They say it's oneof the roughest bits of country in the North, and no mineral strikeshave ever been made in that region. I've never been up there myself.It's up in the hills, you see; the rivers are too broken for a canoe,and the ground is too rough to get over on foot, except in the winter.The Ojibwas hunt there in the winter, they say, and I dare say there'splenty of game."
"But if it's so rough to get into, how can we travel?"
"Oh, often those bad places are not so bad when you get there. I'dlike to see the place I couldn't get into if there were diamonds there!We'll get into it somehow, for the diamond-beds must surely be there ifthey're anywhere. But there's no doubt it'll be a rough trip."
"Rough? What of that?" cried Fred. "If your theory is right we'llmake our fortunes--millions, maybe! Of course you'll let me go, won'tyou? And Maurice, and Mac?"
"I couldn't manage without you. But mind, not a word to anybody else!"
They telephoned the other boys that day, and in the evening a meetingwas held in Fred's room, like the previous time when the firstexpedition had been so hurriedly planned. But this was to be adifferent affair, carefully thought out and equipped for all sorts ofpossibilities.
"Of course you'll both be able to go?" said Fred.
"I certainly will," answered Peter. "I've lost so much time thiswinter already, with our other trip, and then having my mind on thediamonds and dodging newspaper reporters and things, that I've gothopelessly behind. My laboratory work especially has gone all topieces. I'm bound to fail on next summer's exams, anyway, so I'm goingto let it slide and make the trip, on the chance that I'll make such afortune that I won't have to practice medicine for a living at all.How about you, Maurice?"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything--if I could help it," Maurice replied."I don't know, though, whether I can afford it."
Maurice's parents were not in rich circumstances, and Horace hastenedto say--
"I'm paying for this expedition, you know, out of the diamond money.There'll be plenty, and some to spare."
"Well, it isn't exactly the cost," said Maurice, "but my father isawfully anxious for me to make an honor pass next summer. I couldn'tafford to fail, and have to take another year at the work. I don'tknow, though,--I'll see. I'd be awfully disappointed if I had to stayout of it."
Under the circumstances they could not urge him to say more. As forHorace and Fred, they had very few family ties. Their closestrelatives were an aunt and uncle in Montreal. The trip was quite inthe line of Horace's profession, and Fred did not mind resigning thepost he held in the real estate office. The firm was shaky; it was notlikely to continue in business much longer, and he would be likely tohave to look for another position soon in any event. As they hadfeared, Maurice was obliged to announce his inability to go with them.His professors thought that an absence of two months would be ahandicap that he could never make up. In the eyes of his parents theexpedition was no more than a hare-brained expedition into the woods,that would cost a whole year of collegiate work. To his bitterdisappointment, he had to give it up.
Fred and Macgregor at once began to train as if for an athleticcontest. They took long cross-country runs in the snow and worked hardin the gymnasium. They introduced a new form of exercise that madetheir friends stare. They appeared on the indoor running track bentalmost double; each carried on his back a sack of sawdust, held inplace by a broad leather band that passed over the top of his forehead.Thus burdened they jogged round the track at a fast walk.
They were the butt of many jokes before the other men at the gymnasiumdiscovered the reason for this queer form of exercise. It had beenHorace's idea. He knew that there would be long portages where theywould have to carry the supplies with a tumpline; and he also knew thatnothing is so wearing on a novice.
Fred and Peter found it so. Strong as they were, they discovered thatit brought a new set of muscles into play, and they had trouble instaggering over a mile with a fifty-pound pack; but they kept at it,and before the expedition started, Fred could travel five miles with ahundred pounds, and big Macgregor could do even better.
As soon as the ice on Toronto Bay broke up, they bought a largePeterboro canoe, which Horace inspected thoroughly. He was a skilledcanoeman; Fred and Peter could also handle a paddle. When the ice wentout of the Don and Humber Rivers, the boys began to practice canoeingassiduously. The streams were running yellow and flooded, and they gotmore than one ducking, but it was all good training.
They decided to start as soon as the Northern rivers were navigable,for at that early season they would escape the worst of the black-flypest, and the smaller streams would be more easily traveled than whenshallow in midsummer. Besides, they all felt anxious to get on theground at once. But although the streams were free in Toronto, in theFar North winter held them locked. It was hard to wait; but not untilMay did Horace think it safe to start.
Since Maurice was not going, the boys decided to take only one canoe.It was impossible to say how long they might be gone, but Horace madeout a list of supplies for six weeks. It was rather a formidable list,and the outfit would be heavy to transport. They carried a tent andmosquito-bar, and a light spade and pick for prospecting the blue clay,besides Horace's own regular outfit for mineralogical testing work.For weapons they decided upon a 44-caliber repeating rifle and ashotgun, with assorted loads of shells. It was not the season forhunting, but they wished to live on the country as far as possible tosave their flour and pork. Fish should be abundant, however, and theytook a steel rod with a varied stock of artificial flies andminnow-baits.
It was warm weather, almost summery, when t
hey took the northboundexpress in Toronto; but when Fred opened the car window the nextmorning, a biting cold air rushed in. Rough spruce woods lined thetrack, and here and there he saw patches of snow.
It was almost noon when they got off at the station that was a favoritestarting-point for prospectors. Here they had to spend two days, forHorace wished to engage Indian packers to help them portage over theHeight of Land. As it was early in the season, they had their pick ofmen, and obtained three French half-breeds, who furnished their owncanoe and supplies.
The boys' canoe and duffel sacks had come up by freight. All was readyat last. The next morning they put the canoes into the water; thepaddles dipped, and the half-dozen houses of the village dropped out ofsight behind the pines.
The first week of that voyage was uneventful, except for hard work andconsiderable discomfort. It rained four days in the seven, and once itsnowed a little. They were going upstream always, against a rushingcurrent swollen with snow water. Sometimes they could paddle, moreoften they had to pole, and frequently they were forced either tocarry, or else to wade and "track" the canoes up the current. Thenearer they came to the head of the river, the swifter and more brokenthe stream became. At last they could go no farther in the canoes.Then came the long portage. In order to reach the head of theMissanabie River, which flowed in the opposite direction, they had tocarry the canoe and over six hundred pounds of outfit for about twelvemiles, across the Height of Land.
Here they camped for one night. At daylight next morning they startedover the long portage, heavily burdened, and before the first hour hadpassed they were thankful that they had brought along the half-breedpackers, who strode along sturdily under a load that made Fred stare.It is only fair to say, though, that the half-breeds were almostequally surprised at the performance of the boys, for their previousexperience with city campers had not led them to expect anything in theway of weight-carrying. Thanks to their gymnasium practice, however,Fred and Macgregor were able to travel under a sixty-pound load withoutactually collapsing.
The trail was rough and wound up and down over rocky ridges, throughtangles of swamp-alder and tamarack, but continually zigzagged uptoward the hills. It was a chilly day; the streams had been rimmedwith ice that morning, but after a few miles the boys were drippingwith perspiration.
That was a killing march. If it had not been for their weeks of hardtraining the boys could never have stood up under it, and they had allthey could do to reach the topmost ridge of the Height of Land by themiddle of the afternoon.
Fred slipped the tumpline from his head, slung the sixty-pound pack onthe ground, and sat down heavily on the pack.
"That part's over, anyway!" he gasped.
"There won't be anything much rougher, old boy," replied Horace, as hecame up and threw off his own burden.
Staggering through the underbrush, slipping on the wet, mossy stones ofthe slope, came a queer procession. In front was a bronze-facedhalf-breed, bent double, with the broad tump-line over the top of hishead, and a mountainous pack of blankets and food supplies on his back.Behind him came two more half-breeds, each with a heavy pack of campoutfit. Macgregor brought up the rear; he carried a Peterboro canoeupside down on his shoulders, and steadied it with his hands.
They all sat down on the top of the hill to rest. The three whiteboys, although trained athletes, were pretty well at the end of theirstrength; but the half-breeds seemed little the worse for their labor.
They were on the top of the Height of Land, which divides the flow ofthe rivers between the Great Lakes and Hudson Bay. Behind them was thelong, undulating line of hills and valleys they had just crossed.
Before them the land fell away sharply. In the clear May sunshine theycould see for miles over the tree-tops until the dark green of thespruce and tamarack faded to a hazy blue. A great ridge showed a splitface of gray granite; in the distance a lake glimmered.
About two miles away to the northwest a yellowish-green strip showedhere and there through the trees. It was a river--one of thetributaries of the Missanabie, which was to take them North.
The descent on the other side of the ridge was almost as hard as theascent had been. The northern slope was wet and rocky; in the hollowswere deep banks of snow. The rocks were loosened by the frost, whichmade the footing dangerous. But it was only two miles now to theriver, and they reached it in time to camp before dusk. The nextmorning they paid off the half-breeds, who returned over the ridgessouthward. The boys were left alone; the real expedition had begun.
The work now looked easy, but dangerous. The river was narrow,swollen; its tremendous current, roaring over rocks and rapids, wouldcarry them along at a rapid pace. They would have to do some carefulsteering, however, if they did not wish to upset.
As the most skillful canoeman, Horace took the stern; Macgregor sat inthe bow, and Fred in the middle behind a huge pile of dunnage.
For a quarter of a mile they shot down the river; then they had to landand make a fifty-yard carry. Another swift run in the canoe followed,and then another and longer portage.
It was like that for about fifteen miles. Then they caught sight ofwider water ahead, and the little river poured into a great, brown,swift-flowing stream a hundred yards wide. It was the Missanabie.
During the rest of that day they ran over forty miles. The currentcarried them fast, and the river was so big and deep that it was seldombroken by dangerous rapids.
The country grew lower and less hilly; it was covered with a ratherstunted growth of spruce, tamarack, and birch. Ducks splashed up fromthe water as the canoe came in sight; and when the boys stopped to makecamp for the night they found at the river's edge the tracks of a moose.
It was wintry cold in camp that night, and there was ice in the poolsthe next morning. Shortly after sunrise the boys launched the canoeagain, and it was not much more than an hour later when a sound ofroaring water began to grow loud in their ears. With vast commotionand foam a smaller stream swept into the Missanabie from the southwest.
"Hurrah! I've been here before!" cried Horace. "It's the Smoke River.Up here real work begins."
"And up here," Peter said, gazing at the wild, swift stream, "is thediamond country."