CHAPTER XXIII STRANGE TREASURE
"Vivian! Look down there!" Jeanne's lips were drawn into a tight line asshe pointed to a spot on the smooth frozen surface of the little lostlake.
It was the day following the storm. All was clear, bright and silent now.They had climbed the ridge, those two. Then they had gone slipping andsliding down the other side.
As Vivian heard Jeanne's words, she gave her a quick look of suddensurprise. "Why--what----"
"Don't ask me!" Jeanne exclaimed in a low, tense tone. "I can't tell you.I mustn't! Just look!"
Without further question Vivian dropped to the frozen surface of Jeanne'slittle lost lake, cupped her hands about her eyes and, for one fullmoment, lay there flat upon the ice, looking--just looking.
To Jeanne those sixty seconds were sixty hours. "That girl June Travis,"she was thinking to herself, "expects her father to come back. Sometimespeople have faith to believe such things. God must give them the power tobelieve. But if her father is down there--if he has been there foryears?" She only half formed this last question, and made no effort toanswer it.
"Jeanne!" Vivian sprang to her feet with a suddenness that was startling."I see an airplane down there. There is a circle on the right plane andinside the circle is D.X.123!"
Jeanne uttered a sharp cry. "Then it is true!"
"What is true?" Vivian demanded. "How did the airplane get there?"
Slowly, haltingly, Jeanne told her all she knew of the D.X.123, and allshe suspected as well.
"Jeanne!" Vivian's voice was hoarse with emotion. "There is a greatbeacon light on Passage Island, four miles off the end of Isle Royale. Itis there to guide passing ships. But on a night of wild storm song birds,driven off their course, seeing the beacon and thinking it a place ofrefuge, come racing in to dash out their lives against the thick glass ofthe light. The men in that plane must have thought this little lake aplace of refuge, and found it only a grave!
"And yet," she said quickly, "just because the plane is down there is noproof the men are there also. Only last summer an airplane went down inRock Harbor, just ten miles from here. The plane sank from sight in tenminutes. But before it sank the two men on board were rescued and areliving still.
"Come!" Once again her voice changed as she prepared to spring intoaction. "We must hurry back and tell Sandy about our discovery. We'll getthe short wave at Michigan Tech. They will relay a message to Sandy'spaper. Just think what a scoop it will be for him! Can't you see theheadline: 'Plane D.X.123 found at bottom of small lake on Isle Royale!'"
"Yes," Jeanne spoke slowly, "I can see that. I can see more than that. Ican see the face of my friend June Travis when she reads that headline.Her father left in that airplane, Vivian. Her father! She may not knowall about it, but when she reads that name, John Travis, she will know.But, Vivian, newspapers are often cruel. We must not let Sandy's paper becruel; at least, please not yet!"
"Al--alright, Jeanne." Vivian put her strong arm about Jeanne's waist andtogether they made their way across the lake to the foot of the ridge.
"Jeanne," said Vivian as they left the lake, "I wonder how long paintkeeps its color at the bottom of a lake."
"I wonder who knows?" Strangely enough, there was a fresh note of hope inJeanne's voice.
As they reached the crest of the ridge, Jeanne turned back. Her gaze tookin not the lake alone, but the lower ridge beyond that, a broad stretchof lower land.
"Look!" she said, pointing to the distant shore. "Smoke below."
"Smoke?" There was a puzzled expression on Vivian's face. "Whose fire canit be?"
"Does no one live there?" asked Jeanne.
"No one. There is a cabin there. It was owned by an Indian, JohnRedfeather. He died two years ago. All his stuff is in the cabin, netsfor fishing, canned goods, salt fish in kegs, everything. But, until thismoment, I believed we people at Chippewa Harbor were the only ones on theisland.
"Vivian!" Jeanne gripped her arm hard. "You don't suppose--"
"No." Vivian read her meaning. "How could they? No one could live on thisisland for years without being seen. Small boats are going around theisland all summer long. No, no! It is impossible.
"And yet--" her voice softened. "Those people probably _are_ in trouble.They may have been driven across the lake in a small boat.
"Tell you what!" she exclaimed. "Here's a large flat rock and over thereare some small dead trees. Those people may not know we are at ChippewaHarbor. We will build a beacon fire to let them know they are not alone.Then perhaps they will come over and we can help them."
"All the same," Jeanne thought as she assisted in laying the fire, "Istill have faith."
"Jeanne," said Vivian as a half hour later the fire, which had blazedhigh, was a mass of glowing coals, "we are only a short distance from thehighest spot on the ridge. In a sort of cave beneath that spot is to befound '_some considerable treasure_.' Shall we go look for it?"
"Lead on!" said Jeanne.
It was Vivian who talked most of the mysterious "treasure" she and Jeannewere about to seek in the cave-like opening of the rocks on GreenstoneRidge. And why not? Had it not been she who, while lifting her father'snets, had taken the ancient churn from the bottom of Lake Superior? Hadshe not cherished it as a mark of Isle Royale's colorful history? Had shenot, with Jeanne's aid, discovered the note telling of that treasure?What was most important of all, Jeanne had insisted that if anything ofvalue were found it should be sold and added to Vivian's boat fund.
Vivian was saying as they made their way along the ridge toward itshighest point: "I know just the boat we need. It was made by a famous oldboat builder. He built it for his own use. He was old. His sight failedhim. He never put it in the water. He is quite poor now. If he can sellhis boat, how happy he will be!"
"And how happy you and Violet will be!" said Jeanne, suddenly coming outof a brown study. She was still thinking of the lost airplane D.X.123 andof that mournful sight both she and Vivian had seen at the bottom of thelittle lost lake, the sunken plane.
At the same time she was thinking of that column of smoke rising from theedge of a tiny island along the farther shore of Isle Royale.
"Smoke!" she whispered. "How much it has meant to man through all theyears! How he has read the meaning of its upward curlings. If he is wise,it tells him of wind and approaching storm. He signals his distantfriends with columns of smoke. Other columns warn him of hiding enemies.All this is of the past. How little that distant smoke says to me! Andyet, somehow, I cannot help but feel--" she spoke aloud--"that somehowthat smoke is connected with the missing airplane."
"I can't see how that could be," replied Vivian. "All that must havehappened years ago. No one could live undiscovered on this island allthat time--not even if he chose to."
"And yet--" Jeanne did not finish. Her thoughts at that moment were forherself alone.
"But think, Jeanne!" Vivian exclaimed. "'Some considerable treasure.'That's what we read in that note. Think back over the history of ourisland. Lake pirates are believed to have hidden away in our long, narrowharbors. Of course, that was years and years ago. But think of theancient gold and silver plate, the jewels they may have hidden here!
"But then--" she sighed a happy sigh of anticipation. "It may not havebeen that at all. This island is only sixteen miles from Canada. Thinkwhat a hiding place it must have been when smugglers were chased byrevenue cutters!"
"What did they smuggle?" Jeanne asked absent-mindedly.
"Silks, woolens, drugs, opium, uncut diamonds and--oh, lots of things."
"Silks would rot. Who wants opium? I'm not sure I could tell an uncutdiamond from a pebble." Jeanne laughed in spite of herself.
"Well, anyway," Vivian exclaimed, "here's the highest spot! Now we godown."
"But how?" Jeanne looked with dismay upon the sheer wall of rock beneathher.
"This way." Vivian gripped the out-growing root of a tree, swung intospace, tucked her toe into
a crevice, caught at a sapling clinging to therocky wall, found a narrow shelf, then dropped again.
"Oh, Jeanne!" she cried. "Here it is! Here's the very place! All dark andspooky!"
"Yes," Jeanne wailed, "and here am I. I--I just can't come down there!Makes me dizzy to think about it."
"Wait. I'll come up and help you."
In a surprisingly short time Vivian was again at her side. "It's all ingetting used to it," she breathed. "I've always lived here, and I'veclimbed all over. Now when I get down to that first shelf, you grab thatroot and slide over the side. I'll catch you."
With wildly beating heart Jeanne followed instructions. Three minuteslater, to her vast surprise, she found herself on a lower rocky shelflooking into a dark cavern that might well have been called a cave.
"You--you're wonderful!" She patted Vivian on the shoulder.
Vivian evidently did not hear this well-deserved praise. "Now," shebreathed, "now for the treasure!"
At that moment two men, one with his feet garbed in crude moccasins madefrom a torn-up blanket, were standing on the distant shore close to aweather-beaten cabin.
"John," the taller of the two was saying, "that column of smoke is thefirst sign of life I've seen on this island. Who can it be? Do yousuppose they're Indians?" They were speaking of the smoke from Vivian'ssignal fire.
"If they're Indians, they're civilized, living this far south. Probablygot a good supply of food, too, and that's what we need. Stuff in thiscabin is about gone. Wish I knew what island this is."
"Anyway," the other said, "we've got to get up there and down on theother side, where they live. We'd better start as soon as possible. Bedark before we get over the ridge, as it is."
"We'll start at once," the other agreed. Then they disappeared into thecabin.
"Treasure!" Jeanne was saying at that moment. "He called thattreasure--four big slabs of copper beaten out of the rocks, probably byIndians, and hidden here perhaps two hundred years ago. It may go well inyour museum, but how is it going to help with that boat of yours?"
"It won't help much," Vivian agreed with a sigh.
Flashlights in hand, they had entered the rocky cavern. It was neithervery wide nor deep. Well toward the back of it they had come upon theseirregular slabs of pure copper. The marks of fire and Indians' stonehammers were still to be seen upon them. Here at least was proof thatwild tribes did mine copper here in centuries gone.
"Copper," said Vivian slowly, "is worth eight cents a pound, if you haveit near a smelter. Up here it is worth very little.
"But there have been times," she added in defense of the unknown one whohad left that note in the ancient churn, "when this pile of copper wouldhave been considered a treasure. It would have sold for two hundreddollars, and that much money would buy a house in a city, or a prettygood farm, way back in the long ago. It all depends--"
She did not finish, for at that moment Jeanne exclaimed from the deepestand narrowest corner of the cavern: "Vivian! Come here quick! See whatI've found!"
"Oh--oh!" Vivian cried. "How strange!" Her flashlight played over anarrow shelf-like ledge of rock. On that shelf rested several pieces ofcrockery.
These were not like any Vivian had seen before. Moulded from bluish clay,then fired to a bright glaze, they bore on their sides strange markings.
"Pictured crockery," Jeanne murmured. "Seems strange that Indians shouldhave done that!"
"And yet they must have been Indians," Vivian replied. "Who else couldhave made them?
"And oh, Jeanne!" she cried with sudden enthusiasm. "What an additionthey will make to my museum collection!"
"I wonder," Jeanne said thoughtfully, "if these could have been thetreasure referred to in that note?"
"Treasure? These?" Vivian laughed a merry laugh. "Pieces of old crockery!But," she added thoughtfully, "they _are_ a treasure, of a sort. Come on.I'll take off my mackinaw and pack them in it. We'll have to handle themwith care."
A half hour later, just as dusk was falling, they crept out of the cave.After a quarter hour spent in struggling up the steep rocky wall, theywent hurrying down the slope toward home.
At the same time two men, one who limped and one who wore rags for shoes,were struggling across the narrow plateau where snow lay deep and wolftracks were numerous, toward that steep wall of rock in which the cavernwas hidden.
Jeanne's question regarding the pieces of ancient crockery proved not tobe so far wrong after all. The moment Sandy MacQueen saw them heexclaimed "What a discovery! Until this moment not a whole piece ofIndian crockery has been found on the island, only fragments. And now,here you have a dozen or more perfect ones.
"But what is this?" He fairly leaped at one piece. "Here is the pictureof that heathen god Thor! Can't be any mistake about it. Why wouldIndians put such a picture on their crockery?"
"Know what?" His face beamed. "I may be wrong, but if I'm not, this willgo far toward proving a story that until now has seemed more than halflegend--that Norsemen, driven to the shores of America, perhaps athousand years ago, came to this island for protection from savageIndians, and that they were the true discoverers of copper on IsleRoyale.
"Vivian! Violet!" His tone was low, exciting. "You have your summer boatpaid for right now! I know a museum curator who will pay you handsomelyfor these pieces."
"I--I sort of wanted them for my museum," Vivian demurred. "But theboat--"
"Oh, yes, the boat!" Violet exclaimed. "The boat! The boat!" At that shegrabbed Vivian and Jeanne both at once and together they went whirlingmadly around the room.