VII AT WAUSWAUGONING
Hugh woke chilled and stiff, to find Blaise rekindling the fire. Themorning was clear and the sun coming up across the water. Winds and waveshad subsided enough to permit going on with the journey.
Cutting wood limbered Hugh's sore muscles somewhat, and a hot breakfastcheered him, but the first few minutes of paddling were difficult andpainful. With set teeth he persisted, and gradually the worst of thelameness wore off.
Skirting the shore of Lake Superior in a bark canoe requires no smallamount of patience. Delays from unfavorable weather must be frequent andunavoidable. On the whole, Hugh and Blaise were lucky during the firstpart of their trip, and they reached the Pigeon River in good time.Rounding the long point to the south of the river mouth, they paddled tothe north end of Wauswaugoning Bay.
Hugh was gaining experience and his paddling muscles were hardening. Hewould soon be able, he felt, to hold his own easily at any pace hishalf-brother set. So far Blaise had proved a good travelling companion,somewhat silent and grave to be sure, but dependable, patient and for themost part even tempered. His lack of talkativeness Hugh laid to hisIndian blood, his gravity to his sorrow at the loss of the father he hadknown so much better than Hugh had known him. Blaise, the older boydecided, was, in spite of his Quebec training and many civilized ways,more Indian than French. Only now and then, in certain gestures and quicklittle ways, in an unexpected gleam of humor or sudden flash of anger,did the lad show his kinship with Jean Beaupre.
Satisfactory comrade though the half-breed boy seemed, Hugh was in nohaste to admit Blaise to his friendship. Since first receiving hisletter, Hugh had felt doubtful of this Indian brother, inclined to resenthis very existence. Their relations from their first meeting had beenentirely peaceful but somewhat cool and stiff. As yet, Hugh was obligedto admit to himself, he had no cause for complaint of his half-brother'sbehavior, but he felt that the real test of their companionship was tocome.
The search for the cache of pelts had not yet begun, but was to beginsoon. It was into his wife's lodge at Wauswaugoning Bay that Jean Beauprehad stumbled dying. Somewhere between Grand Portage Bay, which lies justto the west and south of Wauswaugoning, and the Fond du Lac at the mouthof the St. Louis River, the bateau must have been wrecked and the furshidden.
The two boys landed on a bit of beach at the north end of the bay, hidthe canoe among the alders, and set out on foot. Blaise fully expected tofind his mother awaiting him, but the cleared spot among the trees wasdeserted. Of the camp nothing remained but the standing poles of a lodge,from which the bark covering had been stripped, and refuse and cast-offarticles strewn upon the stony ground in the untidy manner in which theIndians and most of the white voyageurs left their camping places. With alittle grunt, which might have meant either disappointment or disgust,Blaise looked about him. He noticed two willow wands lying crossed on theground and pegged down with a crotched stick.
"She has gone that way," said the boy, indicating the longest section ofwillow, pointing towards the northeast.
"If she travelled by canoe, it is strange we did not meet her," Hughremarked.
Blaise shrugged. "Who knows how long ago she went? The ashes are wet withrain. I cannot tell whether the fire burned two days ago or has been outmany days. There is another message here." He squatted down to study theshorter stick. At one end the bark had been peeled off and a cross markcut into the wood. The marked end pointed towards a thick clump ofspruces.
The boy rose and walked towards the group of trees, Hugh followingcuriously. Blaise pushed his way between the spruces, and, before Hughcould join him, came out again carrying a mooseskin bag. In the openspace by the ashes of the fire, he untied the thong and dumped thecontents. There was a smaller skin bag, partly full, a birch bark packageand a bundle of clothing. Tossing aside the bundle, Blaise opened thesmall bag, thrust in his hand, then, with the one word "manomin," passedthe bag to Hugh. It was about half full of wild rice grains, very hardand dry. The bark package Blaise did not open. He merely sniffed at itand laid it down. Hugh, picking it up and smelling of it, recognized theunmistakable odor of smoked fish. The bundle, which the younger boyuntied next, contained two deerskin shirts or tunics, two pairs ofleggings of the same material and half a dozen pairs of moccasins. Allwere new and well made, the moccasins decorated with dyed porcupinequills, the breasts of the tunics with colored bead embroidery.
The lad's face lighted with a look of pleasure, and he glanced at Hughproudly. "They are my mother's work," he said, "made of the best skins,well made. Now we have strong new clothes for our journey."
"We?" replied Hugh questioningly.
"Truly. There are two suits and six pairs of moccasins. Look." He held upone of the shirts. "This she made larger than the other. She knows youare the elder and must be the larger." He handed the shirt to Hugh,following it with a pair of the leggings. Looking over the moccasins, heselected the larger ones and gave them also to his white brother. "Theyare better to wear in a canoe than boots," he said.
For a moment Hugh was silent with embarrassment. He was touched by thegenerosity of the Indian woman, who had put as much time and care onthese clothes for her unknown stepson as upon those for her own boy. Heflushed, however, at the thought of accepting anything from the squaw whohad taken his mother's place in his father's life. Yet to decline thegift would be to offer a deadly insult not only to the Indian woman butto her son as well.
"I am obliged to your mother," Hugh stammered. "It was--kind of her."
Blaise made no other reply than a nod. He appeared pleased with theappearance and quality of the clothes, but took it as a matter of coursethat his mother should make them for Hugh as well as for himself.
"I wish she had left more food," he said after a moment, "but at thistime of the year food is scarce. That manomin is all that remained of theharvest of the autumn. We have eaten much of our food. We must fish whenwe can."
"Can't we buy corn and pork from the traders at the Grand Portage?" Hughinquired.
Blaise shook his head doubtfully. "We will try," he said.
He put the food back in the mooseskin bag and hung it on a tree. Then heturned to Hugh and said softly and questioningly, "You wish to see wherewe laid him?"
Hugh nodded, a lump rising in his throat, and followed his brother.Beyond the clump of spruces, in a tiny clearing, was Jean Beaupre'sgrave. Hugh was surprised and horrified to see that it was, inappearance, an Indian grave. Poles had been stuck in the ground on eitherside, bent over and covered with birch bark. The boy's face flushed withindignation.
"Why," he demanded, "did you do that?" He pointed to the miniature lodge.
Blaise looked puzzled. "It is the Ojibwa custom."
"Father was not an Ojibwa. He was a white man and should have been buriedlike a white man and a Christian," Hugh burst out.
Blaise drew himself up with a dignity strange in so young a lad. "He_was_ buried like a Christian," he replied quietly. "Look." He pointed tothe rude cross set up in front of the opening to the shelter, instead ofthe pole, with offerings and trophies hung upon it, usually placed besideOjibwa graves. "The good father absolved him and read the burial serviceover him," the lad went on, "and I placed the cross there. Then thefriends of my mother covered the spot according to the Ojibwa custom. Ourfather was an Ojibwa by adoption and it was right they should do that.Now no Ojibwa will ever disturb that spot."
Hugh's anger had been cooling. After all, his father had thrown in hislot with the Indians and they had meant to honor him. At least he hadreceived Christian burial, and it was something to know that his gravewould not be disturbed. In silence Hugh turned away. He could not quitebring himself to apologize for his hasty words.
The relations between the half-brothers were more than ordinarily coolthe rest of that day. Blaise, travelling overland by a trail he knew,went to the Grand Portage Bay in quest of supplies. Even before theformation of the Northwest Company, the bay had
been a favorite stoppingplace, first for the French, and then for the English traders whofollowed the Pigeon River route to the country west of the lake. An oldIndian trail led from the bay to a spot on the river above the falls andrapids that make its lower course unnavigable. Gitchi OnegamKaministigoya the Indians had called the trail and the bay, "the greatcarrying place of the river that is hard to navigate." Early in thehistory of the fur trade, the white traders began to use that trail,portaging their goods some nine miles from the bay to the river andbringing the bales of furs back over the same route.
Since the Old Northwest Company had removed its headquarters to ThunderBay and had practically abandoned the Pigeon River route for theKaministikwia, Grand Portage was not so busy a place, but the Old Companystill maintained a post at the partly deserted fort on the north shore ofthe bay. On the west side the chief post and headquarters of the NewCompany also remained open for business. Blaise visited both posts, onlyto find that, as the winter's supplies were almost exhausted and no oneknew when fresh stores would arrive, nothing could be spared.
Anxious to avoid questions, Hugh had not accompanied Blaise. He occupiedhimself with fishing from the canoe, and caught one lake trout of aboutthree pounds weight. Making a grill of willow twigs resting on stonesover the coals, he had the trout ready to broil when Blaise returned. Thecommon way of cooking fish among both the Indians and white men of thewoods was to boil them, but Hugh, recently from the civilized world,preferred his broiled, baked or fried.
Blaise, after one mouthful, deigned to approve his elder brother'scooking. "It is good," he said. "I have not eaten fish so cooked since Iate it on Fridays in school at Quebec."
Neither lad had anything more to say during the meal or for some timeafterwards. Finally Blaise put his hand in the leather pouch he wore athis belt, drew out something and handed it to Hugh. The latter unwrappedthe bit of soft doeskin and found his father's gold seal ring. He glancedquickly up at Blaise.
"It is yours," the younger brother said. "I gave it not to you before,because I liked not to part with it."
Moved by a generous impulse, Hugh stretched out his hand to return thering, but Blaise would not take it.
"No," he said firmly. "You are the elder son. It is yours."
The adventurers intended to continue their trip next day, but fate wasagainst them. Before dawn rain was beating on the canoe that shelteredthem, and the thundering of the waves on the rocks in the more exposedpart of the bay sounded in Hugh's ears as he woke. That storm was thebeginning of a period of bad weather, rain, fog, and wind that clearedthe air, but rose to a gale, lashing the waters of the bay towhite-capped waves that did not diminish until hours after the wind hadblown itself out. Eight days the two camped in a hastily built wigwam onWauswaugoning Bay, fishing when they could, and snaring one lean hare anda few squirrels. They hunted for larger game and found some deer tracks,but did not catch sight of the animals. As for birds, they saw none butgulls, a loon or two and an owl, and did not care to try anything sotough and strong for food. So they were obliged to consume a good part oftheir corn.