The Secret Cache: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

  XXV THE CHIEF OF MINONG

  Hugh had expected to learn his fate that morning and had braced himselffor the ordeal, but Ohrante paid no further attention to him. With six ofhis band the Iroquois left the camp. From where he sat propped againstthe birch trunk, Hugh could see the two canoes start up the bay. Hiswrists had been bound again and he was tied to the tree. The squat manand the ugly fellow with the scarlet head band, who had remained to guardthe captive, evidently considered him so secure that he did not needclose watching. Shortly after the canoe had disappeared, both men wentoff somewhere out of sight and hearing.

  Now was his chance, thought Hugh, if he could only find some way to loosehis bonds. He pulled and wriggled and twisted, but to no avail. Hiscaptors had done their work too well. His struggles only drew the knotstighter. He sank back inert and disheartened.

  "Take heart."

  The whisper was so low Hugh doubted his ears. He turned his head. Proneon the ground in the shadow of a willow lay a slim figure, the black headraised ever so little.

  "Blaise!"

  The head shook in warning. Wriggling like a snake, Blaise drew close.

  "Untie me," Hugh breathed.

  "No, not till night. The guards are too near. When all sleep, I will comeagain."

  "That may be too late," Hugh protested.

  "They will do nothing to-day. Ohrante wishes to take you to the mainland,and to-day the lake is rough. Keep a strong heart, my brother."

  Blaise wriggled back to the shelter of the willows, and was gone withouta sound. He was out of the way none too soon. The guttural voice of thesquat man came to Hugh's ears. In a few moments both guards were back,carrying a birch basket of fish.

  That day was even longer to Hugh than the preceding one. The sun climbedand descended so slowly it seemed almost to stand still. Though hisguards left him alone several times, he neither saw nor heard anythingmore of Blaise. That did not worry Hugh. He knew that somewhere, not faraway, his younger brother was hiding, awaiting the coming of darkness.The knowledge put new heart and spirit into the prisoner. If only theIndians did not capture Blaise, there was a good chance of getting awaysafely. Hugh felt sure that he did not need to fear violence from hiscaptors just yet. Blaise had said that Ohrante meant to carry theprisoner to the mainland. The lad must have had some good reason forthinking that. Probably he had overheard the Indians' conversation. Inthis manner the captive, propped against the birch, in the thin shade ofits foliage, speculated on the movements and plans of his captors and hisrescuer. To speculate and plan was all he could do.

  About the middle of the afternoon one of the canoes returned with Ohranteand two of his followers. The men who had remained behind prepared a mealof the fish they had brought in that morning, boiled in the big kettle.Hugh was given a portion and his hands were again untied that he mighteat. His pleasure in the fresh lake trout was rather spoiled by itshaving been sweetened with maple sugar. He had grown well used to eatinghis meat and fish without salt, but he had not learned to enjoy theIndian custom of using sugar instead.

  After the meal, Ohrante again approached the boy. For a few moments thebig man stood looking down at him fixedly and in silence, and Hugh stroveto meet the piercing gaze boldly. Presently the giant began to speak. HisEnglish was bad and interspersed with Indian words, at the meaning ofwhich Hugh could only guess. His speech, as well as the boy could make itout, was something like this:

  "White man, whether the tale you tell is true or false I know not. When Ilook at you I think of a white man I knew and hated and took revengeupon. Yet you are not like him. Your hair, your eyes are pale. It mattersnot. I hate all white men. White men are my enemies. When a white manfalls into my hands I treat him as a great chief should treat hisenemies." He paused to let the words sink in, his dark face hard asstone.

  The impressiveness and dignity of the chief's deliberate address wererather spoiled in effect by his ridiculously weak and broken voice, likethe changing tones of a boy, but Hugh could not fail to perceive thethreat conveyed.

  "You are mistaken, great chief," he replied quietly, using as a bit offlattery the title Ohrante had given himself. "The white men are not theenemies of the Indians. They wish the Indians no evil, only good. Thewhite men know no reason why the peace between themselves and the Ojibwasshould not last forever."

  "Ojibwa!" Ohrante made a gesture of contempt. "The Ojibwa may be a slaveof the white men if he wishes. I, Ohrante,"--he drew himself up a littlestraighter, keeping his fierce eyes on the boy's face to observe whateffect the name had--"I, Ohrante, am no Ojibwa. I was born a Mohawk ofthe great six nations. Now I and my braves have taken another name, aname not for the white man's ears or lips, the name of the ancient raceof warriors and giants who once lived on Minong, the blood of whosechiefs flows in my body. We will draw others to us, build up a strongnation, and drive the white men from all the lands about the greatwaters." He made a sweeping gesture with one long, big-muscled arm.

  Hugh could scarcely believe his ears. The giant Indian must be insane tobe the victim of such an illusion of greatness. Hugh knew nothing of anyancient race upon Minong, although Baptiste had told him that theIndians, in days gone by, were supposed to have come to the island fromtime to time for copper. For all he knew, Ohrante might be a directdescendant of those old miners, but his speech was none the less absurd.Its vanity and pomposity were in such violent contrast to the weak, nasalvoice in which it was uttered that the boy forgot his own peril in hisdesire to laugh. He controlled himself and for a few moments made noanswer. Ohrante also remained silent. As the two gazed into one another'seyes, a daring idea entered the lad's head. Ohrante's talk of the ancientrace of warriors and giants recalled the tales told by Baptiste andBlaise and the trick he and his brother had already played upon the bigMohawk.

  "You speak," Hugh said, "of the ancient race who once lived on thisisland. I have heard that the inhabitants of Minong were not human atall, but were, and indeed still are, spirits and fiends and frightfulcreatures unlike man or beast. Once I laughed at those tales, but nowthat I am on Minong, I laugh no more. I myself have seen and heardstrange things on this island. If I were not a good Christian, I shouldbe sore afraid of this enchanted land. Have you seen or heard aught ofthose strange beings, great chief?"

  Hugh's eyes were fastened on Ohrante. When he mentioned the spirits andfiends he noticed a slight change in the huge man's face. As the boy wenton, Ohrante's composure was so far shaken that he drew a quick breath andone of his big hands clenched with a convulsive movement. Hugh waspleased with his strategy. He had found the giant's weak spot. Brave hemight be in contact with his fellow men, but of unearthly beings he wassuperstitiously afraid. Hugh feigned not to notice, and in a momentOhrante had covered his agitation with a show of indifference.

  "No, white man," he lied proudly, "I have heard nothing and I fearnothing." Then he changed the subject. "When the waves go down in thelake out there, we leave Minong. We go to the place of vengeance, whereOhrante puts all his prisoners to death. On the Island of Torture bothwhite men and Ojibwas may find the signs and learn how the Chief ofMinong takes vengeance on his enemies. Prepare for the torture, whiteman, for not even your white God can save you." And turning, the bigchief strode away.

  "Yet I think He will save me," Hugh said to himself, "through my brotherBlaise."

  It was after sundown when the other canoe returned, with the fourremaining members of the band. They brought with them a quantity of moosemeat, the best parts of a young animal. Immediately the kettle was swungover the fire. The odor of the cooking meat was tempting to Hugh'snostrils, but he was not offered any. His captors evidently consideredthat he had had sufficient food for that day. The whole band feasted onmoose, and the camp did not become quiet until much later than on theprevious night.

  Hugh was left tied to the tree, his wrists and ankles bound. No one tookenough pity on him to throw a blanket over him. This time it was thesquat man who lay down
by the fire. He must have been very sure theprisoner could not get away. Moreover the enormous amount of meat he hadeaten made the man especially drowsy. His loud breathing soon proved thathe was sleeping soundly.

  Under the birch tree, beyond the light of the flickering fire, Hugh lay,tense and anxious. He heard the snores of his guard, and other sounds ofheavy slumbering from the larger wigwam. Why did not Blaise come? Exceptthe breathing of the sleeping Indians and the low ripple of the water onthe beach, not a sound broke the silence of the night. Every sense on thealert, Hugh waited through the long minutes. It seemed to him hours musthave passed since the guard lay down by the fire.

  What was that rustle in the willows? It was the slightest of sounds, buthis ear caught it. Was it only a rabbit? He felt a touch on the rope thatbound him to the tree, then a sharp jerk. The rope sagged down. Fingersgrasped his shoulder and sent a shiver of excitement through his body. Ahand slipped swiftly down his left arm, something cold touched hiswrists, slipped between them. There was another little jerk, and his armswere free. His numb hands dropped to the ground, began to tingle. He didnot dare to try to raise himself to a sitting position for fear of makinga noise. Then his ankles fell apart, and he knew that bond had been cutalso. Yet, motionless, he waited for orders.

  The hand touched his shoulder again. Lips brushed his ear, as a voicewhispered in the softest of hisses, "Roll over and follow."

  Hugh obeyed unquestioningly. As he rolled over, he realized that the cordwas still attached to his left wrist. There came a gentle pull, and heunderstood. Blaise had hold of the cord. This was his method of guidinghis brother. Hugh attempted to crawl forward, but his legs and feet wereso numb he found progress difficult. They dragged like logs. He could notmove them lightly and noiselessly, yet he must go noiselessly to escape.

  The cord on his wrist slackened. Blaise had sensed the difficulty. Hisshoulder brushed Hugh as he crawled back to the latter's side. In amoment he was silently but vigorously rubbing and kneading Hugh's calves,ankles and feet. Hot prickles of feeling began to course through the numblegs. After a few moments of stinging pain, the blood was runningnormally again, and the numbness was gone. Still the wigwams remainedsilent and the squat Indian by the fire snored on. An Indian in his wildstate is commonly supposed to sleep lightly and wake at the slightestsound, and so he does if he is where there may be danger, and has noteaten or drunk too much. The Indian is human, however. A full and heartymeal, accompanied by a sense of security, can cause him to sleep assoundly as any well fed white man.