ere I can
collect my furs, where you can come to sell them. And here you will
find mechanics who will mend your guns, knives, and kettles, when they
get out of order."

These were honest words. They were convincing. All smoked the pipe and
grasped hands in token of fraternity. The Frenchman was a benefactor,
not an enemy. His life was to be carefully protected. Should he, from
unkind treatment, refuse to come to their country, they could buy no
more guns, or knives, or kettles. Henceforth every wigwam welcomed the
entrance of a Frenchman.

La Salle, while engaged in building his vessel, despatched several
canoes along each shore of Lake Erie, to visit every Indian village and
purchase their furs. Indian friends paddled the canoes and acted as
interpreters. The arrival of one of these canoes at an Indian village
was an occasion of universal rejoicing. Happy was the chief who could
be honored by entertaining the white trader in his wigwam. The
Frenchman was in no more danger in moving about amid their dwellings
and forests, than he would have been in traversing the boulevards in
Paris.

A poor Indian would bring in some rich furs, to him scarcely of any
value, but worth ten dollars in London or Paris. He would receive in
exchange a strong, keen-edged pocket-knife, worth in London or Paris
perhaps half a dollar, but to him worth ten times ten dollars. He would
go home to his wigwam so happy that he could scarcely sleep. He would
show his almost priceless treasure to his wife, his children, his
neighbors. Accustomed to shave down his bow and arrows only with such
an edge as a hard stone could afford, he was filled with inexpressible
delight as the keenly cutting steel performed its wondrous work.

The young lady of wealthy parents may rejoice when the grand piano
first enters her father's parlor. The fashionable matron may feel some
degree of exultation as she regards the splendor of her newly furnished
reception-room. But their joy was as nothing compared with the delight
with which an Indian woman, for the first time in her life, hung a
stout iron kettle over her cabin fire.

La Salle named his vessel the "Griffin," as that animal was one of the
emblems on his family coat-of-arms. During the winter, while the vessel
was on the stocks, circumstances required the presence of La Salle at
Fort Frontenac. Promptly he set out for a journey on foot of three
hundred miles through the snow and the woods. Two men accompanied