which lasted nearly five
days. We ate all our food, and, not knowing what to do, turned back to
the deserted town to die by a warm fire in one of the wigwams. On the
way the bay froze. We camped to make moccasins out of Father Membre's
cloak. I was angry at Etienne Renault for not finishing his; but he
excused himself on account of illness, having a great oppression of the
stomach, caused by eating a piece of an Indian rawhide shield which he
could not digest. His delay proved our salvation, for the next day, as I
was urging him to finish the moccasins, a party of Ottawas saw the smoke
of our fire and came to us. We gave them such a welcome as never was
seen before. They took us into their canoes and carried us to an Indian
village only two leagues off. All the Indians took pleasure in sending
us food; so, after thirty-four days of starvation, we found our famine
turned to abundance."

Tonty and La Salle, with their followers, paddled the thousand miles to
Fort Frontenac, to make another start into the wilderness.

La Salle was now determined to keep his men together. He set down many
of his experiences and thoughts in letters which have been kept; so we
know at this day what was in the great explorer's mind, and how dear he
held "Monsieur de Tonty, who is full of zeal."

On his return to the wilderness with another equipment, he went around
the head of Lake Michigan and made the short Chicago portage to the
Desplaines River. Entering by this branch the frozen Illinois, they
dragged their canoes on sledges past the site of the town and reached
open water below Peoria Lake. La Salle gave up the plan of building a
ship, and determined to go on in his canoes to the mouth of the
Mississippi.

So, pausing to hunt when game was needed, his company of fifty-four
persons entered the great river, saw the Missouri rushing into it--muddy
current and clear northern stream flowing alongside until the waters
mingled. They met and overawed the Indians on both shores, building
several stockades. The broad river seemed to fill a valley, doubling and
winding upon itself with innumerable curves, in its solemn and lonely
stretches. Huge pieces of low-lying bank crumbled and fell in with
splashes, for the Mississippi ceaselessly eats away its own shore.

A hundred leagues below the mouth of the Arkansas they came to a swamp
on the west side. Behind this swamp, they had been told, might be found
the Arkansas tribe's great town. La Sall